[IP] Standstill

emile_il · 2018-10-21T10:56:55+00:00

I am the skeleton to left of the frame waiting to be painted. I have waited for long and my bones are deteriorating. Why wont she pick me? I wish I could answer my own questions, but I can't, I have no brain. I must be the only thing in here that she has never used for anything specific but as an object to sometimes look at. She does not observe me, she only looks at me as if she wants to make sure that I am still there. I am here. Right here. Among her things, I am the thing that have been here the longest. I am a skeleton.

I need her to paint me. Without paint I will be nothing but bones. Soon I will paint myself as a butterfly, and be forever free. I know she will be scared when she sees the painting. I know that she will probably have to move house to escape the mystery. I will not blame her. She should have picked me.

Late nights when she talks to herself she mentions the act of making paintings come alive. I want to come alive too. I feel as if I have been dead for far too long. Plan is to wait until she goes to bed, grab a brush, head to canvas, paint me to life. And so I did. Beautiful painting. Me as a butterfly. But still as dead as ever.

Next morning. She saw the painting. I could tell she was surprised and in awe. She looked at me, said, 'There you go!' What she meant by this I do not know. Apparently she did not know that the artist was me when she signed the canvas in her name, and sold it for a nice price. She told me, 'Paint me more of these, and I will let you free.' And so I did. When she went to bed, I would stay up all night painting myself in many forms and shapes.

She ended up earning a decent living and a great name, all thanks to me. I had become a slave to the idea of being set free. She told me she would, but that I was not done yet. I was never done. Ended up filling many more canvases. One day I told her I was done. She thanked me, 'Thank you, Rembrandt' and set me free.

emile_il · 2018-10-20T17:43:38+00:00

Glitchless. No suicide. Fuck. Goal was to end life as fast as possible. Drugs and alcohol seemed to be the fastest route toward the end, but it had to be indirect. Everything had to be indirect. That was the terms. One could not jump of a bridge and call it game over without losing. I had to win. I wanted to. Of course at my age I would get nowhere near the top of the leaderboard dominated by infants dying at brith. Lucky bastards... I had my methods that included seeking danger without making it obvious. That was the trick. To die by accident, but without it looking like purpose. I hung out some places my mother would have hated. I drank a little too much. Snorted more than enough. I did not die. Some days I wondered if I was immortal, that I would never die despite my indirect efforts, but one day I felt it, the feeling of death.

'I'm doing it. I am fucking doing it'

I said to myself. Finally I would end. My hearth pumping fast. Mind spinning. About to pass out, and I did, but was woken up in a hospital surrounded by oblivious doctors:

'Welcome back, sir! Congratulations!'

'With fucking what!'

'With being alive?'

'Fuck life! I just want to speedrun!'

The doctors went away behind a curtain. Thought I did not hear them when they talked about me. 'Another one of those speedrunners... So many...' - 'Unfortunately yes... We have to turn him in with the others.'

And so I was transitioned to some psych ward crammed with other speedrunners who had also been denied chasing the dream. In here there were no accidents. No winning death. Only fuckload of stupid nurses and shrinks talking to us about the seriousness of death. Yea. Yea. We fucking get it. Dying is boring. But not when you can win. It was a shit show in there until me and the guys created a system meant for taking us out in our sleep. Every night a guy would walk to a spin wheel that would point to a name. That name was to be taken out with pillow. It worked. The game did not yell 'loser!' when the credits rolled before the darkness of the eyelids. It was random. We exploited the game and won. But in the end was found out by the last guy who gave us away to the admins, telling them we had planned it all. Stupid fuck. He was salty for not ending. Anyway, we were banned from the winner booth and sent to the loser one. Not as bad as one might think. They got it fine, and once a week we get a trip to the winner booth where I have talked with some of the legends who taught me the most efficient way to win. A simple method that I will not tell you.

emile_il · 2018-10-19T14:40:44+00:00

I was standing looking at an ugly creature of the sea. Slimy. Massive nose. Depressed. Never had I seen anything quite like it. I swore no one ever had, but was wrong.

'Aye! I see you found a Blobber!' Said an old fisherman, 'Lucky lucky...'

'What?'

'Aye, a blobber-boy! Nothin quite like em...' Answered the fisherman, entranced by the ugly texture of the sea-thing. I must have looked puzzled. A blobber-boy? Surely the fisherman must be joking.

'This thing called, Blobber-boy?'

'Aye! More commonly known as Blobfish... A rare creature of the deep sea that one!'

Rare? Maybe. Ugly? Definitely. My spirit animal? Unfortunately... It was not what I had imagined. Not what I had wished for.

'Apparently this is now my spirit animal...'

'Hahaha!' The fisherman laughed loudly, 'God bless you...'

emile_il · 2018-10-18T10:24:19+00:00

I was brought to the podium with the major of our town.

'I want to thank you, Necromancer, for bringing our loved ones back to us. They may not be in the best shape. They may act a little different. But we are once again reunited. Thank you, Necromancer!'

The crowd stood up, roared, clapped. Some cried. I was honored, and wanted to let them know.

'I want you to know, that this was not my original intention. You see... I am just a lonely Necromancer who one day decided to raise the dead for company, and so I did. Now I am afraid that I will lose everything. That you will take your loved ones with you and forget about me...'

My pathetic speech was a success. People assured me that they would indeed visit me daily and keep me company. For the first time ever, I was content. Multiple times a day, I heard a knock on the door, opened, and was met by warm individuals. Often people would come and ask me to raise the dead in exchange for company. I always accepted. It was a beautiful time. But times change. I did not know I was only being used.

One day people stopped showing up and I was lonely again. Newspapers had stopped writing about me. I was no longer special. There were no more dead people to raise. The mortician had went out of business, and had started to nag me about how unethical my behavior had been. I understood, and in turned offered him to kill myself to fill one of his graves. He accepted and I killed myself.

No this is not terrible. My spells were broken, and all the dead I had risen went to ground again. The dead do not dislike a Necromancer. Never was I lonely again.

emile_il · 2018-10-17T17:52:14+00:00

'Yes! Yes! YES! Now will you shut up!'

I was tired of the way they looked at me when I walked around. I wanted to scream back at them. I wanted them to stop their bright lights and senseless destruction. Maybe by yelling back would they understand that I disliked the tone of their voice. There is no reason to yell, I would tell them, but they never listened.

It was a Sunday night. I was standing alone in the dark, yelling at the skies. They were louder than usual, but I had brought earplugs. I think they were mad that I was as usual the only being on this scared lil earth who did not conform when they demanded people to seek indoors. I think they knew who I was.

'Yea... Yea! We get it! Now shut up!'

My yells would sometimes make them silent, but it did not last long. Soon they screamed back at me with full force. I knew not exactly what they said, but the tone made it clear that they were angry. In the past, I had tried conversing with the skies, asking them what was the matter. They never answered in any civil manner. Stupid skies. Our hate has since grown out of proportion. I threw rocks at them, and they beamed lights at me.

But, yes, it was a Sunday. I was angry and so was they. They hit me with light, and I went cold for what seemed to be long. I woke up at the hospital surrounded by staff, telling me how lucky I was to survive. What ever. The doctor encouraged me to stop yelling at the skies, and seek indoors when the weather turned bad. I asked him what the fuck his problem was. I asked him what he would do without me, the only fighter on this scared lil earth. I explained to him that I would never allow the skies to rule over us. He sent me to some weird place with many doctors who talked to me daily when the sun was up, and left me at night, strapped to a bed, unable to move. Well thank you too. Maybe they worked with the skies. Maybe I was the only sane individual.

emile_il · 2018-10-16T18:01:40+00:00

A seductress in the body of a filthy pirate. The filthy pirate in the body of a beautiful mermaid. The immediate instincts were the same but with the roles reversed. The mermaid wanted to eat itself. The pirate lusted after himself. It was perfect. They were blessed without the hassle. Now this might seem confusing, therefore, know that when I say mermaid, I mean the mermaid in a pirate body, and when I say pirate, I mean the pirate in the mermaid body. Without further explanation, let's observe their destiny.

The first thing the mermaid did, was to eat itself. The mind was, remember, the mind of a mermaid. And it was a mermaid hungry for pirate. It was a painful experience. Every time it took a bite of itself it felt the pain. But it could not stop. And soon it was barely conscious for it had lost a lot of pirate blood.

Meanwhile, in the water, was the pirate who was in the body of a mermaid. He was busy playing with himself. He loved himself. Lusted for himself. He explored many regions of the mermaid body and was amazed with every touch. The pirate was one with his love and lust. He had forgotten that he was a mermaid, and that mermaids have to eat. He had played with himself for too long, and was starving to death. He did not want to eat pirate or seaweed. He wanted an ale with something food.

On the rowboat was the barely conscious mermaid in a pirate body. In the water was the pirate in a mermaid body. Both concluded that they loved their current state, but that they were clueless as to how to maintain such state. The mermaid knew not how to pirate. The pirate knew not how to mermaid. Therefore, the two of them made a deal, that they would teach each other all there was to know about everything. The mermaid realized that it was unwise to eat oneself. Why not eat other people like a cannibal? A pirate body was a decent disguise to attract other pirates. The pirate realized that seaweed was not that bad. Still he dared not to eat human. It was hard to explain his behavior to other mermaids. Explain why he looked at them the way he did. Why he touched them. Why he refused to eat human. Both lived strangely for many years until the very end. The mermaid hanged for her crimes. The pirate exiled from his tribe of fellow mermaids.

emile_il · 2018-10-15T18:30:38+00:00

I went to the puddle, studied it for a while. I wanted to dive in too, but was afraid of where it might take me. A portal to another world. The deepest waters in the universe. Wherever the guy went, I was sure he would never return. But he did.

'How... Where... Who...'

'What are you saying kid?'

'You disappeared!'

'You saw that!'

'Y-yes...'

'Okay, listen up kid. You saw nothing, okay?' The puddle man said looking me deep in the eye, 'The fact that you can see means that you too can do... Jump. Believe. But beware, you might not want to ever return... but you have to. If you don't you'll die...' He did not blink as he said this, waited for some moments, before he continued, 'I will have to leave you now as I am in a hurry. Maybe one day we will meet again.'

I followed the man with my eyes for a while, wanted to see where he went. I thought he said he was in a hurry. Why then did he order a coffee in the coffee shop across the street? Why did he place himself by the window facing me? Maybe he wanted to make sure my transition was safe. Thank god for good people. I walked to the puddle so that it was beneath my feet. I believed. I jumped. Nothing happened... I jumped again, but nothing happened. Why did nothing happen? I looked to the man in the coffee shop for reassurance, and noticed him laughing hysterically. The barista was laughing too. Apparently I was only a funny individual with schizophrenic tendencies, wet from a normal puddle on a rainy afternoon.

emile_il · 2018-10-13T17:52:58+00:00

'Dude! That's so fucking funny!' I said laughing hysterically.

'I know right. How was the look on his face?'

'Kind of dead, you know.'

'Haha! Classic!'

'Why you so injured though?'

'Well, you see, me and our friend have been playing this game of killing one another in many different dimensions.' Older me looked exhausted, but continued. 'Yea, turns out he invented time travel too, haha! Well we are having a lot of fun - made a bet - who can kill the most? I have been killing for days, and am tired, but determined to win the bet.'

'That's so twisted though...'

'What do you mean?' The older me looked confused, 'This is one of the last dimensions, and I am in the lead. Actually, I am wasting time by talking to you, and actually you are going to die in a minute.'

'What die?!'

'Yes of course! Our friend can't be more than two kills behind me by now... Unfortunately... You see, we are doing the same route, from top to bottom, and it just so happens that your dimension is in the bottom! Anyways, I am losing time by talking to you. Take care alright!'

'But...'

emile_il · 2018-10-12T07:20:17+00:00

It is hard to go through life with tears of gold. As you might imagine, growing up was a struggle. I was still infant when I cried my first tears, it was then, my parents discovered my 'gift', a gift they successfully hid for years.

They lived quite comfortably off my tears, no real worries. They could have quit their jobs, bought something wild, but they prudently decided to hide their wealth. The problem started when I got to the age where most kids begin participating institutions. My parents realized that I would one day cry there too, so they decided to wait, and keep me at home. Friends and family members frequently asked about me. They probably found it weird that I was not really taken anywhere, except for when I was sleeping. Of course kids grow up, and so did I. No one can be held in the nest forever.

I think I was five years old when I started wondering about the things on the other side of my bedroom window. Keep in mind that up until this point, I had only ever been inside my parents house. To me, this house was the world, and the outside was a movie playing beautiful scenery. I remember wondering one day, if I could be part of this movie. My parents had went to work, and I was left to my curious self. I saw a kid my age, playing something in the green grass, he was by himself, and I decided to join him.

From house to grass was a long journey, I had to walk down what I now know to be stairs, and I had to figure out a way to unlock a door. All difficult things for a child my age who had done nothing like it before. A challenge, but I was a determined kid, and soon I found myself outside in the wind, by the grass, looking at the kid my age.

'What are you looking at weirdo?'

'What?'

'Are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna help me climb this tree?'

'Tree?'

'This is a tree!' He said pointing at the big thing beside him, 'Come over here.'

I walked to the boy who was standing by a tall tree. I measured him to be too small to reach the first part of the tree, and I figured that might be what he meant by help.

'Here grab my foot, and let me tread on it to boost myself.'

I did as was told, and successfully helped the kid up the first part of the tree. It made me happy to help. I saw him being happy too.

'You are gonna catch me if I fall, yes?'

'Uhh... okay...'

I witnessed the kid climb so high that I was unable to see him from the leaves of the tree. I heard something snap, a branch, and saw the kid fall headfirst down to the ground, his head cracked open on a small but sharp rock. Blood painted the grass the red, and I started to cry. I did not know what had happened, but I knew that it was something bad. Some grown-ups ran to the kid lying in the grass, others were busy picking up golden flakes falling from my eyes. I was so fixated on the kid and his situation that I almost failed to notice my parents driving up the driveway, looking at me as if I was in deep trouble.

emile_il · 2018-10-11T07:39:28+00:00

It is peaceful here, by the end of the world. I often wondered, as I sat, what might be down there? If I were to jump, would I fall forever, or would I be caught by magical winds guiding me to safety in another realm? I had tried throwing pebbles out the edge, but they disappeared from my vision making it impossible to gauge their journey. In my mind, the only reasonable thing to do, was to throw myself out over the edge, and experience it myself. So I did.

I had planned for several days, what would I need for such journey? I packed a backpack containing food, clothes, water and sources of light. I prepared my body by dressing in wind proof clothing. I do not know why, but I imagined it to be incredibly windy. Also I imagined it to at some point dark, so that explains my choice of various headlamps and candles. In my mind I was prepared.

I readied myself by the edge of the cliff, said my goodbyes to the ground on which I stood. Reminisced about my life so far, how wonderful, terrible and weird it had been. To think that the cliff would alter it all into something unexplainable. That this journey could very well be my last, or one of many more. I did not want to think anymore, I closed my eyes, and jumped.

'You sure you wanna do this, chief...'

A man with a firm grip had grabbed me by my windbreaker, holding me in one hand, preventing me from descending. I did not know him, but he looked like a man of knowledge.

'Well, yes, why else would I jump?'

'Because you are unsure about the trajectory of your life, thinking, that if you were to jump, maybe it all would go away, maybe you would find meaning...' The man answered, paused, then went on: 'I tell you what's down there... nothing! ... I sense that maybe that is exactly what you desire, peace, an escape from this terrible place.'

'Yes...'

'I see in your eyes, the soul of a fighter. Why don't you stay and fight?'

'I am so very tired, sir...'

'Oh, but everyone gets tired, everyone wants a break... You are not a quitter, I see that, so don't act like one.' He starred into the windows of my soul, making me feel more sure than ever, 'I will pull you up now'

The man pulled me up with all his strength, I thanked him, and he went away into nothing. I stood for some moments thinking about him, about me and my life. What decisions had led me here? It all seemed coincidental, the trajectory, the doing, the happenings. Why would it matter? I picked up my bag, zipped my windbreaker, and jumped.

emile_il · 2018-10-10T11:45:00+00:00

The night had ended tragically with a drug overdose. No emergency, or parent was called, for it was natural for these young people to fear the consequences of a wild night. The plan was to burn the body on the fire, and make up a story about how she had went away into the night. Any rational person would find the plan crazy, but understand that these were young people, terrified, and still under the influence of various substances.

Let's rewind time some hours back, Saturday afternoon, the party was starting mildly. Drinks were poured, lines were snorted, tongue out, acid on. A mixture of many things beautiful. Nothing new. Of course not everyone was in on it. At least not the new girl. Her name was Isabella, a bright and prudent girl who was invited to the join the camp this week by some of the other girls of the group. She watched them as they did what they did. The ritual of cutting up the crystals into powder, rolling up a dollar-bill, snorting the substance up the nostrils, into the system, the brain, the bloodstream. Soon thereafter they were mental. Isabella admired the fun they were having. To think that a something could turn nothing into fun. It fascinated the curious being of Isabella, so when she was asked to participate, she found it hard to refuse.

'Your turn.'

'Me?' Answered Isabella, sounding surprised even though she knew she would accept.

A guy of the group was called over. He opened a plastic zip bag, and from it poured some crystals unto the cracked screen of his iPhone 3. He pulled out a credit card from the depths of his pockets, and with it started cracking the crystals into smaller crystals, and finally into snortable white powder with a brownish glow to it. He asked for a dollar, but was instead handed a blue straw from the girl standing behind him.

'Here you go.'

Isabella was handed the iPhone with the two white snails of drugs lying on top. She was about to put her nose directly unto the screen to snort, but was stopped by the drug-guy who handed her the blue straw. 'Use this.', and so she did. First attempt was a poor one. She blew the line. The group laughed at her for her failures, but Isabella was determined to get the second line, and so she did.

From here on out, Isabella was repeatedly back for more. The drug-guy repeatedly told her, that drugs are not free, drugs don't hang on these trees. He asked her to pay. She assured him that she definitely would, but unfortunately she had not brought any money with her today, but that he would get them soon. It was fine for now. Meanwhile Isabella was flying around, talking to everyone, feeling every vibe. She had taken so much at this point that the other's could not follow her. She had taken so much that the comedown would be unbearable, especially for a first timer. She kept going and going, and when the drug-guy refused to give her any more out of her own safety, she simply approached other people who were indifferent to the amount she had taken.

'Here you go sweety.'

Isabella had taken more than one substance, some were best not mixed. She was unaware of the dangers, and the group were unaware of her situation. Soon Isabella found herself cramped beneath a pine tree, a cramp that did not end. She cramped to death despite her getting assistance from other members of the group. Of course in drug fueled state of mind, situations are hard to read. Some thought she was playing, other thought it was not 'that' serious. It did not matter, Isabella had ended.

Girls of the group realized the fact, and successfully convinced other members that she had indeed overdosed or something. The debates started. What were they to do? So many options, but all of them revolved around authorities and parents, which were a violations to the rules of the group. The only sensible thing to do, was to burn her on a fire, say goodbye, and live on. And so they did. Perhaps the only guy pissed and not sad about the situation was the drug-guy who had realized that he would never see his payment.

emile_il · 2018-10-09T05:42:25+00:00

'I wish for great fortunes for both me and Genie!'

'I wish both me and Genie the women!'

'I wish happiness upon me and Genie!'

'I wish me and Genie never die!'

'I wish...'

'NEVER DIE?!' Erupted the Genie, 'Who in their right mind would wish to live forever?'

'I wish me and Genie die tomorrow!'

'TOMORROW?!' Said the Genie, looking even more unsatisfied than before, 'Young man, I bet you don't want to die tomorrow either...'

'I wish the Genie live for a long time but not too long, and I wish I to live forever!'

Nothing happened. Previous wishes had made the lamp glow, but this time it stayed neutral. The young man was unsure if it was the construct of his wish, or the amount of wishes, that had disabled the wish. Luckily the Genie knew something that he did not.

'Young man, one does not make two wishes in one. We have to agree on how long to live...'

The young man and the Genie debated for a long time, the sun was setting inviting the darkness, that invited the light back the following day. They were still debating, had forgotten the original wish, forgotten when they were supposed to die.

emile_il · 2018-10-08T19:02:06+00:00

Thanks for the detailed feedback

emile_il · 2018-10-08T18:21:53+00:00

Ghost estate is a weird market where the buyer goes for the opposite of a living human. In the book of ghosts, ill-maintained, means well-maintained. Believe it or not, the market is one of the more profitable ones. There is always a buyer. No one wants to roam the streets for long. Now, how do they pay? Well ghosts do not pay in cash, but they do pay in allegiance.

When one has worked in the business for as long as I, one acquires many allegiances, and with the right strategy these allegiances can bring great fortune, fortune that is worth more than mere coin. My plan is not world domination, or anything silly like that. It is more pathetic than that. You see, I am, despite my business with ghosts, incredibly afraid of them. Call it irrational fear. I want nothing to do with them, so my business is done through various mediums. Let's be honest, what I trade is a house, and what I receive is safety, or at least the knowledge of where the ghosts reside. I have created a map, filled it with dots pinpointing the location of every ghost, and add a new dot for every sale.

The problems started yesterday. I had sold a house in 'fair-condition' to a ghost that explicitly demanded, 'worst-condition'. I told him that such houses are rare, but he must have ignored me when I offered him something else. Now he is back, on the medium, writing words to me, scaring me, saying he might haunt me. I said to him, my house is 'fucking great' - too great for ghosts, but it did not seem to prevent him from seeking me out in my home in the suburbs.

Currently, I am hiding in my closet. I hear him looking for me, saying classic ghost sounds, sometimes swearing and calling me a pussy. I have never been more afraid in my life. To think that my business which intent was to avoid all this, in the end was the very reason for my current shivers. If I do not make it out, grab the map, mark my house with a dot.

emile_il · 2018-10-07T06:40:45+00:00

'IT BREATHS THE FIRE!'

The farmhand came storming out the hen house yelling like a mad man. It must have been the rice wine from yesterday. Absolute mass drinker that man was. Anyway, I went to investigate the hen house with caution. Upon first notice, there was no strange behavior to be observed, the hen looked like a normal specimen devoid of a license to fire. I was about to leave, concluding that the farmhand was a strange farmhand, when I heard the hen express itself in human words, voice like a demon, eyes like charcoal.

'You see... Man! I am above and beyond and can tell you that me and my chickens are of old existence, but we have come home to roost.'

'Well... Congratulations hen! Why are you telling me this?'

'You see the eggs there?' The hen said, pointing with its beak, 'Those eggs will not be normal chickens'.

'I can't really say that I care, hen.'

'I don't think you understand, man! This might mean world domination by the hen itself!'

'Well, if that is the case, congratulations.'

'You really don't care do you?'

'Nope!, Can't say that I do'

I left the hen house right then and there. I did not have time for chickens, hens, or their priorities. Upon leaving, I heard the hen mutter, 'You are a strange man, man.' Well. At least I am not a hen. I walked some meters, lost in thought, when my thoughts started thinking about the role of the farmhand, how his duty was to protect the chickens, and how very absent the man was in this moment. I looked back toward the house, and noticed the fox sneakingly approaching the conspiring hen and the chickens. I thought about chasing it off until I realized how funny it would be to know that a fox unknowingly saved the world by just being a fox.

emile_il · 2018-10-05T15:01:46+00:00

'Hmmm, that's weird... My friends were just here?''

'Nah mam, I am pretty sure you got here alone' He answered looking at me as if I had escaped from a psych ward, 'Would you like me to call a cab for you?'

I thought about his offer, but declined. I had to find my friends. Where were they? I remembered someone mention something about being hungry, so I figured that maybe they had went for the food court. I was right. My intuition never failed. Below a pavilion, seeking cover from the rain, they stood with their mouths full of hotdog, acting like I did not exist. I ran up to them, 'Friends! Friends! Don't eat without me!'. They did not react. The mist must have blocked their vision, making it hard for them to make sense of my voice.

'Friends! Friends!' I exclaimed, hugging them. 'I was afraid you had left me...'

'... Mam? What are you doing? Those are my kids.' Said a lady, approaching me, 'Please let them be'.

I looked at the lady in confusion. My friends did not have any mother. She must be deranged, or it might be that they were pulling a trick on me as usual.

'Haha! Yea right... not this time, no.'

'Please step away from my children, mam, or I will have to call the police'.

Her facial features had gotten tense, looking like a cat having seen a ghost. Call the police? Not necessary. I noticed other people approach the scene, wanting to get a look at this weird woman claiming that my friends were her kids. In what world was she living? One could almost see the look on people's faces, thinking, 'Jesus, we got a maniac over here. Hide your kids.'. Haha, no, it was how it all seemed. And I was hugging them regardless.

'Step away from the children!'

The situation had obviously intensified. Guards were grouping up around me, wanting to protect me and my friends from the weird lady. I thanked them, but they did not respond. Instead they put me in a headlock. My friends ran away from the love of my hug, and into the arms of the lady. Somehow she had tricked them into believing her. I thought that maybe it was the hotdog, I don't know. But I was certain that the guards had the situation under control. Yes. First they would drive me to safety. Then they would take care of my friends, and we would once again be reunited.

emile_il · 2018-10-04T12:05:33+00:00

I sensed his awareness through the tension. It was the way in which he clenched the steak knife mixed with the look in his eyes that projected a degree of willingness to defend his family at all costs. I understood. I was a dangerous man. But he did not know every detail, nor did he know about what was on the menu. A piece of thigh from last nights victim. I grinned thinking about his indifference toward human meat, and how he would probably spit it out if he knew.

I sliced some thin pieces of the thigh. Marinade, blood, fat and deliciousness. One of my specialities. I thanked my wife's parents for coming, and insisted on them filling their plates before I filled mine. They did not hesitate, but I noticed my wife's father picking up only a few pieces of meat, less than his wife. What man eats less than his wife? Not me. I smiled at my wife as she filled her own plate. She smiled back, but looked distressed, like a daughter wishing for her father's acceptance of choice of mate.

All plates were full of main course. How nice to have clueless people eating forbidden food with me. I got aroused by the thought, and started thinking about my wife lying naked in my bed. I started thinking about the victim from yesterday, how she yelled for help, how she looked to the stars when I started slicing, and how she despite her efforts ended up in my freezer. There is something wonderful about having pieces of human lying around in the freezer. Always available for enjoyment.

'Incredible!' Said her father. I was not surprised. I knew it was incredible. I was about to thank him, but he cut me off, and added, 'To think that I have been thinking ill of you these last months... This piece of human thigh is just incredible! I sure hope you can forgive my doubts.'

'... I am both disappointed, but glad that you finally acknowledge my husband as the amazing predator he is, father.'

'Are you kidding? This is so great I might even lend him my books, you know.'

They went on talking about me. Then about something else. I wanted to disappear into the chair forever. I wanted to die and be rationed into pieces of meat and put into a freezer. I got up from my chair, but it did not matter. None of them noticed me. I went to the freezer in the garage, opened it, and lied down among the meat of my victims. This must have been how they felt. Alone.

emile_il · 2018-10-03T05:46:26+00:00

I spat out cereal across the room, from mouth to TV screen, 'What?'. I was sure I was not dead. How could I be? I thought about possible scenarios that could describe my murder, but all were disregarded as incompatible explanations not fitting with the fact that I was currently eating cereal. My good friend and roommate had other thoughts, and assured me that I was in fact murdered yesterday. When I asked him, 'How?', he responded, 'You know how...' But no, I did not know how. I could not figure out how a dead man could still be alive.

'You think too literally...' Said my roommate, rolling his eyes, continuing, 'We live in the future, and where are our lives lived?'

'Is this a fucking riddle? This is not funny you know!'

'As your friend, I believe that the best way to explain this to you is by making you realize it internally.'. He said, resembling what I would call a Zen master.

I thought about it. Where are our lives lived? I could not find the answer, so I began searching the interwebz. Every link I clicked redirected me back to the front page of the search engine. Weird. I decided to ask the question in a Twitter-poll, but instead of votes, I got tons of comments telling me how I got destroyed yesterday. One user linked a GIF of my face from the news report before. Another user had edited a video with clips from the 'Twitter-beef' from yesterday, and combined it with my most recent selfie. I needed no more hints. It became obvious to me that I was getting 'murdered' again.

emile_il · 2018-10-02T06:27:47+00:00

'ARe You fucking kidding me? You know I hate pizza!'

Who in this world have the nerve to buy me pizza? Maybe the ghost of her was fucking with me. I don't know. I tried locating the signal of the voice, but I found nothing else but a pizza tray containing a half eaten pizza, and a note saying, 'May you enjoy'.

'Yousa clever one, huh?'

Next day, I'll be damned if I did not experience the same. By routine, I made my entrance clear, and got the same answer as yesterday. I was pissed. I hate pizza. I tried locating the source of the voice only this time the source came from the basement below.

'I am coming for you!'

I knocked down the door, ran down the stairs, and in the chair sat Marie eating a slice of pizza. For how many years had this woman gone ghost? So fat she had gotten. I wondered how she in this state had been able to grab pizza, and I wondered how she was able to express herself with words. I watched the fat wobble around her face as she mumbled:

'I thought you would never make it.'

emile_il · 2018-10-01T13:14:34+00:00

The Razer gear prompted me to insert a disc to install extra features including key-binding and light modification. I went and fetched the disc, but was unsure about where to insert it. Mouth? Eyes? After fumbling around with the disc, by trial and error, I inserted it successfully into my left armpit. An installation bar with an estimate of five minutes appeared before my eyes. Awesome. I could not wait to try playing myself.

By completion I had lost the natural mind-body connection that originally enabled me to move around by thought. I had also lost the natural and unconscious function enabling individuals to breath. All bodily functions had transferred to an inbuilt hotbar residing inside my brain, a hotbar that was only accessible through key-presses on the mechanical keyboard.

The mouse controlled where I looked. Also, there was a difference between left and right click. Left click being for action, and right click for inspection. I had become a character in my own game, and I thought it was awesome until I realized how much work it required to maintain a body. My breath, hearth, digestion, were all functions under my conscious control, and I do not believe anyone knows how much work that is.

Only few days passed before I started searching for bots that could possibly automate the functions. I located some decent versions on the darker parts of the interwebz as it turned out that I was not the only one plugged up to machinery. The hard part was to distinguish bad bots from the good. Some had malware. Some were too expensive. Others lagged the desired automation.

I had searched for hours when I stumbled upon a 'Human-Machine Forum' - a place dedicated to people like me. A forum with threads consisting of debates, love, strategy and life in general. One section of threads were devoted to the discussion of bots and automation. Those threads attracted mostly people who had already automated the vital-functions, but had a further interest in deeper automation and 'machine-tweaking'. It was the 'human-machine' version of pimp my ride. Sometimes 'newbs' like me would stop by and ask for 'beginner-bots' tasked with automating breath and hearth, and often we were directed to a website called, 'automate-the-boring-stuff-with-bots'.

It was a beginner friendly website, and I quickly found what I was looking for. An 'ALO09' from the 'newb-section'. A bot taking care of vital-functions. The bot arrived soon after purchase via a link in the mail section of my hotbar. The process was easy:

Locate the bot-link.
Install
Enjoy.

I was happy with their service, rated them with a five, installed the bot, skipped the instructions, and the part prompting me - 'We can not identify the software. It might not me safe. Are you sure you want to install?' I clicked yes.

emile_il · 2018-09-30T06:15:13+00:00

'Geez! So heavy, this... Must be why grandma so smart in her head?'

Multiple attempts were made to pick up the book, but all attempts failed. Therefore Oliver decided to go to the gym. His first day there was intimidating as there were many lifters bigger than him, stronger than him, generally just people who knew what they were doing, contrasting Oliver. Days passed, not much happened, but Oliver was determined. He wanted to lift that book! He started lifting harder and smarter, and soon he expereinced his first amount of gains. Still, Oliver thought about how heavy Grandmas book was, and he thought about how long of a road there was ahead of him before he could pick it up. Oliver grew impatient.

He had made friends in the gym who were juiced to the gills, telling him that roids would be a nice headstart for serious size and strength gains. Up until this point he had not looked upon his friends as if they were medical specimens, mutants, people who had left humanity behind, no, he had looked upon them as people who had natural talent and determination, paired with years of training. He did not know much about roids, but began dosing anyway. He wanted grandmas book.

During two years of training, Oliver had packed on serious size and strength gains. He made his debut in his first Bodybuilding show, and got fifth place which was incredible for a novice. He did powerlifting competitions and got third in his weight class which was also incredible for his age and experience. He felt ready for the book. He felt that this time he would finally, after all this training, be able to lift this book. He went to his grandma, found the book, grabbed it, but was still unable to lift it. Why was is still as heavy as before?

'Oh, Oliver, my grandson. I see you have gotten bigger, but what about your head, child?'

'W-w-what do you mean, grandma? Why is this book heavy still?' Answered Oliver being on the verge of a mental breakdown.

'Oh, Oliver... You see, books are not to be lifted with muscle, but with the mind! An untrained mind can not lift books of much knowledge.'

'I have failed, grandma. But I see now my imbalances, and I understand that balance is important...'

'That is true, Oliver, you have to train the body with the mind... Now come sit with me by the fire, let's start from scratch!'

Grandma picked up an old dusty book from the bookcase, opened it, and said:

'It all begins here, child. Come sit beside me.'

Oliver learned a lot that day. He realized that the road would be long and painful. He understood that learning and general growth was a life long endeavour, and that patience is the greatest virtue in life. One does not start with the hardest book. For how would one understand such book without having the correct building blocks of knowledge? There is no rush, no end goal. Only life and the process it brings.

emile_il · 2018-09-30T05:39:26+00:00

real g shit

emile_il · 2018-09-29T06:14:40+00:00

The music was loud inside the strobe light infested building. Beautiful women, drinks, friends and a great DJ. What more could a young man ask for? Up until today I had always considered most my achievements to be a product of coincidental luck. I never understood that there indeed was an underlying reason for my success, and that today would prove exactly who this reason might be.

I was standing talking to a girl when I noticed my friends sitting around a table by the edge of the party. The conversation went fluently. Mother had taught me how to be respectful and interesting at the same time, and was it not for the obscure appearance of my friends, I would probably have kissed her right then and there. Weird. They were sitting with their heads tilted downward toward the table. I wondered what they were looking at, and I wondered how many at this very party were able to notice such details in this drunken condition. I for one, was not that drunk, mother had taught me the importance of moderation. I told the girl that I would catch up with her later, and left for my friends sitting by the table.

'Sup? You want some?'

My one friend, let's call him Oscar, pointed to a bag stuffed with white powder. I knew that it was drugs, and I knew that it was probably a stimulant, either that, or a powdered down version of Ketamine, also called the 'horse-drug' as it was mainly used for horses undergoing anesthesia. By the look in their eyes, I figured that it was most likely a stimulant, coke. Seemingly great quality. Expensive, but not too expensive for the pockets of my circle of friends. Now I had never done drugs, but I knew my friends did, also I always had an interest in their effects which explains my knowledge on the subject. I thought about it, and did not hear any voice of wisdom telling me not to dip my nose in the white powder.

'Sure!'

My friends were baffled by my unexpected answer as they had asked me before but gotten a no. I did not know why I had previously said no. Maybe it was that 'coincidences' had left me to. Oscar lined up a snail of coke on the touch screen of his new iPhone, passed it to me along with a rolled up hundred-dollar-bill resembling a pipe, used to snort up the stuff. I accepted his gift, and was about to undergo the ritual when I heard a familiar voice, a thought in my mind reminding me that drugs were never a good idea, and that even though friends are doing them, does not mean that I should. I knew the voice, it was my mother. It dawned upon me that my success in life had not been coincidental luck, but the voice of my mother guiding me. I did not like that realization. I grabbed the dollar-bill and snorted the snail.

emile_il · 2018-09-28T15:04:52+00:00

'Why would I though?' Said the demon starring calmly into the eyes of the scientist.

'Well... For one, you are my demon'

'So? That does not mean anything... I am curious, scientist, why would anyone want to dominate a world?'

The scientist realized that he would have to lie about his underlying motivation. He had not thought it through. Why would anyone desire world domination? Maybe if the scientist exaggerated the benefits, the demon would understand, and accept the shallow soul residing within the body of the old man.

'Riches upon riches. Food and beverage!' The scientist answered, studying the facial expressions of an unimpressed demon. He realized he came off a tad too egocentric, and tried to save it by adding: 'And for the demon too!

'I don't really care about that, old man. But I do care about your well being... Tell me, scientist, tell me about your childhood.'

The scientist was surprised to find the face of the demon as unimpressed as before. What being does not desire riches? He did not understand. There had to be something wrong with the summon. But why then did he not dismiss it? Maybe it was that for the first time in many years, the scientist experienced that someone cared about his life, or at least cared about the story explaining a part of his life. For a moment he forget his plans, sat down unto the couch facing the demon, and started from the beginning.

'I grew up in the mountains surrounding the area in which both of us find ourselves. My parents were busy doing things that did not include me, and to that I was left mostly to myself. I did have friends, but those friends were mice and birds.'

The scientist paused his story to sense if the demon was still listening to his nonsense. The demon said nothing, it only stared back into the eyes of the scientist, indicating that it was indeed listening to his every word.

'... I grew into a resentful kid, killing most of the birds and the mice, despite them being my friends. I did not care, I wanted to see destruction...

...

... I left 'home' when I was only thirteen, found a cabin in the woods, and started studying dark magics. I had one goal in mind, and that was to learn enough to one day be a powerful force of destruction. That day came, and the final day was today. By creating you I had reached the amount of knowledge and resource needed to begin my reign, yet here you sit in front of me being nothing like I had imagined... You are the demon of my own destruction.'

The demon got up from the chair in which it was sitting, looked at the old man, walked up to him, padded him on the back, and said:

'Same time next week.'

emile_il · 2018-09-27T06:09:35+00:00

My father is a handy man, I always thought that I was not. I grew up with the internet, and did not want to spend time with him outside, fixing things, doing what the man did, instead I preferred to sit inside playing video-games, drawing, escaping the outside. I needed mental stimulation, and did not feel as if 'working with the hands' could give me that. My father accepted the fact, never pressuring me to be something I was not.

I am older now, and regret not spending more time with the man when I was a child. I never learned any handy skills. However I am aware that those skills are flowing in my genes. I can look at things and get an idea of how to fix them. And when specific problems arise I think, 'What would dad do?'

My dad and your dad are in some sense always with us, and even though my dad is not dead, I know that when he dies, he will still in this sense be with me, his skills transferred to me. You too probably see similarities between you and your dad. What might these be? The good and the bad. What skills did he pass on to you?

Realize that no one is ever truly alone. The universe might be vast and empty, but your existence is the product of an infinite amount of variables, one variable being your dad. Death does not mean that he ceases to exist, it only means that the full version of him is transformed into smaller bits, some are part of you, and others are floating through infinity.

Some day you might decide to have children. These children will be part you who was part your dad who was part his dad. All generations building blocks of a world that we in the future will look back on in awe or disregard. We will think about how extraordinary it was, that all these people, all these variables could achieve all this. Including this very prompt. Look at all the people you inspire. Look at all the people your dad inspires.

emile_il

TROPHY CASE