As you can tell from my “Retired Hero’s Home,” I love superhero stories. At one point, I even dabbled in drawing them. But I can’t draw, and my handwriting was even worse, so there was no way to tell what the story was about. Either way, I created these two characters, Reapon and Culemule. They fought against this creature called Mr. Alien. Then, as I continued, Mr. Alien ended up being on their side. Their team was called the Stealth Seekers, fighting evil without others knowing it was them. Then, one day, I wanted to get more in depth. Where did they come from? Why did they fight together? What was Mr. Alien? This story helped answer those questions. Enjoy.
It was a Tuesday night when the uprising happened. It wasn’t really all that sudden. One second, they weren’t there, then they next second, they still weren’t there, and give or take several hundred years, always infiltrating our world, slowly preparing to take it over.
The humans didn’t believe in extra-terrastial life. At least, not the majority. Others, called crackpots, conspiracy theorists, and worse names than those, believed that something was going to come. But even they were surprised when it happened. They looked to the sky, searching for the bright metal ships, probably circular in shape, which would come buzzing down and introduce them to the worlds beyond.
But on that fateful Tuesday, Taco Night at the Holme residence, everyone discovered what the aliens really were. All over the world, they appeared. Actually, appeared isn’t the correct term. They didn’t suddenly show up, they came out of hiding. Office workers, lawyers, drunks, prisoners, guards, every job you can think of, they weren’t humans. They dropped the facade, and it was over. The presidents, prime ministers, kings, queens, all the leaders had long been replaced by the Spids.
And then it was over. Just like that. And life continued. Just like that.
Now, however, when you went the grocery store, you saw a Spid watching you from Aisle five. The cashiers were mostly Spids. The children in the schools walked in to find their teachers with eight, long, pulsing, blue, rope-like arms.
The Spids were vaguely humanoid, with large, round heads, and a torso-like stump. But on the bottom of the torso, where human legs would exist, there was instead a large rocket, which allowed them to float above the ground. And where arms should have come where merely two pointed bulges. Off either side of this bulge protruded two, long, arms. Two to a side of the bulge, four to the side of a Spid, and eight total. Spids could control them far better than humans could their arms, and they were extendable and retractable.
For the most part, Spids spoke whatever language the country they occupied did, but when they got together, what they said sounded like a wet, kissing noise.
On Tuesday, the uprising happened. On Sunday, the taking happened. The Spids burst into houses, searching for prime candidates, as they called them. Later, the human race discovered that what they meant was guinea pigs. Jessica Holme was taken, the Spids dragging her and her two month year old son out of the house. Her father and husband both tried to fight, but were quickly sedated. The Spids frowned on killing.
Each country had one base where the Spids could experiment on the humans they gathered. Jessica and her boy were separated, Jessica finding herself in a cell awaiting treatments. The boy, however, was taken to Doctor Hoo, a Spid who had taken the name as a joke.
And so began the testing, the boy growing into a headstrong teen with powers beyond the ken of humans and Spid alike. He was no longer ‘human’, but was not Spid either. Instead, he was given the name Reapon. Perhaps it was a misspelling of ‘weapon,’ or perhaps they just wanted it to sound cooler. With a name like Doctor Hoo, who knows.
This time, however, Reapon was sick of knuckling down to the Spids. On a Tuesday night, seventeen years from the original uprising, he and several other guinea pigs broke out, running from the only place they had only known. There were five of them: Reapon, whose hands could turn into a sword, shield, dagger, and with monumental effort, a mace, Culemule, a sentient Rabbernose, much like a centaur, yet with more of a rabbit-like head, another boy who called himself Supernova, who had a way to control the energy around him, allowing him to fly and throw objects far to heavy for him to lift himself, as well as burst into flame. The other human, Terry, was normal, but had extensive training in the military. The fifth was a Spid, only twenty-five, who hated the rest of his race, as they had imprisoned and nearly killed him.
They were five miles from the Spid base when their pursuers caught up.
Reapon stared at the red sky, his eyes the exact color of what he was seeing. “We’ve got to keep moving,” Terry ordered, his guns out and ready.
“Where are we?” Supernova asked, his face wrinkled in puzzlement. “I studied the maps before we left, but I don’t know any of this.”
“Life’s different out here,” the Spid said, his face bathed in the red light. “The geography got rearranged when your people fired nuclear missiles at my people.”
Culemule, who was watching the trackers, alerted them with a loud bray. “They’re almost here,” he said, his ears twitching in nervousness. He pulled out the two swords slung across his back, preparing for a fight.
The Spid turned to Terry. “You see anywhere we can hide?”
“I got nothing,” the big man replied, his face sagging in defeat. “We’re done for.”
“We keep running,” Supernova said, turning to them as well. “We keep running until we can’t run anymore, and then we fight until we’re dead.” His hands took the energy in the air and heated it until small flecks of flame appeared, growing to a small ball in his hand.
“Stop that,” Reapon ordered, slapping his hand down. “We’re going to use the last amount of time to prepare to fight. Got that? They’ll have been flying for a long time, as long as we’ve been running. They’ll be tired. We’ll be ready.”
“Best plan I’ve heard,” Terry agreed, checking the ammunition level in his guns. “Let’s give them a fight they won’t forget.”
Supernova grinned, taking to the air, the Spid directly behind. Reapon watched them fly off, letting his sword and shield burst from his hands. There was a slight pain, as there always was, but he managed to keep it hidden from the others as they prepared weapons as well. Culemule swung his swords, eager to put them against Spid flesh. Terry mimed shooting several of the Spids flying toward them, although they were still too far off.
“Here they come!” a yell came from above. The pursuing Spid collided with the two airborne fugitives, Supernova knocking several out of the sky.
On the ground, Terry let his guns fire, two Spids falling limply onto the earth. Reapon bounded forward, slashing in the air, blocking several whipping Spid arms with his shield. The Rabbernorse also attacked his swords, the bright blades becoming nothing more than blurs in the evening’s shadows.
More and more Spids joined the fight, the total coming to about twenty. But still the fugitives fought, as all around them the beings fell from the sky. In the air, Supernova fought desperately, his energy swirling around him, blocking the Spids’ lashing arms. It moved quickly from place to place, but still it was not fast enough. A long arm, whipping at a ferocious speed, knocked him down, his landing uncushioned.
Reapon saw his companion fall, but did nothing. He could do nothing except try and stop the swarm. A long arm caught him on the shoulder, but he reversed his shield, the metal coursing through his body and making the sword extend further. The Spid was caught on the end, then he ended the metal transfer, and his shield burst up once again.
The Rabbernorse beside him flashed his blades, the fiery arms falling to the earth as they met the gleaming edge. Darkness continued to fall- Night waited for no one – but still they fought.
The guns jerked Terry’s arms back, but he stood firm. Then he pulled the trigger and heard the click. He was done. The ammunition was gone. But still, on his own, he had accounted for seven of the trackers. As the rest closed in on him, he grinned. It had been a long life he had led, and he was ready for whatever came next. With a cry, he charged forwards, using his guns as clubs. Before the Spids took him down with their flailing arms, however, he had choked one of them to death.
The Spid who had run watched his brethren gather around him. But, he too had been tested upon, and this dark strength released itself, his rocket burning brighter, and his arms growing. He moved fast, faster than any Spid had ever gone. He spun around several trackers, his arms cracking at the back of their necks. He pulled two of them so they collided with each other, and then the rest, who before setting out on the mission had affirmed their courage, fled. They shot off into the darkness, trying to escape from the vengeful prisoner. As the others followed, the fugitives let out a great cry, cheering their victory.
It was Supernova, winded, but otherwise unhurt, who found Terry’s still body, covered with the blood of Spids and himself alike, the gun used to choke the Spid still clutched in his hands. He sat there, dry eyed, for a long time, until Reapon walked over. “You okay?” the leader asked.
“Yes,” Supernova said, standing. Then he lit a handful of energy. “I’m not going to leave him here for dissection. He was a good man, and deserves a decent burial. But we can’t give him that, can we?”
“No, unfortunately,” Reapon agreed.
“Then I’m going to burn him.” With that, Supernova exploded, his entire body becoming wreathed in flames. He made a motion with his hands, a blanket of flame spreading out over Terry. It descended, consuming everything in it’s path. Soon, the body was no more, nothing but ash on a charred earth.
“Come,” Reapon said. “We have to move.”
Supernova nodded, turning away from what remained of his father, Terry Blaithe. And the only other person, as far as he knew, who had known his real name.
And now the challenge. I have a list of writing prompts, opening lines to stories that sound really good. For example, I once wrote a story based off of ‘Daniel knew his father wasn’t human.’ This summer, the Glorious Mess wants to publish your stories. Please, write a story from one of the prompts, then post it in the comments below. I’ll retrieve it, and post it as a story, the same as I would one of mine. Rules: 1. It should be over 1,000 words, but under 2,000. Not too long, not too short. 2. After you finish your submission, write a short introduction to it, same as I do. If you would like to put any personal information in it, that’s your choice. We understand, however, if your privacy is important to you. 3. You should be able to easily tell which writing prompt you used. Whether you just put the prompt at the beginning of the story as your starting sentence or paragraph, or include it somewhere, or something along those lines, it must be clear which prompt you used.
That’s it. Three simple rules. Oh, and I guess also, submissions must be in by midnight, August 19th. So four simple rules. And without any further ado, the writing prompts.
#1: The first thing he heard was Beethoven. He couldn’t remember what it was called, but he knew it was a classic. “Ode to Joy,” he finally said.
“Hello, Mr. Burton,” another voice said. “We’re glad you’re finally awake.”
Cecil Axel Burton opened his eyes, blinking to get accustomed to the light. “Where am I?” It wasn’t home, he was sure of that.
“I’m going to tell you now, Mr. Burton, this is not the world you once knew.”
#2: It was typical day. Warm, bright, the sun shining through the leaves of the trees. People walking through the burrough town, hailing each other, chatting about the most ridiculous things, as adults are apt to do. And, of course, the voice of Shen screaming at her younger brother, Shull.
#3: Elias was the first. His name, of course, was not Elias, but the gift given deserved a name such as the one he took. All who saw him thought of the ancient prophet named such, who had also acquired the gift of fire.
But I knew him. Before the madness. Before Carlid. Before the world ended, I knew Elias, or, as we called him back them, Joseph. My father, a world-renowned scientist, had ‘Uncle Joe’ over for dinner several times a week. Then it happened. My father called it a breakthrough. Later, the world called it a disaster.
#4: Falling. Always falling. It was the only thing that Anna knew. Darkness and the sensation of falling. It was as if she had been falling forever, though she had memory of before the fall. And then it was over. Light exploded around her, and she slammed into something. She looked around.
#5: Sola glanced at her brother, then back at the cliff. Devin’s eyes were wide. But for good reason. It wasn’t every day that writing appeared before your eyes. The words stretched across the entire rock face. But Sola could hardly believe the message.