Horror and Thriller Science Fiction posted September 4, 2017

Not yet exceptional. When the exceptional rating is reached this is highlighted
Nazi's had the Bell, but not fate or destiny.

There Is No Machine

by Auto-Manic

The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.

On one wrist the Chinese symbol for destiny, on the other the symbol for fate. Interchangeable, where one leaves off, the other begins. The fat, green tattoos were a conundrum for his captors, always present and always outwardly showing the dichotomy stretched between his tightly tethered hands as he hung from an eye-bolt in the ceiling.

"Where is it?" one of his captors asked. "Where's the machine?"

A kidney punch sent numbing pain floating up his side: a wet spot grew in the crotch of his dirty dungarees. "Where is it?" he was hit again.

The brunt force of fist to flesh sounded like slapping a hanging side of beef. His chin bent to his chest, his arms splayed above his head as trickles of blood from the tops of his wrists rolled over each green tattoo.

A burly brute of a man lifted his chin and peeled his eyelids back with the palm of his hand. "Where is it!" he screamed, "Where's the machine!"

His eyes were cold and clouded, his nose was smashed and coagulated with dried blood.. Puffy purple and red bruises welted his face; drool and blood caked his broken lips.

"This is useless. Kill the fucker and lets get on with this." said the burly man to a woman standing close by.

"Not yet." she said.

The brute let the captured man's chin drop back to his chest and then spit on him. "Fuck'm. He's already dead."

Each drop of blood from the tethers cutting his wrists flowed and filled the outline of each tattoo; fate on his left wrist, destiny on his right. The Chinese symbols were perfectly repainted with blood.

"Is that a smirk I see on that cocksucker's face?" said the oafish brute to the woman observer.

"That would be hard to say." The woman walked close, cocked her head and examined his beaten face. "I don't think so," she said stepping back, "but maybe you should hit him again."

"Where is it?" he asked redundantly, "Where's the machine?"

In a low guttural whisper the beaten man said, "There is no machine."

"Did he say something?" asked the woman.

The brute grabbed the beaten man's hair and pulled his head up. "Where's the Goddamn machine!"

In a whisper with bubbles of saliva and blood he said again, "There is no machine."

The brute threw the beaten man's head back in disgust and got close to examine his handy work, sniffing the smell of blood, sweat and saliva.

"What did you say?"

The tip of the beaten man's tongue had left his mouth hours ago, his words were slurred but he unmistakeably reiterated, "There is no machine."

"He said there is no machine."

The woman's face looked exasperated, her lips were pursed and her eyes folded to slits.

"Kill him. Finish this charade." she said.

A small trickle of blood, drying as it rolled over the green tattoo of destiny, filled in the last space and completely covered the tattoo with eerie precision. Golden shards of light eked from the tattoo's edges outlining the symbols on each wrist.

"Kill him! Kill him quickly!" shouted the woman, taking small steps backward.

Each symbol on each wrist began to give a golden glow, shards of light spiked from the outline of Destiny and Fate. Wisps of golden light, like brightly wafting smoke began to encircle the beaten man. His tethers began to undue themselves, his wounds began to heal miraculously.

"Kill him! Kill him!" the woman shouted. She fell backward onto a corpse of another previously interrogated victim. "Kill him!" she shouted, pointing her finger at the beaten man whose tethers were now unbound.

The large brute grabbed a broad-head ax and made a mighty swing, slicing through golden light and the torso of the beaten man.

The ax whiffed through unimpeded and spun the brute 180 degrees where it slipped from his sweaty hands decapitating the woman behind him: her eyes wide open in surprise as her head rolled off her shoulders.

Too astonished to be scared, the brute turned to face the man he had mercilessly beaten.

The beaten man in a whirling glow of light raised his forearms as the tattoo's of Destiny and Fate seared the brutes face with a continuous pattern of the two Chinese symbols.

His eyes popped, his clothing smoldered, he dropped to his knees and fell forward into a pool of flesh-like goo.

From a platform inside a top secret lab, golden light swirled and Richard Krenshaw fell forward onto his knees and hands.

"Rick! Rick!...Get a medic in here!" screamed a woman in a white lab coat kneeling beside Krenshaw.

"Is he OK?" asked a man in a gray suit, plastic dangling from his neck, "Did he get the job done?"

"I think so." said a winded Krenshaw. "The Nazi bell is gone, I think time has corrected itself."

"Look doc..." said the man in the gray suit. "His tattoo's are gone."

Weeks later Captain Richard Krenshaw struggled with his report. Had he returned to the place he'd begun? Were things the way they should be? How would he ever know.

With his report finished he handed it to Susan Kacy, the scientist and co-worker who was there when he returned: he thought about what had happened.

"Is it all here?" she asked.

"I never believed in fate until that day."

Fate writing prompt entry
Writing Prompt
Write a story that includes this sentence somewhere in the story: I never believed in fate until that day.


Time is tenuous, fate and destiny are interwoven. Would a corrected glitch in time fracture off into another layer of existence? Would you remember the past?
Special thanks to ANNE for her FanArt, Black Hole
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

Artwork by Anne at FanArtReview.com

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