“It’s been fifty years already? Time flies on Earth 7. I remember how dull the years felt all that time ago. How bored I was with my immortality, sitting around with the other self-righteous on Earth 1. Or shall I just call it Earth? What do the angels refer to it as?” Alex asked, paying little attention to the angel. He had been struggling to open his can of soup for the last ten minutes, banging it against the side of his worn-out kitchen table. The pointed edges of the table piercing the top but not quite busting it open, spilling droplets of red tomato soup all over the table.

“We call it heaven. You were a holy man back then; a crowning achievement of what faith could do for a person. We still believe you are that holy person, which is why we are begging you to reconsider this crusade you’re performing. These people will repent on their own. They don’t need you to torment them into submission.” The angel pleaded; body hidden by a ray of golden light. On Earth 1, the angels were visible, a figure that those holy humans could comprehend, but as one moved lower down the Earth’s, the angels became more obscured, their features not visible behind the protective holy lights.

“Really? You think this is reforming anyone? Have you even looked at the world outside? Feel free to glance out of the cracks in my walls. It’s hell on this Earth. You put the worst of the worst together and expected them to play nice?”

“We believed that it would be in their best interest to be separated. It would offer them a chance to self-reflect without harming anyone else.”

“Without harming anyone else? So, it’s fine if they kill each other?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s implied. I agree with you, I would rather they kill each other. Unfortunately, that doesn’t give them a chance to reflect on their mistakes. All you’ve done is given them access to a playground of sin, one where they have even fewer consequences.” Alex banged the can against the edge, the top spilling open, spilling a wave of red liquid over the table. “Want some soup?”

“I’ll pass. Don’t you think this is better? We created a heaven and hell using your Earth, a way to organize people into categories. No one dies anymore. They simply live and reflect on their lives until they earn their way to Earth 1.”

“How many people here do you believe will earn their way back?”

“I believe every sinner has a chance to-“

“Honestly. Without the shit, how many do you think will earn their way back without me?”

“Five, maybe ten.” The angel sighed.

“Five or ten every fifty years. This place is going to get overpopulated at this rate. That’s not even counting the new arrives. Sure, Earth 7 is a hard place to get into, but it’s an even harder place to leave. Imagine living around murderers and sinners and trying to avoid killing someone. Even if you kill to protect yourself, you’re still technically a committing a sin.”

“God says one must forgive his enemies. As an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”

“Fifty years of turning the other cheek is hard. Which is why I’m helping. These people need someone to fear. A threat that makes them uneasy about sinning.”

“Alex, this isn’t the way to do things. You need to trust god’s plan.”

“What plan? We hear nothing from him for thousands of years and then suddenly we all sent to these Earth’s without warning. That was his grand plan? This isn’t what I devoted my life to. God teaches sinners how to grow. He doesn’t throw them into the too hard basket and leave them to kill one another.” Alex sipped his soup, downing the cold liquid and tossing the can onto the floor.

“This is a different way of teaching.” The angel said, picking up the can from the floor, looking for a bin to put it in. When it found none, it simply crushed the can into light. “You still choose to eat, even with immortality?”

“Even if hunger won’t kill me, it still doesn’t feel nice to starve. Plus, one can for me means one less for the others. I plan to weaken them until they are forced to become better people.”

“That isn’t the way. What if you shared the can? Wouldn’t that send a better message?”

“Heh, you angels really don’t have any clue what these people are like. These aren’t people who have just sworn during church or tripped someone over. These are the worst of the worst. People that don’t understand the difference between right and wrong. Suffering is their only way to salvation. They need to experience fear and pain.”

“I don’t think we will see eye to eye on this. I hate to say it, but you won’t be advancing to Earth 6 this time.”

“Mm-hmm. You can just send a letter next time. Don’t bother showing up.” Alex murmured, noticing the hint of a flashlight outside, the light poking through a crack in his wall. The light moving around the back of his house as he crept closer to the wall, peering out of the hole, watching as a small group of looters made their way to his shed.

“Please. I can tell what you’re thinking. Share your supplies with them.”

“You know, maybe you’re right.” Alex said, giving the angel a moment of hope before he reached for a remote underneath the kitchen sink. With the remote in hand, he waited until a looter opened the shed door before setting off the explosives. “Oh, what a shame. Nothing left to share.”

The angel grimaced, unable to look at the destruction. Smoke pouring from where the shed once was. The looters didn’t die, but it would take some time for their bodies to fully heal. Alex opened the backdoor, staring down the group.

“Welcome to hell, newbies. I’m going to torment you until you repent for your sins. If you’re smart, you will take this warning and follow the rules I’ve set. If you don’t, I’ll make sure you never get a moment of rest; you will always be looking over your shoulder for me.”

Alex watched as the group slowly healed, staring at the man in horror before scurrying into the darkness of the night. Alex was certain some of them would be back. Most people that ended up in hell weren’t the type to conform to rules, at least not at first. They would make a few attempts on his life and may even succeed, but without being able to kill him, they could only halt him for so long. Even trapping Alex wouldn’t last forever. The most successful trapping attempt lasting five years until the lock on his cage door rusted, and he broke free.

“You have set up rules?” The angel questioned.

“I have a few posters outside. A few guidelines on how to avoid contact with me. If they behave themselves, they won’t get much trouble from me. It’s the ones that continue their old habits that need to fear me.”

“I see. When you were a religious man, did you believe in the devil?”

“I did. It makes sense that if there is a god, there would be a devil.”

“The devil was never real. At least not until you arrived here. Your tale shares some similarities to the devil’s too. You both serve a similar purpose, although while the devil was a prisoner of hell, you appear to be a warden. I believe you have become the devil of Earth 7. I just wonder if you will stay a warden forever or end up a prisoner, too?”

“I’m no devil. I’ll return to Earth 1 when the evil repents. I just don’t plan to leave until I do god’s job for him. Even the wicked deserve to go to Earth 1. Even if they have to be forced to better themselves.”

“Hm. That answers my question. I’ll be taking my leave.”

“Please do. I need to go check my security camera. This place might look like it’s falling apart, but that’s just to trick anyone stupid enough to enter it. I have traps, a bunker and everything I need to make them repent. You’re just putting me in danger by being here.”

“Very well. Farewell.” The angel shone even brighter, causing Alex’s senses to overload, unable to hear anything but white noise as the angel left him with one word. “Prisoner.” Before vanishing.

     

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

Ah, my bad. I'll change it up!

“Hey idiot! Mozart called. He said he wanted his hairstyle back. You better get walking or else I’m going to write a requiem with your blood.” The sword barked, trying to force its way out of the sheathe. Barry kept one hand on the handle, keeping it shoved into the sheathe, giving an awkward smile to the biker who had turned around in the burger shop line.

“Did you compare me to Mozart?” The man huffed, his whiskey infused breath nearly suffocating him. Barry held his breath when the buff biker leaned over, poking a meaty finger into his chest.

“What? No, I would never. Must have been a misunderstanding. I was talking on the phone, and I think you overheard it. I was talking to my mother. Ha…” Barry glanced away after he said that, trying to look as innocent as possible. The man squinted before turning back in the line.

“YEAH, I SAID MOZART YOU IDIOT. Although if your hearing is that bad, maybe I should call you Beethoven. Or maybe Beat-hoven would be more fitting since I’ll be beating you to a pulp. No symphony alive could bring you any ode to joy after I’m done with you.”

“THAT DOES IT.” The man turned around, his cheeks red and his hairy chest puffed out. The Bikers’ hands squeezing the air as if he was already imagining how he would choke the life out of Barry. “I could have taken being compared to Bach or Stravinsky, but Mozart? That’s just the easy choice that every halfwit knows.”

“Wait, it isn’t me. I swear. It’s my sword. It’s cursed to search for fights. All throughout history, it’s only known battle. This sword being owned by bloodthirsty tyrants. This is the first time it’s seen the world in hundreds of years. It doesn’t understand times have changed. People don’t fight for glory anymore.”

Barry revealed the sword, a beautiful blue tinted blade with a shine that was almost blinding. It held a nostalgic aura to anyone that saw it, as though anyone whose eyes glanced upon it could recall seeing the sword in a history book or museum. Perhaps in a statue of Alexander the great or the grave of an ancient spartan king. The sight caused the biker to pause, admiring the blade.

“Your mom gave me that same look last night.” The sword taunted, studying the insults of this era whenever it had the chance. The words had a different tone to them, but to the biker, it just sounded like Barry was putting on a different voice, doing a strange ventriloquist act. Once again, his rage grew, and Barry found himself face down on the concrete with his forehead bleeding and the world around him spinning.

Thankfully, the man had left after giving Barry a powerful right hook, storming off before any security or police might have showed up. The other people in the line didn’t help Barry, just watching as he picked himself up, snatching a few napkins from a table before walking out.

“What the hell was that about?”

“I was trying to get you a taste for blood. How was it? Feel ready to slaughter his bloodline? I can give you his address.”

“What? No! Why would I want to do that?”

“Because it’s my purpose. I fight and slaughter. I’m the one who made empires crumble and I don’t plan to lose my streak because I’m bonded with a coward. If I could bond with you, that means that someone in your bloodline was a ruthless killer. I’ll draw that part of them out of you.”

“Do you understand how insane that sounds? You can’t draw something out of me. Haven’t you heard of nature vs nurture?”

“What? More insane than a person who's bleeding and talking to a sword?”

Barry paused, noticing the stares he was getting from the surrounding people. He gave a sheepish nod before placing a napkin against his forehead, wincing as the napkin made contact. He whispered his next line, shifting his head closer to his chest, trying to get in earshot of the sword.

“I’m not my great great-great-grandfather or whoever you’re referring to. Humans aren’t like that anymore.”

“Humans aren’t like that anymore? Everyone’s still the same animal they were when they trapped me in the box, only difference is, people put a lot more effort into hiding that side of them now.”

Barry walked home in silence, not responding to the sword’s taunts. Whenever the sword would try to insult a passerby, he would walk a little faster, hoping they didn’t hear. He wished he could just toss the sword into a bush and leave it there, but the sword could never leave his side. As soon as it moved a few meters out of range, it would float to his side again. It was safer to carry it.

When he got home, he tossed the sword onto the floor, taking a seat on the couch. Luckily, the bleeding had slowed, and it didn’t appear the wound would need stitches. He slouched into his position, looking at the sword.

“Why are you like this?”

“I’m a weapon of war and you aren’t using me. What did you expect? Use me for my purpose willingly or I’ll force you to use me.”

Barry sighed. What could he possibly do in this situation? He thought about it before getting an idea. He put the sword in its sheathe and searched the house, finding some old soundproof panels. Barry lined a suitcase with the panels before grabbing the sword, pushing it into the suitcase.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Shutting you up.” Barry said, shoving the sword inside before doing up the suitcase. Sure, the sword would eventually cut itself free, but this was only a temporary measure. It would at least give him enough time to prepare a stronger suitcase, one that he could take with him to prevent any annoying outburst from the weapon. He was certain the sword was cursing him from inside, but for the first time since they met, Barry couldn’t hear him.

     

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

“You expect me to believe that your tummy tum is carrying enough acid to burn through metal? You must have a stomach of iron, little human.” Gral laughed, nudging her coworker who didn’t seem as amused. In fact, her coworker’s four eyed face was whimpering, the machine confirming the human’s horrifying internal acids. “Heh, Hulax, what’s wrong? Don’t tell me you believe that little story.”

Doug sighed, the morning coffee not having kicked in yet. Even with a boost of Oxi-8 in his coffee, he just couldn’t shake that warp jump lag. He was glad this was one of the eight regions where Oxi-8 was legal or else he might have more issues than just having to explain what a stomach was.

“Have you not met a human? Wait, you know what a human is right? You used the phrase, tummy tum. That sounds humanish.”

Gral snickered, looking away from the monitor that was flashing red, showing a security alert for an illegal substance, one that could be deadly if it got near the electronics of the warp gate. She stared Doug up and down, finding her first human rather interesting. Sure, she had seen a few photos and even watched a five-minute documentary on his kind in her training course, but seeing one up close was a little odd. While she was on the clock, she couldn’t help but ask some burning human related questions.

“Where’s all that hair you lot have? Are you a sick human?”

“Hair? I have hair?” Dough tapped his head and chest, as though he was playing a strange impromptu game of head, shoulders, knees and chest hair.

“Yeah, but like the rest of it. Also, don’t you have big ears and swing from trees?”

“Are you confusing me with a chimpanzee?”

“What’s that?”

Dough wondered if the money from this delivery was even worth it at this point. Maybe he should just accept defeat and find a station that’s run by a more sophisticated set of aliens. He looked to Hulax for some sort of common sense, but he was fixated on the monitor, taking only the odd glance at Doug’s stomach before looking back at the machine.

“I think you might have gotten your information about humans a little mixed up. It’s a common mistake, happens way too often. So, how about I just try to explain a stomach to you?”

“Ok, fine. If you swing from the ceiling.” Gral said, still not noticing the difference between the documentary about chimps she had accidentally seen and the human standing before her.

“Again, not a chimp. Ok, so, humans have stomach acid to dissolve food. It’s kind of like our way of being able to digest food. Surely you have something similar?”

“We only drink meals. Food clogs up our bodies.” Hulax said, shivering as he backed away from the monitor, standing behind Gral. Worried the human’s stomach might burst and spray acid everywhere.

“Shit, this might be hard to explain, then. Um, so, you know how eating works then, correct?”

“I do…”

“Ok, so, we eat stuff, and the acid dissolves it and bang, it vanishes.”

“Where’s it go?”

“Where do you think?”

“Oh, I know. They fling it at each other. There was this human in a cage-” Gral tried to explain her facts to Hulax, only for Doug to interject.

“NOT….A….CHIMP….”

“Let’s say I believe you. How are you not melting? That can burn through metal. How are you alive?” Hulax asked. It was a good question and unfortunately one Doug was nowhere near qualified to answer. It’s not like highly educated individuals did dangerous drop offs to planets with low council ratings.

“Something to do with stomach lining. I don’t know, I didn’t build humans. If I did, I would have gotten rid of hangovers.”

“Jump up and down. I want to see if you go boom!” Gral clapped, her three hands joining in a loud clenched smack.

“What, like a soft drink? Ugh, fine, wish I had breakfast first.” He hopped on the spot, being reminded of his lack of fitness as he huffed, struggling to complete the little inspection routine. The coffee wasn’t helping, shifting like a dark wave in his body, threatening to make him sick.

“Heh, the tummy tum didn’t go boom. Maybe he’s telling the truth.” Gral conceded. She didn’t appear that interested in whether it was illegal for him to enter, just satisfied that something fun had happened today.

“I don’t know. It’s an illegal substance. Won’t we get in trouble for letting him in? What if he spits acid? Or dissolves? I don’t want to clean that up.”

“He has tummy lining or whatever he said. I can shake him if that would help?” Gral offered, the eight-foot alien grinning at the prospect, only for Hulax to shake his head.

“No, I doubt that would solve anything. How about you show us your stomach and we can let you through?”

“How?”

Hulax lifted the bottom of his shirt, showing off a squared abdomen. It was odd. Doug could see a faint lining along the edges of his abdomen, like the linings you might see on a closed fridge door, indicating it could open. His nails twisted into the side of his abdomen before he opened it.

“Just like that.”

That morning, coffee was feeling far less stable after that. Doug having to use all his professionalism to avoid making this situation worse. He tilted his gaze away, focusing on a security camera in the room’s corner.

“Humans can’t do that. Our bodies are meant to stay shut. Please, can you close it?”

Hulax did as Doug asked, closing it before tucking his shirt back into his pants. He thought over what Doug had said, before speaking.

“So, your body is technically sealed? Ok, I think I understand. You will have to fill in form 904A Section D. That form is a declaration of secured materials. It lets everyone on the station know you’re carrying dangerous substances in a sealed container. Just don’t unseal your stomach.”

“I’ll be dead if I do that, but sure. Whatever ends this nightmare.” For a person who thought he had seen it all, this was a fresh experience. That was the miracle of space travel. No matter how much one had seen, there was always a stranger thing waiting in the corner of the galaxy.

Hulax got the paperwork, returning with the document. He put on a glove before handing it over, still not trusting the human. Doug took the form and filled it in, scribbling in his messiest handwriting. With the form done, he handed it over to Gral.

“Here. Now can I please go in?”

“Sure. See you around, Tummy man.” Gral said, smacking him across the back. The smack caused Doug to stumble, nearly hitting the floor. He regained his balance and looked up to see a shaking Hulax. Hulax acting as if Gral had just cut the red wire on a ticking time bomb.

“I hope I don’t see you around.” Doug grumbled, cracking his back before he walked into the station, hoping the delivery went a little smoother than his previous interaction.

     

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

[Part 2 of 2]

“Yes, we do. A few retired heroes, I’m sure you have seen their files. Is that all?”

“No, not them. Anyone else?”

“We have you? Anyone else would be in the system. Just check that if you have some concerns.”

“I’ve seen everyone’s files, and no one has an ability that matches what I’m suspecting.”

“Suspicions are dangerous, Kyle. Especially in a workplace. What ability do you suspect someone is using?” She stopped her tapping, straightening out her tie as she focused on the conversation.

“The power to speed up someone’s aging. Well, speed up a normal person’s aging. Not mine.”

“You think a person is stopping you from aging? Why would that be a negative?”

“It’s against my will. Who says I want to stay this young for another decade or however long they keep doing this for?”

Holly sighed, leaning forward on her desk. Her medals flickering against her buttoned up shirt, decorated in some of the highest honors that someone in her position could get. She clasped her hands together before speaking.

“I say you want to stay like this. At least until I retire. I’m the one doing it. I could try to gaslight you into believing this is all in your head, but I respect your dedication to helping the public, so I’ll speak to you as an equal.”

“You’ve been doing this? Why?’

“Because you’re my golden goose. A person like you is a one in a million. You can resist any power and avoid whatever our enemies throw at us. Usually, a person with your talents would be on a hero’s salary, but you joined the police. Your service alone has saved the lives of thousands. I can’t risk aging, sending you to an early grave.”

“You’re taking away my freedom. I deserve to live as I please. What, do you think I’m going to retire when I hit forty? That you will be left without your golden goose?” He hissed that last part. What a crude thing to call him. He was more than some prized animal for her to carry around.

“No, because you won’t hit forty. Think about what I said for a moment while I print something.”

Kyle thought about her words until something stood out. An early grave. What did she mean by that? The crunching sound of paper going through the printer interrupted his thoughts, making it hard for him to think. When she placed the paper before him, he snatched it up, reading over it. It was a medical diagnosis for a brain tumor.

“In a few years, that tumor of yours is going to kill you. I’ve asked a few doctors and most say it’s inoperable. One said he was willing to try the surgery, but the success rate is low. Its developments are slow, but only because my powers have limited its growth.”

Kyle’s eyes flicked over the paper. How didn’t he know about this? It should have come up in his yearly medical tests. The doctor said he was healthy, that he looked as healthy as he did when he was in his twenties. How did she know about this? Then the answer hit him as he read over the bottom of the page. ‘This tumor has been discovered through the medical foresight of Dr. Ann Fania.’

Everyone knew that name. She was famous in the medical world, able to give you a rundown of any future medical issues you may face, allowing people to get an upper hand on their illnesses. She was too expensive for most people to afford, only aiding celebrities or public figures, but he had met her once before, when she had a brief appearance at the station to answer some questions about her house being broken into. Now that he thought about it, it was strange they never actually investigated her home, only taking notes and talking to her before they dropped the matter.

“Y-you tested me when Ann was here, didn’t you?”

“I did. She owed me a favor. Her results were unfortunate, to say the least. I’m sorry you have to find out this way, but I can’t afford to lose you.”

“So, what? You’re going to use me up? Make me fight your battles before I die?”

“You’re being emotional. Calm down and think about this. Yes, I’m using you, but by using you, I’m extending your life. You can have the family you’ve always wanted and spend a long, happy life with them. You’re getting a lot out of this. I’m giving you a chance to live.” Holly glanced at her keyboard, using the silence to continue typing up her report.

Kyle sat there, unable to find any words. He was going to die. Not only that, he was being kept alive by his boss, so she could continue catching criminals. He felt dirty, like he was no more important than the gun she wore on her hip. What could he do? If he complains or leaves, he dies. He was bound to her until either she retires or dies.

“I don’t know what to do.” Kyle placed his hands over his face, unsure why he was crying. Perhaps it was just a rush of emotion that needed to be released after a long day.

She handed him a tissue before returning to her keyboard. The printer went off again, and another document was placed before him. She took out a gold pen and scribbled her name on it, signing off on the document.

“I’ll tell you what you’re doing. You will take two weeks of paid leave. In those two weeks, you can consider everything we have discussed and then you can return to me and give me your true feelings on the matter. If you still hate what I’m doing, you can expose my abilities or leave. If you come to understand why I did this, you can return to work and we will be more open with one another moving forward.”

“But.”

“The leave is mandatory. I’m not asking you to take it, I’m telling you. I’m sure you will come to the right conclusion.”

Kyle took the paper and gave her a nod, holding it to his chest as he walked out of the office. James tried to stop him for a chat, but he brushed past him, keeping his head down as he walked to his car, not stopping for any idle chatter. He had a lot to think about, even if he felt he already knew what decision he would make.

     

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

[Part 1 of 2]

“You’re looking good. How longs it been since we last got coffee? Five years now?” Kyle asked, sitting down at the nearly empty café. Only a few dedicated customers braving the hot weather to come grab a cup.

“More like ten. It’s strange how time flies. What are you talking about, anyway? You think I look good? Look at yourself. It’s like you haven’t aged in ten years. Did you get some surgery done?” Tricia leaned over the table, pinching Kyle’s cheek, testing the elasticity of his skin. In her mind, any surgery would have made it impossible to pull on his cheek, but her theory had some flaws. The more she pulled, the more his cheek stretched until she let go after noticing Kyle’s annoyed stare.

“Must be my diet of pizza and whiskey. Not that I’m an alcoholic or anything, I just like to indulge on the weekends. Works stressful, you know?”

“Oh, that’s right. You’re a big deal now, the swiss army knife of the police force. Able to walk into any situation and walk out alive.”

“Don’t say it like that. You make it sound like I’m some sort of weapon. I’m just there to make the other members of the force get to go home to their families. I’m nothing special.” Kyle said, sipping his coffee. He had ordered a triple shot today, but the taste felt more bitter than usual, making him scrunch his face up at the first sip.

“Nothing special? You have more medals than anyone else. Where do you even keep them at this point?” Tricia smirked, watching his brief look of disgust before he went back to his coffee, acting as though it hadn’t happened.

“I used to hang them up on a board or frame them, but now I just toss them into a box. It’s easier that way.”

“Wow, I wish I had that life. Best I get at work is a brief thank you before getting another load of work thrown on my desk. The hero's life sounds a lot more exciting.”

“I’m not a hero. I’m a public servant.” Kyle corrected.

“A public servant. Then can you serve the public by paying for my coffee today?”

“Not that kind of servant, unfortunately.”

The two shared a laugh before discussing a few idle pieces of conversation. They discussed friends, families, holidays, hobbies and eventually love lives before Kyle checked his watch, noticing he had to head back into the office.

“It’s been nice seeing you. Now that you’ve moved here, maybe we can see each other a little more? We can bring our partners next time; it will be fun.”

“I would love that. Seriously though, you haven’t aged a day since I last saw you. It’s weird. Maybe someone is using their powers to stop you from aging?”

“That wouldn’t work. My power stops abilities from affecting me. An ability like that would just be void. It wouldn’t age me quicker or slower, I would just continue to age as normal. Although, if someone tried to speed up my aging, that might stop it.”

Kyle didn’t like the little theory he was developing. He hadn’t really thought about it before. Sure, he still had a baby face, but some people just did, right? What was a thirty-five-year-old even meant to look like? Surely someone couldn’t be stopping him from aging. They would have to be in direct contact with him. Or at least close enough that their powers would reach him.

“Earth to Kyle. Did you hear me?”

“Huh? Sorry, must have zoned out.”

“I just said that it’s weird that you haven’t aged since you took the job. Maybe it’s all the running around you do. Well, See ya.”

“Yeah, See ya.”

Kyle finished the last of his drink, standing outside the coffee shop, reflecting on her words. He joined the force about ten years ago and in that time; he hadn’t shown many signs of aging. Was there a person with abilities in the force? That was pretty rare. Most people like him became heroes or villains to cash in on their abilities. Not police. Not to mention, there would be a record of their ability. They couldn’t have kept it hidden, could they?

When he returned to work, he was a little less cheerful, not giving his usual enthusiastic greetings as he passed by his colleagues. Instead, he went straight to his desk to test his theory. He twisted the lid of the coffee cup, making it sharp before giving his finger a small cut, watching the blood trickle down it. If someone was affecting his aging, the cut wouldn’t heal, it would just keep trickling.

Minutes passed, then an hour and still the cut trickled blood, becoming a little messy until a few others noticed the bloody tissues he was hiding under his desk. James, his partner on the force, lent over his desk, offering another box of tissues.

“What a nasty cut, little things really bleeding. Want me to get you bandaged up? Can’t have our star officer dying to a paper cut.”

“No, I’m fine. Just a little cut. That’s all.” Kyle didn’t want any attention on him. All this chatter and staring made it impossible to determine who was using their ability.

“If you say so. If it’s still bleeding when I get back to your desk, I’m patching it up, though. I’m not letting you die.”

“It’s just a cut.” Kyle argued, but James was already heading off to do something else. Another ten minutes passed, and the cut had stopped bleeding. The person must have found out he was hurt and stopped using their ability, at least that’s what Kyle concluded.

He quickly got up from his desk, heading into the police chief’s office. Most people would have been yelled at for entering without an email or appointment, but Kyle had earned the privilege of wandering in unannounced. He took a seat, noticing the stoic look of police chief Holly. She hadn’t said a word since he entered, just tapping away at her keyboard, paying him no mind.

“Chief. Do we have any people with abilities working for us?”

Part 2

Thank you!

[Part 2 of 2]

“Good energy works as follows. When a person says or performs a good action, one that they understand to be the right thing to do, it gives them good energy. So, let’s say Tony gives me a compliment.”

“Wow, devil, you’re looking awfully sinful today.” The puppet said, somehow giving a buttoned eyed wink.

“Oh, thank you. A compliment like that will certainly earn you a small bit of good energy. You also helped your grandmother with her taxes, right?”

“Oh, I did. Thank you for mentioning that, you handsome devil.“

“Can you please wrap this up? It’s getting weird.” Erica interjected.

“Please, quiet from the audience.” The devil muttered before making his puppet talk.

“Not a problem, Tony. That action would have registered as a good act in your mind, thus earning you even more good energy.”

To represent the flow of good energy, he heated the puppet, giving its body a warm red glow, only for Tony to go up in flames. The devil’s eyes widened, watching the pieces of fabric fall around the room.

“Oof. I’ll have to apologize to Tony. That was a voodoo puppet. Anyway, did you understand that?” The devil said as his puppet tilted its head.

“Yes, yes. I understand. Well, kind of. What about the people that think they are doing good deeds when they are sinning?”

“Oh, well, it’s rare that a person can lie to themselves that deeply. Even the most stubborn of people would understand right from wrong, even if they claim ignorance and justify their actions. Although, you’re right, some people do genuinely not understand the difference and they still receive that good energy. Though, that is quite rare. It’s our fault for underestimating how complex humans could get. We didn’t assume such a thing would be possible when we created you.”

“Created us?” Erica opened her book, reaching for a pen. She had so much to write. Learning the history of her existence. Before she could even make an inky dot, he shut the book.

“Yes, created you. Our kind can’t die and we have a constant hunger for that energy, so we create other forms of life, letting them grow before harvesting the good ones and leaving the rest. Hoping that the rest will either die out so we can use their planet or turn good in time for the next harvest. It’s kind of like letting something ripen. Like a fruit. You still have fruit, right?”

“We do. So, the point of our existence is just to be consumed?” Erica stared at her book, not having any motivation to reach for it. It was a grim thing to write, how humanity had no purpose but to be eaten.

“Don’t be so down about it. You’ve heard of the food chain, right? Well, this is just the food chain except humans aren’t the ones on top. A silver medal is still worth celebrating, plus the relationships and lives you live are entirely your own. It’s just the end result that’s gruesome.”

“I guess that’s true.” Erica smiled, glancing up at the devil before a question popped into her mind. “So, why aren’t you eating us? Why did they cast you out?”

“Because I thought our hunger had turned to gluttony. We needed to eat, yes. But we were overindulging. In the past, we would only eat people as their bodies were about to expire, only eating the outer shell while leaving the soul intact. Unfortunately, the soul is now a delicacy. Any good person who dies doesn’t exist anymore. Their soul and bodies gone, leaving them erased from existence.”

“That’s horrible. Then if they are feeding on bodies already, why did they need a rapture?”

“They didn’t. The rapture’s just a feast, something they do because they can. That’s why I tried to stop it. I didn’t succeed, though. My attempt to save the first wave of humans failed, and they sent me to live amongst those that were deemed not fit for consumption. They assumed surrounding me with people that I couldn’t eat would drive me mad and for a few thousand years, it did.”

“What wave of humanity are we?”

The devil had to think about that. He raised a finger, then two, continuing this pattern until he needed a second hand, stopping on seven. He raised the hands towards her before lowering them again.

“The seventh. After about ten more generations, that marking on your forehead will fade and in about thirty, people will wonder if it even truly existed to begin with. Then, in forty generations or so, they will return and harvest your kind again.”

“Can we do anything to stop them? What if we all sin?”

“I’ve tried that in the past. I would go around and spread the teachings of sin, but that only ever led to pain. People took their sinning too far, creating places and cults nearly on par with the harvesters themselves.”

“So, we’re doomed?” Erica leaned back in her chair, staring at the man. It was a lot to take in, especially the news that so many other humans had already had their lives harvested. What would happen to her when she died? Would she meet these harvesters and share a similar fate?

“Mostly, yes. But I have a potential idea. What if humanity changed their understanding of good and evil? If you see good acts as evil and bad acts as good, it might change how the energy is received. It won’t stop them from eventually killing you all. They will probably kill you for the fun of it, but it will stop your souls from being eaten. Which means you will have sanctuary in hell with all the other discarded souls.”

Erica sank into her seat, her head resting in her hands as she thought about the impossibility of it all. Changing humanity’s way of thinking? Was such a thing even possibly? The more she thought about it, the more she doubted it.

“So, it’s impossible.”

“Perhaps, but you probably would have said it was impossible to meet the devil earlier today and you would have been wrong. It won’t be easy and it will take the coordination of a few generations, but it can be done. Not everyone will be convinced of your definitions of good and evil either, but you can’t save everyone. It’s your choice if you want to pursue it.”

“I have to do it alone. Can’t you help?”

“I’m helping by managing hell. If the harvesters find out I’m meddling again, they might kill me and let hell fall into anarchy. I have written a few names in that book of yours, people who also translated the message. I gave them the same idea that I gave you. Perhaps someone has made some progress. You could even try working together with them.”

“Can’t I just tell everyone to sin?”

“You can, but as I said. I tried that, and it was not a world anyone would want to live in. I hope you succeed in this, or at the very least, I hope to see you in hell. Stay safe and do your best. If I ever find a way to help you more, I’ll let you know.”

With those last words, the devil vanished. Erica quickly opened her book, seeing the name and details of a few other humans written inside. Each detail providing her a way to contact them if needed. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. A chance for humanity to get back some control over their existence.

     

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

[Part 1 of 2]

“Do not harvest, not fit for consumption?”

Erica held her blonde hair up, staring at her marked forehead. How long had humanity hated this mark? Constantly cursing its existence. It was believed to be the mark of the devil, the thing that trapped all of humanity in the ruins that they once called Earth, but it was the opposite of that. It was a marking that saved humanity, well, saved the sinners.

“I can’t believe this. We were wrong about the rapture. That means our ancestors weren’t saved, they were slaughtered. This is incredible. I need to tell everyone.”

Erica knocked a few papers off her desk in her excitement, slamming closed the leather-bound book she had been writing in. She jumped up from her seat, turning around and freezing when she saw a well-dressed lanky man standing in the corner of her room. His blood-red eyes staring at her as he rubbed his pointed tail tip between his fingers.

“How about we keep your little discovery to yourself?”

Erica slowly reached back for her book, holding the heavy object in front of her, hoping that might deter the man from coming any closer. The man smirked, the smirk pushing his pencil-thin moustache towards his nose as he stepped forward, almost gliding with each elegant step.

“Who are you? If you don’t answer I’ll-“

“You’ll what? Whack me with a book? I’m not here to hurt you. If I were, I would have done it when your back was turned. I’m not a fan of a fair fight.”

“You’re the devil.” Erica muttered, as if she had just spoken the first thought that came to her mind.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

There was a tense moment between the pair as the man stood before her. His tanned skin releasing smoke from its pores, as if internally he was on fire. He said nothing, only pointing a clawed finger downward, motioning her to place the book back on the table. Erica hesitated for a moment before setting the book down, losing her only weapon.

“You’re right. I am the devil. Or whatever word you wish to refer to me as. I’m the original sinner, a man or, well, entity that sinned against my kind, being cast into a layered prison that was intended to drive me insane, and it certainly did that for a few thousand years.”

“You said you were a man? Are you human?”

“No, I think I just adopted this form because that’s how you humans kept envisioning me. Well, apart from a few strange humans that drew me in rather unique ways, but that was before your time. I was one of those harvesters, or what your kind refer to as angels.”

“An angel?”

Erica circled the devil, her curiosity setting in. She didn’t see anything angelic about the man or anything even that devilish. Sure, he had a tail, but a mutation from radiation could cause a similar effect. When she made her third rotation of the man, he pressed a finger against her forehead, stopping her from completing a fourth.

“Yes. An angel. I prefer the word harvester. It’s more fitting. My kind grow species, feeding off the good energy they produce.”

“Good energy?” Erica questioned.

“Yes, Here let me explain.” He snapped his fingers, pulling out two puppets. One appeared to be a version of the devil, although it was a little more muscular with a pair of sunglasses on. He gave her a smile, proud of his little creation, only to pout when Erica didn’t show any interest in his craftsmanship.

“Can’t you just tell me?”

“You have the devil performing a puppet show for you and you have the nerve to ask him to give you a boring explanation with just words? No, the puppets stay. Take a seat.”

Erica reluctantly sat, watching as the devil conjured up another puppet. This puppet was of another man made to look far weaker and less important than himself. With the two puppets prepared, he began moving them around, waving them through the air.

Part 2

“What the hell are you? You should be dead. I shot a hole through your chest. I know I did. I saw you die.” The Masked Jailer panicked, his eyes wide behind the thin holes in his skeletal mask. The jaw of the mask hanging loosely from his face, connected only by a few frayed fabrics that were barely holding together after receiving a mighty right hook from Luma.

“I’m just a regular human, no different from you. I’m not even that strong, although I think we both have to admit, that was a hell of a punch, right? Nearly knocked your bloody mask off.” Luma smirked, flexing her biceps before pulling her fist back, readying another punch, planning to knock the mask clean off this time.

“Wait, wait. I give up. I can’t kill a monster like you. You were dead for a split second. I saw it. What happened? Did you revive yourself? Are you a cyborg?” Masked Jailer threw his arms into the air, his back pressed against the remains of a brick wall that he had blasted Luma through only a few minutes ago.

“I’m just built different.” Luma said, before looking herself over. She stretched out the sleeve of her hero outfit, checking over the bright red attire. “I don’t look dead, do I? Huh, am I bleeding? Shit, can never tell in this suit, why did I go with red?” Luma muttered, before slamming her fist into the jaw of the villain, knocking his mask clean off, sending it bouncing along the ground.

After the punch connected, the villain’s head slumped down, knocked unconscious by the hit. Once she had confirmed he was out for the count, she dropped him to the floor, making a call to the police.

“Hey, it’s your favorite hero, Luma. Anyway, Chief, got another one for you. Masked Jailer, I think his name is. Kind of ironic that he’s going to jail, isn’t it? Guess he will be the unmasked Jailee? Oh, come on, that was a good one. What do you mean, you have to go? I don’t hear a villain attack.” Then the chief hung up on her. Luma staring at her phone with a pout before sliding it back into her suit.

“I save their city and they can’t even handle a good joke or two.” She crouched before the Masked Jailer, pressing a finger to his chin, staring at his face.

He wasn’t anyone special, just a brown-haired guy with a now fractured jaw and a few scratches on his face. She was always a little disappointed when she revealed a villain. She always expected some grand Scooby Doo level of reveal where it turns out the chief was the villain all along or something like that, but instead it’s just no names with anger issues. “Yawnzers. What a snooze fest. Boring guy, but what a pretty toy.” She picked up the weapon he had used to blast a hole through her stomach, looking over the intricate design. It looked like a rifle and a sci-fi blaster had a strange baby. Its metallic sides coated in glowing lights, that added an energy to the bullets that were fired. When she grasped it, the gun gave a pink hue, powering up.

“Pew, pew. Commander Luma here to save the world from aliens and all things evil.” She made a few sci-fi poses, crouching next to the knocked-out body as though she had defeated some powerful alien scumbag before pointing the gun in random directions, landing on a horrified civilian. “Pew?”

“DON’T SHOOT. PLEASES, I SAW NOTHING.” The woman screamed, trying to back away from the gun wielding hero.

“Oh, no, no. I just confiscated this weapon from the villain here. I’m Luma, you know, the Lumatic Luma? You have probably heard of me. I’m a pretty popular hero. Don’t worry, the gun’s not loaded. I think?” She whispered that last part, smacking the gun against the wall a few times, trying to confirm if it was on or off.

“You’re a hero? Really?” The woman had calmed down enough to stop backing away, but her legs were still shaking, uneasy around Luma.

“Yes, she’s a hero, unfortunately. Luma, can you take this seriously? You’re meant to clean up after you take down a villain. Not do, whatever the hell this is.” Melancholic Demise said, the gloomy hero dressed in his black and white outfit, always reminding Luma of a walking Yin and Yang symbol. His long dark hair creeping out of the back of his mask, reaching down to his lower back.

“I was just checking to make sure the weapon was off. Don’t get all up my ass about it.”

“Ugh. Who taught you to speak?”

“Clearly someone with more life in them than whatever crypt keeper or priest taught you.”

“Go to hell.”

“Make me.”

The two took the banter in different ways. Luma grinned the entire time, finding the exchange more than a little amusing. While Melancholic showed clear signs of frustration. Even with his mask on, his hands waved wildly around, following every comment with an upset action.

“Um, can I go?” The woman asked, drawing their attention back to the civilian.

“You never were told to stay here, so sure. Go enjoy your day, citizen.” Luma said, waving her off. When the woman left, she approached Melancholic, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Mind taking it from here, bud? My stomach’s killing me. Got a hole blasted through it, thought my inte-“

Melancholic covered the mouth of his mask, making a small, disgusted grunt. “Please stop talking.”

“Why? You don’t want to hear about how my-“

“STOP. I’ll handle the pickup. Just stop trying to disgust me with your injuries.”

“Great, thanks bud. I owe you one. I would honestly do it myself, but I can’t fly like the rest of your sky touchers and I’ve already got in my ten thousand steps today.”

“Sure, you would. What’s that make this? The tenth thing you owe me?”

“Friends don’t keep count of those things.”

“I don’t think I ever said we were friends.”

“Gloomy as always. Don’t be mad that you got stuck with your edgy teenager hero name. Some of us didn’t go through a phase.”

“It wasn’t a phase, it was a poke at how uncaring the world can be towards the demise of-“

“Bye Gloomy.” Luma had heard the speech at least fifty times by now, not willing to listen to it again. She heard Melancholic give his usual huff and puff before focusing on helping the police take the villain away. Providing backup in case the villain wakes.

Exhausted and with no spectacular flying abilities, Luma was forced to take the bus home, trying her best to not get blood on the seats as she sat down, making idle conversation with the old man next to her. Luma tried to help the old man with his crossword puzzle, despite getting all of her guesses wrong. Eventually he just shifted the crossword puzzle away from her, trying to avoid anymore incorrect guesses.

After an hour on the bus, she had arrived home, waving goodbye to the old man before heading up to her apartment. Sure, she could have just run home and used her advanced endurance and speed, but she was tired, and the bus was pretty cheap. She might not have any fancy superpowers, but she had above human capabilities, training with the heroes, despite her lack of powers.

When she got into her apartment, she collapsed onto the couch, groaning into a cushion. “I’m soooo tired. I can’t believe some no name like him killed me.” She rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “What’s that make it? My thirtieth death? Or has it been even more? I wonder how many deaths I can even have before I run out?”

It was a common misconception that powers and high-tech weapons didn’t work around her, considering that no matter what a villain did to her, she appeared to recover in an instant. In reality, she wasn’t invulnerable to their powers or weapons, she just was spared from the damage, having to sacrifice an alternative version of herself to spare her own life. Killing off a happy Luma in another timeline, all for the sake of self-preservation.

She didn’t know why she had this ability or what sort of lives the other versions of her led. All she knew was that she needed to keep sacrificing them to preserve herself. The villains in her timeline needed to be defeated, even if it meant she would eventually cease to exist in any universe.

“I wonder what she was like. The one that died today. I hope she wasn’t too nice.” Luma rested a hand on her stomach, feeling over the spot where the hole had been. She felt sick imagining what sort of person they could have been. Who says these other Luma’s were heroes? What if they were just normal people, no different from a civilian? What if the other hero Luma’s were also using this ability? Would she eventually be killed as a result? All those thoughts made her uneasy, so she turned on the tv, hoping to drown them out.

“Our deaths won’t be in vain. I promise you, when the heroes outnumber the villains, I’ll stop. Until then, I’ll try not to lose anymore of us.”

     

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s my wedding ring.”

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

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

“Do I look like I have anything else?”

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

“No one else will come.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You would do that for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Then I will happily sing it for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

     

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

“Hurry up and help me, you bastard, or there won’t be anything left for you to dine on.” Murdoc shouted, desperately trying to pull the mess that had once been his leg out from underneath the stack of metallic boxes. With each attempt, his leg only got more trapped until he couldn’t even squirm anymore. Instead, he was forced to watch the drooling hoard approach, their slow steps closing in.

“Vampires aren’t dissimilar from vultures. I’ll find some blood to pick at once they're done with you. But, if you were to say, agree to my contract, I would be happy to lend you a hand.”

“I can’t agree on behalf of all the group. You would have to ask them.”

“Hm, I suppose that’s a fair point. Well, will you agree? One source of blood is better than none.” He said, the pale man crouching on top of the fence, placing a hand over his forehead, peering at the corpses. “Might want to hurry it up. I’m fast, but even my speed has its limits.”

Murdoc wondered if this was an elaborate game of chicken. Would the vampire really let him die? Surely it wouldn’t do something so reckless? That’s at least what he initially thought. But once the undead were close enough to smell, the panic set in once more. He didn’t want to die, not like this.

“Fine, I agree. I agree. Just save me.”

The purple jacket of the vampire was left flying in the wind as he rushed forward, moving too fast for the scrappy jacket to stay on. In a flash, he had placed himself between Murdoc and the zombies, giving the human a wink before clawing his way through the horde. Each expert slice relieving the zombies of their heads until they were reverted to just being dead, rather than undead.

“There we go. Didn’t even break a sweat.”

The vampire walked up the fence, his feet seeming to stick to the metal as he climbed back to the top, retrieving his jacket before jumping back down. With his jacket back on, he approached Murdoc, leaning against the metallic box his leg was trapped under, putting an additional kilo of weight on it.

“Want me to take care of this, too?”

“Aghh… GET IT OFF.” Murdoc screamed and as soon as the words left his lips, the vampire flicked the metal box away, watching as it skidded along the grass, leaving a trail in the ground.

“Done. You know that was all a bluff, right? If you got yourself infected, I wouldn’t be able to drink your blood.”

“Yeah, you’re a real joker.” Murdoc scoffed, limping over to the fence, gripping the edge for support.

“Don’t be like that. If you had lived for hundreds of years, you would get a twisted sense of humour too. Now, about your leg. Want me to kiss it better?”

“What?”

“You know, kiss the booboo?”

“Just get me to a doctor already. We have one inside the camp. If you just help me over the fence, I can get some treatment. She might even save my leg.”

“You think that’s even a leg anymore? I wouldn’t look down. There’s nothing that resembles a human leg there anymore.”

Murdoc didn’t take the advice of the vampire, looking down at his leg, only to faint once he caught sight of the wreckage below. It was a mess and one that needed urgent care. As Murdoc collapsed, the vampire caught him, sweeping him up into his arms before jumping the fence once more, getting guns immediately pointed his way when he did.

“Relax, I’m returning a damaged good, I hope I don’t need a receipt for it.”

Hours passed before Murdoc woke up to the smell of pure alcohol. His leg burning but still having sensation. He sat up quickly, spotting the vampiric stranger and Dr. Melissa Brown. The pair stopping their conversation, turning their attention to the injured survivor.

“I can feel my leg? I can feel it. Did you save it?”

“Your legs fine, thanks to the man sitting across from me. Apparently, vampire saliva has a healing effect.”

“Yep, I spent all night licking that leg of yours. It’s kind of like getting the last bits of meat off a steak bone. Quite juicy and tender.” He teased.

When Dr. Melissa saw how pale Murdoc had gone, she gave him the truth, wanting to avoid giving him anymore unnecessary trauma.

“That was a joke. I actually collected a sample from him and created a salve from that. Honestly, I didn’t think it would work, but it seems our undead acquaintance was telling the truth.”

“I have no reason to lie, not when I need our partnership to be fruitful.”

“Partnership? I’m guessing he told you about their plan to turn us into human cattle?”

“Human cattle makes it sound so dirty. It’s just enough blood for us to survive. You get protection, we get blood. Everyone wins. It’s kind of like that frog and spider combination.”

“It isn’t entirely like that, but I see your point. What choice do we have? We nearly lost another person today and our food’s running low. We need people that can travel further into the city.” Melissa said, before turning to the vampire. “What should we call you?”

“Trent is fine. Ive had a few names since I was born, but I think Trent’s the easiest to say. So for simplicity’s sake, you can call me Trent.”

“Great. So, Murdoc, how are you feeling? You won’t be able to walk properly for a week or two, but you should heal up rather nicely. While you’re hurt, I’m going to have you assisting me with my medicine. I’ll need someone to help collect the vampire saliva.”

“Oh, goody. Guess we will see a lot more of one another then.” Trent smiled, earning a small scowl from Murdoc.

“Eh, can’t I just take my chances with the zombies?”

“I know it’s not an ideal job, but everyone needs to pull their weight, even those that are injured. It’s just for two weeks. Once you’re healed, you can go back to handling our storage.”

“Fine. Oh, and thanks. If you need some of my blood, I guess you can have it now.”

Trent looked at Melissa, wondering if the doctor wanted to inform him of the news or not. When the Dr remained silent, he just widened his grin, leaning back in his chair, tapping a spot on his neck. At first Murdoc didn’t know what he meant by the action, until he pressed a hand against his own neck, feeling a slight bruising.

“YOU DRANK FROM ME WHILE I WAS SLEEPING?”

“I got hungry. Don’t get mad at me, the kind Dr approved of it.”

“You did a lot to help us and it made sense to allow you to drink from the one person who wouldn’t notice it. This feeding will take a while for us to get used to, so I thought allowing him to feed on you would be the least painful option for now.”

“What about offering yourself?”

“I can’t look after my patients if I’m lightheaded. Now. Trent, is there anything else you need? If not, I suggest you contact your group and tell them we are open to negotiations.”

“I will do just that. Thank you for your hospitality. I’ll see you around, Murdoc. Maybe you can come see my mansion sometime? It’s to die for.” He laughed, despite no one else finding the joke funny. With that, he left, allowing Murdoc and Melissa to talk in private.

“He has a strange sense of humour, doesn’t he?” Melissa said.

“Guess that must have died too when he became a vampire.”

Melissa gave a chuckle before collecting her clipboard, looking over the list of things she needed to do today. After ticking off a box, she turned to Murdoc, handing him a small jar of painkillers.

“I have to go check our stock of medicine. Just take one of these if the pain comes back. If you feel you’re going to die, scream out for somebody. Ok? There’s some water by your bed too.”

“Thanks, doc.” When she left, Murdoc rested his head back into the pillow, staring at the top of the medical tent. After a few minutes of staring, he took two of his painkillers before closing his eyes, allowing himself to get some more rest.

     

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

“Do you think I’m beautiful?” She asked, her scissors blocking me from shutting the door. She wasn’t ugly by any means, but I had heard the story before.

“Do you think I’m beautiful?” According to the stories, this was the easiest way to escape her. You needed to distract her with a question before fleeing, or in my case, create an opportunity to close the door. She placed the scissors against her cheek, touching the end of that long cut.

“Of course, I think you’re beautiful. I was hoping you would accept my marriage proposal. I came all this way to confess my love for you.”

“Huh?”

Marriage proposals like this were common. No matter what I did, the strange beings would always come to find me, confessing their strange forms of love. Stranger than that was the fact it was spreading to urban legends now. She wasn’t even a mythological being, and yet she was still somehow under that same spell. Perhaps it had a way of messing with anyone that wasn’t a mortal.

“I’m flattered, but I’m not interested in a date.”

“That’s great because I said marriage.” She gave me a smile, her grey lifeless eyes peering at me through her dark strands of hair.

“Marriage is even more out of the picture. You seem nice, but I just can’t commit to a lover. I’m far too busy for it. Maybe in a month or so.”

“I will return in a month, then.” With that, she walked away from my door, going up to a few pedestrians on the sidewalk, asking them if they thought she was beautiful.

I wondered if I should contact the cops or maybe a priest. Eh, that would cause more problems for me. Instead, I elected to just lock the door and close the blinds. If I couldn’t see what happened, I could remain happily ignorant. I slumped back onto the couch, jumping when I felt a hard object poke my back. “Fuck! Not another demon.” I turned, only to see a VHS sitting on the cushion with a white piece of sticky tape over the front with the words. ‘My confession’ written on it. “Who even uses a VHS anymore?” I tossed the tape aside, tying to relax without being harassed by some form of mythological being or supernatural entity.

I tapped the power button on my remote, only for the screen to remain blank. I gave the power button another hit, only to be met with the same blank screen. After a few more attempts, I walked over to the television, smacking the top of it, until I heard a loud scream.

“AHHHHH, WHY IS EVERYTHING SHAKING? I KNEW I SHOULD’T HAVE SLEPT HERE.”

The high-pitched voice was coming from the tv or at least that’s what I had initially thought. When I crouched down to check the screen, I noticed that the whole back of my television had been removed, leaving only a dark screen that had a small fairy sitting behind it. She looked up at me and waved.

“If you’re here to ask for my hand in marriage, I’m not interested.” I said, expecting to have the same conversation as before.

“Why would I want that?”

“Wait, you don’t?”

“You’re a human, and not even an attractive one at that. Why would I want to marry you?”

“This isn’t some sort of reverse psychology, is it? If it is, it’s not going to work.”

“Jeez, you humans have enormous egos. Do you mind?”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She gave me a glare as I went back to the couch, plopping back down onto a cushion before remembering whose house it was. I sprang back up and tossed the remote at the screen, creating a loud bang that made her scream out again.

“What do you mean, do you mind? It’s my house. What did you do to my tv?”

“Oh, this? Well, there was some creepy guy staring at me through the tv so I thought I would unplug it, but plugs are kind of heavy so I just threw a gust of wind at it instead. I think I might have broken the back of it? It’s pretty cozy though. I had an amazing nap. Did you want a turn?”

“How would I nap in it?”

“Maybe curl into a ball?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m an idiot? Your father was right about you. You are ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful for what? Getting my house broken into?”

“For my assistance in helping with your problem.”

“Wait, you know my dad? That same dad that left me on the front door of an ice-cream shop when I was just a baby?”

“Kids love ice cream. He just assumed you would figure it out.”

“I wasn’t even a year old.”

“Show some independence. I left home after a week, and you don’t see me crying about it. You could have easily gotten a job and raised yourself, but instead you just cried on that doorstep until some old man had to adopt you. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re not the brightest fairy, are you?”

“How dare you?” Her wings fluttered as she flew towards my face, delivering a tiny swinging kick to my nose. One that didn’t exactly hurt, but certainly stunned me into silence.

“I may not understand humans that well, but I’m still a fairy with centuries of experience. Sure, maybe I only got given this role because I kept sleeping on the job, but that doesn’t mean you can disrespect me. I’m still a fairy.” I went to respond, only to notice the fairies’ eyes were watering. To avoid creating a scene, I let her have that.

“Fine, sorry. Look, who even is my dad? Are you saying I’m part mythological being?”

“It’s complicated. Do you know what a bastard is?”

“I don’t like where this is going, but yes.”

“Well, that’s the answer.”

“But that doesn’t explain anything.”

She sighed, acting as though I was the one being painful. She sat on the edge of the television, contemplating the best way to explain the current set of circumstances.

“Ok, so. Sometimes angels and demons fall in love. When they do, they can create a bastard child. Technically, a bastard is a child born out of an unholy union. Mortals think that means a child born out of marriage, but it actually means one born between heaven and hell. One of those strange misunderstandings that got passed down through history. So, your mom’s a demon and your dad’s an angel.”

“And my dad cursed me to be attractive to things?”

“Ah, that’s the funny part.” She said, acting as if I found any of this funny. “Your dad made it so creatures and other mythological beings would want to take care of you. But your mother did the same thing, so technically the spell got amplified, so instead of creatures just wanting to help you out, they wanted to adopt you. Well, at first, they wanted to adopt you, now they just send you creepy love letters.”

“Great, so both my parents were hopeless. Do I at least get any cool powers?”

“About that. If you were the child of two angels or two demons, you would. But being a child of both kind of cancels it out. Demonic blood doesn’t work with angel blood, so it just makes you the plainest person around. Somehow, you’re even more average than the average human.”

“Aw, damn. So, are you going to remove the curse or spell?”

“I guess a curse is probably the best way to describe it. I totally am going to remove it. We just need to get you married, and I’m here to help you find your perfect match.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Not at all. Once you’re safe and married, the curse will be broken, and you can go about your normal life. Well, you can’t because you will be married to someone. So, I guess you will go about your new life? It’s still a slight upgrade, right?”

“I don’t have much of a choice. Guess It’s better than constantly dealing with this. I’m Jacob, by the way.”

“I already knew that. I’m Tiva or Tiv for short.”

I didn’t know if she really needed to shorten that, but I wasn’t about to have that conversation with her. As I went to finally relax, I heard sirens outside. At first, I thought little of it, only to realize what must have happened.

“That’s noisy. I’m going to go see what’s happening.” Before she could fly off, I placed a hand in front of her, blocking her flight path.

“I wouldn’t…”

“Hm? Alright. I guess we should get started. Don’t worry, with me by your side, you will find the ideal lover. Even if you’re thirty.” With that, she summoned a book of potential suitors, going through some options with me, while I just accepted my fate, listening to what she had to say.

     

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

“How are the hotdogs, Reginald?”

“The unknown meat of beasts has been dormant for a week. If it’s freshness you seek, I suggest coming tomorrow morning.” Reginald didn’t glance over from the hotdog machine, carefully rotating the meat to make it appear more edible.

“Right, thanks for the head up. You know, it’s funny. It’s like you have been working here for years. Strange how quickly time flies.”

That comment made Reginald turn around, the pale vampire grinning. He loved it when people made comments like that. To him, it was a reminder of how superior he was. He had gone decades without being noticed and his disguise was still holding firm, or so he thought. Like the rest of the town, I enjoyed throwing him a bone now and then. It was nice to see my words add some excitement to his undead heart.

“How amusing. As I’m sure you’re aware, I only graced this establishment with my presence a few months ago. Perhaps you are mistaking me for another handsome being who only works night shifts.”

“Must be. Guess I’m just a bit of a scatterbrain.” I laughed, though the laugh was cut short when I saw him staring at me. Reginald just staring with an intensity that made me nervous. Was this going to be the day he snapped? He had never shown any aggression before, but maybe the sight of all that stuffed meat had triggered something in him. When his lips parted, I winced.

“No, you’re a valued customer. I appreciate the exchange of words we have.”

That was more shocking than an attack. I had never heard him say something that nice before. I wasn’t sure if he was naturally cold or if that was just something that came with the curse of vampirism, but usually, he would only talk himself up. As I stood there stunned, he went back behind the counter, not paying my shocked expression any mind.

I stood there for longer than I care to admit, only getting snapped out of my trance when my gaze fell to the security camera hanging above me. My slack-jawed reflection on the screen was enough to get me moving again. I shuffled through the store, grabbing the jelly dinosaur snacks I had a craving for. Unable to resist the allure of a late-night snack run.

It was strange knowing a living vampire. All my life I had grown up thinking vampires weren’t real, only to encounter one working in a 7/11. Even stranger than that was the fact that everyone was in on this. Collectively, the town had agreed they would look after the vampire, even lying to any vampire hunters that came to town, pivoting them away before they could hunt our beloved Reginald.

Why the town adopted Reginald was a question I still didn’t have a concrete answer on. Some say it was an act of pity after the owner of the store begged the mayor for his safety, while others claim he had been working undetected for a decade without causing trouble, so no one bothered to bring it up. Everyone knew he drank blood, but we also knew he sourced it mainly from animals or, at worst, would visit a blood bank. He never killed, never hunted, he just kept flipping hotdogs. Perhaps we all admired that about him?

Most people would have been corrupted by such power and yet he lives a more normal life than most. It’s like being gifted with the abilities of a god and deciding to spend your time playing Sims rather than actually do anything productive or destructive with it. Maybe that’s why we liked him? In a strange way, he felt human. It was clear he didn’t choose his powers, hell if the stories are to be believed, he was a crying mess when he came to apply for the job. The owner assumed it was nerves, but it was probably out of fear of being detected. I really can’t picture him crying, though. If only he could learn to speak like a human, no one would probably notice the whole vampire thing.

“Why are you staring at those gelatin fossils? Are you ok?” Reginald placed a chilly hand on my forehead, checking my temperature.

“Yeah, sorry. I zoned out for a second there. Jeez, you move quick. I thought you were behind the counter.”

“You were staring for quite a long time.”

I couldn’t tell if he had moved at a superhuman speed or if I had just zoned out for longer than I expected. I gave a sheepish laugh before heading to the counter, glancing over the stupidly expensive specials hanging on display near the cigarette cabinet. I still wondered how a business could sell two chocolate bars and a drink for $8.00, especially when there was a supermarket across the street. What sort of idiot would pay their over-inflated prices? I tried not to think about how I was that idiot as I slid the jelly dinosaurs over to Reginald.

“$6. Would you like to add a drink for an extra $2?”

“Fine, I’ll get a drink too. Cause I’m a sucker.” I muttered that last part under my breath, grabbing a drink from the fridge before paying him the money.

“It’s a better use of your funds. The beverage is usually $5.”

I just nodded like an idiot. Already accepting the store had caught me in its trap. I would accept my defeat with dignity, rather than spit the dummy over a few extra dollars. It was my fault for snacking so late. He slid my drink and jelly dinosaur’s back, giving me a nod.

“Thanks, I’ve been meaning to ask, what do you do with your spare time?”

“What a bizarre question. Are you trying to form some sort of friendship bond with me that goes above customer and server?”

“I guess?”

“I enjoy that groove machine at the arcade. The one where you dance on the arrowed tiles. I also enjoy horror games.”

“Want to play a round some time? The arcades open pretty late, so we can go after one of your shifts. Or you could always come over and play a game at my place. There has to be a good two person horror game.”

“I will acquire one for us. I would enjoy that a lot.”

So, we exchanged numbers. Sharing our details before I headed out the door, the little ding of the door’s bell seeing me out. Just before I stepped out of the store, I heard him call back to me.

“One last thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Invite me in when I come over.”

“No problem. I’ll see you around.”

     

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