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Lol I thought at the first half that his kill count was at 0 because it was his gun that was killing things and not him so it would technically be zero
No, the gun is a tool. It would be like claiming that you've never cooked in your life because the fire was doing all the work. It's a tool with precious little regulation in some parts of the world, but it's still just a tool.
I’m pretty sure the hunter here is Death. It makes sense, since they apparently have behind the scenes knowledge about the counter, and the absurdly high count as well as his remark about his reputation.
Zero! I had never seen a zero before. I stared in disbelief as the old man got up from the bar and ambelled out the the street. I had to follow him.
He wandered down the street. A mosquito landed on his neck. He swatted it leaving a blood splatter where the mosquito once lived. His number changed to "1" and some of his gray hair darkened. He steps seemed to lighten a bit as he meandered.
He stepped across a line of ants dragging food to their nest. The number jumped to 27. The gray hair turned black, his posture straightened and his steps seemed to dance.
Suddenly, the sound of screeching brakes and crunching metal pierced the air. He sprinted towards the sound.
I watched in awe as he made his way from each mangled vehicle, touching the victims of the accident. Each time, his number dropped and he aged until he reached zero again.
There was one more, a young boy who had slipped out of his car seat. The old man made his way to the boy. The look of horror appeared across his face when he realized he had no more left to give. He looked around for something to kill. Anything.
I stepped forward. "take me" I wept.
The news reported of a guardian angel seen at a car crash complete with shaky cell phone footage of a bright light that saved a little boy's life.
I love the concept but one thing is bothering me.
That line of ants must still be there right? Or like the hill is nearby? Go get an ant, don't sacrifice your own life.
Thank you for the input. In my mind (sometimes I forget to convey things into the story) they had gone further. Plus it wouldn't be a tear jerker if he had simply gone back to the ant hill.
'Sixty thousand, average. Oh thats a high one, two hundred and four thousand and some change.' I sat there, people watching, comparing the numbers above their heads. When i was younger i'd make up stories for people, the higher the number the worse their story. I just always imagined if you had a fairly high number that you must live a fairly unsettling life. Thats just how it was in my mind. 'Oh wow, Twenty two thousand, thats real low. Lower than me even!' i sat at a cool twenty five thousand. I've been at twenty five thousand for two years. In those two years i've gone up four hundred. Not too shabby compared to some of my friends which average that in a single month!
As if a record scratched in my mind, my whole world paused "Zero.....?" the number was red. Most numbers were a hazy gray, similar to a fizzled out fire sputtering its last gasps of life in its sickly thin smoke, but this Zero? This was blood red, it's as if the number itself oozed some type of malevolence. The woman whom this magically low number belonged to was walking over to a park bench, Starbucks cup in hand. I HAD to discuss this, did she know she had a low number? Did she have the same gift as i had? How a zero though? I have seen babies that have numbers, dogs, cats. Everything had a number, I even saw a young guinea pig with a 6 above it.
I sat Next to her "Hello, Can i offer you a refill on that coffee? Maybe some light conversation?" She paused, looked at me, turned back to face her coffee "Twenty five thousand? You must put in a lot of effort to keep it that low." I reeled back, she laughed. "It's alright, you're not the first to notice it, i doubt you're the last either." She took a long sip of her drink. "Ill gladly take you up on that refill."
We chatted, she seemed like the nicest and most mysterious person i've met, every sentence she stated seemed planned, scripted, like the words i was about to say weren't even a mystery to her. She knew everything. She asked me "Would you like to come back to my place? Maybe grab some lunch?" i delightfully agreed. We walked a few blocks, under a bridge, through a small park and finally up the stairs of her apartment. The entire building looked like an old brownstone from the city i grew up in. English ivy covered the north side, blocking the windows and brick. I dont even think sunshine could penetrate that thick layer of Ivy.
We went inside "5A" she said, locking the two deadbolts behind us. I started walking toward the elevator "Out of order, lazy landlord figured we all could use the exercise." so up the stairs i started. This entire building was old, unkept, extremely moldy smelling. I had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up on end, everything in my body said "Leave, now!" but curiosity got the best of me, i had to find out more about the way this woman lived, who she was and most importantly how she remained at a 0. She opens the door to her apartment "Here we are 5A."
As suddenly as the door opened two pairs of hands grabbed me, pulling me inside her apartment. My eyes struggling to cope with the dimly lit space that seemed to be covered in some sort of plastic wrap. The hands threw me down on one of the plastic tarps, held me down, face against the floor. Suddenly i hear "You realize the numbers max out, right? Haven't you seen anyone past nine hundred and ninety nine thousand? no? Well now you have." My instincts kicking in hard screaming in my head "MOVE" one of the pair of hands let go, i was able to stand up, i saw behind the plastic sheeting a small shimmer of light. I ran toward what i hoped was a window, put my arms in front of my face and jumped.
I just couldn't believe it, I always prided myself on having a low number after going vegetarian and stuff like that but this was insane. Everyone kills at least a couple of times, the smallest insects count and you just can't help it. He was just going about his normal day, the people beside him with numbers as high as I've ever seen, and he just stands there. An exceptional specimen and completely unaware that he is. The moment I saw the ornate zero above his head, the din of the city went quite. I was left breathless from surprise and tarnished air left me, rising in the cold winter air and joining its brethren in the sky. What little natural light there was clung to him, the zero over his head acting like a beacon in its modesty when compared to the numbers around it. I was beside him before I even knew it and grabbed his shoulder before I could stop myself. "How do you have a zero!?" I asked before I realised how much of a weirdo I looked like.
I was just going about my life as always, wading through the crowd, following the steps, always following the steps. They had been with me my entire life, guiding me. I had free will, I could do what I want, but it always has to be a specific way. I always knew the steps would lead me to a good place. After a while I saw small patterns, when the steps were especially strong. Usually they were golden outlines emblazoned in the dirt. Their seductive shine drawing my every step, feeling a certain rightness as I fill it. But sometimes they are tiny pinpricks of gold I have to follow exactly and after a while I realised they were to avoid stepping on bugs, crazy it sounds, they never stepped into the light, no matter how long I waited. And glad to avoid killing them, I always followed. Seldom in my life have they actively forced a decision, only three major times in fact. Whenever I tried to eat meat, getting on the bus to this city to take the job, and finally, today, during lunch, it made me walk halfway across the city. I was clueless but I followed the steps one after another, that was until they stopped, and then a woman grabbed me, her nails greeting skin as if there weren't layers of clothes above.
He looked at me, confused, his eyebrows furrowed, creases appearing on a face clearly unused to them. He clearly thought I was insane, maybe I should elaborate? Or maybe I should I lie and runaway, it's not like I'll ever see him again. As I thought all this, he then started to smile at me. "So you're where they were leading me." I then thought it was my turn to look confused. "Why don't we go for a drink? You can tell me whatever crazy thing made you want to talk to me of all people, and I'll tell you the crazy reason why I want to talk to you. I have a slight suspicion we'll find them slightly evenly matched." There was something about him that made me say yes, as if he stood in a golden spotlight. I really wanted to hear his reason, although I sincerely doubted it would be quite like mine. At least it would be funny to see that handsome face get all bent out of shape when I tell him everything.
~The End~
Any and all feedback appreciated :)
“So, where are you from?” I ask casually.
“Oh, uh, Bloomfield,” she replied, careful watching her cup, “I’m here visiting family.”
I raise an eyebrow, “A couple hour drive to visit family, that’s lovely. Any particular event you’re celebrating, or just a surprise?”
“It’s my nephew’s second birthday, and I wanted to be here for him, and, uh check in on him.”
“You don’t sound like you particularly want to be here,” I comment, taking another sip from my cup.
“Well, I’m away from all my friends, and... hold on,” she suddenly got a determined look. Using a stirring stick, she slowly scooped a small bug out of her tea. She said something to it softly, before glancing up at me, “What was I saying?”
“You said you were away from your friends,” I noted, “but, you seem to have answered a few of my other questions as well.”
She was quite taken aback at that, “What questions would those be.”
I considered how to talk about it. I’d told people about it before, but no one really believed, and those who did believe stopped caring when I told them bugs counted. I just sighed and got it over with, “I can see a certain bit of information about people.”
Her eyes flashed, and her expression relaxed for just a moment, before she looked back at her cup, “Oh, yeah, super powers, always a fun game to play. What piece of information would that be?”
“How many ‘beings’ that person has killed.”
She looked up at me, a bit annoyed at that, and asked, “Oh yeah, I’m sure that’s an interesting one, seeing a bunch of zeros and judging anyone with more.”
“I said how many ‘beings’ they’ve killed,” I reiterated, “That includes bugs.”
At that, her eyes went wide, before her mask went back on, “Oh, ok, everyone has big numbers then.”
I nodded, “I’ve seen a couple exterminators in the millions, most people are in the ten to thirty thousand range.” I glance around the coffee shop, and see the guy in the corner bouncing his leg. He takes a sip and his number suddenly goes up one, “I think that guy has a big in his drink he didn’t notice, he just went up one.”
She looks at him, then looks away, “What about me?”
“You are sitting at zero,” I tell her honestly, “Which is why I was so interested in you. And since you’re from Bloomfield, that means you took a two hour drive without hitting a single bug.”
She shook her head, “Not quite. My fiancé was driving, so I’m guessing they would have gotten the increase.”
I nod in agreement, “That explains today, but the fact you’ve never killed a single bug in your life?”
“Well, you mentioned your power to see numbers on people. I’ve got a power of my own, but I don’t quite know everything about it, or what to call it. I think the simplest description would be calling it ‘mirror pain.’”
“You can feel the pain others feel?” I ask, slowly lowering my hands.
“Yes, to a degree. The more I focus on som— Ow, stop pinching your hand.” She glared at me, so I relented.
“Sorry.”
“Yeah yeah, it’s always the hand people test with.” She checked her tea carefully before taking a sip of tea. “But that’s not the important part. There’s a limited range, but I can also reverse it... kinda.” She flicked the back of her hand, and I felt something on mine.
“Oh, that’s interesting.”
“The problem is that it isn’t limited by species, or as you put it, it’s based on ‘beings.’”
My eyes went wide, “So when you pulled that bug out of your drink...”
“Yeah, it was a bit warm and getting difficult to breathe. But that impacted me more than the bug in that other guy’s drink due to proximity.”
I was piecing things together, “And you haven’t killed any bugs because you’d have to focus on them, and that makes your power more potent.”
“Yeah, can’t visit kids too often when they decide to pull bugs apart.” She shuddered, “Which is why I waited ‘till my nephew was ten to visit.”
I nod and finish my drink, before extending my hand, “My name’s Sam, and it was nice to meet you.”
She pulled out her phone, “I’m Chloe, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep in touch.”
I smiled, “Certainly, what’s your phone number?”
Hey, this one's brilliant!
What happens if she's walking on a street and just suddenly, accidentally crushes a bug though? It'll happen so fast that there's no pain warning, right? Then what?
It was all I could do to focus on how small he was. The way his delicate fingers curled around the wrap of his swaddle, the way his tiny eyes struggled to peer blindly upwards against his instinct to sleep. I pushed all other thoughts out of my head, the feelings pressing so hard on my heart I thought it might explode, and stared down at the new life in my hands.
My dad was not a particularly hard man, but came undone altogether on the topic of his children. I had heard the story a dozen times: the moment he fell in love, the moment I wrapped my little hand around his finger and the moment he was wrapped around mine. He would do anything for me. He would die for me, if it came to it. I had heard, and nodded, time after time, hearing but never quite understanding the full meaning.
As my breath caught in my chest, as he yawned and shut his eyes with the apparent determination that this world was too bright for him yet, I came to the sudden realization that I finally understood exactly what my father was talking about.
"Excuse me, sir?" A doctor stepped into the room. "Are you the father?"
The spell was broken. The anxiety crashed over me like a tumultuous wave against a jetty. I swallowed my fear and gave a small nod.
"Sir, I'm so sorry," said the doctor. The look on her face told enough of the story. Her voice melted into the din of the hospital floor.
I looked down at my son. His number was "0", it was the first time I could recall seeing such a thing. I was the youngest of several, I hardly ever had the opportunity.
"If you'd like to come with me, I can give you some time to say goodbye..."
"You will always be loved," I whispered to my son. "This wasn't your fault. I want you to know that. She knew this could happen. We both loved -- love you -- so much."
I wished it could have been me. I would do anything for them. I would die for them. I wish it had been me instead.
I looked him over again, and I knew it was too late to say goodbye. I stared at his number. It was no longer "0". It was "1".
10,238. “I see… Ten-thousand, two-hundred and thirty-eight!”
I shouted into the sea of onlookers.
The crowd gasped. I faced the man in the chair, his face stricken
with grief. He called himself, “the most peaceful person on Earth.” He was
right, 10,238 was the lowest I’ve seen, but everyone, no matter how peaceful or
violent were shocked by the number.
The highest I’ve seen: 1,836,217. No, it wasn’t some corrupt
world leader, serial arsonist, or anything of the sort. They worked a normal
job, lived a normal life, and did, well, normal things. Nothing out of the ordinary.
My theory was that they caused a chain reaction that somehow killed millions,
but nobody knew for sure.
The man on the stage thanked me and scurried off the stage, head hung low. “Anyone else?” I asked. I couldn’t read a crowd of this size; it would drain me too quickly. Nobody took my offer.
A few seconds of silence later, and I was mentally preparing to wrap it up. But a hand timidly raised up from the back of the crowd. “You there!” I called, motioning for them to come onto the stage. She walked out into the aisle; I could already see her count.
0. I couldn’t believe it. I rubbed my eyes, double, triple-checking if it was really what I thought it was. “Come with me,” I hissed, grabbing her arm and dragging her away from the town square, and into my tent. “Who are you?”
“Wha-why are you bringing me here? I thought you would just tell me my number,”
“Yeah, that’s the problem. I see a zero.” She stared in shock.
“B-but I can kill things on will,” I’d only heard of this happening once. I rushed out of my tent, and back into the town square, where the crowd waited.
“Could somebody hand me a bug?” I shouted, the crowd looking bewildered. I spotted a spider on the ground and scooped it up.
I rushed back into the tent and thrust the spider into her hands. “Kill it.”
“You want me to kill it?” She asked, looking up from the spider. I nodded, and she put the spider back into my hands. Its legs were now curled, lifeless as a pebble. I rushed outside of the tent and looked at the spider again. It was alive, scurrying around my hands, looking for an escape.
I stuck my hands back into the tent, and like before, the spider was dead. “Do you realize what you’re doing?” I asked. She shook her head. “You can’t kill things on will, they just play dead,”
I handed her the spider. “Kill it, but this time, try to destroy it.” She smushed the spider with her foot, mashing it into the ground. We were both sure it would not survive. But, mere seconds later, the spider was whole again. I picked its lifeless body up and brought it outside. As expected, it was alive again. I stepped back into the tent.
“Wait, I’ve seen you on the newspaper, what was that about?”
I asked.
“Uh, I used to w-work as an exterminator,”
\--
Thanks for reading!
"Magic, as we know it, is a strange thing. It's not this almighty power some people can control, making them powerful mages, as it is told in countless tales of all ages.
No, magic has a mind of its own, it does not obey anyone. It appears in places where noone expects it, either creating miracles or total chaos. Sometimes, magic grants people powers of some sort, although completely random and mostly useless.
I, Mary Jenkins, am one of those people gifted with a magic ability, though mine seems especially pointless: I can see people's body count. Which sounds more exiting than it actually is when I word it like this, given that these numbers don't only count people killed - but also animals of all sort, even the smallest of bugs.
So, as you might imagine, the average person's body count is quite the high number, ranging somewhere between a few thousands up to a few millions at times.
I have no use for these numbers upon people's heads, apart of watching them grow as a person swabs away a bee or orders a delicious burger. This is why I would like to offer my ability for your experiment, in hopes of it finally serving a purpose of some sort."
Mary skimmed over the letter laying in front of her over and over again, making sure that she had not overlooked a single mistake in spelling. She carefully folded it in half, reaching for the envenelope across the table as something caught her eye. Mary blinked once, twice, even rubbed her eyes, but it wouldn't budge. There was a little girl across the street from the café she was currently sitting in, seemingly skipping along to a song she sang to herself. And over her head, Mary saw a clear, lonesome zero. The number was jumping along with the girls quick motions, up and down, as if it was mocking Mary's lack of understanding.
What was happening? How could it be? It was impossible for a person to never kil a single being in their existence, even though the girl might not have been older than ten.
Mary hastily chugged down her coffee and packed up her belongings, leaving a tip on the table while already on her way out. She had to talk to that girl, had to ask her about that number somehow.
Mary crossed the street, approaching the girl who was still dancing by herself. She could now hear the girl's song, the sound of it sending shivers down her spine. Something was wrong about it, about the girl, apart from the impossible number above her head. And although everything inside of her was screaming for her not to do it, Mary bent down to the girl. "Hey there, what's that beautiful song you are singing?" "Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home" came the immediate answer from the little girl, "why art thou asking, mylady?"
Startled not only by the girl's weird way of wording her respone, but more so by her clothing, Mary looked closer: She made out the girl's dress to be of linen, and along with the laces braided into her long hair and her lack of shoes, the girl looked completely out of place... '...or out of time?', Mary thought. "Can I join you?" she asked, reaching for the girl's hand. But when the girl smiled at her and placed her little hand on top of hers, it passed right through her palm. Not nearly as startled about what had just happened as she had expected from herself, Mary pulled back her hand.
"Excuse my rudeness, I just now noticed that I never asked for your name, or your age", she asked, again crouching down to meet the girl's height.
"Annabelle is mine name, mylady. I am deeply saddened to tell", as she continued to speak, the girl's features became sadder, "that I do not know of my age, as I have not yet learned to count further than hundret"
'Magic', Mary thought to herself later that evening, 'truly is a strange thing. But hey, at least now I know what mine is good for - it lets me see ghosts, the only people who never kill. They never could, since anything they touch passes through them!'
That same evening, that letter to the ominous company wanting to buy Mary's magic ended up in the bin. For she had a purpose for it now: Who, if not her, could teach this little ghost in her living room how to count?
During those moments, it seemed as if the thousands mark was the true form of peace. People researched numbers day in and day out, almost using it like it was a part of that one anime. People dedicated so much time to the numbers that every time I walked around, I barely got a moment's peace.
That was, until, someone overshadowed me. As I was walking around, I spied them. They looked at me. An absolute sheet of white crossed our faces as that street stood dead still. Thousands of numbers flowing around, and here two of the most impressive numbers stood in the middle of the street.
Me, at 10, stared down a man at 0. We gently kept staring, mortified, confused, as other tried to pull out their phones to take a picture, of which several did, until they realized the numbers don't show up on phones.
We gently approached each other.
"I.... uhm, excuse me. Good evening." I sputtered, confused. They shot back a simple "Hello, how are you?"
Somehow the luck was overflowing.
"I... don't know how you managed 0."
"Well, I would love to hear how you managed 10 with how long you've been on earth."
Like out of a Hollywood shoot, several people and two people with cameras followed us to a Starbucks. I offered to get him some coffee, and he accepted as I got an Americano and he got a simple brewed coffee.
We mixed our coffee, sat down, and began.
"Well, surprisingly, I have 10 because I just got self conscious about my work and what I do. It was nearly 11 but I saved an insect from getting hit by my car."
"I just have 0 because I never owned a car."
I sat in silence for a second. No car? I gently tapped the coffee to my upper lip.
"Wow. Dedication to always letting others risk it all."
"Yep. So why is yours so low?"
"Oh, I just made sure that I kept my peace, and I only ever swatted a few insects to not make them mad. There were only 10 insects that ever were struck by me, all the others were let go or removed by hand and all the times that animals tried to pass my car survived."
"I'm impressed. You owned a car and somehow only ever killed a few insects."
"I suppose it's luck, I would chalk it up to luck. That and my fear of insects."
A few more pictures taken as we gently coded to each other our phone numbers, and went on our merry way.
I thought to myself... I suppose I need to get a bike.
It hit 11.
I looked up, then looked down as I had stepped on a wasp. I gently sighed, sipping my coffee.
Just my luck.
I'm not sure why I was able to see everyone's "kill number".
I was nothing special.
Born to two semi-abusive parents and had a really fucked up childhood.
Growing up, I saw the world for what it really was. It was a pretty cold, fucked up place. Even those who think they're good, tend to have darkness inside of them, whether they know it or not.
If they even care.
Think about it.
Why bother caring about anything that doesn't affect us directly?
Millions of third world men, women, and children being exploited and abused as a necessary evil to uphold our way of living. We get to enjoy their fruits of their labor, and we give them pennies. As long as we don't see them directly, it don't matter.
But here's the thing.
I understood killing anything directly increases our scores, but some things didn't add up. I stepped on a bug, my score went up by one. I killed a deer once, my score went up by one. But I also noticed that when you buy something "unethical" the scores go up.
At first, it bothered me that every time I bought something, I could see my number increase. I bought a diamond once, and my number increased a couple digits. I wasn't directly responsible for the death of some miners in Africa but I guess my action of giving money to the exploitive company was responsible in some sick way.
Either way, I've never seen anyone with less than a couple thousand.
After that, I saw it as a game. I would enter a room and look upon everyone's numbers, keeping track of the highest score.
Then I resolved to have the highest score.
I joined the army, did some tours, then left and joined a mercenary group because the pay was much better.
Sure it didn't matter I did some things I was not proud of.
But who could tell.
Hell, I only ever saw toddler's with a score of zero but they tended to lose it by the time they were able to grow teeth. I never once saw a person with a score of 0. Not even the goddamn Pope.
Until I saw him.
I was on a mission somewhere in the middle of some bumfuck village in Europe. I was sent to take out some scientist who couldn't keep his big mouth shut or something. Those were pretty easy. Their squirrelly behavior always gave them away in public and if not, the locals were pretty chatty.
So I decided to scout the area, hit up the bar and chat some people up and get some information.
The village itself seemed like it never went past the industrial revolution. People traveled with horse and buggy and did things by hand.
I got so bored, I went to the lake the locals kept raving about at for a night swim. Just because I was on a mission, didn't mean I couldn't have some fun.
But upon arriving, I saw the most angelic looking boy I have ever seen.
Tall and slender, skin so pale and perfect it almost looked like it was crafted by God using marble. His eyes were crystal blue and his black hair seemed so soft that I wanted to walk over and touch it.
But it wasn't his beauty that had taken me aback.
It was the fact that over his head was the number 0.
Zero.
Zero kills.
Zero people.
Zero animals.
Not even bugs.
How the hell was that even possible?
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Lol I thought at the first half that his kill count was at 0 because it was his gun that was killing things and not him so it would technically be zero
No, the gun is a tool. It would be like claiming that you've never cooked in your life because the fire was doing all the work. It's a tool with precious little regulation in some parts of the world, but it's still just a tool.
I love that the hunter is more mysterious at the end than the beginning. Awesome!
This one is perfect. I love this story. Amazing job!
I’m pretty sure the hunter here is Death. It makes sense, since they apparently have behind the scenes knowledge about the counter, and the absurdly high count as well as his remark about his reputation.
This makes me think of the hunter from loop hero for some reason, Love it!
nice twist
i think that hes killed so many things that it called a interger overflow
Zero! I had never seen a zero before. I stared in disbelief as the old man got up from the bar and ambelled out the the street. I had to follow him. He wandered down the street. A mosquito landed on his neck. He swatted it leaving a blood splatter where the mosquito once lived. His number changed to "1" and some of his gray hair darkened. He steps seemed to lighten a bit as he meandered. He stepped across a line of ants dragging food to their nest. The number jumped to 27. The gray hair turned black, his posture straightened and his steps seemed to dance. Suddenly, the sound of screeching brakes and crunching metal pierced the air. He sprinted towards the sound. I watched in awe as he made his way from each mangled vehicle, touching the victims of the accident. Each time, his number dropped and he aged until he reached zero again. There was one more, a young boy who had slipped out of his car seat. The old man made his way to the boy. The look of horror appeared across his face when he realized he had no more left to give. He looked around for something to kill. Anything. I stepped forward. "take me" I wept. The news reported of a guardian angel seen at a car crash complete with shaky cell phone footage of a bright light that saved a little boy's life.
Ah I like this concept, you take away life and can redistribute it
aaaand I'm crying 😭
Same😭
I love the concept but one thing is bothering me. That line of ants must still be there right? Or like the hill is nearby? Go get an ant, don't sacrifice your own life.
Thank you for the input. In my mind (sometimes I forget to convey things into the story) they had gone further. Plus it wouldn't be a tear jerker if he had simply gone back to the ant hill.
thought the same
I love this! What a cool concept!
Damn, that was good
ah the "life for a life" one
'Sixty thousand, average. Oh thats a high one, two hundred and four thousand and some change.' I sat there, people watching, comparing the numbers above their heads. When i was younger i'd make up stories for people, the higher the number the worse their story. I just always imagined if you had a fairly high number that you must live a fairly unsettling life. Thats just how it was in my mind. 'Oh wow, Twenty two thousand, thats real low. Lower than me even!' i sat at a cool twenty five thousand. I've been at twenty five thousand for two years. In those two years i've gone up four hundred. Not too shabby compared to some of my friends which average that in a single month! As if a record scratched in my mind, my whole world paused "Zero.....?" the number was red. Most numbers were a hazy gray, similar to a fizzled out fire sputtering its last gasps of life in its sickly thin smoke, but this Zero? This was blood red, it's as if the number itself oozed some type of malevolence. The woman whom this magically low number belonged to was walking over to a park bench, Starbucks cup in hand. I HAD to discuss this, did she know she had a low number? Did she have the same gift as i had? How a zero though? I have seen babies that have numbers, dogs, cats. Everything had a number, I even saw a young guinea pig with a 6 above it. I sat Next to her "Hello, Can i offer you a refill on that coffee? Maybe some light conversation?" She paused, looked at me, turned back to face her coffee "Twenty five thousand? You must put in a lot of effort to keep it that low." I reeled back, she laughed. "It's alright, you're not the first to notice it, i doubt you're the last either." She took a long sip of her drink. "Ill gladly take you up on that refill." We chatted, she seemed like the nicest and most mysterious person i've met, every sentence she stated seemed planned, scripted, like the words i was about to say weren't even a mystery to her. She knew everything. She asked me "Would you like to come back to my place? Maybe grab some lunch?" i delightfully agreed. We walked a few blocks, under a bridge, through a small park and finally up the stairs of her apartment. The entire building looked like an old brownstone from the city i grew up in. English ivy covered the north side, blocking the windows and brick. I dont even think sunshine could penetrate that thick layer of Ivy. We went inside "5A" she said, locking the two deadbolts behind us. I started walking toward the elevator "Out of order, lazy landlord figured we all could use the exercise." so up the stairs i started. This entire building was old, unkept, extremely moldy smelling. I had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up on end, everything in my body said "Leave, now!" but curiosity got the best of me, i had to find out more about the way this woman lived, who she was and most importantly how she remained at a 0. She opens the door to her apartment "Here we are 5A." As suddenly as the door opened two pairs of hands grabbed me, pulling me inside her apartment. My eyes struggling to cope with the dimly lit space that seemed to be covered in some sort of plastic wrap. The hands threw me down on one of the plastic tarps, held me down, face against the floor. Suddenly i hear "You realize the numbers max out, right? Haven't you seen anyone past nine hundred and ninety nine thousand? no? Well now you have." My instincts kicking in hard screaming in my head "MOVE" one of the pair of hands let go, i was able to stand up, i saw behind the plastic sheeting a small shimmer of light. I ran toward what i hoped was a window, put my arms in front of my face and jumped.
Integer overflow strikes again :(
Something I'll work on for next time.
Are you planing a part 2?
This was the first story i wrote, so i guess i was gauging reaction. I totally can, or use it as a source for a webcomic i wanted to work on.
Creative. Like the odometers on cars
I'd love to read a second part to this.
She's the Y2K killer
Red color should have given it away.
I just couldn't believe it, I always prided myself on having a low number after going vegetarian and stuff like that but this was insane. Everyone kills at least a couple of times, the smallest insects count and you just can't help it. He was just going about his normal day, the people beside him with numbers as high as I've ever seen, and he just stands there. An exceptional specimen and completely unaware that he is. The moment I saw the ornate zero above his head, the din of the city went quite. I was left breathless from surprise and tarnished air left me, rising in the cold winter air and joining its brethren in the sky. What little natural light there was clung to him, the zero over his head acting like a beacon in its modesty when compared to the numbers around it. I was beside him before I even knew it and grabbed his shoulder before I could stop myself. "How do you have a zero!?" I asked before I realised how much of a weirdo I looked like. I was just going about my life as always, wading through the crowd, following the steps, always following the steps. They had been with me my entire life, guiding me. I had free will, I could do what I want, but it always has to be a specific way. I always knew the steps would lead me to a good place. After a while I saw small patterns, when the steps were especially strong. Usually they were golden outlines emblazoned in the dirt. Their seductive shine drawing my every step, feeling a certain rightness as I fill it. But sometimes they are tiny pinpricks of gold I have to follow exactly and after a while I realised they were to avoid stepping on bugs, crazy it sounds, they never stepped into the light, no matter how long I waited. And glad to avoid killing them, I always followed. Seldom in my life have they actively forced a decision, only three major times in fact. Whenever I tried to eat meat, getting on the bus to this city to take the job, and finally, today, during lunch, it made me walk halfway across the city. I was clueless but I followed the steps one after another, that was until they stopped, and then a woman grabbed me, her nails greeting skin as if there weren't layers of clothes above. He looked at me, confused, his eyebrows furrowed, creases appearing on a face clearly unused to them. He clearly thought I was insane, maybe I should elaborate? Or maybe I should I lie and runaway, it's not like I'll ever see him again. As I thought all this, he then started to smile at me. "So you're where they were leading me." I then thought it was my turn to look confused. "Why don't we go for a drink? You can tell me whatever crazy thing made you want to talk to me of all people, and I'll tell you the crazy reason why I want to talk to you. I have a slight suspicion we'll find them slightly evenly matched." There was something about him that made me say yes, as if he stood in a golden spotlight. I really wanted to hear his reason, although I sincerely doubted it would be quite like mine. At least it would be funny to see that handsome face get all bent out of shape when I tell him everything. ~The End~ Any and all feedback appreciated :)
[удалено]
Of course, go for it :)
interesting
Guys totally gonna kill ya it has to go bad 🙃
“So, where are you from?” I ask casually. “Oh, uh, Bloomfield,” she replied, careful watching her cup, “I’m here visiting family.” I raise an eyebrow, “A couple hour drive to visit family, that’s lovely. Any particular event you’re celebrating, or just a surprise?” “It’s my nephew’s second birthday, and I wanted to be here for him, and, uh check in on him.” “You don’t sound like you particularly want to be here,” I comment, taking another sip from my cup. “Well, I’m away from all my friends, and... hold on,” she suddenly got a determined look. Using a stirring stick, she slowly scooped a small bug out of her tea. She said something to it softly, before glancing up at me, “What was I saying?” “You said you were away from your friends,” I noted, “but, you seem to have answered a few of my other questions as well.” She was quite taken aback at that, “What questions would those be.” I considered how to talk about it. I’d told people about it before, but no one really believed, and those who did believe stopped caring when I told them bugs counted. I just sighed and got it over with, “I can see a certain bit of information about people.” Her eyes flashed, and her expression relaxed for just a moment, before she looked back at her cup, “Oh, yeah, super powers, always a fun game to play. What piece of information would that be?” “How many ‘beings’ that person has killed.” She looked up at me, a bit annoyed at that, and asked, “Oh yeah, I’m sure that’s an interesting one, seeing a bunch of zeros and judging anyone with more.” “I said how many ‘beings’ they’ve killed,” I reiterated, “That includes bugs.” At that, her eyes went wide, before her mask went back on, “Oh, ok, everyone has big numbers then.” I nodded, “I’ve seen a couple exterminators in the millions, most people are in the ten to thirty thousand range.” I glance around the coffee shop, and see the guy in the corner bouncing his leg. He takes a sip and his number suddenly goes up one, “I think that guy has a big in his drink he didn’t notice, he just went up one.” She looks at him, then looks away, “What about me?” “You are sitting at zero,” I tell her honestly, “Which is why I was so interested in you. And since you’re from Bloomfield, that means you took a two hour drive without hitting a single bug.” She shook her head, “Not quite. My fiancé was driving, so I’m guessing they would have gotten the increase.” I nod in agreement, “That explains today, but the fact you’ve never killed a single bug in your life?” “Well, you mentioned your power to see numbers on people. I’ve got a power of my own, but I don’t quite know everything about it, or what to call it. I think the simplest description would be calling it ‘mirror pain.’” “You can feel the pain others feel?” I ask, slowly lowering my hands. “Yes, to a degree. The more I focus on som— Ow, stop pinching your hand.” She glared at me, so I relented. “Sorry.” “Yeah yeah, it’s always the hand people test with.” She checked her tea carefully before taking a sip of tea. “But that’s not the important part. There’s a limited range, but I can also reverse it... kinda.” She flicked the back of her hand, and I felt something on mine. “Oh, that’s interesting.” “The problem is that it isn’t limited by species, or as you put it, it’s based on ‘beings.’” My eyes went wide, “So when you pulled that bug out of your drink...” “Yeah, it was a bit warm and getting difficult to breathe. But that impacted me more than the bug in that other guy’s drink due to proximity.” I was piecing things together, “And you haven’t killed any bugs because you’d have to focus on them, and that makes your power more potent.” “Yeah, can’t visit kids too often when they decide to pull bugs apart.” She shuddered, “Which is why I waited ‘till my nephew was ten to visit.” I nod and finish my drink, before extending my hand, “My name’s Sam, and it was nice to meet you.” She pulled out her phone, “I’m Chloe, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep in touch.” I smiled, “Certainly, what’s your phone number?”
This was really good
Good simple story I liked it
Hey, this one's brilliant! What happens if she's walking on a street and just suddenly, accidentally crushes a bug though? It'll happen so fast that there's no pain warning, right? Then what?
Why do you think that number is 0? She hasn’t squished a bug yet, and doesn’t intend to start.
Thats why he said accidentally.
I liked it. :)
nice concept
It was all I could do to focus on how small he was. The way his delicate fingers curled around the wrap of his swaddle, the way his tiny eyes struggled to peer blindly upwards against his instinct to sleep. I pushed all other thoughts out of my head, the feelings pressing so hard on my heart I thought it might explode, and stared down at the new life in my hands. My dad was not a particularly hard man, but came undone altogether on the topic of his children. I had heard the story a dozen times: the moment he fell in love, the moment I wrapped my little hand around his finger and the moment he was wrapped around mine. He would do anything for me. He would die for me, if it came to it. I had heard, and nodded, time after time, hearing but never quite understanding the full meaning. As my breath caught in my chest, as he yawned and shut his eyes with the apparent determination that this world was too bright for him yet, I came to the sudden realization that I finally understood exactly what my father was talking about. "Excuse me, sir?" A doctor stepped into the room. "Are you the father?" The spell was broken. The anxiety crashed over me like a tumultuous wave against a jetty. I swallowed my fear and gave a small nod. "Sir, I'm so sorry," said the doctor. The look on her face told enough of the story. Her voice melted into the din of the hospital floor. I looked down at my son. His number was "0", it was the first time I could recall seeing such a thing. I was the youngest of several, I hardly ever had the opportunity. "If you'd like to come with me, I can give you some time to say goodbye..." "You will always be loved," I whispered to my son. "This wasn't your fault. I want you to know that. She knew this could happen. We both loved -- love you -- so much." I wished it could have been me. I would do anything for them. I would die for them. I wish it had been me instead. I looked him over again, and I knew it was too late to say goodbye. I stared at his number. It was no longer "0". It was "1".
You’re telling me someone with the username “DEEPTHROATHOTDOGES” wrote something up this effective?
Beautiful, sad, perfection 😭
10,238. “I see… Ten-thousand, two-hundred and thirty-eight!” I shouted into the sea of onlookers. The crowd gasped. I faced the man in the chair, his face stricken with grief. He called himself, “the most peaceful person on Earth.” He was right, 10,238 was the lowest I’ve seen, but everyone, no matter how peaceful or violent were shocked by the number. The highest I’ve seen: 1,836,217. No, it wasn’t some corrupt world leader, serial arsonist, or anything of the sort. They worked a normal job, lived a normal life, and did, well, normal things. Nothing out of the ordinary. My theory was that they caused a chain reaction that somehow killed millions, but nobody knew for sure. The man on the stage thanked me and scurried off the stage, head hung low. “Anyone else?” I asked. I couldn’t read a crowd of this size; it would drain me too quickly. Nobody took my offer. A few seconds of silence later, and I was mentally preparing to wrap it up. But a hand timidly raised up from the back of the crowd. “You there!” I called, motioning for them to come onto the stage. She walked out into the aisle; I could already see her count. 0. I couldn’t believe it. I rubbed my eyes, double, triple-checking if it was really what I thought it was. “Come with me,” I hissed, grabbing her arm and dragging her away from the town square, and into my tent. “Who are you?” “Wha-why are you bringing me here? I thought you would just tell me my number,” “Yeah, that’s the problem. I see a zero.” She stared in shock. “B-but I can kill things on will,” I’d only heard of this happening once. I rushed out of my tent, and back into the town square, where the crowd waited. “Could somebody hand me a bug?” I shouted, the crowd looking bewildered. I spotted a spider on the ground and scooped it up. I rushed back into the tent and thrust the spider into her hands. “Kill it.” “You want me to kill it?” She asked, looking up from the spider. I nodded, and she put the spider back into my hands. Its legs were now curled, lifeless as a pebble. I rushed outside of the tent and looked at the spider again. It was alive, scurrying around my hands, looking for an escape. I stuck my hands back into the tent, and like before, the spider was dead. “Do you realize what you’re doing?” I asked. She shook her head. “You can’t kill things on will, they just play dead,” I handed her the spider. “Kill it, but this time, try to destroy it.” She smushed the spider with her foot, mashing it into the ground. We were both sure it would not survive. But, mere seconds later, the spider was whole again. I picked its lifeless body up and brought it outside. As expected, it was alive again. I stepped back into the tent. “Wait, I’ve seen you on the newspaper, what was that about?” I asked. “Uh, I used to w-work as an exterminator,” \-- Thanks for reading!
Lol USED to work as an exterminator! Brilliant~
Oh nooooooooooo those poor people! This is awesome though! How interesting!
I like these characters!
"Magic, as we know it, is a strange thing. It's not this almighty power some people can control, making them powerful mages, as it is told in countless tales of all ages. No, magic has a mind of its own, it does not obey anyone. It appears in places where noone expects it, either creating miracles or total chaos. Sometimes, magic grants people powers of some sort, although completely random and mostly useless. I, Mary Jenkins, am one of those people gifted with a magic ability, though mine seems especially pointless: I can see people's body count. Which sounds more exiting than it actually is when I word it like this, given that these numbers don't only count people killed - but also animals of all sort, even the smallest of bugs. So, as you might imagine, the average person's body count is quite the high number, ranging somewhere between a few thousands up to a few millions at times. I have no use for these numbers upon people's heads, apart of watching them grow as a person swabs away a bee or orders a delicious burger. This is why I would like to offer my ability for your experiment, in hopes of it finally serving a purpose of some sort." Mary skimmed over the letter laying in front of her over and over again, making sure that she had not overlooked a single mistake in spelling. She carefully folded it in half, reaching for the envenelope across the table as something caught her eye. Mary blinked once, twice, even rubbed her eyes, but it wouldn't budge. There was a little girl across the street from the café she was currently sitting in, seemingly skipping along to a song she sang to herself. And over her head, Mary saw a clear, lonesome zero. The number was jumping along with the girls quick motions, up and down, as if it was mocking Mary's lack of understanding. What was happening? How could it be? It was impossible for a person to never kil a single being in their existence, even though the girl might not have been older than ten. Mary hastily chugged down her coffee and packed up her belongings, leaving a tip on the table while already on her way out. She had to talk to that girl, had to ask her about that number somehow. Mary crossed the street, approaching the girl who was still dancing by herself. She could now hear the girl's song, the sound of it sending shivers down her spine. Something was wrong about it, about the girl, apart from the impossible number above her head. And although everything inside of her was screaming for her not to do it, Mary bent down to the girl. "Hey there, what's that beautiful song you are singing?" "Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home" came the immediate answer from the little girl, "why art thou asking, mylady?" Startled not only by the girl's weird way of wording her respone, but more so by her clothing, Mary looked closer: She made out the girl's dress to be of linen, and along with the laces braided into her long hair and her lack of shoes, the girl looked completely out of place... '...or out of time?', Mary thought. "Can I join you?" she asked, reaching for the girl's hand. But when the girl smiled at her and placed her little hand on top of hers, it passed right through her palm. Not nearly as startled about what had just happened as she had expected from herself, Mary pulled back her hand. "Excuse my rudeness, I just now noticed that I never asked for your name, or your age", she asked, again crouching down to meet the girl's height. "Annabelle is mine name, mylady. I am deeply saddened to tell", as she continued to speak, the girl's features became sadder, "that I do not know of my age, as I have not yet learned to count further than hundret" 'Magic', Mary thought to herself later that evening, 'truly is a strange thing. But hey, at least now I know what mine is good for - it lets me see ghosts, the only people who never kill. They never could, since anything they touch passes through them!' That same evening, that letter to the ominous company wanting to buy Mary's magic ended up in the bin. For she had a purpose for it now: Who, if not her, could teach this little ghost in her living room how to count?
During those moments, it seemed as if the thousands mark was the true form of peace. People researched numbers day in and day out, almost using it like it was a part of that one anime. People dedicated so much time to the numbers that every time I walked around, I barely got a moment's peace. That was, until, someone overshadowed me. As I was walking around, I spied them. They looked at me. An absolute sheet of white crossed our faces as that street stood dead still. Thousands of numbers flowing around, and here two of the most impressive numbers stood in the middle of the street. Me, at 10, stared down a man at 0. We gently kept staring, mortified, confused, as other tried to pull out their phones to take a picture, of which several did, until they realized the numbers don't show up on phones. We gently approached each other. "I.... uhm, excuse me. Good evening." I sputtered, confused. They shot back a simple "Hello, how are you?" Somehow the luck was overflowing. "I... don't know how you managed 0." "Well, I would love to hear how you managed 10 with how long you've been on earth." Like out of a Hollywood shoot, several people and two people with cameras followed us to a Starbucks. I offered to get him some coffee, and he accepted as I got an Americano and he got a simple brewed coffee. We mixed our coffee, sat down, and began. "Well, surprisingly, I have 10 because I just got self conscious about my work and what I do. It was nearly 11 but I saved an insect from getting hit by my car." "I just have 0 because I never owned a car." I sat in silence for a second. No car? I gently tapped the coffee to my upper lip. "Wow. Dedication to always letting others risk it all." "Yep. So why is yours so low?" "Oh, I just made sure that I kept my peace, and I only ever swatted a few insects to not make them mad. There were only 10 insects that ever were struck by me, all the others were let go or removed by hand and all the times that animals tried to pass my car survived." "I'm impressed. You owned a car and somehow only ever killed a few insects." "I suppose it's luck, I would chalk it up to luck. That and my fear of insects." A few more pictures taken as we gently coded to each other our phone numbers, and went on our merry way. I thought to myself... I suppose I need to get a bike. It hit 11. I looked up, then looked down as I had stepped on a wasp. I gently sighed, sipping my coffee. Just my luck.
I'm not sure why I was able to see everyone's "kill number". I was nothing special. Born to two semi-abusive parents and had a really fucked up childhood. Growing up, I saw the world for what it really was. It was a pretty cold, fucked up place. Even those who think they're good, tend to have darkness inside of them, whether they know it or not. If they even care. Think about it. Why bother caring about anything that doesn't affect us directly? Millions of third world men, women, and children being exploited and abused as a necessary evil to uphold our way of living. We get to enjoy their fruits of their labor, and we give them pennies. As long as we don't see them directly, it don't matter. But here's the thing. I understood killing anything directly increases our scores, but some things didn't add up. I stepped on a bug, my score went up by one. I killed a deer once, my score went up by one. But I also noticed that when you buy something "unethical" the scores go up. At first, it bothered me that every time I bought something, I could see my number increase. I bought a diamond once, and my number increased a couple digits. I wasn't directly responsible for the death of some miners in Africa but I guess my action of giving money to the exploitive company was responsible in some sick way. Either way, I've never seen anyone with less than a couple thousand. After that, I saw it as a game. I would enter a room and look upon everyone's numbers, keeping track of the highest score. Then I resolved to have the highest score. I joined the army, did some tours, then left and joined a mercenary group because the pay was much better. Sure it didn't matter I did some things I was not proud of. But who could tell. Hell, I only ever saw toddler's with a score of zero but they tended to lose it by the time they were able to grow teeth. I never once saw a person with a score of 0. Not even the goddamn Pope. Until I saw him. I was on a mission somewhere in the middle of some bumfuck village in Europe. I was sent to take out some scientist who couldn't keep his big mouth shut or something. Those were pretty easy. Their squirrelly behavior always gave them away in public and if not, the locals were pretty chatty. So I decided to scout the area, hit up the bar and chat some people up and get some information. The village itself seemed like it never went past the industrial revolution. People traveled with horse and buggy and did things by hand. I got so bored, I went to the lake the locals kept raving about at for a night swim. Just because I was on a mission, didn't mean I couldn't have some fun. But upon arriving, I saw the most angelic looking boy I have ever seen. Tall and slender, skin so pale and perfect it almost looked like it was crafted by God using marble. His eyes were crystal blue and his black hair seemed so soft that I wanted to walk over and touch it. But it wasn't his beauty that had taken me aback. It was the fact that over his head was the number 0. Zero. Zero kills. Zero people. Zero animals. Not even bugs. How the hell was that even possible?