I have a story about a dude who dies, wakes up in the afterlife, and it’s more or less a hellish limbo/apocalyptic world full of monsters where he becomes a hero of sorts, but the power ultimately corrupts him and turns him evil.
I’m just not sure how to finish it, so I’ve never shared it. It’s like 800+ pages and I got no fucking ending. I’ve been writing this thing since I was 19. 😩
He takes over the world, ruling forever as a dark Lord. No happy ending.
That actually is the idea; I mean specifically how to end things. Like… The action/drama that takes place lol
There are a couple paths you could take. You could go the Angel Beats! route where this limbo is a way to come to terms with death, or you could go full power fantasy and have him take on the God of the underworld/limbo and take his place.
Superman, in the middle of a Lex Luthor crisis, is simply nowhere to be found. The citizens of Metropolis, after taking a little while to really absorb that he’s not coming to bail them out, find reserves of determination and ingenuity they didn’t know they had; with the aid of a clever ruse and a computer virus, they take down Lex Luthor and manage to get him into some sort of super-prison like Hannibal Lector.
After it’s all over, Superman comes back and holds a press conference to explain his dereliction of duty. He explains that most of the real problems facing humanity aren’t things he can solve. They’re facing global warming, the death of the oceans and the Amazon, the threat of fascism and nuclear war. What’s he supposed to do? Fly up in space and personally maintain a little fleet of reflector panels? Run around disarming the nukes when someone tries to drop one? He could. But, that’s not the way. Eventually, something will come up that he’s not capable to solve. He says, more or less: You always had the capability to help yourselves; the issue is, you’re not doing it. The problems I can solve for you are actually pretty trivial compared to the problems you’re causing for yourselves.
He says: Humanity, you need to get your shit together. My planet died because the will to recognize and solve the problems wasn’t there. My home’s gone, and it’s not coming back. Clearly my race didn’t have the answer, and now they’re functionally extinct. That’s the future for you, too, unless you choose a different path. I’m not going to feed into the comforting lie that someone from outside is going to save you. They’re not.
Good luck. This is my home now, too, so in all sincerity, please don’t fuck it up like my people did. God bless.
And then he walks off the stage amid a hubbub of questions.
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Hell yes a thread made for me! I’ve had this story bottled up for years and never felt comfortable to say around people so pls no judgement its really hard to type this:
Margritte lived sometime in the mid 90’s living at the end of a cul-de-sac in some snooty middle class suburb at the end of the road. Margritte always felt different and weird compared to the other kids and would often get chastised at home by Margrittes parents over Margrittes looks, interests, and lack of interest in sports and religion.
One day in grade 5 in the spring Margrittes dad walked into the bathroom and found Margritte on the floor, motionless. Nothing Margrittes dad could do could make Margritte get up again. This was because Margritte was actually a cotton swab the entire story.
I’ve never told anyone this ever. First time I even typed it. Thanks for listening everyone 😌
Reminds me of a story about Sally
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