Sidequests Week 2

For the second week, I drew some pretty simple cards. My sidequests included taking a break from tech for 2 hours, drinking 5 cups of water, and learning a new word.

The tech break was easy. I just curled up with some comics and read for awhile.

Drinking 5 cups of water was a little harder. First off was the interpretation – does it matter what size cup I choose? If I mostly drink bottled water, should I drink 5 bottles of water? Or should I measure out 5 literal cups? In order to be technical, I decided on 5 literal cups. 1 cup of water is equal to 8 ounces which is roughly 240 ml, multiplied by 5 is 1200 ml total to drink. The bottled water I tend to buy comes in at 500 ml per bottle so finishing 3 bottles of water in a day seemed practical to completing the task and being a little safely over. And I managed to complete that.

Learning a new word is a little harder. I decided to google “word of the day” several times last week to see if someone’s word of the day was something I wasn’t familiar with, but didn’t have a lot of luck. Checking again today did finally net me a new word that I wasn’t familiar with through the Miriam-Webster Dictionary website’s word of the day:

So, last minute save! At least I didn’t have to pull out a dictionary and start browsing from A.

47. Interlude

Jennifer languished in the warm water of the gym’s shower, allowing it to wash over her. It was relaxing to simply exist, without thinking or obsessing over everything she didn’t know. Her workout had been enjoyable – she was now spending a little over two hours at the gym each night. She felt stronger than she had in years, especially for a woman her age.

As she stepped out of the shower, she could hear her phone vibrating in her gym bag. She forced herself to have patience, drying herself and dressing before looking at the device. Several missed calls and text messages, all from her team. For a moment, it brought her immediately back to that first day – when she had stepped out of her morning shower and found so many missed messages and calls about Cassandra’s flight. The similarity of the situation sent a shiver down her spine. She pulled up a website immediately, checking to see the most recent videos from the Stream.

She watched the battle with the fire giant closely, awed at the power on display. Cassandra seemed to focus mostly on a supporting role, healing fallen companions. Cassandra had rarely liked taking the lead on things, even as a child. She watched the battle end suddenly with the young girl from their world falling into a trance and communing with the giant, which she identified afterward as the fire god. And then the truly shocking moment – Lexie, looking directly into whatever was capturing the video feed, saying, “What the fuck is that?” She pointed, acknowledging for the first time that there was something there- something physically present where they were.

She had seen what was recording them.


The office was in turmoil over the events, but Jennifer didn’t call a meeting immediately, much to their shock. “It’s the middle of the night,” she told the staff that anxiously greeted her as she returned to the office. “And even if it is a new development, there’s still nothing we can do but watch. Let the others sleep for now, and we’ll discuss this at the morning meeting.”

Despite that, Terry arrived minutes later, carrying two mugs of coffee. He set one on the desk for Jennifer – black and sweet, just the way she liked it. Leaning against the wall, he rubbed a hand through his short hair. Jennifer took a sip of the coffee he had brought her, and raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah,” he said. It seemed he was about to say more, but then he shook his head and took a long pull from his own cup. “I’m surprised you’re not treating this as more of an emergency. I thought you’d want all hands on deck.” She smirked at him and he groaned and took a very long drink from his own cup, nearly emptying it. “I could be sleeping.”

She traced the rim of her mug with a fingertip, glancing at the Stream on her desktop monitor. “I think I’m just happy that there is something that is physically there and recording. Or at least confirmation of it.” She paused for a moment and added. “But even with that confirmation, I already know we won’t be able to do anything.” Terry frowned but said nothing. With a sigh, Jennifer sat back and took a sip of her coffee again. “I don’t think we’ll be the ones to figure this out. We’re going to need luck, or a miracle, or an intervention.”


She had been right in her assessment, and the team didn’t make headway at all. All they could do was watch. There was a lot of excitement about the Stream when those that were being watched attempted to mess with the recording devices. “Scry balls,” Vincent called them one day.

“Scry balls?” Jennifer asked. She had seen them called the same thing on the internet, but wasn’t sure where the term came from.

Vincent nodded. “In the game Dungeons and Dragons, there is a spell called Scry that allows you to spy on someone from a distance. It’s kind of like that…” Jennifer shrugged. It was as good a name as any for the mysterious objects.


When Cassandra caused the cave in, Jennifer found herself screaming at the monitor in frustration at her daughter’s stupidity. Her yelling was so loud that poor Larry jumped up from his sleep instantly, growling, his head swiveling to look for danger. Startled at the uncharacteristically aggressive sound coming from the old dog, Jennifer immediately made soothing noises, and seeing no immediate danger, he hesitantly wagged his tail and whined. She sat down next to him, petting him, hardly able to watch the events unfolding in the Stream.

When the door to her office burst open, she didn’t look up immediately. She flushed, wondering if she had really screamed that loudly, wondering what she had been yelling. Or if maybe someone had come with news about what was happening in the Stream, something she had missed in those critical moments following the cave in… she felt something in her chest clench in panic for a moment as she wondered if Cassandra had died. “Ma’am?” a voice said hesitantly from the doorway.

She looked up to see Vincent, his eyes wide, his face pale. It did not calm her at all. “What is it?” she asked, her voice deceptively steady.

“There’s a…” Vincent paused. His mouth worked for a moment, as though he were confused about what to say next. Finally, he settled on, “We have a visitor.”

Jennifer frowned. “A visitor?” she asked, confused. “Who is it?”

“It’s best if you come see for yourself.” Jennifer stood and followed Vincent down the hall. They made their way to the entrance of the building. Before she fully stepped out of the hall, she could spot a few members of her team, standing tensely with their guns drawn. She wondered what kind of visitor merited this reaction, and her head swiveled to see what they were staring at and…

She blinked, and took a half step back. Her hand reached absently for a gun she never wore anymore, and she had to stop herself and force her fingers to clench into a fist.

It wasn’t human.

As Jennifer stepped into sight, it seemed to unfold, or perhaps to stand straighter, raising itself to its full height – easily three or four feet taller than the average man. All the guns aimed at it lifted, trained on its head. It lifted four arms into the air, palms out.

Something of the appearance reminded Jennifer of an insect like a praying mantis – it was long and lithe and had too many limbs. The arms it lifted didn’t seem to be much differentiated from the legs it stood on – spindly limbs at the end of which were small, long fingered hands. The skin was brownish, with bright yellowish green spots. It wore clothes, which almost seemed so ludicrous that Jennifer could have laughed. It didn’t have the large grabbing legs of a mantis, but the head had a similar triangular shape and large, glittering black eyes.

Those eyes focused on her as it rose up. “I wish to help,” it said, it’s voice a high pitched trill. It spoke perfect English, with a strange and punctuated accent, but English none the less.

“Help with what?” Jennifer asked, stepping forward and gesturing for her team to lower their weapons.

“Help your captured people. Help your planet,” the creature said.

Jennifer paused. After a hesitant moment, she gestured for the creature to follow. She didn’t want to lead it to her office and give poor Larry a heart attack, so she took the creature to the employee break room that they had set up. The break room was large and spacious and had plenty of chairs and tables, and her team could also join and listen, and keep their weapons ready if needed. As she led the way, she pulled Vincent close and whispered for him to get everyone up and at the office. She gestured for the individuals that had their weapons still at the ready to move into the break room first. Even without direct orders, they took positions at the corners of the room to fully cover every angle.

Jennifer stepped in and sat down at one of the tables close to the center of the room. She gestured for the creature to join her and rested her linked hands on the table in front of her.

The creature stepped in and paused for a moment, staring at the chair that sat across from Jennifer. Obviously feeling that it would not be comfortable sitting in such a thing, it gently pushed the chair out of the way and settled onto its thorax on the floor, lowering itself into a crouch that brought it comfortably to eye level with Jennifer.

“What… who are you?” Jennifer asked at last.

The creature’s head swiveled gently as it took in its situation before focusing its eyes on Jennifer. “I am here to help,” it said again.

“Then explain yourself, and explain quickly.”

“I am from another planet.” Someone muttered “No shit” under their breath, but neither Jennifer nor the alien acknowledged it. “My world was subjected to something very similar as what your world is going through now. What you call the Stream.”

Jennifer frowned, not understanding fully. “What do you mean?”

“It is a long story.” Jennifer could see that more of her team were gathering outside the room – some entered, and some lingered at the door or out in the hall. Those that stayed outside took turns peaking in, wide eyed in shock at their first sight of an alien visitor. She nodded to the creature to begin. “I will start by saying that I did not come here of my own will. The aliens that brought me here are the ones that are responsible for recording your people, and they hold several humans on their craft as we speak. I managed to escape to the surface of your world, in the hopes that I could help you to divert the crisis that fell upon my people.”

“They’re keeping humans?” Jennifer frowned. “The people from Flight 5071. Where are they keeping them?”

The alien gestured toward the ceiling vaguely, and Jennifer understood it to mean very high above.

“But our people have been on the alert for an… extra-terrestrial ship. It was one of the possible theories that many had about the source of the Stream. How has no one spotted this craft?”

“They have advanced technology… and some degree of magical prowess.”

Jennifer started to open her mouth to protest at the term “magic” being thrown in so casually, but paused. Her own daughter was being recorded using magic on a nearly daily basis now. She had been pulled into another world by a means that was certainly magical. If these aliens were here and recording and sending that record to be watched… Was it so strange to think that they could use magic too? It hurt her head to think about it. “Magic,” she said finally, tersely. She thought about the scry balls and their invisibility. Perhaps that was how they kept their ship out of sight, wherever it was. “You said they came to your world too? They aren’t the same as you?”

The alien shook its head. “No.”

“And what crisis did they cause your people, exactly?”

For a moment, the alien’s head tilted down slightly – from the shift of its features, Jennifer felt distinctly that it was frowning. “They destroyed my planet.”

Jennifer grimaced, not liking the answer. “Tell me what happened.”


The closest approximation that Jennifer could make to the alien’s name when it introduced itself was Polypt. Very similar to the Graces, Polypt had been pulled into another realm. However, magic was a known element on Polypt’s planet, and being pulled into this realm wasn’t completely unheard of to them – it was part of an ancient pact made between those worlds, and it was considered a great honor. Those who were Chosen on Polypt’s planet were summoned to perform a great service. In fact, many of Polypt’s people trained their entire lives, hoping to be worthy of being Chosen.

But it was Polypt who was Chosen, somehow. Despite being a normal individual that had never trained for the task, Polypt had found herself in this other realm. It had struck her as initially strange – something had clearly gone wrong with the summoning. But Polypt had made the best of the situation and had decided to devote herself to the duty. Unbeknownst to her, her entire journey was broadcast for her entire planet to see.

As a chosen Priestess, Polypt’s duty was to clear the other world of something she described only as an “encroaching dark.” She made friends that she traveled with, she focused on strengthening her magical abilities, and she helped to fight back the encroaching dark. And just as she had come close to finally saving the world … she was approached by the aliens responsible for the broadcast, responsible for interfering with the summoning and sending her.

They gave her a choice: she could stay and save the world she had settled into, but her home world would be destroyed. Or she could return to save her home – and know that she left the other world to its doom. She had anguished over it, but knew that she couldn’t allow her home to be destroyed, so she had chosen to return. The aliens had the ability to bring her back. She had left that other world that her people had made a pact with so long ago, she had left her friends to fight their own battle, to possibly die.

And despite her choice, the aliens had destroyed her home anyway.

“The magic required to pull an individual spatially from one location to another further location is very powerful. It leaves a distinct signature that they can track, and usually exists in a predictable pattern. From what I have been able to learn, they use that to track down species that have a bountiful enough planet for them to harvest resources from. They interfere with the transference spell, so that they can bring the individual back to the point of origin. They spend the time studying the planet, its resources and technology, in order to ensure a smoother acquisition. I suspect the broadcasts and the world’s reaction to it are also a source of entertainment for them,” Polypt said, her tone turning bitter as she spoke.

Jennifer frowned. “What are they called? Do they have a name for their species.”

Polypt gave a strangely familiar gesture – a shrug. “I never learned. I just called them Bastards.”

“I see.” Jennifer frowned. She glanced around the room, and the faces that surrounded her – some disbelieving, some pale with terror, some determinedly set and angry. “So they watch our people like a television program, and then after presenting the victims with a moral dilemma for their own entertainment, they destroy the world and harvest it for resources. And then they move on to the next place where they can interfere?”

“Yes,” Polypt said simply.

Jennifer leaned back, staring hard at Polypt for a time. “When you escaped to the surface… was it on a ship or a craft that could take you back to theirs?”

“Yes. It was not very big, but I can take perhaps a small handful of individuals with me. If they are not expecting me to return, we might able to infiltrate and destroy their ship.”

“No. We need to infiltrate and save the people of Flight 5071. And then we can destroy the ship.” Polypt looked hesitant at that, but Jennifer placed a hand on the table in front of her. “That is non-negotiable. We’re saving our people first.”

Polypt nodded. “I understand. But I will remind you, that it is our love and devotion to our own that they enjoy using against us most. It was how I destroyed my own world… and perhaps another, that I will never see again.”

Jennifer nodded. She stood, and left Polypt under the guard of several members of her team while gesturing for the others to join her in the meeting room. She knew they were in for a long discussion on what do and who would go, but she also already knew that she was going to go herself. No one was going to talk her out of that.

Dinner With the Family

The prompt cards for this are “dinner with the family” and “butcher.”

I guess trigger warnings for dead babies and cannibalism if that’s a turn off for you.

If it’s a turn on for you, that’s not really good, but… enjoy?


   “You never sit and have a nice meal with your family anymore,” his wife complained often. It was a busy season for him as a butcher, and he welcomed the work. It was how he helped put that dinner on the table. There were the families that bought cows and hired him to cut and ground the meat so that they could freeze and use it through the year. There were hunters that did the same. On top of the usual labor of running his own small retail business, sometimes he came home late and exhausted. Despite how hard working he was, she always complained.

 It had been that way the night before also. He hadn’t really meant for anything to happen, but he was tired, and hardly responsive to her usual complaints, and she had become physical. She had pushed him, actually pushed him, while screaming in his face, and he had angrily pushed her back in retaliation. The baby had been on her hip through all of it, and she full just right to crush the poor thing – there was a brief terrified cry that cut off to an almost sickening silence.

When they both realized what had happened… it was instant grief, and instant blame. Why had she even tried to start a physical altercation when she was holding their child? Why had he even pushed back? He practically saw red as she screamed and wailed and laid the blame solely at his feet, and before he really understood what he was doing, could really stop what was happening… her face had turned a sickly purple as she gasped and fought for oxygen in his grip.

 For a brief moment, he realized he should stop. If he stopped, she’d be able to breathe again, and it’d all be just fine. But the baby was still dead, and nothing would be okay again. Instead, he tightened his grip, held tight to her neck and throttled until she passed out, and for several long moments after that.

 He sat panting at the exertion and adrenaline, staring at both of the bodies as a blind panic overtook him. What was he going to do? How was he going to get rid of them so no one knew?

It was an entire night of very hard work. Luckily, there was little blood splatter at the house – he tossed some of her belongings and some of the child’s things into a suitcase with her wallet and smashed her phone to bits to put in with it as well. He would dispose of those later, some small indication that maybe she had packed and left him. She’d never had her own vehicle because she didn’t like driving, so he didn’t have the headache of hiding a car that could be traced. When her friends and family came looking, all he’d have to do is morosely tell them that she took the kid and left – he vaguely knew that she complained about him constantly. The only thing that would stand out as strange to them was that she hadn’t gone to them… but certainly he could shrug that off and angrily say that he had no clue where or who she had gone to.

He took the bodies in to his shop, and he did the job he knew to do best. The bones might be problematic – he’d have to store those separately and figure out a way to dispose of them discreetly. But that still left all the properly cut and ground meat.

He sat down to dinner the next night, absently poking at the meatballs he had made for his spaghetti, slathered in a homemade meat based sauce, wondering what it would taste like. His stomach turned at the thought, but at the same time he couldn’t leave the evidence for long. He’d have to work through all of it over the next month. Eventually, someone might want to investigate what he had in his freezers, and there could be nothing left by the time they came searching.

He popped a whole meatball into his mouth and chewed, finding it to be surprisingly delicious. A funny thought popped into his head, and he laughed as he continued to eat. He was finally enjoying a nice dinner with his family.