Weird Ass Short Stories

Weird Ass Science Fiction Shit

Some weird ass story I came up with while bored as hell at school...

***

Ideas that aren't my own, but live in my head,

A place where someone we don't know owns our minds.

A day I'm in right now,

But have already lived.

A lie that I know is false,

And love too much too let go.

A place where I'm not myself,

And live for no one.

A place I won't escape,

A night that never ends.

Here.

****

My friends are metal, the world is metal, and I'm metal, but I didn't know all of this until today.

My body won't let me pick it up. I reach to get it, but it doesn't work.

I have to get it.

I didn't find out I was metal until today, when it comes out of my flesh in a neat, long, almost painless rod; fast, but humane. It rushes out so quickly that I almost miss it, and it sticks to the floor by its pointed end. Not long after it the other rods come, small, all at the same time, no less than ten on each of my fingers, so I can't get it. And I try to pick it up with my other hand, but the same thing happens, one rod comes sliding out at nearly the speed of light and then all the others follow.

I'm even not surprised I'm metal.

My friend comes in and asks what I'm doing, but I know she knows. I tell her to fuck off and she tells me the reason I can't pick up the gun is because metal isn't allowed to die. She tells me that she's metal, too, but she was metal even when she met me years ago. I ask her why metal can't die but she doesn't answer. She just tells me that she's already more than metal, she's computer and other things with long, fancy names that I don't understand, and that soon I will be all of these things too.

The rods slip back into my hands. I try to pick up the gun again, but they come back.

She giggles.

She knows I don't want to be metal or computer or whatever the hell else she is, but she says that's our world now and there's no need to be human. We'll live forever, together, as superhumans.

Except she knows I don't want to live here, but computers don't care about feeling, and so soon I won't. Soon I'll be one of them, and I won't remember feeling either. I tell myself I'll be ok. I tell myself I'll fit in perfectly here.