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Love In The Time Of Zombie Apocalypse

Be Careful What You Wish For: A Zombie Apocalypse

I see dead people. But hey, it’s the zombie apocalypse, everyone is seeing dead people, including a blind girl. It’s not like I am that special. For a while, I thought I was going to be Cinderella, complete with the cruel stepfamily and the little mice for helpers. But instead of mice, I got demons from hell with a taste for chaos. Then again, there is nothing wrong with a little chaos in the middle of the apocalypse. It’s what makes life worth living. Unfortunately for others, they don’t quite see it that way. You see, I have a gift. One that isn’t exactly mine, but I can use it however I see fit. My gift is granting wishes. I'm a genie without a bottle, but it would be nice if people appreciated me more. All the humans ask for is the same thing… more food here, shelter there, kill these people, torture those. And I do it all, for a small price. I don’t ask for money or food, I can get that on my own. No, I want favors, souls, something that means everything for the other person. And they give it to me. Their momentary desire worth their long term happiness. But by the time they discover that, I’m long gone, already moved on to my next… client. I know I look young, starvation and abuse will do that to a girl. Humans tell me that I shouldn’t be wandering out there alone. Some try to help me… most don’t. But whoever said I was by myself? Just because others couldn’t see them didn’t mean my demons ever left. I still hear their voices in my head, whispering words of encouragement and love. For them, I’d do anything. Kill anyone. Destroy anything. After all, life is just a game, right? Those still alive at the end of the day were the lucky ones. Those who died were not. Everything is just a game of chance, all a human has to do is roll the dice. My only word of advice is to be careful what you wish for… you just might get it. My name is Hattie, welcome to my world. Would you like a cup of tea?
Devilbesideyou666 · 306.7K Views

In the Shadow of Time

Detective Alexander is hailed as a prodigy—a young investigator whose genius mind has cracked some of the city's most complex and chilling cases. But behind the acclaim and cold, calculating demeanor lies a fractured soul, haunted by a past he has buried deep. Alexander hasn’t smiled in years, and when a reporter questions him about his apparent joyless existence, it forces him to confront the source of his despair. What he uncovers is a seething hatred for the bullies who tormented him during high school—privileged elites who committed unspeakable acts, shielded by their wealth and status. Alexander realizes that his missing happiness, his very sense of self, was stolen by them. Driven by an unrelenting desire for retribution, Alexander stages his own death, crafting a new identity that will allow him to infiltrate the lives of those who wronged him. In his first mission of vengeance, Alexander targets Damien Roth, the spoiled son of a powerful German tycoon whose past crimes have gone unpunished. As Alexander manipulates his way into Damien’s family, weaving a web of lies and psychological traps, he dismantles the lives of those who stand in his way—innocent or guilty alike. But as Alexander spirals deeper into his crusade for vengeance, a brilliant detective begins to piece together the threads of his crimes. With every calculated move, Alexander must stay one step ahead, all while wrestling with the question: Will regaining his stolen happiness be worth the cost of his humanity?
dragon_god_123 · 350 Views

To Sleep In The Sea Of Time

This is a story of a guy who loses everything, and then gets it back. Same old new world story, just a different kind of story teller. *** They took away our hunter tags. They had us grow our hair. They gave us a new brand, when we were over there. They staged us out of Dragur, East of the Olim Horn. I guess they call us Slaves, but no one calls us much anymore. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. Karn brought Sorrow. Pookie brought Fear. Milk brought the fly boys. They did work in Undia. I worked mostly clandestine. Some Legends I should not say. We played with better wands. I could use the extra pay. Did Mara give the order? Did venom pay the way? They said we were slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. This was before HALO, and Codex was king. Hej atop the rider, he never felt a thing. When our rider caught a spell, and both the mages killed. It pitched us over sideways on some cold Sylph hill. My back felt like it was broken, my legs I could not feel. I kept on slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I never did heal up right from injuries sustained Officially in Torin, unofficially we train. I remember all their faces. They dream about me still. I guess I'm slaying demons, but it's kind of hard to tell. There no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I speak the cold logistic, that old boys speak so well. Veni, Vedi, Vici. I'll see you in Hel. Maybe it's bravado, or an unspeakable guilt. That village, they were demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't wanna to do it anymore. I've done plenty. What is one more? -Corb Lund *** Come guess me this riddle. What beats shire leaves and fiddle? What is hotter than pleasures touch, and whiter than cream? What best wets his whistle? What is clearer than crystal? What is sweeter than honey and stronger than steam? What will make the lame walk? What will make the dumb talk? What is the elixir of life and philosopher's stone? And what helped Pookie-Baba dig up a tunnel, that runs from Shalamanda to West-Torin? When you are digging a crater, It is the best thing in nature, for sinking your sorrows and raising your joys. Sometimes I wonder, if lightning and thunder, is made out of the plunder, of the reddest hiski and oils. *** If you can keep your head when all about you, are losing theirs and blaming it on you. If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too. If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise. If you can dream, and not make dreams your master. If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim. If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same. If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken, twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build them up with worn-out tools. If you can make one heap of all your winnings, and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss and lose, and start again at your beginnings, and never breathe a word about your loss. If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew, to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you; Except the Will which says to them ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, nor walk with Kings, nor lose the common touch. If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you. If all men count with you, but none too much. If you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds worth of distance, run. Yours is the World and everything that’s in it, and which is more you’ll be a Man, my son. - Rudyard Kipling
man_of_culture3030 · 680K Views
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