Short Stories Thread

[MRPolo13]

Bows and arrows against the lightning

"50 Years! 50 years is how long Iran has been posing problems against the NATO! 50 years too much! It ends today!" General Cortney, of the US army, shouted. Everyone screamed happily. Iran has been too much of a problem for longer than 50 years, but only that long ago it actually started to matter, with the first launch of their missile...
Over a thousand M1A3 Abrams tanks, brand new and which didn't see the battle yet, rolled out.

"These men thought they can go brave on us!" the captain of the HMS Arc Royal shouted. "Let's give them what for!"
Planes and helicopters took off violently, to go over the Middle East and start the invasion of Iran. Operation Lion began with mass strategic bombing attack, codename "Lion White".

"Lion Blue, permission to begin the sea assault on the target granted, over". The radio was perfect quality. The leader of Grom, Colonel Wójtowicz, sighed and gave out an order for the LAVs to start their assault. The Polish Grom force would go in as the spearhead, followed by the US Navy Seals and normal US Marines. Beginning of the end, the colonel thought to himself, I just wonder who's end it will be...

The first signs of the enemy weren't even half worrying. The enemy soldiers and civilians seemed to be running away from their country, more than away from the tanks. Any resistance was wiped out immediately.
This is running smoothly, Major Jones thought to himself, too smoothly.

"This is the Alpha Charlie 1, over"
"Alpha Charlie 1, this is the Mother, go ahead, over!"
"Mother, we can see the tree, permission to drops presents, over!"
"Alpha Charlie 1, permission granted, over!"
"Thank you Mother, Alpha Charlie 1 Ou-"
The radio transition suddenly stopped, cut, like with a whip. Something wasn't right. Something was terribly wrong...

We were 10 miles away from the nearest city, bombed by the Brits. We could almost smell the burning oil...
An explosion, nothing like what we've seen before. Nothing like anyone has seen before. Blue shell that centred in the city and spread, at speeds of at least 20,000 m/h. It destroyed all the planes that we could see in the distance. The tanks stopped, all of them at once. The leader of the tank squadron shouted something over the radio, but that soon stopped, as the blue... plasma thing started melting our tanks. All of them, one by one, simply evaporated, along with the people. I survived, no matter how crazy that may sound. Our tank was facing the explosion with its side, allowing the pressure from the explosion of the fuel to simply push me out of the turret, which was open.

Grom landed first, and cleared the beach. It was too easy of a task for a group of men like that, but that fact didn't matter. Grom was soon followed by the Seals which quickly set up ramps for the tanks to come ashore. That was too easy. Suddenly there was a huge blue explosion, as if someone was blowing a bubble made of thunder. All of the machines simply melted... The guns were fine for some reason...
Then a woman came over the small sandy hill. She wore armour that seemed to have been made of black stone. The stone was going purple around the edges and where it was thinner. Obsidian.
Everyone opened fire. No matter what happens next, Colonel thought to himself, we'll kill that woman.
First couple of shots actually hit her. One in the obsidian crown and one in the obsidian chestplate. The rest simply stopped in midair.
She waved her opened hand in front of the army... The army of the undead after she finished that movement.

"Bloody Zombies!!! Fricking zombies! There was never some talk about zombies!!!! Iran was supposed to surrender" the soldier of the Royal Engineers gave up all hopes of his life. He hid under a rock, but was screaming so loud anything could have heard him, even during an explosion.
She heard it too. The woman that, within 2 days has destroyed the greatest army in the world. The woman that created an army of undead within those 2 days... She melted down the rock with her eyes, and the soldier fell into the melted goo he decided to hide behind...

The Queen of Grief conquered the rest of Middle East within the next 2 days. Her armies spread out, attacking everything around them. Russia fell after 4 weeks. With no more army, USA after 1 week. Europe stood for the 5 days. Africa, for 10. China stood for nearly a month, until the Grief found nuclear weapons, far faster than magic...

That was easy. Queen of Earth. Such a useless race, these Humans were. And their God... He didn't even care. I must find a more lively place.... somewhere I could have more fun.
Queen Grief looked up into the sky, sparkling with stars.
I will search up there. Maybe different dimensions... I must find a challenge.
Queen Grief, the destructor of Earth and Mankind, which developed for nearly a million years, which was the most advanced race within hundreds of lightyears has simply vanished. Before She left, though, she blew Earth up. She crunched it up like a failed design and threw it into the nearby star, which exploded...
Nothing was able to stop Her. Everything seemed simply like bows and arrows against the lightning...

And I still continue to write about Altera's Lore, no matter how badly I try to write about Earth >:3

 

[MRPolo13]

Horrible write up that was. I'm scared of missing out some important bits. Also, some people may find the total destruction of Earth a bit... drastic. That's just the way I am, but don't vote on it if you don't like it.

 

[matyio]

Horrible write up that was. I'm scared of missing out some important bits. Also, some people may find the total destruction of Earth a bit... drastic. That's just the way I am, but don't vote on it if you don't like it.

the only problm is, queen grief was originally custodian and protector of earth (old lore) and was found crying after humanity had blown itself to bits with technology.

 

[MRPolo13]

Yah I didn't read much of the Lore... (Hardly at all T-T)
But I did it for the story, not for the sake of the lore xD

Now if you excuse me, I must go off and read my lacks of knowledge

 

[The Living Ghost]

What I saw in that was the brink of an apocalypse, some kind of alien apocalypse, incorporated with the queen grief apocalypse, nice

 

[Backstay]

He left at night, taking with him a change of clothes, a blanket, and a small bag of money which he found in his father's room. He travelled until dawn and then all of the next day and well into the following night, pursued by thoughts of his angry and vengeful father. His route led south towards the holy city, following the roads he knew from the yearly pilgrimage his family were rich enough to make. The land rose around him in broken shadows, ragged heights of limestone, sparse ground, uncultivated and sporadically populated, the occasional shepherds' village buried in the valleys where goats roamed the scrub.

On the evening of the third day, exhausted and hungry, he stood watching the sun slip beyond the horizon, casting its last rays over the broad expanse of a lake. His sense of guilt had not left him but thoughts of his angry father had ceased to torment him, diminishing in intensity as the distance from home increased. A mist was rising off the lake. Grass tufts, long and heavy with seeds, stood dry and yellow-silvery in the fading light. Autumn flowers thrust their crowns above the grass, including one of which he did not know the name, a head of pale trumpets spread out on a long stalk, its white petals glowing faintly in the dusk. A tent flap clattered in the rising wind and sand drifted across the clearing, driven in little runs and gusts. He drew the edge of his cloak tighter across his mouth. The sounds of the caravan he had joined earlier that afternoon were to his back. He could hear the mutter of conversation. Blue smoke coiled away from a fire of camel dung. Some of the women were tending a stew of meat and vegetables.

The sound of feet approaching awakened him. One of the men had come over to ask if he would like some food. He followed to where a group of travellers sat in a circle around the fire and ate gratefully. It was his first meal since leaving home. He watched the others, their faces mostly in shadow, wondering what they thought of him, a stranger who had come amongst them from the hills. Had they believed his story about a religious obligation, a prayer answered? They had accepted him easily enough. They could know nothing for certain.

 

[The Living Ghost]

Chapter One

He left at night, taking with him a change of clothes, a blanket, and a small bag of money which he found in his father's room. He travelled until dawn and then all of the next day and well into the following night, pursued by thoughts of his angry and vengeful father. His route led south towards the holy city, following the roads he knew from the yearly pilgrimage his family were rich enough to make. The land rose around him in broken shadows, ragged heights of limestone, sparse ground, uncultivated and sporadically populated, the occasional shepherds' village buried in the valleys where goats roamed the scrub.

On the evening of the third day, exhausted and hungry, he stood watching the sun slip beyond the horizon, casting its last rays over the broad expanse of a lake. His sense of guilt had not left him but thoughts of his angry father had ceased to torment him, diminishing in intensity as the distance from home increased. A mist was rising off the lake. Grass tufts, long and heavy with seeds, stood dry and yellow-silvery in the fading light. Autumn flowers thrust their crowns above the grass, including one of which he did not know the name, a head of pale trumpets spread out on a long stalk, its white petals glowing faintly in the dusk. A tent flap clattered in the rising wind and sand drifted across the clearing, driven in little runs and gusts. He drew the edge of his cloak tighter across his mouth. The sounds of the caravan he had joined earlier that afternoon were to his back. He could hear the mutter of conversation. Blue smoke coiled away from a fire of camel dung. Some of the women were tending a stew of meat and vegetables.

The sound of feet approaching awakened him. One of the men had come over to ask if he would like some food. He followed to where a group of travellers sat in a circle around the fire and ate gratefully. It was his first meal since leaving home. He watched the others, their faces mostly in shadow, wondering what they thought of him, a stranger who had come amongst them from the hills. Had they believed his story about a religious obligation, a prayer answered? They had accepted him easily enough. They could know nothing for certain.

Nononono, no 'chapter 1', this thread is for short stories

 

[Backstay]

It is short! It's not like a whole book!

Fine... I'll just cut it off then, and have it ending all mysterious.

 

[The Living Ghost]

That is more like it!

Concerning the competition to write about an apocalyptic story, the winner will recieve:

5000 Radiants!

So get writing people!

 

[Backstay]

I hope this is short enough

High-calibre shells spat from the muzzle of the autocannon, seeming to force the very air apart as they soared towards their target - an unfortunate Psyke gangster. The unarmoured man was literally torn apart by the impact; the remains of his crumpling corpse were flung back against a nearby wall by the power of the shells. His broken body slid down the graffitied wall, leaving a thin smear of red blood.

The bulky figure moved on. Striding confidently through the shadows of the slums, the soldier turned a corner, coming face to face with three more terrified Psyke gangers. Cursing, the armoured woman dropped the autocannon - she was down to incendiary ammunition, and at close range it might hurt her too. Instead, she whipped out two small pistols - Marsec plasma pistols, in fact. Sizzling white bolts of energy dropped to the ground, and the third, screaming of an attacker 'doing the burns', turned and fled. A third accurate shot blew open his back and cauterised the wound in the same instant. He tumbled, fell and slid a few more metres.

Behind the armoured woman, two more figures emerged. They were in similar garb - heavy red and grey suits of flexible armour. Megapol standard issue - although the huge logo on the suit's chest plate indicated a different affiliation.
It read, 'X-COM'.

The three figures moved on slowly, inexorably. As they moved into the centre of the new street, aiming for an entrance to the slum towers, a boarded window exploded outwards. A Psyke gangster appeared at the window, seeming to look down at the troopers. Seeing him, they riddled the figure with bullets, but bar a little trembling, they had little effect. Puzzled, the troopers prepared to fire another volley, but in that instant the corpse was flung from the third-floor window with tremendous force. A scowling blue humanoid appeared at the window, watching as the dead gangster thumped into a surprised trooper. The blue alien did not have time to appreciate it's good aim; the troopers two comrades blew its brains out with unerring accuracy.

The other soldier, knocked to the ground by the impact of the cadaver, managed to extricate himself from the flailing limbs. Flipping the corpse over, he stared in surprise at the large object jammed inexpertly into the dead mans mouth. It was a disc of deepcrimson, and had six points jutting from it at regular intervals.

The soldier spoke for the first time since the mission had begun. 'What the hell?' he began, looking at the odd device. His comrades turned at his words, and glimpsed the object. One of them, recognising the vortex grenade, yelled an incomprehensible warning and leapt to one side. An instant later, the bomb exploded. The corpse and the trooper holding it were torn into shreds by the blast, flecks of flesh and bone coating the surrounding area. The explosion also killed the nearest trooper, his chest armour blown away, exposing the vulnerable flesh, which crisped and blackened under the explosions fury.
The sole survivor moaned in agony. Her armour was coated in black carbon and scratches. Huge gashes ran up her body. Her left arm had been torn in two, and the weapon in the hand had gone with it. The pistol that had been in her right hand lay just ten metres away from her, and attempting to forget the burning agony, she crawled forwards, fingers outstretched.

A blue foot stamped down on the pistol, shattering it into fragments of plastic and cydonium alloy. The fatally wounded woman looked up, and met the gaze of another of the blue aliens gazing down at her, characteristic smile on face.
It raised the organic-looking weapon clenched in it's bulky fists, and the world suddenly went black.

A story I had saved in my documents.

 

[Itzzaboy]

Mars lined up the shot, focusing through the scope of his weapon with unwavering stillness. His target, grim in expression and appearance, dropped down onto a weatherbeaten and worn wooden chair. Mars took a few moments to examine his victim, the man at his mercy, he had dirty black hair, a long brown coat, motheaten trousers and some dusty old shoes. He was eating from a small wooden bowl, the substance looked like porridge.
Mars shook himself, releasing his gaze and refocusing through the scope, aiming at the man's head. He pressed the trigger with his dusty, sweaty index, pulling it back ever do slowly...
The shot rang out across the scape, echoing off of the large rock sculptures that were pierced out of the otherwise featureless sand dunes. His target barely moved until the last of his breath had gone, his body slowly arcing to the ground, hitting the floor with what Mars imagined to be a dusty thud.

Venus startled awake. Her long, silvery hair somewhat frizzy and dusty, she whipped it out of her face, and removed the post-it note that had become so accustomed to hair face, flicking it aside casually before letting out a long, drawn out yawn.
Venus pondered her thoughts, then remembered, and became angry with herself. How could she fall asleep when she had so much work to do? Following this recollection she hastily gathered up the leaves of paper strewn across the floor, tapping them on the desk until they lined up, then replaced them where they had been previously. She then picked up the topmost piece and place it in front of her, examining the text written upon it.

Water: -6L
Oil: +2L
Fruit and vegetables: +0.5KG
Meat: -15KG
Dairy: 0
Bread: +2.5kg

Venus frowned slightly. Things were not looking good on the food front, they were down 15 kilograms of meat and 6 litres of water. If this monthly pattern was to continue, they would soon run out of meat, followed soon by water.
At that moment, Mars pressed himself through the door, callously throwing his rifle onto the beaten sofa before collapsing onto the armchair next to it.
"Phew, well that was a trip." he breathed.
Venus didn't even look up from her papers, "Find anything good?" she inquired.
Mars' face fell a little before reaching into his inner pocket, pulling out a small, fist sized sack, throwing it onto Venus' desk.
"A few peanuts and about 100 millilitres of water."
"That it?" Venus asked.
"Fraid so, I searched around the camp he had set up, looked like he'd already been mugged for everything else he had."
"Weapons?"
Mars shook his head, "A broken colt with a missing lock and no rounds, goodness knows what he was thinking using that."
"Probably trying to scare bandits off." Venus shrugged, returning to her papers, "Saturn is going to be fuming, the numbers are getting worse every week the more people we bring in yet the supplies we are bringing in are becoming fewer and fewer. At this rate we'll be dead within a few months."
"A few months?" Now it was Mars' turn to ask questions.
"Give or take a few days." replied Venus.
Mars slumped further into his seat, closing his eyes.
"Neyim had her baby today, by the way." Jupiter said this with almost a sadness in her tone.
"Another mouth to feed... what did she call it?" Mars grumbled.
Jupiter paused before replying. "Hope. She called it Hope."
Mars mumbled a little bit, before settling even further into his seat, closing his eyes.
"We could all use some of that..."

 

[TheAllBlackMan]

It's clear that there is a frontrunner at this point, however I won't reveal whom. I'll be conversing with Ghost to come to a concensus as to a winner, but if you haven't entered yet feel free to do so! Your time is not yet up!

 

[The Living Ghost]

It's clear that there is a frontrunner at this point, however I won't reveal whom. I'll be conversing with Ghost to come to a concensus as to a winner, but if you haven't entered yet feel free to do so! Your time is not yet up!

Um.... I mean yes! I am totally not clueless as to who you are referring to! And we need to set a date for this to end

 

[MRPolo13]

I know voting for opponents may seem weird, but that was amazing :3

 

[TheAllBlackMan]

As for an end date I think October 29th is good.

 

[TheAllBlackMan]

Okay posting something completely unrelated that I made for a comedy class. Hope you get as many laughs as my classmates did! I present, for your approval, "Low Places"

Sandra walks into a bar, rubs her nose from the impact, and heads through the door of her favorite pub. She meets up with her blind date, Jackson. She takes a seat on a stool and they begin chatting.
“Oh! You’re an athlete?” says Sandra.
“Yeah, I’m a professional darts player.” Replies Jackson. With that he throws a dart to his side, followed soon by a yell from a man off-screen. Sandra orders a bloody Mary and Jackson a daiquiri. After they finish their drinks they walk out, take note of a man with a dart in his head, and make tracks for Jackson’s home. On the way they get pulled over by a police officer who administers a field sobriety test. Jackson passes with flying colors, only to blurt out “I am drunk!” They both laugh and they part ways. Once at Jackson’s home Sandra sits down on the couch and falls through winding up with her knees next to her ears. Jackson passes her a beer and she drinks it using her toes. They laugh, they cry, and lucky for any younger readers they keep it in their pants! Sandra gets out of the sofa from underneath, butt first, and walks home. Fortunately for her she lived right next door. She steps inside and tries to turn on the TV, confused as to why it won’t work. She bangs the remote on the arm of the chair several times and when that fails she resigns herself to using the button on the set itself. The television falls over revealing itself to be nothing more than a piece of cardboard colored with magic marker. She examines the rest of the house to find it completely empty, shrugs it off and goes to sleep in the doghouse.

 

[Karasu1996]

I have one! its the gray name in my signature!!!

 

[The Living Ghost]

Can you not copy and paste it onto this thread?

 

[The Living Ghost]

Also kk.....
....
......
........
I won the competition :3 GG no re please

 

[MRPolo13]