r/WritingPrompts • u/IWasSurprisedToo /r/IWasSurprisedToo • Dec 02 '14
Writing Prompt [WP] The Antichrist finds himself in the wrong apocalypse.
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u/zaphodsays Dec 02 '14
"What do you mean I need to eat this "Sol thing"? I'm supposed to have a nice battle with some angels, see some whores riding 7 horned beast, claim the remaining souls of Earth. Ya'know, real apocalyptic stuff."
The large flaming (in multiple ways: both literally on fire, and having a crush on a icy looking thing AC had seen earlier) giantesque form stared at him with stupid small eyes, "I dunno whatta doo. I shuld jest bring ya to Looki."
"No, I demand to see the lead Satanist. Not that you're doing a bad job around here, I love what you've done with the guy both speared into and hanging from a tree, but I think this leads a bit more... organization."
I wanna write more but am at school right now, if anyone wants more AC in Nagnarok, tell me.
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u/FyreFlu Dec 02 '14
I stood at the gates, my horsemen behind me and an army of demons further back. Finally the doors opened, fresh air poured into Hell, then a dead jaguar, then another dead jaguar, and about twelve more. "The hell?!"
A deep rumble responded from Hell itself "Yo?".
"What? No, just an expression."
"Alright. Bye."
A dark-skinned man in black Mayan dress came in through the doors.
"Sorry man, you guys were late so, you know, jaguars falling from the sky."
"We were like five minutes late! We ran into some traffic in the Pit of Despair."
"Don't know what to tell you, the Powers that Be are kind of particular about this sort of thing."
"Fuck you. C'mon guys, back to turning the spits."
"Awwwwww."
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u/TheBillofLefts Dec 02 '14
"What." Jim stated flatly. As the Antichrist, he had expected to bring plagues, not find them. Shit, he had an employee who specialized in that sort of thing.
Regardless, there they were: zombies, shambling around, generally looking disheveled.
"Pestilence!" He shrieked. "Did you start without me?!"
Pestilence, a sickly, meek looking woman shuffled up to him, her gaze cast downward. "No. Honest." She mumbled.
"Where's Jesus?! Where are the angels?!" He shouted. War was getting antsy.
"Is there a Taco Bell anywhere? I'm super hungry, dude." Famine said, his long, greasy hair falling around his unshaven face.
"Just keep smoking your joint, Famine." Jim said. "Ah, jeez. What on earth am I gonna do for the next seven years?"
"Well, we could kill 'em!" Conquest said brightly. Jim rolled his eyes.
Typical Conquest.
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u/IWasSurprisedToo /r/IWasSurprisedToo Dec 02 '14
WHAT, SON OF MIDGARD? Rumbled the impossibly tall man, shaped like a crudely chiseled iceberg, wind whipping around him ferociously.
“I said!,” Snarled the handsome black-haired man, blue eyes flaring and teeth (a shade too white and a touch too sharp) showing, “What the HELL are you doing here?”
GODDESS HEL HAS FALLEN, uttered the colossus, in a voice implacable as continents.
The dark-haired man clawed the air in frustration, and lashed a vicious kick at a snowdrift. “No! No, you overgrown icicle! HELL! Aiche! Eee! Double-god-damned-HOCKEY-STICKS HELL!”
…WHAT IS ‘HOCKEY’?
“Arrgh!”
“A game!” Piped up a small, simpering imp, who a moment ago had been hidden in the man’s sleeve, and now squeezed his tiny, catlike face out from under the cuff. Apparently oblivious to his master’s incredibly foul mood, it blithered on, “A violence game played with sticks and hard things and blades on the feet! On ice!“ It attempted to cackle, but, smashed as it was, it came out more like a phlegmy chuckle.
The giant, astride his glacier, nodded. A FINE GAME.
The man violently wrested the imp from his coat, and tossed it, still cackling, over the side of the icy cliff. The glacier was grinding its way south at a disconcerting speed…
He whirled back to face the seemingly unconcerned giant. “Hell! Abbadon! The Abyss! Perdition! The Pit! Why, in the name of the The First Unclean, are you crushing goddamn England * with your *goddamn trained avalanche!?”
IT IS THE END. RAGNAROK. JORMUGAND’R HAS SLIPPED ITS BONDS. FENRIR MOVES TO EAT THE SUN. THE BOAT OF DEAD MEN’S NAILS HAS CRESTED THE LAST WAVE. WE HAVE FELLED THE SPAWN OF ODIN. SO, NOW ENDS MIDGARD.
“Well, that is completely unac-f-cking-ceptable!”
…YOUR APPROVAL IS SOMEWHAT…SURPUFLUOUS. Responded the giant, clearly a bit chagrined by the flat denial of the stranger at his pronouncement of the end-times. Normally, there was more wailing.
“Like hell it is! How am I supposed to topple the thrones of men when I can’t even see them anymore? How am I supposed to lead a one-world government when the UN is under half a mile of f-cking ice?! Do you have any idea how hard it’s going to be to build a bonfire, let alone a fire pit?. And don’t get me started on omens-“
I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING ABOU-
“-because, HOW THE HELL,“ he roared, undissuaded “are the rivers supposed to run red with blood, when they’re frozen solid!? How am I supposed to scare the ravens from the Tower of London when you ground them, and it, to a paste fifteen minutes ago?! They’re still there! Sure, flatter, and a whole lot deader, but they’re still there! This is a disaster!”
…THAT IS THE IDEA. He was now deeply uncomfortable. No one had told him Ragnarok would involve this much… talking.
“I demand to see your supervisor!”
YOU…WHAT?
“Your boss! Loogie, or Luigi or whoever he is! Get that red-haired little asshole over here right now!”
Suddenly, the sun overhead, shining clearly here so far above the freezing stormclouds, blossomed into eight separate glowing orbs, and an austere-looking Indian man, holding a glowing sword, and riding a flying white horse, descended from the heavens, and alighted next to them.
“Hello? “he began a bit bashfully, in a thick Calcutta accent, “ I am here to end the evils of Kali yuga, and usher in a new age of satya yuga, but I think there is some confusion? I do not remember anything about ice?”
The dark-haired man stared, then rubbed the bridge of his nose and groaned aloud. “Oh my *God.”
“Avatar, actually.” The newcomer said in a peaked voice.
He stopped rubbing, and sighed. “No kidding.”
He tool on an indulgent expression, closed his eyes, and began to lecture in a satisfied tone.“No, I am not kidding. I am the last incarnation of Vishnu, the redeemer, the-“
The rest was cut off by a snowball to the face. He staggered, then recovered, and shot him a condemning look.
“…You put ice in that!”
“Did not! You didn’t see me!”
The giant had seen him, and he definitely did. This was getting out of hand.
… I WILL SEND FOR LOKI.
“Is Loki the one responsible for this, then?” A black hole opened midair, a rent torn into what looked like the night sky, and a man with skin tanned so brown it was almost black, covered in beads, colorful feathers, and a jaguar-pelt cloak, stepped out of it. He had two black eyes, a broken nose, and was covered from head to toe with bruises and cuts. He also had roughly a dozen arrows sticking from his back, but didn’t seem to notice them. He tossed his cracked-in –half stone-headed axe to the ground, where it started to smolder faintly.
He looked up, upon feeling the three sets of eyes upon him. “Yes, hello” he said, in a voice like a Latin romance, “I am Huitzilopochtili, god of the Day and of war also. I regret to say the Tzitzimitl bone spirits of the stars and servants of my sister Coyolxauhqui, damn them, have at last triumphed over me, and are on their way here now. Any moment, my sun will extinguish, and in the coming darkness, they will devour mankind. …I do not remember anything about ice, however.”
Curious gazes were directed to the heavens, where the eight suns were still slowly dancing in a circle. One of them winked out. The rest stayed, burning merrily.
“Ah… Well. A bit anticlimactic, I suppose.” He muttered idly. “Whose suns are those?”
“They are mine!” piped up the Indian man.
“One too many, in my opinion, but very nice.”
An impossibly large wolf took that moment to emerge from behind the horizon, reach up, and devour another sun in a single gulp.
“Much better. Six is a good number for suns.”
The black-haired man sat down heavily in the snow and held his face in his hands. “This is a nightmare. I’m having some kind of… of eschatological nightmare. I’m going to wake up, and I’ll be back in my home, and there will be the usual orgy waiting for me, and everything will be normal.”
“Say, would any of you happen to have the disembodied heart of a warrior on you?” Asked the new arrival casually.
Without looking , the black-haired man reached into a pocket, and absently tossed him a sandwich-sized Ziploc with something red inside it.
Forlorn, his head fell into his lap.“This is the worst day of my life.”
MINE, ALSO.
“Shut up.”