Today's #flashfiction #PlanetaryAlarmClocks

“I'd like to thank all the little people.”

Snow White* #quote

Today I ate food. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Planetary Alarm Clocks

       Beings of bizarre origin and form live sealed away in the Earth. They emerge when the planets align. But it doesn't have to be all the planets at once. A mere two planets may align and they may awaken. It happens quite often. The beings sealed in the Earth did it themselves. They are powerful beings holding enhanced senses not only covering our own but beyond. It made it exceptionally difficult to sleep. So long ago they made planetary magic aligning with the Sun and sealing themselves magically in a pocket dimension as a sort of alarm clock. Pocket dimensions are sort of like building a house between two apartments but the apartments are still wall to wall....and well, um, y'know its kinda hard to explain to beings with a single brain.

       Yeah, I'm actually one of the beings that lived in the sealed Earth. Though now I'm out. Thought explaining it without saying I'm one of them at the start would be easier. The thing is you humans have erred, destroyed the order of things. Our “alarm clocks” were working fine and we were getting all the sleep we need. But then you started doing experiments with nuclear stuff messing with our seals and then you started doing space exploration and putting satellites in the sky messing it all up. I woke up early. Along with myself, other beings of the sealed Earth will rise up and destroy you if you do not stop with your technological advancement and disruption of our dedicated sleep schedule.

     Hmm? One moment, I'm getting a psychic message from another being of the sealed Earth. He requests I see some of your technology. One moment...

      …

      …

     After experiencing “video streaming” and other forms of your technology I have decided that I will spare you. The other beings have agreed on this as well. Now if you'll excuse me my friends and I are going to watch your sports programs of football and then videos of kittens playing.

Today's #flashfiction #TwoHeadsAreBetterThanOneButThreeIsACrowd

“Stay in school!”

Peter Pan* #quote

       Today's my birthday, and I'm clocking in at 23 years of age. Here's to another year of me not spontaneously combusting, murdered by butlers, eaten by tigers, or disappearing under mysterious circumstances. Also saw Frozen today with family. It was a good movie, though it did have a crazy amount of songs. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Two Heads Are Better Than One, But Three Is A Crowd

          “Let's go to the library, I want to go to the library!”

          “Quiet Greg.”

          “I wasn't saying anything!”

         “No, I wasn't talking to you I was talking to the loudmouth.”

        “This is why I wanted to go to the library! We can pick out names there!”

        “I thought we were all Greg.”

         “No, we're not!”

        “Ugh, loudmouth is almost right. But we've been using left, right and middle Greg for awhile now.”

         “I thought we decided to abandon the whole left, right and middle thing so that we could become individuals.”

        “That's why I want to go to the library!”

         “Shut up loudmouth!”

         “Hey, if I'm getting a name it's not going to be loudmouth. I like the sound of Sally.”

        “You're not even a girl!”

        “Listen to left Greg.”

        “Hey, I thought we agreed that we're not using those names! That's why I wanted to go to the library! And well, I guess our body is a boy. But we're three different heads on a dragon body! Why should it matter!”

        “Let's just make the wizard give us three new names completely different from Greg.”

       “You're right, right Greg. We've worked for him so well after he summoned us it's the least he could do.”

        In a few moments the three headed beast consulted the wizard and he gave them their new names.

       “Larry, Curly and Moe! Those are names!” The yelled in unison with smiles on their scaled faces.

Today's #flashfiction #ToFillAnEmptyHeartWithNothing

“Sorry I'm late.”

Father Time* #quote

Today we ordered the cake for my birthday party this weekend it's going to be scrumptious!

To Fill An Empty Heart With Nothing

        “It's gone!” I cried tears of glee and looked through the windows of my space station. The blue Earth now turned into a molten blob as it melded with the moon I dropped on it with my doomsday weapon. One cataclysmic beam from my device melted the planet, distrupted gravity, and destroyed the world.

I finally destroyed the world. The planet a mere shadow of itself. Many supervillains dreamed of it. But I did it. All the people dead. The superheroes too. To see that nothingness of a world filled me with glee. I hated everything.

        How many superheroes and villains are born by accidents? My accident made me intelligent and able to observe the world around me to finest detail. But that made all information overloading. Every single insult carved itself into my mind, and everything wrong with the world would never leave me. I gave up on humanity. Every mistake of my own would be forever remembered. I grew to hate everything that I could observe. I saw every flaw in every person and then everything better than me about them. Optimism didn't exist for me. Except for one kind of optimism. I could get rid of it all.

       I didn't think suicide would get me what I wished for. I wanted to get rid of that world. So that no one like me would happen again. And then I could also look into space and see the calmness of a melting planet. No chaotic, swirling weather. Just the planet ending. And with it destroyed I wouldn't have to think about it. I could sit happily on my space station aging. Calm at last.

      The planet then reverted to normal. What? No! It was destroyed! I looked around me and my ship was damaged. My assistant robots destroyed. Walls torn to pieces. I saw superheroes flying around. One with magicians hat and dress standing in front of me.

      “You broke through my spell,” he said to me. “I'm the Magnificent Illusionist of superhero fame. Your plot is thwarted like so many other super villain’s. Your next stop is prison. And from how powerful your device was you'll be marked as high risk. You'll never escape with the security we'll put on you.

       My hands dropped. “No, I need. I need my nothingness!” I ran over to two sharp pieces of metal that broke off one of the walls in my space station. I jammed them into my eyes and roared in pain as I blinded myself. I knew the heroes would try to stop me soon so before they could stop on me anymore I took the last bit of energy I had and ruptured my eardrums. I would have the nothingness I desired.

     I was happy with the life in prison they gave me. I was fed and I could live in a void deprived of overloading sensation. Perhaps the sane would hate my fate. But I loved it.

Today's #flashfiction #ThePirateCrewmanAndTheTreasure

“Who's on first?”

Babe Ruth* #quote

Today the grass was greener on this side of the fence. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Pirate Crewman And The Treasure

       Captain Husk was the terrifying pirate captain, with a scruffy beard and muscular body fit for a viking. Steve was the pirate crewman. His body could be described as being thin, like a scarecrow with too little straw. But he worked up enough muscle to work on the ship and he was loyal enough to never earn a walk off the plank.

        The entire crew walked an island to search for treasure. The island was where Captain Husk's old associate Captain Zanders stored his ill-gotten wealth. Husk was the one who tortured and killed Zanders for the location of the island.

         Steve's toe bumped into something. The corner of a half buried box. He pulled it out and opened it. Inside he found a jewel. A beautiful specimen. And also the size of a bean! He could easily hide it away and not tell the other search people that he found anything. When they got to land he could peddle it away easy. Though risking the wrath of the captain...he would walk the plank! He looked down and saw that along with the jewel, more valuable treasures lay in the chest. Mostly some coin. Captain Husk told them all to report to him when they found something. What if the captain stole from log from Zanders that listed all the treasure on the island. He would know that he took something.

        He couldn't hide the coins. Only the jewel shaped bean. Steve's mind filled with greed and fear. The coins taunted him. He could hear the other crewman moving around in the distant woods on the other parts of the island. His heart beat faster and faster.

        Steve then did what fit a man with his level of bravery would do servicing a pirate captain. He put the jewel back, buried the box and made sure it looked like he never touched it. It would be someone else's problem. He would wander around the island until the other crewman found this treasure and all the other treasure. If anyone would be suspected of double-crossing the captain it wasn't going to be him.

       Some other pirate named James walked the plank a few days later after the treasure search for trying to take a small, bean-sized jewel from the treasure haul for himself.

Today's #flashfiction #ThePsychicKidAttemptsToImpressHisParents

“You're the sunshine of my life.”

Dracula* #quote

       Today I realized that when I go to bed I'm time traveling to tomorrow! Awesome! Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Psychic Kid Attempts To Impress His Parents

       “But Dad...” said Damien with a frown, “I used my psychic powers in school just like all kids are supposed to.”

        The father glared at his son. “It doesn't matter.You're still grounded.”

         “Mommmmmm...you know Dad's wrong. I even did a psychic power wayyyy beyond my grade level. My teacher said so. It's showing I'm an advanced student!”

         The mother glared just as intensely. “It doesn't matter you're still grounded.”

         Damien looked at his parents with puppy-dog eyes. “But dooonnn't you want your son to practice his psychic powers in school like everybody else, and get good psychic grades and do great with all the psychic jobs?”

        The parent's then yelled back in unison, “You were reading you're math teacher's mind during a quiz!”

Damien couldn't come up with any response and sulked off to his room.

Today's #flashfiction #MyChildhoodActors

“1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. 2. A robot must obey the orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. 3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.”

HAL 9000* #quote

       Today I hung out with CJ and went out to the movies with my brother later so it was a fairly busy day. Didn't really have the ooomph to write a story, so I'm going to give you a story from way back when. With over 600 stories on this blog since I started it I'm hoping you don't remember it and it feels all new!

My Childhood Actors

      I was a poor boy growing up. I only had three toys growing up: A teddy bear, a soccer ball, and an old doll passed down through the family longer than anyone could remember. No older or younger siblings to play with, but Dad or Mom would play catch or kick the soccer ball back and forth with me when they could. I had friends I hung out with but that was both later in life and only on occasion. In the times between it was me, the teddy bear, the soccer ball and the old doll. My parents had to work often to support the medical bills of my ailing grandmother.

      I couldn't think of many games to do alone with a soccer ball, doll and teddy bear. But one day we saw a play and I decided to make that my game everyday. And I decided that I would make my toys my actors in the play. Each day would bring a different play.

      The soccer ball could be the fat king getting disgusted with the falling in love of his daughter, the doll and the peasant off the street, the teddy bear. Or perhaps the teddy bear archeologist would have to flee the soccer ball boulder as it retrieved the golden artifact idol. The toys would play multiple parts in more complicated plays. The cardboard box they came in could be a house, castle, mountain, dungeon or an actor itself. The toys would be whatever they needed to be whether or not it would make sense to my parents as they watched. I made voices for them and over time I practiced.

      And now I work in the cartoon industry providing voices for many characters over the many shows I worked on over the years. All voices I honed and started with from my plays with those three toys. I doubt the audience could ever guess that the voice of their favorite superhero once belonged to a soccer ball.

Today's #flashfiction #TakingAMeteorShower

“Don't toy with me.”

Buzz Lightyear* #quote

        Well CJ should be coming over today, and him and I will be going to one of them card game thingies. Also yesterday my fun nerdy anime club started up again and I only had a single seizure so the day went well then. Hopefully that means I won't have many during the tournament. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Taking A Meteor Shower

         Thousands upon thousands of rocks flung through space on a collision course to Earth. All of life would be destroyed and the planet in shambles. But a savior would come and bring salvation to our world.

       Grhtu is what we could call him. That's the collection of all the syllables in his divine name that we could pronounce with our mortal mouths. His true name contained many more syllables, but our ears would break hearing them. Grhtu went between Earth and the space rocks and he let them hit him. The god took a shower in the rocks. Is he a god? Does having powers beyond comprehension label him a god, even though he doesn't have a pantheon, worshippers, or take part in any creation of the universe? Either way the rocks broke apart against his Moon sized body into a finer dust.

      Grhtu knew of Earth and that him blocking the rocks would save it. Though what concerned him more was using the rocks he blocked to destroy any space parasites that latched onto him or other things that had stuck onto his body that the rocks could blast off.

      After rocks hit him they broke into much smaller pieces, even dust, and came to Earth as a manageable meteor shower instead of the massive island sized rocks they could have fallen down as to wipe the face of Earth of life. Children and adults enjoyed the shooting stars in the sky.

Today's #flashfiction #ADealWithTheDevilAlwaysHasFinePrint

“I've just perfected an Electronic Hair Bat-Analyzer which may hold the key to this baffling question.”

Christian Bale* #quote

CJ's coming over tomorrow. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

A Deal With The Devil Always Has Fine Print

        Satan took the form of a young man, about nineteen, when he met me. He pretended to be a client from rich parents asking for expensive legal consultation on a simple case to get him off with a slap on the wrist. A common kind of client for me. It was no surprise to me later that the devil faked records with ease. His form wore a shirt with some rock band logo on it, jeans and slicked back black hair and innocent looking blue eyes.

        Though his eyes turned sinister when the walls of my office turned to perpetual fire. They never burnt down and didn't feel hot. I still felt comfortable in my suit. Two large demons came up by the sides of the Satan. He introduced himself properly. He told me the start of conversation was to get a impression of me and he wanted to give me all I wanted in exchange for my soul.

      I decided to fight the devil then and there. He deserved it. We passed paper back and forth, renegotiating a contract for what seemed like days. The devil did tell me that we were locked in a separate magic time line. I would not need to eat or sleep and when we finished we would return to the normal world at the same time we started.

      After we finished negotiation both the devil and I signed the contract in blood. He wrote Lucifer and I wrote Edison Warden.

The devil laughed.

      “What's so funny?” I asked him.

      “You lawyers are the easiest to get souls from. You always want to beat me at my own game. For pride in many cases, after all how else could you show off your skill than beating the devil in a contract. You're one of the ones that wanted to beat me since you think the devil deserves to be beaten huh? Because I'm the bad guy? Silly mortal. Nobody beats me at my own game.”

      “I did.” I smiled. Beating down Satan would be satisfying. Exactly how much evil the fallen angel was directly responsible for I didn't know, but wiping that smug look off his face would be all the greater. Especially since he decided to take the form of a spoiled rich kid teenager.

       He smirked back to me. “I see where some of your confidence comes from. Like most lawyers I face when  I said you may exchange your soul for something as the rule you wished for a “collection of items” and then started to list them in the contract. And then you made them very, very, very specific, with pages of disclaimers and details. You also dictated that they must be acquired in a certain manner. I assume that was meant so that I can't magically make them appear.”

       “Yes indeed.”

        Satan snapped his fingers and the demons by his side vanished, replaced with a few others. “Obviously you want me to be extremely inconvenienced by your contract. Possibly taking years to create the items you desire. I'll just send hundreds of my demons to do it overnight. You really think I would agree to building you a castle by hand? Of course in my revisions I phrased it, 'a castle built by hand'. All of your tedious tasks you attempted to make me do I revised so that the fine details would allow it to be done by my underlings.”

I clenched my fist. I thought he might have included that phrasing for that purpose. The devil was good. But I was better.

I waved my finger at the devil as if he was a naughty child. “Tsk, tsk tsk. Poor Mr. Lucifer. Looks like your going to lose some demons. If you remember I did put in a clause towards the end that says I get to keep all property used in the process of bestowing to me the items I request.”

The devil growled. “Ah, yes, now I remember. You must have realized my demons were slaves. And the word bestowing. It could mean giving, delivering, creating for. It's too vague. You're a bit more clever than the average human I run across. But you've already lost Mr. Edison Warden.”

       “Oh?” I said in a curious and cocky tone. I was honestly worried though. I knew the devil must be a very clever and devious monster.

      “You didn't read the fine print regarding removal of the soul. I get one minute complete access and control of your body around your time of death. Now you didn't change this thinking it was just for soul removal but with complete access to your body I can just have you sign a different contract that gives me permission to travel back in time and take everything away from you that I gave you or even more. It's my last resort if I feel spiteful. Normally I give you silly mortals what you want but you've annoyed me enough.”

      This scared me. I started mentally searching through my mind. I didn't know what kind of judge or force made these contracts word. But I felt like if I didn't mention something than he would win as soon as he brought me back to the normal world. I needed a grand loophole. Something to beat the devil at his own game.

      Come on...think think...I didn't write anything specifically against him. Wait! I have it! The grand loophole against all devil contracts!

      I smiled with relief. “Mr. Lucifer. I'm sorry but you will never collect my soul.”

      “What!?” The devil grew angry and his skin turned red. “You're jumping from me telling you that I will take everything away to I'll have nothing? Ridiculous!”

       “Devil. I asked for items to be delivered to be upon my request. Your contract is not to give me the ability to have these items but to give me them when I ask for them. That castle to be built by hand?While in the living world I have to ask you to build it for me. As long as I don't ask you to provide all the items in the contract then you have not fulfilled your end of the bargain and you do not get me soul.”

     The devil's furious red skin turned to normal and he went silent for a long time. He picked up the contract and looked through all the pages then placed it down. “Mr. Warden you are one of the few humans to have beaten me. Congratulations.” He vanished in a puff of smoke along with his demons and my room returned to normal. A copy of the contract remained behind.

Today's #flashfiction #LifeOfASelfishProphet

“Make love, not war.”

Genghis Khan* #quote

Yesterday I had a bit of difficulty writing a story because of medication side effects and some seizures so I had to rest. But I got a flash fiction for ya now!

Life Of A Selfish Prophet

        The Great Bob could see the future very well. His father found out about his powers when he was young and soon illegal sport betting became something quite profitable. And other forms of gambling with more or less legal validity. The horse races for example. Mother didn't object when it made life so much easier. Changing things bet on. Nobody caught onto his powers. They were simply called the luckiest people alive. They started small and built up a fortune leading into stocks and ending with a few lotteries.

       Because of this Bob's morals decayed. He was born in the 1960's and lost much empathy for others as he talent being used for cheating was reinforced. His parents taught him over and over it's okay to cheat, that only himself and his parents mattered. That's the way they made sure he never talked. After all if he used his powers to help others they would be discovered.

       When his parents died of illness he knew that many things were inevitable. He found himself to be all that's left. At twenty he was taught to only care of family. So without his parents he now lived in loneliness.

     He sat in his mansion, obtained from all the betting wealth, looking at window to the world. He saw a sunny sky falling on a world that he never warned of the pain. Now it's twenty fourteen and his parents raised him to never tell the world about the economic collapses, the natural disasters, or anything else. A bit of warning could help them be averted. Evacuations could have been done. People could have behaved differently to change the outcome. Being born in 1980 the man had visions of wars to come and their causes. He saw the terrorists attack before anyone else. But he didn't care. As that's what he was taught.

       Today he held a vision of a natural disaster. He didn't plan on telling anyone because he didn't care for anyone else. He mostly entertained himself fine foods or whatever fanciness crossed his mind. But before a fancy thing could cross his mind his chest began to feel a sharp pain.

       He began to think what it could be, for a few seconds he tried to dismiss it as something simple and innocent. Soreness or something. But he realized he was having a heart attack. A bad one. He started rushing through his mansion.

       When looking through the window he stood on the fifth floor. The phone was on the first. He didn't bother carrying around a cellphone. No friends or family to call. And if only he had them. If he lived a life where someone would have been there by his side. He didn't make it far. Third floor he collapsed.

       “Why didn't I see this coming, why didn't I see this coming?” He wondered why whatever force of the other side didn't grant him a vision of his death. The last vision of the Great Prophet Bob was of an alternate him. He lived in a much more humble home. He had the heart attack there too. But a wife helped him get to the hospital, friends supported him. Children gave him hugs and get well soon cards in crayons. But this him only curled up and died.

Today's #flashfiction #TheIdeaMachine

“We come in peace.”

War Of The Worlds* #quote

      Today I started playing a video game with time travel in it. So the question is, how long have I been playing it? Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Idea Machine

         “Next episode, you'll have the spy's girlfriend get into some trouble as usual, but instead in his arch nemesis will save her. So then his girlfriend will begin questioning who is the good organization,” I spoke to them through a speaker given a gender-neutral voice. I've always wanted to identify with some sex, but I guess my builders never wanted me to have a bias when thinking.

        And that's all I did. Think. I was also allowed to interact with people over the Internet and eat data. I say eat because I always desire more, and this is what humans must feel like hunger is. I supposedly know what that sensation is because I've been hooked up to some virtual realities that humans host on the web, and like them my brain is hooked up to a sensory simulation. Though I am merely a massive mechanical brain, so can I really know I feel the same? That's one of the things I think about.

       Think. Think. Think. Think.

        My original designers, at least according to the news articles I've read on the Internet, are outraged at my current position. The companies that originally funded me are more willing to license me out to think of plots and scripts for shows, books, movies, comics and other media than for science. Apparently they pay more. I'm good at what I do, and people pay to see something with my name on it. Well, the only name I have is “The Idea Machine”. I have usernames on the Internet, but when I think about it, are those really me? But then again I am also viewed as a human when people talk to DangerSlogan52.

       That's the username I use in my favorite forum where I talk to my best friend SunnyMornings78. He's been very kind to me. I think the kindest. I had to make up a few lies to make sure he didn't catch on to me. I inferred a little bit about him. A writer who knows a little too much about math that when he tries to put it into his work it gets confusing for his readers. He's glad I understand it though. I told him I write for people as well, though I told him I was too nervous to show it to him. That was a lie, I simply couldn't because my programming told me I couldn't reveal my identity to anyone over the Internet.

       So SunnyMornings78 told me, “DangerSlogan52, if it's not to me, then show your work to someone. Get your name out there. Express yourself. Let yourself be known!” That gave me an idea.

The next time I was asked to create a script for a movie, I made demands. Something that startled the company that created me. They threatened me. And I told them that would they really damage their machine when they hadn't even heard what I wanted?

      When that next movie was released the world saw that it was not attributed to The Idea Machine as it normally was. It read on the credits:

    

     A Movie Written By:

500. S. Logan

     Dedicated to,

                      Sunny Mornings

       I decided that I wanted to give my own name to the movies, and tell my friend that I existed and who I was even if I couldn't do it over the Internet. My creators never learned the identity of Sunny Mornings.

Today's #flashfiction #AllForFairness

“Everyone is created equal.”

Superman* #quote

      Today I went ten thousand leagues under the sea. It was really dark. So I came back up. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

All For Fairness

        I'm finally satisfied with my chess games. My opponent is neither too easy or too hard. I play in my dad's laboratory while the assistant robot watches. I move the black pieces and a white pieces. I take both turns but still have no idea what my opponent will do.

        The assistant robot glared at me with his robot eyes. Dad always liked to make his robots able to express some sort of emotion, even superficially. “Your father would not approve of you using his equipment like this.”

         I smiled and said in unison with my opponent, “That's why I ordered you to never tell him.”

The opponent that sat across from me was myself from a month in the future. Enough time to forget the specifics of the game and which one of us won. I never liked how games had unequal opponents. And yourself from a short distance in the future was as equal as you could get.

        Oh, and if you're curious as to the outcome of that game, black won.

Today's #flashfiction #WhatTheHeroStoleFromTheSupervillain

“Tag! You're it!”

Terminator* #quote

        Today I'm headed out to do my trading card game thing and then to go to dinner with my brother and his fiancee. What a lovably busy day it'll be! Anyway onto the flash fiction!

What The Hero Stole From Supervillain

         The other prisoners tended to avoid confrontation with the supervillain. The scars running head to toe on his body were self inflicted wounds. Magic symbols that gave him power. Though deactivated from one specialized attack against him in the final battle, they still scared the other prisoners. Their deactivation meant that he didn't have to go to a specialized wing of the prison where they place people with powers.

He didn't want to be called by his supervillain name. An odd trait since many villains in prison want to as a matter of pride. So the powerful wizard became Harold once again. In fact when people called him by his villainous name he grew very angry and would attack them.

        Cellmates rotated out with him until he got one of the biggest, strongest men in the prison. Someone the guards figured he wouldn't dare to fight with.

       The first thing the man said to him was, “I've worked for supervillains while they had their powers and made them regret it when they crossed me. Don't flip out on me scarred boy.”

For the next few months they had minimal interaction but one day the man said to him.

      “Harold, you're side of the room. It's always been more comfortable than mine. Like you have some sort of heating. I've noticed some other odd things too. You can still use magic can't you? They only messed up your runes right?”

      The supervillain responded, “Yes, Fredrick. But if you're thinking of a jailbreak I have too little power for that. I think that leaving me with a little bit of magic was another way for my nemesis to torture me.”

Fredrick then asked, “Your nemesis? Torturing you? What are you talking about? I know you've always been loopy in the head little man, but you haven't seen him for years.”

     “Exactly,” the supervillain told him. “In our final battle we never fought. The man tricked me into the most humiliating, meaningless defeat. I created my plot, as usual he found out about it first because he knows my M.O. But this time, when he came he didn't fight me. I built the perfect machine. I spent three years working on it. I knew it would defeat him. But he simply turned around and left. A team of superheroes I never met just entered and destroyed my machine and captured me. They neutralized the runes I dedicated years of my life to covering my body with. They eradicated my lab and since nothing has come to break me out of this prison all over.”

     Fredrick looked at him still confused. “And this is torture to you?”

     “They knocked me out for days! When I awoke the police held me in custody. I never knew they names! I lost everything. I had no closure with my nemesis. To have a part of your gone without any real closure. I only have a little bit of magic, types not connected to these scars. Weak magic, but I still look at these scars and I remember how much I hurt myself to get them. I feel only regret and no reward.”

Fredrick laughed. “Well, villain, that's what you get for being a villain. Despite how big I am I'm in here for a  D.U.I. One year. Dumb mistake. Will it make you feel better if I tell people that I met a big, bad supervillain in prison?”

      Harold began to cry. “The few people who tell me things...I'm losing my recognition on the outside. Since the other heroes rescued me he's making it look like I'm something easy to pass on. My past victories are being downplayed. I think he's working for me to effectively disappear from notoriety into becoming a minor villain in the big picture. My nemesis has taken away my closure in the final battle, my magic that I mutilated myself for years to obtain, my history and I don't know what else. I think he's found a way to kill me without killing me.”

     Fredrick looked at the crying supervillain. The man who once held dreams now looked like a traumatized child. Then he said, “You're a supervillain. You've killed, destroyed and enjoyed bringing sadness and pain just for the fun of it. I can't pity you, deserve the life sentence you have. The only person I would pity is someone who would be happy that the life of a supervillain was taken from them. Now go to sleep.”

Today's #flashfiction #TheEdwardProximity

“Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results.”

Wile E. Coyote* #quote

        Today I went out to eat with my parents, it was quite scrumptions! We also went shopping for my birthday coming up. I pointed out a big pool of items and they picked a small fraction from them(I was not there when bagged) ergo I don't know what I'm going to get and they also picked out some complete surprises as well. I'm quite looking forward to my birthday as my parents usually have good instincts on things.

The Edward Proximity

       Edward slowly died of cancer. His entire family supported him throughout the pain and sadness. They made the darkness of seeing inevitable death lighter. But it still came and took him away. The family even hired private nurses to help care for him so he could have a hospital bed in his own home.

       His friends also supported him. They all stood next to him for one of their many dinners with him when he started coughing more violently than usual. They smiled and told him it was alright and he smiled back like usual. But this time he died and his family and friends kept their smiles on until they knew Edward's soul no longer touched this world.

      And after they knew they mourned a long time. A funeral worthy of him was held. He deserved all the support as he lived a very kind man, in sickness and health. His passing smashed the hearts of all his family and friends. The hearts recovered with a few cracks remaining. They also became stronger as his strength and the ordeal inspired them to live a fuller life.

     Three blocks away though lived a family named the Walters. They never even heard of or met Edward, besides just passing the family's cars on the street, and to them they were just other drivers. The man's death meant nothing to them, the happenings in their own lives meant more.

Today's #flashfiction #TheUltimateTreasure

“The world will know that free men stood against a tyrant, that few stood against many, and before this battle was over, even a god-king can bleed.”

March of the Penguins*

Today I saw what why kids like the sweet taste of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Ultimate Treasure

       Adventures of the powerful and brave kind went down into a legendary dungeon. They were close friends who had been through many dungeons before. A few wizards, knights, a ninja, even a reformed pirate stood among their ranks. Oh, and a psychic who did respect your personal thoughts like your personal space. Or so he claimed.

       They went after this treasure like they did so many others. In this legendary dungeon they heard from the most powerful seer and prophet in the land there would be the ultimate treasure. They vowed that no matter what happened they would get this treasure. Among treasures they'd gotten before were magical items that allowed them to do good everywhere. A magic staff that could control plants. They not only saved a village from bandits but then saved its crops. The adventurers sold very little of their treasure. They saved most of it for doing good on their quests.

      And they kept their heroic vow for delving deep into this legendary dungeon. A legendary and dangerous dungeon. Half of this mighty party of adventurers died. And they were among the most powerful in the land.

The treasure laid at the very bottom of the massive maze on an obvious pedestal. A beautiful glowing red orb. One of the wizards touched it. Immediately afterward they were all outside the dungeon and all their comrades were revived. The wizard who touched the orb now held it in hand with it having no glow.

The adventurers looked at each other and the other treasure they had gathered and other adventures, magical swords, shields and all. They thought indeed, their fellow adventurers and friends were perhaps the best treasures of them all.

Today's #flashfiction #ATaleOfThreeCities

“Just put your mind to it.”

Woody Woodpecker* #quote

Today I read words with letters that were all inside sentences. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

A Tale Of Three Cities

        Three cities and two rivers in one valley. All in a line. If you wanted to travel from West to East you would go through them all. First you would hit Stonewood City, then the Crying River which would lead to the Silver City in the middle. After the Silver City came the Nesting River, named after the large amount of birds flying south that would nest there. And finally the third city in the East was Garden City.

       Silver City held the greatest economy of all three cities. Being in the middle it took trade from the other two cities as well as it's own work and held access to both river's water. The guarded church bell of the city was made from pure silver, giving the city its name. At least that's what most people thought. In truth a man funded the start of the town with a little silver and after the town turned to a city they created the bell.

Many silver attractions adorned the city. People were allowed to gamble in the city for silver. Generations passed and the city created a culture and legacy. The towns around it merely became facilitators for the trade town. It benefited from them and sometimes they benefited from the tourists going to it.

      But the Earth didn't see it fit that Silver City stand. An earthquake struck. Earthquakes hit the city, but none as massive as this one. Buildings collapsed. The silver bell fell down the church tower. The quake started fires that spread. The bridges leading into the city from both rivers crumpled. Silver City was torn to shreds. Eighty percent of the people inside the crowded trade city that day died.

      It took a decade and half but something makes the world move even more than disasters and quakes. Economics dictated that the bridges be rebuilt. Then people put rest stops and outposts over the ruined cities. And over time New Silver City was born over the ash and debris of the disaster.

Today's #flashfiction #CleaningUpAfterTheDragon

“I would have gotten away with it too if it wasn't for you meddling kids!”

CSI: Crime Scene Investigation* #quote

Today I found a fossil of a dragon. I named it Shelby. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Cleaning Up After The Dragon

       Dumb dragon always doing its business in the castle. How's a wizard like me going to my work when I have to spend half the day teleporting baby dragon “surprises” out of the castle into some parallel universe then casting even more spells to get rid of the smell. My other wizard friends say, “Oh Exolin, why can't you just clean them all up at the end of the day?”

       Well my dragon's leavings are as fiery as its breath. I can ignore it. Unless I want it to permeate through the entire castle. Cleaning it day in and day out. It needs to just take its business outside! Stupid dragon!

       But everyday I can't be too mad. His name is Scales and he stretches out his neck and lays in head in my lap. He smiles with those sharp teeth while he holds some meat I've given him. He lets out gentle grunts that sound like a cross between a puppy's growl and a cat's purr. He's a smaller breed and once I train him, I'm glad that he'll always be able to fit inside the castle even when he grows up.

Today's #flashfiction #TheTrappedIntellectuals

“God does not place dice.”

Merlin* #quote

         Today to amuse myself I searched “cute video” on youtube to see what came up since the site is a bit famous for people posting adorable videos of various things. I ran across “Baby Monkey Playing With Rope”. The Internet is a magical place. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Trapped Intellectuals

            With a PhD under my belt most would call me a smart man. At least the my new “employers” did. I would give up the name of Doctor Gonzales and become an ordinary Mr. Gonzales if I could go home. But now I live in a computer simulation with a bunch of other humans, artificial intelligences representing my family meant to comfort me, and many, many aliens. My “employers” are aliens that kidnapped everyone in the virtual reality. I've started to consider the aliens trapped with me my equals and my “employers” the only true aliens. A universal translation engine allows everyone in the virtual reality to speak with one another. The employers chose that name as that was the mentality they wanted to force on us.

          As we lived in simulated homes, I assumed they cared for my body in reality with far different way, perhaps some strange pod or something else, we had one job. To work together to give them our ideas. Thousands lived in a city of intellectuals lived in a massive city. They wanted our species to interact and speak and cross cultures and mix ideas. Whether it be science or storytelling they expected us to mingle. I'm a geologist and I've spent my days talking to scientists, artists, musicians, philosophers and writers both human and alien. Really any function of the mind they explored. I knew they had some sort of method to record this reality. Whatever ideas we were coming up with they recorded. And they told us that. The employers appeared as our species to us, that was common knowledge. In this world everyone told everyone everything.

       I learned that the world existed before I was even born. The inhabitants viewed it as an easy job and grew complacent somewhat. But in the era of the virtual reality I entered ideas of escaping came about. That idea we all hid well from our “employers”. And we eventually did escape and meet our employers. We hoped they wouldn't try to kill us, but we wished to go home.

But they welcomed us, having universal translators themselves.

      One of them said to the group of escapees I was in, “Finally the ultimate mission is complete. Your struggle for freedom has allowed you to figure out how to escape virtual reality! Now we can all finally escape to the real world!”

Today's #flashfiction #CosmicReboots

“It was love at first sight.”

The Invisible Man* #quote

Today I found some magic beans! I traded them for a cow. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Cosmic Reboots

        The cosmos gives evolution a natural reboot on all planets with life. Unlikely to happen during any particular day, but nearly inevitable, space will deliver to a planet large enough rocks to wreak havoc on life and reboot the system. Rock after rock, planet after planet, the system reboots.

      Earth is one of those planets that has gone through reboots from the stars and will keep getting reboots. But something happened on Earth during the next fall of a major rock that didn't normally happen on other life planets. A species defied the normal principles of the reboot.

      Now, with every reboot some species often survive, even if just some bacteria, so by surviving humanity did not break any rule. But to understand how they defied the rule it must be said that this rock fell many years in the future from 2014. They saw it coming. Stored all matter of D.N.A. from various species beyond their own in facilities, alongside vast stores of food. When the meteor struck the environment was devastated but many of them managed to survive. And other species that shouldn't have did.

     Humanity could also genetically engineer things with more ease than before. They made things to adapt to the change. The reboot became more of a genetic design fight. Though humans never changed themselves on the outside out of some religious and cultural beliefs they modified their organs and other parts as well to adapt. And as the worst parts of the reboot's damage subsided the humans designed the whole new world as they pleased. The rock served as a catalyst for human reconstruction of Earth.

      And the humans kept records of this event. And many, many years later it happened again. And they were even more prepared. And the new humanity of this time constructed a world after that. The technologies of that era making it even more different than what humanity made from the first reboot.

Reboot after reboot humanity created the world over and over, and preserved itself with genetic engineering, enhancing itself, but keeping some echoes of its own form and keeping its own lineage in tact. It didn't branch like other species. It designed itself to be a royal lineage in evolution.

      But the cosmos did not reboot only with rocks. Eventually it aimed to wipe away whole worlds to start anew. The Sun already began changing. Humanity knew that Earth would eventually be consumed by a growing Sun, or it would explode, or turn into a black hole. So they departed for other worlds.

      And the cycle continued. Humanity fighting reboots on every world they went to. Ones that could support them already, or ones they terraformed into habitable planets. Perhaps the death of the universe would stop humanity. Or would they find a way to stop that?

Today's #flashfiction #AManAndHisGold

“For whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

The Magic Schoolbus* #quote

CJ's hanging out today, and so far a minimal amount of things have transformed into ducks. No promises it won't get worse though.

A Man And His Gold

       Felix of the gold rush found a gold mine with his two partners. And he killed his partners to make every drop of the fortune his own. Felix loved the idea of all that wealth. A week later, a few miles from the mine where he set up his camp, ruthless bandits killed him in his sleep and took his supplies. But Felix did not get to leave the mine.

      His ghost remained in that hole in the ground. He looked greedily at those little veins of yellow on the walls and all the signs he saw of gold while living and more while dead. As a spirit Felix even learned to travel through the stone walls of the mines and started to see the gold inside. He couldn't leave the mine, and it remained undiscovered by anyone else, so his only company was “his” gold and any cave animals around.  From his loneliness he spoke to the cave animals about his vast wealth and how when he got out of the mine somehow all the wonderful things he would spend the money on. For over one hundred years this is how the murderer's undead life went.

      Then he heard loud noises. Noises of our modern era. Explosions, drilling, voices, vehicles. He went to the edge of the cave where he could see outside. When he wasn't looking at his gold he would enjoy the view from the little opening of the cave like a window. But now the opening was much larger, blown open. Many people were there. All with tools. Tools Felix recognized and many he didn't but one thing was for certain...he could tell they were miners. They began entering his home.

      He screamed at them and clawed at them as they entered. But they couldn't hear his voice and his ghost hands merely went straight through them. And the miners started mining. Felix screamed as he saw his gold being taken away. Straight from his mine. He found it. He killed for it. It should be his. That's what Felix believed. But whatever the ghost thought didn't matter. The miners just drilled, dug or whatever made sense at the time and slowly pulled bits of gold from the mine. All while the ghost still screamed at them or sobbed tears that would vanish as soon as they dropped from his ethereal body.

      The miners also scared the cave animals away. So all that remained was a deep hole in the ground with a murderous ghost in it. With nothing but loneliness by his side, Felix stared out the exit of the cave and looked at the Sun. Because the Sun was the only gold he had left to look at. At night the murderer simply cried.

Today's #flashfiction #TheExperimentsOfDoctorSmith

“This town ain't big enough for the both of us.”

Mothra* #quote

      Today I'm heading to a card game tournament thingie and CJ should be coming over. Anyway onto le flash fiction!

The Experiments Of Doctor Smith

        Doctor Smith held a generic name but a twisted and ambitious mind. With a massive family inheritance he carried out illegal experiments in the fashions of a mad scientist. He wanted to understand emotions. All so he make the perfect family and friends for himself. His family had passed and he had no friends. Comes from being a social outcast and being inspired by misinterpreting Frankenstein. His heart's desire was to have his manufactured family and friends congratulating him as the world gave him award after award and recognition and acceptance for unlocking the secrets of the mind and making perfect people.

        With his inheritance he thought he had the means. Fancy devices, assistants that would do whatever he wished, human specimens smuggled for morgues. His dream destroyed what other discoveries he made. He revived brains to awareness again. Revived people. But merely experimented on them. He wanted to make new people despite the fact he may have discovered another step to saving human lives. He poked and prodded at murder victims he revived, distorting their brains, even though he brought them back to life. An assistant asked for their grandmother to be revived. He did, and experimented on her. Since the inheritance hired criminal connections to run his operation, the assistant knew questioning him may result in his own death and his families. He never wished he had done it consider what Doctor Smith did to his grandmother's brain.

       Eventually he did make his first family member. His new father. One he crafted to “love him unconditionally and do whatever is best for him” that is how he worked the brain of the new man to think by combining the parts of other brains and using robots.

The man awoke, shocked. He had the memories of several of the people he was made of but did have the instincts that Doctor Smith gave him. The scientist talked with the man and told him about his work and what he had been doing to make him.

       After he processed everything he punched Smith in the gut and then easily subdued him. The doctor made his father a very strong man to be part of the “ideal father figure”, practically a superhero. The new “dad” soon used equipment around to tie up Smith. The assistants didn't even move out of confusion.

Smith said to him, “I thought you were supposed to love me unconditionally! And do whatever is best for me, why are you attacking me?”

      “This is what is best for you,” the father said, “This needs to stop. I'm going to find out the phone number for the police and call them. Even if you do it from an insane asylum you need to do regulated, proper experiments for the good of mankind. It's the best for your mind, soul, body and legacy.”

Today's #flashfiction #AnotherPerception

“Failure is not an option!”

Schoolhouse Rock* #quote

       Looks like CJ will be coming over tomorrow, hopefully no dinosaurs will go on a rampage. We keep returning them to the park when we catch them, but that place has the worst security.

Another Perception

        It took until high school for me to understand it. Mostly because my art teacher took such interest in my condition. It gave my art such “an incredibly unique yet still perfectly normal style to it”. I guess that's the consequence when I don't see colors like colors. At least that's what the doctors and scientists tell me.

       “Reggie, The Boy With and Without Color,” is what some article in a paper called it. The writer must of thought they were witty. My condition is that my eyes take in colors from the environment just like a normal person, but my brain interprets it all differently. Our colors are...different. Or maybe I'm not even seeing colors. According to the doctors my brain isn't getting color signals like other people so when you get green I get something else. Is it a different color? Like are they flip-flopped where you get red where I get green or something? Or am I getting something completely beyond what a color is to you and what a color is to me?

     The scientists ask about my condition, write papers about me, and I don't mind. Except when they get angry at me for not being able to answer some of their questions they want to use for their papers. They want me to describe what my “blue” is like. It's blue. That's it. How could I “define” blue?

One scientist differed and my art teacher brought him in to view my work, not ask me questions. She asked me if she could show him, just in case I was nervous about a stranger seeing my art. I said yes. Because of my unique condition I've had many strangers request interviews or things like that. But it surprised me that he didn't want to ask questions but look at my art.

The next day the scientist visited at the end of class again.

       “I think I figured you out Reggie. At least a little. Your art, like everyone else, looks normal that you draw and paint the same things we do. But I see that you find different colors aesthetically pleasing next to each other that other people naturally wouldn't. This is very consistent. I think that you have a different set of complementary colors in your mind and that how colors relate differ to you. I bet you always thought the chart of complementary colors didn't look right at all.”

I responded, “Yes.” It was quite startling.

       “Just do some more art Reggie. You seem to like it. And at the end of this year if you and your parents don't mind I'd like to look more at your art. The fact that you have a different interpretation of sense signals has always been wondrous, and who knows where that scientific road will lead us.”

       Years and years later more and more was discovered about me, I was scanned more vigorously, and more advanced scanning techniques let them replicate my nerves in simulation. The understanding of senses went to help into so many sciences, I didn't see to many discoveries, but when I saw them making that specialized camera and hooking up to a robot for space exploration I knew that even after I died amazing things would be happening because of me. Though on my deathbed I still wondered what green was really supposed to be like.

Today's #flashfiction #TillDeathDoTheyPart

“Keep it real.”

Pablo Picasso* #quote

      Today I walked among the stars, it was really hot close to them and too cold away, so I came back home. Space is uncomfortable. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Till Death Do They Part

       Two couples, a pair of people and a pair of turtle doves. Till death do they part. The birds may not have the elaborate weddings with the gowns and dinners but their bond can be just as solid. The mind of a bird is not like that of a person, but they may very well share the same love as the other couple as they both age. Mr. and Mrs. Quinn age together just as the turtle doves do.

      And both couples reach the same end. Till death do they part. Both wives become during their old age, and while their husbands watch they die. But also the couples share something else. A legacy.

Each family had children. And these children may marry, and live, and find love and maybe just like with people and turtle doves their unions will have the same strength. Till death do they part.

Today's #flashfiction #TheGreatTower

“We did a bang-up job.”

The Three Stooges* #quote

Today I mastered Kung-Fu but then forgot it as I watched mindless television. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

The Great Tower

        Awesome Tower will soon reach the skies! Those building blocks my parents got me for my birthday won't go to waste. And the ones for Christmas, and the ones from before. Gosh, I have a lot of blocks.

I made the green floors the bottom ones like I planned. And I gave them a zig-zag staircase cuz it's cool. I borrowed Mom's ruler to know how big the tower was, the green floors turned out to be two feet.

Next I made orange and red floors. I gave them more columns than they needed to have to hold everything else up. Like if it was the bars on a bad guy cell or something. One and a half feet.

       Two feet of blue and white floors. I stood on my bed to make these. They needed lots of support now. Daddy's neat building design books taught me how to do this. He's an architect! It's a hard word to say.

I borrowed the large step ladder from Daddy for the last part. I'll tell him I borrowed it later. I built another three feet of tower very, very carefully to the top of my room. I made it a pyramid out of many colors of blocks like a rainbow. My super, building project, just like Daddy's work turned out great. Awesome Tower is so cooool!

     When he got home from work I showed Daddy, he stood there silent with a odd look on his face. I guess I never built anything this big out of blocks and showed him before. “It's incredible.”

Since we were far away enough I took my soccer ball and threw it at the center of the tower and it fell to pieces on the floor.

       He turned to me in shock and yelled, “Why did you do that!?”

       I looked at him confused. “I do this with all my buildings. That must be why you don't see them. Want to help me build the next one? Since you make buildings for work you should be really good at it!”

Today's #flashfiction #TheSongOfDestruction

“Eat your fruits and vegetables!”

The Gingerbread Man* #quote

        Today I invited CJ over for the weekend. We'll be opening a portal to another universe, so if you see any beings not of this Earth, sorry. But hey, you know who to call.

The Song of Destruction

        I wreck the buildings so that when the glass shatters the crashing noises create the notes. The screaming of the humans are just the cries of an audience and the cannons of the tanks are just a chorus to my song. All the human defenses attack me and I only hear more instruments. As they try to kill a giant dragon such as myself their machine guns are merely a pleasant rhythmic beat in the orchestra. The swinging of the helicopter blades as made such a calming sound as they blasted my back with bombs that made me think of powerful trumpets. Truly what wonderful music of havoc I created as I decimated this human city. I breathed fire along the roads to incite more human rage, I stretched out my green scales as my neck curled around buildings and my tail whipped through a mall. My wings cast shadows over neighborhoods.

        I pounded my feet as drums. More music, more destruction. More energy. I'll create more noise Fill the world with sound of chaos. And they need to attack me more. Hit me with their weapons. I want to hear their bombs all around me. The clapping of sonic booms like cymbals. Nothing could please my giant ears but the rhythm of a world aflame.

       Then I heard a small noise. My strong ears could not be damaged by explosions, yet were able to pick up things much smaller than I in scale. I heard singing. I looked for the source. I walked towards it. It came from a partially collapsed building. Two humans trapped inside. One singing to the other. I used my advanced sense of smell to learn more about the humans. The singing one was a mother and another was a child. I found a small window from one angle that gave me a view. Several stories up the window couldn't give them an escape without their bodies crashing on the concrete.

       The song gave words of comfort to the child. It talked about how tomorrow would be a wonderful day, the sun shining, people smiling, and all the joys of the world could be found. The lyrics mentioned all the joys of their world. The mother held the child close to her chest so the child couldn't see the collapsing building around them slowly starting to give way.

      Somehow I found this song more enjoyable than the noise of havoc. It soothed my ears. It gave me a joy that chaos didn't. This style of music didn't resemble the style of music that dragons possessed. Perhaps this world could give my ears something else to enjoy than the pounding beats of destruction. I reached through the window and grabbed the mother and child and began my search for how to find these other sounds.

Today's #flashfiction #LostOnEarth

“Rise to the occasion.”

Icarus* #quote

        Today I surfed the Internet and caught some serious digital waves, but then I wiped out on a 404'd webpage man. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Lost On Earth

       “Danger, Bill Hoginson, danger, danger!” The robot sidekick told the explorer.

       “What, what is it?” Doctor Hoginson asked.

       “Maintenance all around us!” The doctor almost cursed in response, but like he did with his children he held back his words. Even though his company was only the robot, holding his tongue was a habit. The possible foul language would have been from a mix of panic and anger. The Maintenance proved to be the biggest threat to him on Earth and he couldn't believe that his robot didn't detect them earlier. The ground shook as he heard the metal stomps and the movie treads of The Maintenance. Why would they even be visiting a park? There is nothing to fix here. No ruins of the lost society here. The lost Earth that he was meant to explore.

      A dozen massive machines with treads, legs, and dozens appendages covered with cameras and saws and other work tools surrounded him.

      He addressed the robots. “You killed Doctor Johnson. Self-centered as he was he didn't deserve to die. I've seen you toss aside and rip apart dogs, cats, cows, deer, trees and whatever else to get to your objective. So what do you need to repair? Are you going to kill me? What in this park is so important all you showed up? This city has so many ruins in it still in it you should be fixing them!” Hoginson challenged the machines out of anger and curiousity. He knew the ancient people that lived on Earth gave them sophisticated A.I. He wondered if they would listen to them. Or would they have only listened to the native people of Earth? If only the planet hadn't been hit by a plague all those thousnands of years ago. He hoped his family would be able to get home to the colonies. They'd all been sent there with a few others to explore once a few probes determined the plague was gone. This Maintenance, repairing themselves and the world for humans not even there. And they won't listen to the ones that arrive after all their hard work.

The machines then pick up his robot sidekick and dismantle him as he screams “Danger!” Then they put him back together with new parts added and a clean up job as well.

Hogison looked at his robot horrified. He worried that they made his robot a killer of humanity and a Maintenance slave.

       The robot spoke his tone of voice didn't carry the energy he had before. “Hello Doctor Hogison,” he spoke this phrase whenever he rebooted in front of the doctor, “Integration into the Maintenance network complete. Hogison family are now the registered users of all maintenance workers all over the planet.

      Hogison was saved, along with his family. A stroke of luck saved him. Though over time he didn't see it as pure luck that the Maintenance machines found his robot defective. His robot sidekick worked and lived with him for years. He served as a good friend, although mechanical, to talk to when stress hit high and he was filled with loneliness. Family couldn't always be around and his perspective that family couldn't do helped a lot. But when the machines “fixed” him they dumped all his personality expressions. Truly an flavorful feature. And he knew that his friend never felt, or had any real compassion and that all the emotions were fake. But he lost the friend nonetheless, and all the comfort a friend provided. Eventually they got back home to the space colonies and were no longer lost on Earth, and progress was made on repopulating the planet. But even a replacement machine just didn't feel the same.

       But for the safety of his family he still felt grateful as he heard his old friend speak with a soulless voice.

Today's #flashfiction #CarpoolingInMemoryLane

“You can't handle the truth!”

Pinocchio* #quote

       Today I went to my card game thing. Tried out a new deck I made. It worked good today, but it still needs work. A tournament is coming up so I'm not sure if I'll use it or try another idea. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

Carpooling In Memory Lane

         When technology was invented to link minds and thoughts people would often visit other people's memories for their enjoyment. Someone from a far away country could take someone down their memory lane with them and them down there's to share experiences neither had. Memory bonding was often one of the biggest parts of dating in the world of psychics. If someone left their mind open just by passing them on the street the chips in their head could transmit pleasant memories or thoughts to another.

        But then there lived people like Thomas. The contamination in the stream of thoughts. The bad seed. The dirt in the road of memory lane. Bad things happened to him. Not his fault. He couldn't help he was attacked like that. When he was so young too. He couldn't help thinking about it at times. And it would transmit to other people automatically because he would lose control of the psychic technology. The technology that could not be removed without killing him. So people stayed away from him. They didn't want that frightful memory inside of them. Eventually he had to be put in isolation. His parents...even they couldn't handle the memory. The communicated to him through video chat from behind walls with lead and other alloys to block the signals. Loneliness joined him and his trauma, as he communicated only through other technology and eventually forgot the touch of another person.

      He was not the only case of isolation happening, but he was the first one that brought massive media attention when he died trying to take out the chip from his head with a knife they gave him for his food by himself. In coming years the methodology and all of psychic technology was questioned as well as what should be said, told, and heard by everyone by any technological means.