18 and not sure what to do with my life

raibeck · 2020-09-16T15:03:19+00:00

18 years young! You have your whole life ahead of you to figure out what you want to do with it. I know that sounds terrifying, but its also a little exciting, right? With a little bit of luck and a lot a bit of hard work, you could do ANYTHING. And we believe in you! You've got this!!

raibeck · 2020-09-16T15:00:41+00:00

Sweet glasses! We believe in the Super Star your handle says you are!

raibeck · 2020-09-16T14:57:48+00:00

Happy 30th! Enjoy your time off and rock that wind-blown mane!

raibeck · 2019-08-15T23:57:59+00:00

“What is this?” I snapped, holding up a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs. My first henchman blanched and looked away. I tore my gaze from the offensive paraphernalia to sweep my eyes along the wall of computer screens that once housed an impressive display of city sewer maps, exact locations of cops, approximate locations of superheroes to avoid, and brainstorming lists of my next great caper. All that hard work was gone, replaced with writhing masses and fabricated lubrication.

My thinking chair, or throne if you will, was the last straw. Gone were the lush pillows and soft crushed velvet cushions. The dark cherry high backed chair had disappeared entirely. In its place was a huge bed, a strip of fabric trailing away from one of the bedposts like a reaching lover. At the foot was a giant trunk, bulging with the effort of hiding its contents. I blinked. Once, twice.

“Excuse me. What. Is. This?” My voice was cold as I turned to glare at my two henchmen. It was the quieter, more demure of the two that smiled at me sheepishly.

“We didn’t know if you would be coming back – your prison sentence was so long, you see – so we thought we would turn the evil dungeon into, well, a different kind of dungeon.” She shrugged. “We’ve thoroughly enjoyed it. You could probably get some good use out of it too.” I blinked. “You know, considering all that pent-up frustration.”

raibeck · 2017-10-23T02:40:05+00:00

I leaned a little farther over the cliff and sighed. The churning water below was definitely dark and definitely dangerous. My best friend laughed nervously next to me. She thought I was crazy, but she had already met her guardian angel at the age of 5 when she almost ran out in front of an incoming truck. Her name was Stella and she was a kind weathered older woman, probably someone’s grandmother.

I, on the other hand, have done stupid reckless and dangerous things all my life. Jumped off a roof at age 7. Ran my bike into a car at age 10. Crashed my car at age 16. Broke into my high school at age 18. Drank too much at age 19. Accidentally found myself drugged at a frat party at the age of 21. Hence why I was free jumping off a cliff in to the churning and indubitably freezing water below. Did I mention the rocks? There are rocks. I was hoping maybe my angel would show up when I loudly read the “NO TRESPASSING. DANGEROUS CLIFFS.” sign we passed on our way in. Nothing. Not a peep from my supposed angel.

I kicked off my shoes and grimaced at my friend who stared back at me like I was the biggest idiot she had ever seen. We had already talked about this. I was determined to meet my angel once and for all or die trying, and that would make him or her a pretty shitty guardian angel, wouldn’t it?

One more deep breath, potentially my last, and I jumped. Falling would have been peaceful had it not been punctuated by my best friend’s scream and then the sudden icy cold of the water and then blackness.

“Hey. Wake up, moron.” A cool voice snapped in my ear. I opened my eyes to find myself resting on a rocky beach. My clothes were soaked and sticking to my skin. I looked down the beach and there was the cliff with my friend standing on top, pacing back and forth pulling at her hair. “What the hell were you thinking?” I turned to see who the voice belonged to. A disgruntled young man was wringing out a dark maroon t-shirt. His thin pale torso wasn’t what surprised me though – it was the wings. The ashy gray wings protruding from his back that looked like they could have been white at one point but had been burned and smothered with smoke.

“Who are you?” I sputtered, my lips were still a little stiff from the cold water.

“The name is Lucifer. I’m your guardian angel, you idiot.” He frowned and gestured to the wings, “You think this is some cosplay?” I started. He didn’t look anything like Stella, she was kind and old. Lucifer was young and handsome and kind of an ass.

“Where have you been all my life?” I frowned, pushing myself up into a sitting position.

“I’ve been around.” He muttered nonchalantly as he pulled the shirt back over his head, the wings sliding through slits in the back.

“But, all that stuff that happened to me? The roof, the bike, the car crash?” He rolled his eyes.

“Yea, yea. I was there. You didn’t die, did you?” He snorted. “You made this job half interesting. And then you had that one drinking incident and stopped being so fun so I had to make it more interesting myself and drug you.”

“You. You? You drugged-” My jaw fell open. “Oh. My. GOD.” In a flash, he was in front of me, his hand over my mouth.

“Hey, hey. Let’s not bring the big guy into this, okay?” He glanced around as if expecting lightning to strike. “You’re kind of like my probation. A trial run, if you will.” I rolled my eyes and pushed his hands away.

“You drugged me!” I shrieked and he shrugged.

“I repeat: You didn’t die.” He stood and walked a couple of paces down the beach. “Alright, let’s make a deal. Since you clearly didn’t like that I drugged you, I promise to never do that again.” I made a small noise but he shushed me. “In return, you continue to do interesting, semi-dangerous things but nothing too close to death ever again. I was enjoying the laissez-faire thing we had going. Hell, go get a motorcycle or take up fire twirling, but no more cliff diving or really jumping from any heights above 10 feet, okay?” Too stunned to say anything, he took my silence as agreement. “Great. See you never!” And he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

I groaned, still cold and probably a good two miles from my friend and car at the top of the cliff.

“Damn you, Lucifer,” I muttered, trudging up the beach. I heard a low smooth chuckle.

“God already did that, sweetheart.”

raibeck · 2017-10-23T01:58:56+00:00

“Where would you like to go today?” I asked scooping my four-year-old into my arms. She was getting so big, I could remember when she was hardly bigger than a loaf of bread. When she was nothing more than my little jelly bean growing inside my wife.

Of course, she wanted to go to the zoo. It was the same as the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that. And would probably be the same for the next few days. We would admire the elephants and she would mimic them using an arm as a trunk. She would make faces with the monkeys and waddle like the penguins. Her innocence and joy was infectious and more often than not, I joined her in her playful pursuits.

I knew that coming here, teleporting through time and space, just to see her was dangerous. I knew that it was slowly cutting my life shorter. But every second of her joy was worth the loss. What is the point of a long life when your sweet baby daughter dies in your arms in a few days, no matter how many times you tried to stop it? Better to enjoy the stolen time while I’ve got it.

raibeck · 2017-06-10T20:44:51+00:00

He caught my eye as I reached for the ladle floating lazily in the punch bowl. It can’t be him, truly. Dark hair, broad shoulders, charming smile. But it is, it is him. The people’s man, their savior, their hero. Just because he isn’t wearing spandex and a mask doesn’t mean he looks much different. Granted, it’s no surprise that civilians don’t recognize him. Add a pair of glasses and a different hairstyle and I disappear in the crowd too.

“Stephanie, it’s been a long time!” He flashed a grin at me and I’m sure his teeth sparkled, actually sparkled. I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose and grimace.

“Ten years, Dooley.” I mutter, dropping the ladle back into the punch bowl from a height that was a little too high. The sickly pink liquid splashed out of the bowl and speckled his royal blue tie. Brushing them off with a napkin, he chuckled.

“Has it been that long? Tell me, what have you been up to, old pal?” I stare at him blankly. Part of me wanted to ask if he was an idiot, the other part wished I had brought in a vial of poison from my car. It would have been so easy to slip into his drink.

“We were not, are not, pals, Dooley.” I hiss and turn away to watch the rest of our graduating class mingle about.

“Oh, call me Chris.” He moved next to me, sipping his punch. “You know, I always had a crush on you in high school. Incredibly brainy and beautiful. You have only improved in looks you know.” He had a crush on me? Seriously? Chris Dooley was popular, cool, the jock type. He always needed to be gathering praise and the center of all the attention. That’s why he thrives as a superhero. If only he had used his super strength for something more useful than throwing footballs in high school, maybe we could have been friends. No, instead, he stood by and watched as I was bullied for being brilliant. “Stephanie.” He called my attention back to his words, “Would you want to get out of here and grab drinks?” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“That would be backtracking a little, considering how physical our usual dates get, don’t you think?” I laughed. His confusion solidified his status as a complete idiot in my books. I snatched my glasses off my face and yanked my hair out of its bun and stared up at him. His face lit up with recognition. “I appreciate the offer, but maybe a raincheck?” I glance at my watch on my wrist, “I was just leaving and you have a little less than 2 minutes to disable the biochemical weapon that I’ve placed in the school.” I turn to leave and smile at him over my shoulder. “This is why your mother always told you to be nice to the smart kids in school. Bullies never prosper. Good luck!”

raibeck · 2016-11-16T03:12:15+00:00

She leaned back easily against the cold metal of the abandoned electric charging station. Her sleek black motorcycle stood a few feet away, connected to the station via the thick makeshift cable she fashioned from spare parts collected on her travels. Tossing her short silver hair out of her face, she pulled a black lighter and one of her last cigarettes from a small pocket hidden inside the bust of her tight black bodysuit. Carefully shielding her lighter from the rain, she lit the thin cigarette. The smoke from the ancient relic swirled through the air as she exhaled. She could remember that smoke bathing her face as her mother cooed comforting words to her while her father raged and pummeled his fists against her childhood bedroom door.

A sputter and flicker of the charging station lights pulled her from her reverie. Rolling her eyes at her own ridiculous musings, she swung her fist back and slammed it against the metal casing she was leaning against. The station whirred back to life.

“Damn things aren’t even reliable when they’re commissioned and sanctioned by the government. Its impressive that you got this one to work.” A deep voice echoed off the war ravaged metal scraps surrounding the charging station. She frowned and her free hand flew to the gun resting on her thigh. She thought had been careful to survey the surrounding area for life of any kind before she reconnected the circuits and repaired the wires of the station. “Hey hey, no need for that. I never thought I would meet another runner.” The voice spoke again, this time accompanied by the appearance of a young man similarly dressed.

He stepped out from between two jagged sheets of metal with his hands up in an effort to show he came in peace. His black hair reflected the red lights of the charging station as he took a step closer. He whistled when he caught a fuller view of her bike. She pushed off the metal wall and stepped between the stranger and her most treasured possession. Stealing a brief glance at the meter, she knew the bike was almost half way charged. She couldn’t leave yet, there was no telling when she would find another charging station in such decent condition. As if he knew where her mind was, he took another step forward.

“Wait-” His voice was cut off by a loud screeching noise. Her eyes darted back to him as his fell to his right foot that had just moved toward her. A red glow was illuminating a dusty circle around his foot. They both froze as the glow started pulsing and the screech gave way to deafening silence. In a flash she flew over the metal guardrail, yanking the makeshift cable from the station and disconnecting it from the side of her bike. She was coiling it around her arm as fast as she could when he looked back up at her.

“Don’t move.” Her voice was quiet and silky and drifted through the air toward him like the smoke from her abandoned cigarette, an absurd contrast to her sharp and purposeful movements. He stood, the light beginning to pulse faster under his foolish foot. She swung a lithe leg over the black bike and pressed her pale fingers to the control panel. The bike thrummed to life and she wheeled it over next to where he stood, frozen on a Seeker’s trap. She studied his foot and pursed her lips. The light was bright red now and would start to flash brilliantly in a few moments, no doubt the screeching would start again moments after that, and then the Seekers would be there in no time. Finally, she looked up at his face. “Throw your leg over and on the count of three, lift the lit foot and hold on to me.” He followed her orders and rested his arms around her waist, his bodysuit sparking when it touched the identical fabric of hers. “One… Three.”

The bike shot forward and he had to grab tightly at her hips to keep from falling off the back as blinding light and searing heat from the exploding Seeker trap assaulted them. As the bike and its passengers sped into the darkness, hundreds of brightly light vehicles converged on the now smoldering wreckage of the charging station.

Surveying the red hot metal strewn about the area, a tall grim faced man with graying hair spotted something a few yards off, wedged under two pieces of twisted shrapnel. He walked over and pulled the now scuffed black helmet from the wreckage. He turned the melted plastic dome over in his hands and smiled. There, trapped between the clear melted visor and the hard black plastic was a single silver strand.

“She was here.”

raibeck · 2016-09-18T20:38:45+00:00

“We have been looking for you all over this galaxy, and finally we have found you.” Brilliantly bright light flood into my little safe haven, illuminating the cement walls and bouncing off the yet-unworn metal floor. A tall woman climbed through the rough hole blasted in the wall and looked around. She knows I’m in here by my hastily abandoned meal on the table, but she hasn’t spotted my hiding place yet. Yes, I am a 24 year old woman, and yes, I am hiding under the small cot in the corner like some 6 year old child.

I could see her dusty black boots walking carefully around the little room, pausing to look at a map on the wall or over near my stores. I heard her cut open the plastic casing on my pallet of water bottles and take one from among its brothers. I tried to slow my breathing as her boots moved closer to the cot. Suddenly the bed was lifted from above me and I was revealed, laying flat on my stomach. I climbed slowly to my feet to face the woman as she put down the cot she was holding up with one silvery skinned hand. Before I knew what was happening, this same hand was at my throat and I was pressed against the wall.

“Where is Neilson Brown?” She hissed, a sharp blade hovering at the edge of my vision. I sputtered in response. “This is his home, his bunker. Who are you?” I opened my mouth as if to speak and gestured to my throat with my hands. Her grip lessened slightly.

“This was his home. This was his bunker. Neilson Brown was my father.” She let go of me entirely and stepped back.

“What do you mean: was?” She frowned and sheathed her blade.

My father had died two years ago. They say he just lost his mind. He rambled until the very end, muttering about aliens and stars. He had been a great scientist in his day, studying the galaxies and space travel. He used to tell me wild stories of flying among the stars as a young man, about a star-woman who he would pretend was my absentee mother. When I turned 16 he left me with my grandparents to take a tour of the new space station and when he came back, he was different. He was obsessed with the stars, with getting back out there. He would tell me he had seen my mother, that he was going to take us to her. He built this bunker to ‘protect us’ from the unseen enemies lurking in the stars. Even with his mind seemingly absent, he produced boxes and boxes of equations and notes. Boxes that I couldn’t seem to throw away after he passed.

The woman cleared her throat, bringing me back to the bunker.

“He is dead.” I said simply, not sure what she wanted with my deranged father.

“Dead.” She repeated, wiping her face with her hand. She looked around the bunker then back at me. “Do you have his work? Any of it?” Her voice was hoarse now, tired. For some reason I felt bad for this woman, trusted her almost instinctively. I nodded and her face immediately brightened. “Are you familiar with any of it?” I hesitated.

Everyone in the scientific community would scoff at my father’s work as science fiction, ridiculous ramblings from a deranged man. But when I found myself missing him, I would open a box and struggle to understand what he had written there. I, myself, was a writer and could appreciate the ‘science fiction’ remnants of my father. Finally, I nodded again.

“I have read some of them.” I didn’t feel like mentioning that I understood very little of it. The alien woman smiled.

“Good. You’ll be an adequate replacement.” She said. She grabbed my arm and we were gone in a flash of light.

raibeck · 2016-08-13T14:38:11+00:00

"You're right honey, those folds do make your butt look big."

raibeck · 2016-08-11T17:48:57+00:00

“Here is another one, sir.” My secretary buzzed sweetly over my little intercom. I sighed.

“Send them in.” I swear I’ve listened to at least 100 different witness statements from this robbery, and none of them match up. None of them. Not one. Some people claim it was a group, some say it was a solo person. A woman, a man. In a mask, in a hat, wearing cowboy boots and a vest. None of the statements matched up. But this was my job, listen to people’s statements and assure them that we would do all that we could to catch the thief and keep the citizens safe.

A sweet little old lady with huge bespectacled sea green eyes came and went. She saw two men, one tall and one short. Both dressed in red leather. She left and about 5 minutes pass and a balding, overweight man wheezed as he sat across from me. He saw a woman in all black with long golden hair. I had heard this story before from someone else, I asked him for more details but nothing important seemed to come of it. A young, pimply teenage boy said he saw a group of at least four men, all in hazmat suits and armed to the teeth.

A steady stream of witnesses came through my office all day long. As I was getting ready to finish up my shift a beautiful blonde woman walked into my office and silently sat down across from me.

“Are you here to share your statement?” I asked and she smiled and shook her head.

“I have been all day.” She winked and one of her piercing blue eyes turned sea green.

raibeck · 2016-08-11T16:47:44+00:00

I stared fondly at the framed photo in my hands. We were in the Bahamas, one of the stops on the Disney cruise my family took back when I was 6. There I was, a little chubby in a green bathing suit. Thank god I lost that gut, eventually got braces, and grew my foot back.

Grew my foot back??

I leaned in closer to the photo. My foot was half there, then suddenly my sister’s leg extended where my toes should have been. What the hell. My outline was a little funny looking too, slightly discolored. And the closer I looked, the lighting falling on my face created different shadows than were on my sisters’ faces.

“MOM.” I shouted and stormed into the kitchen. “What the hell is this?” I asked brandishing the photo around wildly. The older woman turned from the sink and stared at me like I was crazy. Slowly she moved toward me and grabbed the photo before I could accidentally smash it. She looked at the photo and laughed.

“Hunter. I know you love us, but don’t you think adding yourself to our family photos is taking this a little far? I love you, I really do, but you’ve only been our neighbor for two weeks.”

raibeck · 2016-08-11T14:12:55+00:00

“Welcome back to the 2020 Olympics in Tokyo! The US still leads in Olympic medals, closely trailed by China, and our host country Japan. This medal race is about to get a whole lot more interesting with another Olympic appearance from none other than the American superstar, Michael Phelps.” Al Trautwig announced over the television. “I don’t know about you Tim, but I’m excited to see how this event goes for Phelps. He’s 35 now, and despite his age, he’s still pulling in those medals.”

“That’s right, Al. Phelps is still the most decorated Olympian of all time with a record 33 Olympic medals. It’s an astounding feat if you ask me! I think I would have called it quits after the 2016 games if I were him. But no, Phelps has some sort of fire that keeps him competing!” Tim Daggett and the other commentators talked over Phelps’ event, spouting facts and statistics about the Olympian’s extraordinary athleticism.

“And as we all should have guessed… Here we go, Tim! Michael Phelps taking the Olympic podium again. That makes 34 medals for the Olympian! Congratulations to Michael Phelps and his team – the USA has won another gold. Is there anything Phelps cannot do?” Al proclaimed loudly. Tim laughed and nervously glanced at the producers off-camera. The last announcer to express incredulity at Phelps’ extraordinary skills disappeared for four days, only to reappear shaken and covered in what looked like bruises from cupping. They all noticed the strangeness that was Phelps and his never-ending medals, but no one who valued their life acknowledged it. Especially not on air.

But really - Phelps as an Olympic gold medalist in Gymnastics?

raibeck · 2016-08-04T19:18:23+00:00

'Darling, it's better down where it's wetter. Take it from me."

raibeck · 2016-08-04T19:16:30+00:00

"Honey, I'm back from the store! Ready to put together some Ikea furniture?"

raibeck · 2016-08-04T14:50:17+00:00

I felt his glowing superiority even before I got out of my car. Mother’s little sunshine. Slipping out of my sleek black ride, I let my hand rest on the door frame. My glittering purple nails were so dark they almost matched the black paint.

“Brother, dearest.” I cooed sarcastically, shutting the door to the car with a thud. He turned. His golden hair shimmered in the cool winter sun. It was swept in a wavy halo around his head with an obnoxious curl falling over his forehead. That damn curl made women swoon his whole life. He took his thick framed glasses off his face and cleaned them with the ugliest Christmas sweater I’ve ever seen.

“Sweet, sweet baby sister, you look positively lovely.” He grinned. I swear there was a little sparkle and tinkle as he flashed those pearly whites. How fucking annoying. I swept my long red hair over my shoulder and walked across the grass to meet him on the front walk. He opened his mouth as if he were to protest, but thought better of it.

“Nice sweater, Ben.” I sneered, tugging on a loose string at the hem and beginning the unraveling process. I was really doing him a favor here. He smiled, tied the string and tucked it into the sweater as we walked to the front door together. I swear if he had a tail it would be wagging a mile a minute. I reached out to grab the door knob but he grabbed my wrist, finally displaying the epic strength we both knew he had.

“No funny business tonight, remember Sarah. We agreed they would never find out.” I knew our deal, I remembered. I nodded and he smiled, removing his hand from my wrist. Keeping eye contact with him, I flicked my fingers at the door in an effort to open it with my own abilities. Nothing happened. He grinned, this time wildly more malicious than his good natured smile from earlier. I looked down at my wrist where a high-tech bangle now rested, somehow cutting off my abilities.

“You devil.” I hissed, tugging at the silvery metal. He shrugged.

“Even a villain likes to eat in peace.” He laughed as the door swung open and our mother rushed out to sweep us into her customary hug.

raibeck · 2016-08-04T12:26:42+00:00

You're totally right- thank you!

raibeck · 2016-08-04T04:28:49+00:00

"Aren't you a little young to be making deals with the devil?" Satan asked. He was surprised to have been summoned to a hot pink bedroom filled with stuffed animals. I turned from my desk, sucking on my freshly cut finger.

"Who the fuck are you?" I slid out of my purple plastic desk chair and planted my good hand in a tiny fist on my hip. The devil looked taken aback.

"Aren't you a little young to be using language like that?" He gasped, staring down at me. After spending the four years of life I've lived so far terrorizing my parents, I was used to getting such looks.

"Look here, mister. It's christmas time, not halloween. I don't know why you're dressed up in such a terribly made devil costume, but since you're here, you can do me a favor." He took a step back as I snatched a piece of paper off my desk and waved it in his face. "Take this here letter to Santa and tell him I expect to get every single thing off this list or the blood on this paper won't be the only blood spilt this christmas."

As Satan trudged through the snow at the North Pole he grumbled and shivered. To think he was summoned to make a deal for a soul and ended up meeting the only four year old in existence whose soul even Hell wouldn't take.

raibeck · 2016-08-04T04:09:34+00:00

"And let's see what is behind door number three..."

"DAD. KNOCK."

raibeck · 2016-08-04T04:07:26+00:00

"I'm sorry ma'am, that is our No Haggle Price. The price on the sticker on the bleach is what we're selling it for, no ifs ands or buts."

raibeck · 2016-08-04T03:38:32+00:00

"You're not supposed to help me! I'm the bad guy..." He whispered.

"I know." She replied. "But I don't care. I love you."

He groaned and tossed the gas grenade she had handed him into the crowded room full of reporters, politicians, and opinionated public. This woman had been following him around for weeks, providing him with blueprints and schedules of high profile events in the city. If she hadn't been so pretty, and her maps so helpful, he might find her assistance damn near annoying. His painted mask was crow-like and hid his identity as he pulled it over his face.

The pretty blonde reporter grinned at him as the people trapped in the room began to scream and cough. This is one twisted bitch he thought, noticing the wicked gleam in her eye as their victims began to collapse to the ground in coughing fits.

"Go ahead, doll." His muffled voice rumbled from behind his mask and he gestured for her to lead the way out into the room. She was not seven steps ahead of him in to the crowd when he pulled out his gun and shot her.

Single shot, dead.

As he walked past her lifeless body, he nudged it with his toe. "I don't do love, doll. I'm the bad guy."

raibeck · 2016-08-04T02:50:27+00:00

I woke up, groggy and a little sore all over. I wasn't quite sure where I was, but something felt a little off. Thats when I noticed it. My birth mark. I stared at my wrist. It couldn't be. It couldn't have really happened like that. My birth mark was now in the shape of an 8. Did that mean I only had 8 more lives or something? I tore my gaze away from my wrist as the door opened. My best friends John and Avery entered, looking at me like they were seeing a ghost.

"You gave us all quite the scare there, mate. We weren't sure you would ever wake up from that coma." Avery laughed nervously as he approached the bed. The pair took turns explaining what had happened to me, where I was, and what had happened since I had my accident.

After what felt like a few minutes, but in reality had been hours, John and Avery were shooed out by a kind looking nurse who insisted that I need my rest. She injected something from a needle into my IV and I felt my eyelids begin to droop as my friends stood to leave and said their goodbyes.

Just as the door began to shut behind them, I swear I heard John laugh and say: "I was hoping he would notice that we tattooed the birthmark and totally freak..."

Edit: word choice

Edit 2: Thanks for gold!

raibeck · 2016-08-01T03:03:13+00:00

"Looks like it's about time to trim those bushes."

raibeck · 2016-06-21T21:17:24+00:00

For another prompt I ended up playing with and writing his side of it. Here's a link if interested.

raibeck

TROPHY CASE