Split (1)

train · 303k rows

prompt stringlengths 5 331	story stringlengths 404 40.3k
[ WP ] Instead of killing him , a timetraveller tells Hitler how future generations will remember him .	Adolf Hitler is sitting in his office, minding his own business, doing his job as chancellor of Germoney, when a sudden gust of wind interrupts him and destroys his newest painting. “ Scheiße! Who dared to open the window! ” he screams, half in German and half in English. “ Ich will find this man, and make him into my next model! ” But even such a strong threat can not stop our daring adventurer. He walks to the mustached man and says in calm voice. “ My dear, dear Adolf. I came here from the future. And I am here to tell you how you are going to be remembered. And, oh boy, it ’ s not a very nice thing. ” Adolf smirks at his remark, and a smile can be seen creeping on his face. “ Oh, really? Do you think I don ’ t know what future generations will think of me? I do well know. I will be remembered as dictator, murderer and someone who almost wiped out entire race. Do you really think you are the first to travel through time? ” Even if this remark is surprising to the traveler, he doesn ’ t let it to be seen. He keeps his poker face, not showing any kind of emotion. “ No Adolf. I know I ’ m not the first one. But I hope to be the last one. ” He pauses, and walks up to destroyed painting. “ That ’ s… quite interesting. ” This is the first time his face changes. His eyebrows rise, and his forehead freckles. Those painting are disastrous, and even he can see it. No wonder they didn ’ t take him into the art school. “ You painted that, didn ’ t you? So you are an artist, I see. ” Hitler replies suspiciously, carefully thinking about each word. It ’ s the first time anyone inquired about his art. “ Yes, I would call myself an artist. But why do you ask? How is it supposed to stop me from doing my deeds? ” Meanwhile, the adventurer makes himself comfortable by sitting at the only chair that survived his arrival. “ You see, ” he begins, hoping that his years of preparations did not go to waste. “ in the future – not that distant, mind you – people will be able to communicate across the whole globe in the matter of mere seconds. Can you imagine such a thing? ” he asks, but doesn ’ t wait for reply. “ And we call this system < < The Internet > >. It is great way for artists – just like you! – to post their stuff, so that other people can see it. And, you see, I am an artist myself. I create art in words, simply put, I write. But my imagination, you see, is not very good. So I have to rely on others to provide me interesting prompts to write about. So I joined the community of inspiring people. And, you see, it was a great adventure at first! So many different inspiring prompts! So many plots and stories to be shown, not told! ” Eyes of traveler sparkle, as he remembers the “ Good ol ’ times ”. But now is no time for that. “ But you see Adolf, then something happened. At first, no one would mind it. One or two prompts a week about you, in some alternative history. ” Adolf visibly blushes as adventurer says the last sentence. “ But then, it only got worse. When I left my home, in the year 2025, there were exactly two hundred million eighty five thousand and five hundred one prompts about you. Can you imagine how killing for creativity, for art it is? You see, now no one creates anything new. It ’ s just the same old stuff, over and over again. And I just can ’ t take it! Adolf, please, you need to… ” Suddenly, Adolf places his finger on his interlocutor ’ s mouth. “ Say no more ” he says, and takes his paper knife out of a drawer in his desk. He puts the blade near his skin, and then suddenly launches his arm in the direction of another speaker. The blade went deep into adventurer ’ s throat. His eyes widen with fright and face grows pale. The feeling of utter failure overwhelms him when he finally understands that he let the future down. Adolf takes the knife out of the body, and lets blood spill on the carpet in his office. “ Scheiße. Where is this world heading? Man can no longer do his work in his office, without having at least five time-y wimey-y travelers come and talk about morals. ” As he ends the last sentence, another gust of wind sweeps inside his room.
[ WP ] You wake up on exact date of your 5th birth date in your 5 year old body , with your current memory .	I woke up to the smell of hot butter and scrambled eggs. My head still on its side I opened one eye to a wash of marigold light. The fan was still quietly stirring and the curtains which I remembered to be blue the nighy before were now beige. I jerked up, squinting towards my open bedroom door. My head was spinning and I shuffled around in my bed of bears in space suits and toothy stars. `` Come here, baby, switch of your fan'' what the fuck I jumped out of bed towards the door to only see the back of mother entering the kitchen. I stared at her hair, neatly curled on its ends. `` Look at how it curls, Aiden. Mama's hair looks like the petals of the sunflower'' she twirled her fingers into her hair whilst admiring them in her reflections on the car window as we made our way to a family friend's birthday party, I remembered. My body felt tighter. More tout. My limbs short and pudgy. My hair was curly and it fringed my eyes. WHAT THE FUCK I ran along the corridor to the kitchen where I found my mother, in her sundress, pouring apple juice into my feline-patterned cup I cried over when it was broken because of my clumsiness. `` Come here, eat with Mama'' She gestured me to the high chair as she placed my full cup around the steaming plate of hearty breakfast. Her face was glowing. Her cheeks still rosy from her morning shower. I remembered her mole on her left cheek. My nose picked up the vivid scent of pink pepper and lemon which I only recognized to be her's. Mama I paced across the kitchen, my eyes fixed to my mother's hazels. Her smile soft and safe. I am in a dream Her scent was becoming so vivid. Mama do n't leave me She held up her hands to reach mine Mama please stay here I grabbed her hands, smooth and warm, just as I remembered Mama I miss you so much she wrapped her arms around me to lift me up to the chair. I did n't care that I was back in 2006. The absence of my father had n't bothered me a bit. I knew I was with her again. My mouth, slightly agaped, drooling, quivering. I had no words. My five-year old self had n't known many words. My five-year old self had n't learned how to react. My five-year old self had n't known how to prevent my mother's passing of a heart attack that was about to happen that night `` Good morning, my darling Aiden. Mama wants you to know that she loves you very much.'' She scooped a forkful of the golden platter and lifted to her lips to cool it before feeding me `` I love you, Aiden, remember that''
[ WP ] You are asleep when the noise of air raid sirens awakens you , but something is n't quite right ...	It was almost an involuntary reflex. Months of raiding drills had etched protocol into my mind. Without even opening my eyes, I rolled myself off my bed, then quickly rolled back underneath it. From the underside of my bed, I opened my eyes, taking in the dust that had accumulated. As my eyes settled into the darkness, I realized something strange. The eerie quiet. Despite the god-awful air raid horn, everything felt... silent. There were no pattering boots outside, no sound of an airplane engine roaring by, not even a voice. I crawled out of the underside, lifting myself onto my feet. The Silence was unnerving. I made my way to the door, listening intently for any sign of another living, breathing, human being. Once again, nothing. I gently opened the door, an almost insignificant creaking noise cut through the silence like an heated knife through butter. I heard the sound echo throughout my house. Naturally, at this point, I felt fear. Not the regular type of fear, in which one feels the need to run away. This was different. It felt as if I was afraid of nothing. I made my way through my house, to the door. I stepped outside. By this point, even the siren had gone silent. As I felt a cool breeze gently brush against me, I saw a figure. In the distance, standing atop a hill. The full moon behind it made it seem as if it was a shadow. One of it's hands held something dangling from a rope or chain of sorts. Something circular, like an stopwatch. Even though I could n't see it's face, I knew it was smiling. It tilted it's head, and before I could even blink, it vanished. His disappearance was followed by a clinking noise. I saw something glitter in front of me, a silver stopwatch had seemingly materialized on the floor, or perhaps it was there all along. Curiosity had overtaken fear as I reached for the watch. It felt smooth and cold, as if it had n't been touched for a long period of time. I turned it around to be greeted by an sentence carved into it. It simply wrote: `` You are Chosen.''
[ RF ] Let 's stop for a moment with all of those `` paranormal '' scary stories . Write a terrifying piece that could really and plausibly happen to anyone .	`` This is n't Berlin...'' I said, looking around. I looked up at the train station sign. Dresden. I knew I went the wrong way... sort of. I did n't know German at all, the voices on the train announced a stop that I figured was mine. `` Oh well, I'll just figure out the next time the train comes.'' I walked through the thin crowd towards the DB sign, in my actions, I bumped into someone. A thin man who was wearing a hat, as his tea fell out of his hand, he looked at me angrily up and down. `` WAS IST DEINE PROBLEM?'' he shouted. `` Uh... what?'' `` DU BIST EIN IDIOT! SO BLÖT!'' The entire station was staring at us. I looked around nervously. I did n't know what was going on. I did n't know what he was saying. I turned to leave but the man grabbed my arm. `` ERKLÄREN SIE!'' `` I do n't speak German!'' I said, trying to shake him off. He grabbed even harder. `` SIE MÜSSEN MEINE TEE KAUFEN!'' `` NO!'' I said, struggling even harder. The crowd murmured as the man repeated over and over. As I tried walking to the ticket station, the crowd began to stand in my way, staring at me intently. I did n't really feel ill until the crowd split and I saw two men, heavy jackets on and flat hats. The german eagle on their right chest. The crowd seemed to chant `` Polizei''. I stared at them, dazzed. They stared at me, stern, unwavering, their hands resting on their nightsticks. As they finally reached the scene, they towered over me. `` Thank you for coming! Please help me, this guy wo n't get...'' `` DIESER MANN STRUCK MICH ICH HABE KEINE IDEE WARUM. UND MEIN TEE!'' The police turned their heads towards him, obviously more intent on following the German. One of the man gruffly stated,'' Dieser Mann hat dich getroffen??'' `` JA!'' The man let go of my arm as the men moved towards me. I felt the push from behind as the man shoved me. The crowd stared intently. This damn language. What was happening? Why did n't anyone speak English? I just want to go home. The breathing came out ragged. The cold air got heavy. `` PLEASE DOES ANYONE SPEAK ENGLISH'' No response. The crowd stared. The men still advanced. I turned to run only to see the grinning face of the man with the hat. He pushed me one last time, and I felt the strong grasp of the jacketed men. `` HELP ME PLEASE'' They dragged me away.
[ WP ] In the canine world , humans are celestial beings who live for more than 500 years at a time . The caretaker of you and the past seven generations of your family will die soon .	He's been here forever. He is n't as old as the mountains, but close, I suppose. His name is Friend. My mother worried about him once, before she went into her hole in the ground. The history of my family is there next to her, laid out in a row. Over each generation of my line there is a rose bush planted by Friend. My mother, whom Friend called Molly, has yellow flowers that sprout with wild abandon from her grave. Yellow as her sunny disposition. But before Molly went into her place under the roses she was worried about Friend. She ignored her own joints that seemed to rust into place when she laid on the old rug near Friend's chair, and stood sentinel. She noticed something, something she tried to alert me to many times, but I never knew what she deemed to be the issue. After all, do we run outside to put a blanket over the big Squirrel Squirrel Chase tree when it rains? That tree has maybe been there since Friend had one of my ancestors. My blood had been with Friend as far back as any of us could remember. If i really get to think of it, I'm sure that Friend just appeared one day. Just like the sun, the squirrel tree, mountains. I know that Friend's unsteady gait made Molly concerned, but mountains are reshaped by landslides, and they remain, so it ca n't be anything too awful, this impending change in Friend. I think these things as I lie by his feet, unconcerned for what life can hold, since Friend has never failed even one in my line, as far back as we trace our history. I am confident in the very permanence of Friend until there is a shift in the air and Friend smells All Wrong. I whine at him, but he does n't care. I push him with my nose, increasingly frantic, but he does n't soothe me. I cry. He smells wrong. He is n't really Friend, he's almost Friend, but not. I panic. I run from room to room, I search for the real Friend, the one that smells right, the one who calms me. But Friend does n't come. I go out my small door into the yard and mourn him. I sing from the bottom of my soul. I call to Friend, to Molly, to Rex before her. I cry as my reality crumbles. Mountains can blow away in one day. Trees and the obnoxious braggart squirrels in them are not guaranteed an eternity. The sun is not guaranteed to come see you every day. I cry and still Friend does not listen.
[ WP ] `` I 'm not a bad person . I 'm just good at doing bad things . ''	`` Let me ask you something. And dont lie to me, cuz I know you will.'' I said throwing a pack of cigarettes on the table, after placing one of the sticks in my mouth and lighting it. `` You ever wish someone was just gone? Like poof out of the picture. Thats all she wrote. etcetera. etcetera. `` I rolled my hand in the air forming an invisible circle with my hand. I looked at his face as I spoke. Clearly a man of finer tastes than I, but that wasnt hard to find in this world. Of course, then again, I am very easily satisfied. A beer, a place to sleep, and someone to share that place to sleep and I am satisfied. Of course, the money I make doesnt hurt either. Probably could just do some good with it, but then again I wouldnt know where to start. Looking at my watch, I looked out the window once again before turning back to the fat fuck. `` In case you didnt get my meaning, I am talking about killing people.'' I explained, gripping his hair and pulling back his head. `` Hey. Fuck-o! I am talking to you.'' I shouted at him, before letting go of his hair. Man I roughed this guy up good. Broken nose, busted jaw, and I think a concussion. In my defense, I thought the guy was going to give me more trouble then he did. Idiot is falling asleep again. I push my burning cigarette into his forehead to wake him up. He screams behind the homemade gag I made out of tape and the apple I brought to snack on while I waited. Probably the first time this security guard had some fruit in years. `` First off tonnes of fun-'' I pause as I ram my fist into his stomach. `` Its rude-'' I pause again kneeing him in the groin. `` To fall asleep-'' I slap his fat face to make sure he doesnt fall asleep again. `` When someones talking to you'' - I finish pulling his head back by the hair again. `` Second. You dont fall asleep when you have a concussion. Think of all the damage you could do.'' `` Where was I? Oh yeah. So lets assume you have wanted someone dead okay?'' `` Guys fucking your wife. Reminds you about it every damn day you see him. Sends you a picture of him inside your faithful wife. All that sick shit.'' `` Well then, you go to a certain someone and ask for a certain someone else. I wont bore you with the details, because your concussed and your no good to me dead... yet.'' `` Anyways, so after about twenty or twenty one people you come to me. And explain your case. That this son of a bitch is giving it to your wife on a daily basis, and to make matters hes sending ya pictures.'' `` Now thats just wrong. I mean, who does that? Some real asshole is the answer. I aint expecting you to say much.'' `` So anyways, I get a job. And I do it. Sometimes they want me to mess up the guy so they can finish the job. Other times they want me to cut something off, or burn something into, or some other inhumane shit to the person.'' He squeals for a moment as I speak. I glare at him, as tears run down his face. If he wasnt gagged, he would probably beg for his god damned life. Lord forgive the blasphemy. `` You wan na hear something strange, I am actually a practicing Catholic.'' I say, giving a soft chuckle at the look of utter confusion on his face. `` What? Did you think I was some kind of killing machine? Fuck no. I pray, I ask for forgiveness. Shit, I was a choir boy when I was a kid.'' I say, smiling and thinking of the cross I wear around my neck. `` Makes some jobs easier. Being forgiven that is.'' `` See, I'm not a bad Person. I'm just good at doing bad things.'' I say as my watch beeps and I move over to the laptop that looked completely out of place in this room. The screen lit up as i moved the mouse, turning off the cute screensaver of a kitten that had dominated the screen till now. The video call was coming in. I answered it, and before my eyes are my employers. A married couple, now childless. All because of the pervert behind me. I smile at them in silence as I wait for them to speak first. `` Um... hello.'' The husband spoke, causing me to smile. `` Is my payment in the account?'' I ask, looking at the two on the screen. `` Ye-Yes. Is he there?'' He continues, bringing a smile to my face before I pick up the laptop and carry it over to my little fat friend. Placing it on the chair facing him, I pull up his head to show his face to the couple. `` This guy the fuck you wanted dead?'' I asked, looking at the horrified look on their faces. Both anger and fear in their expression, while mine remained cold and uncaring. They nodded in confirmation. `` So... heres how its going to work guys...'' I start picking up a knife from the table. `` Option A: You watch this happen, you pay the normal price. Because then, you become accessories to this shit, and cant turn me in. You get revenge. I get paid. This fuck gets dead.'' `` Or... Option B: You turn off that camera, and pay me double what I asked for. You try to report me, and I dont mind reuniting you both with your kid. Understand?'' I finish, waiting for their answer. Its like I said, I'm not a bad person. I'm just good at doing bad things.
[ TT ] `` You do what 's right . I do what 's required . ''	I stood feeling the pain as it shot out across my body. What was I thinking earlier. It took a special kind of idiot to think of flipping a car while still in it and cause a car jam. The cuts across my body began to heal. How many times regeneration saved my life I do n't know. Not that I like it. No one ever considers the pain when thinking of my power. Walking slowly across the highway traversing my way across the wreckage I caused I began to search for him. Did n't mean to cause all of this. But it was needed. I began to slowly walk faster as I became capable of it. Then I stopped and stood there. Here he was. Lying there pinned to the ground with a bit of a truck it looked like. Looking right at me. The man I used to idolise. `` Still going on your crusade I see. Trying to save everyone. Still failing to see the sacrifice that had to be made.'' A smile played across his lips as he laughed. Once I was happy when he smiled at me. Thought he was proud of me, happy for me. All he ever did was use me and everyone else he met. `` I'm not the one hurting people.'' `` I am saving more people in the long run than you ever will. Imagine if I could do it. We could take your regeneration powers and save anyone who enters the ER, give telepathy to phycologists make teachers know everything. Imagine what the world could do if everyone had powers.'' `` That would be nice if you stopped killing people.'' `` Now you know what I told you there is no-'' Whimpering stops our conversation. A child walks out from behind a turned over car. He brought them with him. What was he thinking? That it would be easy to get away. A unique opportunity to test reflexes. `` Hey.'' I walked over slowly talking in a gentle voice. `` Calm down. What's your name? Do you remember it?'' The kid just looks at me as if confused. Looks about 13-14. `` Okay just stay there. Do n't do anything, more people will be here to help soon. Alright.'' They nodded. Looked as if they were concentrating on something. I made sure there was a closeable distance between us. `` 25-C that's what I called this one.'' That smile, made my hairs stand on end `` The previous two were failures, died using their power. This one should n't leave a mess but it might not work right. Intangibility is a tricky thing.'' He pulled out a gun and aimed it at the child. I ran to push him out of the way as the shot rang out. He instinctively turned intangible and fell down into the ground leaving a scream behind. I ran right through him. `` You see this is us right here. You do what's right, I do what's required for everyone's progress.''
[ WP ] Your Dad takes you camping with his friends . You soon find out that what you thought was a harmless camping trip is actually initiation into a cult .	Late, cold nights laughing by the fireside as one of my `` uncles'' pisses on a nearby tree, mid-story about the first time he saw a pair of tits; waking up an hour after bed to fly-fish as the sun peaks over the hill; being allowed two ( make it four when I ask uncle Sid ) beers as long as I do n't tell mom - that's what I expected. That's the shit that usually happens. Not this time. This time, it ended with me trembling, covered in someone's blood, carving this into an old trail map before they find me. I do n't know how many of them are still alive, but I know I ran out of bullets after I shot my dad in the chest. That's all I got for now. Someone else feel free to pick up from there!
[ WP ] Scientists discover that certain people are able to enter parallel universes through their dreams . You are one of them , and with a device you are now able to record your travels .	The images on the screen clicked off. Nick and Sasha sat there for a long minute in the dark, neither of them moving. Outside of the lab, the grey sentinel trees shuddered against an unseen, unheard wind. Finally Sasha stood up and turned the lights on. The two of them sat at conference table, Chinese take-out boxes stacked in front, blinking. “ Well, not much new there, ” Sasha said. She picked up a stack of papers, bisected with little colorful strips of papers, a poor attempt at organizing an increasingly complex case. “ No, ” Nick said. “ There was something different. Same house, same girl, same everything… but something was different. You wouldn ’ t have seen it in the video. It was something I felt. ” Sasha, who had barely said anything over the last three hours, cleared her throat. “ That was… disturbing. I mean, sorry. Most of these alternate time-fragments, these spatial diversions… they barely exist at all. These alternate time lines and universes pop up and collapse easily. They ’ re unstable. There is something very continuous about this one. Very concrete and physical. ” “ This time it really felt like the girl knew I was there. The same things happened, pretty much, but she reacted a bit differently. She acted like she knew or suspected someone else was there, watching, ” Nick said. “ At first I thought it was recurring, that I was going back to an identical spot in this world, back to the same moment to watch the same things happen. There were minor differences, but they didn ’ t seem important. Now I think that I ’ m going back to the same place but a different time. Days or weeks between them, maybe, but the man in my dream… he ’ s not just killing the same people. He ’ s killing new people and bringing them back. They ’ re different people every time. Maybe I ’ m going backwards in time. ” “ Well, whatever world you ’ ve discovered, it ’ s fucking evil. ” The wind tried to uproot old, ancient trees. A branch went flying against the window as a tree bowed, its branches scratching at the grass. Her eye twitched, barely perceptible. Neither of them said anything. She looked down at her watch. “ Jesus, it ’ s late. ” “ I think I ’ ll take the transponder with me. Home. For the night. I can ’ t spend another night sleeping in the lab. Last night really screwed up my neck. I can tell I ’ m going to have another one, especially after thinking about all this crap late at night. ” “ I don ’ t see anything, ” Sasha said, a flicker of a smile around her mouth. “ But just so you know, those things are expensive as hell. ” “ What about me? Aren ’ t I worth anything? From what your colleague says, guys like me are pretty rare. Everyone dreams, but not everyone does it like I do. ” “ Rare enough, ” she said. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Nick, who taught comparative literature at the University where Sasha taught neuroscience, lived in a little, dingy apartment, tucked above a local realtor ’ s office. The hand of the clock had just struck one by the time he got back from the lab. He stepped in his front door and stood there for a moment, shivering. The wind had done its best to suck the life out of him as he traversed the parking lot to his car, and again when he crossed the street from his parking spot to the apartment. Glorious heat enveloped him, restoring sensation to his face and his bluish fingers. He peeled his coat and scarf off, brushed his teeth, and sat down on his bed. He was so tired, so wrung out by the last five nights, that had nearly forgotten the transponder. He was just starting to lean towards the pillow when he shot up, remembering. He grabbed the machine and placed on the old wooden chair beside the shelf of books. His reading chair. He balanced it, plugged it in, and flipped a little switch. Amazing, he thought, that the machine looked so primitive. It plugged into any old outlet, like any toaster or microwave, and looked like the projectors they used when he was in high school. Sasha had called it expensive, but the total sum of its parts cost no more than a thousand dollars. The university already had a dozen of them, eleven of them currently checked out for a new research project. They were getting dozens of test subjects, but Sasha, or Dr. Abramov, as everyone else called her, had taken a keen interest in Nick. He attached two small stickers to his temples. They glowed with a faint green light, indicating that they had synced to the machine. He lay down and pulled the covers over him, staring at the slanted ceiling above his head. A slight twist of anxiety gripped him. He was going to travel to another world, an unpleasant one, filling him with an awe that he had not felt since childhood. It was only natural, he supposed, that he would get anxious. This was a nightmare that, upon waking, took a few hours of powerful sunlight and good company to ward off, to forget. Of course, now that he had learned that this might be a real nightmare, no amount of sunlight or friendship or anything would shatter the vision ’ s effect. Nothing besides a fifth of vodka would stop the dreams from coming. He slipped away, swallowed by the darkness, and came through into a different sort of darkness on the other side -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - The house looked French somehow. Old World. It looked like it belonged on a plantation somewhere near Louisiana. It had long since fallen into disrepair, the paint scabbed, revealing the scarred wood underneath. He looked at the house from the cover of bushes, maybe fifty yards away. It sat against a backdrop of woods, the trees as gnarled and twisted as strands of rope. A few dead brown leaves clung to the branches, but they stood mostly bare. He looked around, everything wasted and dead looking, all of it a shade of brown or grey or dark red. Everything in this world existed in slightly wrong proportions. The roiling sky hung to close to the ground. The trees looked strange, growing into each other, their bark forming vague, hateful faces. It looked as if someone had poured a million gallons of Roundup on every living bit of vegetation for a thousand miles. In this dream, just like his others, he approached the house, swinging around towards the foreboding woods. He kept low to the ground, a cold fear in his belly, an awareness that he should not get caught. He felt the way a mouse must feel as it crosses an open stretch of land, birds of prey overhead. He reached the back and crouched against the side of an even older shed, leaning dangerously to one side. All of the windows of the house remained pitch black. Soon he saw the man, walking towards the house from a dirt trail. He lumbered along, a hunch in his back. He was made of metal, bulky plates of steel crudely welded together. He had begun to rust all over, turning into the color of the landscape around him. Two narrow slits opened in his round face, showing the cruel light of either electricity or biological eyes. Nick hesitated to call it human in anything but shape. The thing it dragged beside it was human, or close enough that it didn ’ t matter. This time it was a girl of indeterminate age, squealing in horror. It dragged her by the hair with a viciousness and a coldness that churned his stomach. The girl screamed, tried to kick at the machine-man, but it ignored her dragging her along. When she pulled against it, it pulled back so hard it was amazing it didn ’ t rip out all of her hair at once. It dragged her whole body weight by the blonde mane of hair. It kicked open the front door and threw the girl into the darkness. It followed after her, closing the door behind it. Then the little girl came out. The little girl and the machine-man lived in the house. They must have had some type of agreement worked out. When the little girl, who always wore flower print dresses that reminded Nick of pioneers and the American West, saw this thing coming down the road, its presence announced by the anguished screams of its victim, she quietly slipped outside and waited for this thing to do whatever it did. This time, like last, she sat on the stump of a tree and looked at him, though he was sure that he was concealed in the grass. She knew he was there. Usually this was all that happened. Screams would begin echoing from the house, growing louder and louder, the little girl would hug her knees close to her chest, covering her ears, pulling her hat over her face. This time she started running into the woods. Somehow the machine-man knew and roared out of the house instantly, lumbering after her. The two of them crashed through the underbrush of the forest. Nick ’ s heart crashed along with them, but the machine-man snagged the little girl and dragged her back into the house. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Nick woke up, sweating fiercely and freezing cold at the same time. He found that he had a perfectly formed, crystallized thought in his head. He didn ’ t quite understand it, why he should obey it, what it meant, but there it was. Next time, he thought , I ’ m going to help her escape.
[ WP ] Alternate Universe where rebellious teens sneak out to vote underage instead of do drugs or drink	“ Look kid, if you don ’ t have the cash, you don ’ t get the name. ” A greasy haired, middle aged man rasped. The teenager scowled in response before slapping an envelope into an extended hand. “ Are you sure I can use this name? I don ’ t want to get busted. ” His voice was calm, displaying no signs of the concern he ’ d just expressed. Ever since the last local election, there had been a drastic increase in voter fraud. It started as a grass roots effort. Those who had long been unable to vote showed up in droves, adopting the identities of their registered but politically apathetic neighbors. Reports compiled later showed that the majority of fraud was committed by high school students. “ Trust me. No campaign signs on his lawn and every bit of political advertising I dropped into his mailbox this week ended up in the recycling. He ’ s a non-voter. ” The stakes were higher this time. This wasn ’ t a matter of electing the town council, this was a presidential election. He needed to be sure he could get in and out without raising suspicion. The police had started detaining anyone they determined to be voting under an assumed identity. Despite this fact, it was still illegal to require identification to vote. The boy smiled to himself at the thought as he read his name for November 8th: Paul Middleton, Independent. 155 Lark Avenue. “ Hey, if any of your friends are looking to, ya know, send ‘ em my way. I ’ ve got a few other names scoped out already. ” The name collector muttered as he thumbed through the bills, silently counting. “ Yeah, I will. Just make sure you aren ’ t giving out any old timer ’ s names, ok? My buddy ’ s girlfriend got picked up for using some blue hair ’ s name. You know old people always vote, come hell or high water. ” “ That ’ s real amateur shit. That ’ s why they pay me the big bucks. You know how to reach me. Bye, Paul. ” He smirked as he left.
[ TT ] You are a superhero , and you just fought and killed your strongest nemesis after a grueling battle that destroyed most of the city and surrounding regions . You are left at the edge of death , then the villain 's child walks up to you , tears streaming down their face .	Nergui opened up her eyes and howled in pain. Her right leg had been shattered by thousands of shards of metal, the handiwork of that damned telekinetic from last night. She gargled the drool in her mouth, rinsing around at sand-filled cheeks before spitting onto the ground. Weak and weary, she inched her right arm up and down, feeling the hard metal of her sniper rifle at the exposed bone of her elbow. Nergui swore loudly and hobbled up to stand upon her left leg. The Eastern mercenary hardly batted an eyelash as she looked at the aftermath of her bout with that corporate hitman who'd been handling defense out in the region. Nergui gazed out at pits of gravel and fallen steelworks scoured all around her. When Zhang Corporation told her that they'd be helping her out with a `` minor airstrike,'' that'd been a vast understatement. The area had been all but devastated. The woman felt around for any trace of life still wandering. She'd heard only the minor pitter-patter of a child's footsteps and that was all there was within eight square kilometers of her location. There had been no cry of babies trapped under rubble or mothers screaming in horror of the sight of the many corpses in the street. Nergui sighed. She hoped that the little sidekick she'd picked up made it out of Dhahran in time. It'd be a pity to go through all of this work just to lost the only friendly she'd found while doing her routine search-and-destroy work here. Yeah, search-and-destroy, the hero thought as she propped the rifle up as a cane and began to move. The pitter-patter of the child gave way to a sight of a young boy rushing towards her. He bore a strong resemblance to that superpowered hitman, Malik. Same eyes, lip structure. Even had the same widow's peak of a hairline right at the top of his head. Must've been his son, thought Nergui. Nergui frowned and steadied herself on a single leg, using the other to stabilize the rifle at hip-level. There was no need to bother with the scope. Nergui could make the shot from there. Just a perk of having enhanced senses across the board. The boy stopped before her, hot tears dropping on his cheeks. Neither of them exchanged a single word. They could n't, because of their tongues, and they would n't, for what happened last night. Nergui kept her rifle ready to fire, with her finger on the trigger, the safety off, and the barrel at the kid's center of mass. Malik's son mumbled some words over and over again. Her basic, childlike grasp of the language allowed her to decipher it as some sort of mourning prayer. Though, whether it was for himself or his father, Nergui did n't know. It was days like this that Nergui wished that she could hide behind a name like the rest of the heroes of the world. A good fake name would do wonders for people like Shadowedge, Ultraman, and Megagretchen. They get the right to distance themselves, to use their identities to represent their beliefs and codes. Nergui was not one of those heroes. So, whatever she decided to do, whatever course of action that ended up killing tens of thousands, it was on her and not some mask or cape. The woman hero knew enough about situations like these, growing up with smuggled comic books and war stories that her father used to tell her back in his day. She knew the gun was loaded, so she just did what she had to do. She emptied out the last few bullets in the magazine and hobbled off with the rifle as a crutch. She saw no one and felt no living thing for miles upon miles until she arrived at her transport ship at the port. As her dirtied vessel floated out to the Gulf, to return home back East, she looked out at the dead city and sighed, content knowing that Malik's son would never grow up to take his revenge against her. She would not let a revenge story play against her.
( WP ) The first sentence has to be the same as the last sentence , but the ending has to catch the reader off guard .	Stop it! Oh my god you're being silly, that's not where that goes. Oh thats nice, yes. Try another one. Yes, yes. Oh blue is such a nice contrast! Good work! Remember, the trick is to use one type of flower for a theme and the rest just compliments. Stay here, I'll bring more violets from the garden, keep an eye on the shop honey. Try experimenting with less flowers, simpler is better. Hey look at these roses, you see how -- oh my god, please do n't hurt her. Oh no. No, please, oh, it's in the register, just take it! Oh please do n't hurt my baby -- NO, NO PLEASE OH GOD NO STOP IT! NO! STOP IT!
[ WP ] The spread of a virus capable of wiping out mankind is averted by patient zero .	They took the blood out of my arm. Put it into vials. Hell, they looked like beakers. My ears pointed to the side. I felt a jolt of electricity run through me. I asked my great pal ash one question. `` Pika Pika Pika Pikachu Pi'' He understood me, ever since that rainy day so many years ago. He just knew. He looked to Nurse Joy and asked when it would be done. She told him that it would be over quick and he should go sit by his pal. Ash nodded.As soon as he turned his head, it was done. They took me. They took me to the master. Its crazy to think THEY actually saved me. they stopped the pain and endless hours giving my life away. I saved enough, who knows, maybe that useless fish wo n't get it. I jumped on the master's shoulders and sat there for quite a while, mainly pondering what I was really meant for. The people trying to steal me knew the whole time what was going to happen. They were trying to SAVE me. I kind of hate the cats though.
[ WP ] `` He was never warm in his entire life . Not once . ''	Mark's days began with a race against the sun. He was undefeated. By the time the rest of the town would open their shutters, Mark was already cancelling lunch. `` I'm not that hungry,'' he would plea to his secretary, `` I had a bagel this morning when I was filling out that form you sent.'' If Mark had a wife and children, like all the other 50 something year old guys he worked with do, there still would n't be any pictures on his desk. After all, that's space that could be used more productively. By the time Mark would step out of the office, his race partner had just finished his lap and drifted back into slumber. He did n't care to consider how long it had been since he last saw his opponent. Mark's mother would call occasionally. `` You should take a vacation, sweetie. I heard Hawaii is really nice, and it's warm!'' `` Maybe next year.'' Another year would pass, and another batch of black strands on Mark's head would conform to the grayness that the rest had already surrendered to. One thing would never change though: he was never warm in his entire life. Not once.
[ WP ] Write a story about a 55 year old Belarusian man , Andrej Kovalyuk and a pretty 12 year old girl , Kasia . GO !	`` I'm sorry,'' he cried wiping his eyes with his fists. `` I'm sorry.'' He cried both like an old man and like a child. He was an old man and in front of him stood a child. That's why I noticed them in the first place. What would a child do in a place like this? They made a weird pair. He seemed to be about 60, a working guy like the bar's usual patrons. As I said, she was the one that had no place there. Her clothes looked expensive, even to someone like me, her accent sounded different and I guess I could say that even her posture was conveying she was from another world. `` Andrej!'' Her voice was firm and it made him look up at her face. I noticed her arm twitching, as if she wanted to touch him, but she kept her hands properly folded in her lap. `` You were children. Stop blaming yourself.'' `` No! We were already men.'' `` You were 16, 18, 19. Hardly men.'' `` There, there. stop crying.'' They were whispering to begin with, but their voices got even lower after that and I had to strain myself to hear the next part. `` We would have been the same age, if you lived, if we did n't...'' `` Stop.'' `` How can you...'' `` We ca n't turn back time. And, besides you, they are all dead and buried now.'' Then she leaned towards him and went on: `` I think there has to be a reason why I remember. You noticed most do n't. And I've truly forgiven you.'' `` Kasia...'' `` That's not my name anymore, Andrej.'' `` No, Kasia...'' `` You too will stop being Andrej in a short while.'' He was n't crying anymore and their eyes were locked, unblinking. She went on, without allowing him to answer. `` Maybe we will meet again then. Maybe that's how it was meant to be. Maybe we will both be happier together after we will truly allow our old selves to die. You wo n't know who I am but if we meet, I will know you. And we'll meet. You'll see.'' Then she got up. She left. He made no move to stop her. Long minutes passed before he got up to order another vodka. -- -- -- -097
[ WP ] Write a murder from the perspective of a cheerful inanimate object	Meg's face reflected in mine once more before she slumped down. Forehead met formica as she sort of bounced from the corner of the countertop, and landed, then, I assume, on the linoleum floor. Staring straight ahead, as I always did, at the corded phone on the wall, I saw Mike take a big step over something before circling around the rest of her body. Was it her legs? Lily peeked around the corner, authority at six years old; Joshua sat some feet behind her on the carpeted hallway. She wove the coated rubber corkscrew of the phone cord around and around her fingers, then tucked it next to her face like a security blanket. Meg had used the blanket last week to mop up a spilled Jack-and-Coke. Joshua had teethed on the phone cord earlier this morning. The smell of burnt crumbs inside my wiring was strong, but I could still tell that the baby needed changing as he started to wail from where he sat, hopelessly, helplessly, uselessly. A Mississippi sunshine is lush on a July morning. It's storybook-sexy, the kind that lets babies roll around on thin cotton rags spread on green grass, the kind that shines down when a boy learns to shoot a gun; when girls learn about the curl in mama's mouth with lipstick on, or a first kiss smelling like daisies and car leather. The sunshine woke Mike up early, and told him all the little plastic baggies in the house were empty. From the bedroom down the hall I heard him bellow to get her ass working so they could get a fix, get well, get what they needed. Meg put a slice of white bread in the top of me. Breakfast for the kids before she left the house, every morning. Joshua gummed the phone cord. Meg pushed my red lever down and I stared at her with my painted, silly smile as she left, got dressed in fewer clothes than she went to sleep in, dabbed makeup over track marks. Now Mike slung Lily over a shoulder and shut her bedroom door after the sound of her flopping down onto the twin mattress came through the house. Joshua padded after them, hands and knees. The kitchen was empty now, save for Meg and me, and then, with a ding, the slice of white bread. Toast.
[ WP ] A tribe has been migrating for so long that generations have been born and died knowing only travel . The only thing guiding them now are legends and stories .	We march on. Ever on. The gods decreed we leave our home and march on. We, the Chosen, the Righteous and Annointed by the Almighty, march on. We have been given a blessing that we and we alone can embrace. March on, said the Gods. March on and you shall enter into the kingdom of heaven. Our abode awaits you should you march to the great arch in the sky. March and do not stop. Do not weary. Do not fail. And do not stop. It has been over three centuries. Some days covering as much as twenty miles. Others as little as five. Every day we march. We stop only to rest in the evenings. Always in the same direction, we march on. We herd our animals ahead of us. The vast swarm of grazers cleans and baptizes the ground. Not all are appreciative of our sacred duty, our blessed place and our sacred gift of our passing. We have fought wars. We have upended civilizations. We have ended cities, so we may march on. There have been heretics. Those who embrace evil and claim the march is pointless. Those who preach, die. Those who flee, we attempt to catch and kill. Some have escaped, but few, precious few. They will be damned in the next life, for we will punish them ourselves when we reach Heaven and visit them in Hell. Secure in our orthodoxy, we march on. Some fled ahead of us. This has happened before and will happen again. They have heralded our march. They warned those ahead and those in turn raised an army to oppose us. From wall to wall they stood, one of the greatest armies to ever oppose us. We cared not. Had we failed to crush them, some would have survived and regrown our numbers from the few. That had happened before and would happen again. The march to heaven is not for the weak, the unsure or the unbeliever. And so, we march on. Once, one city let us pass, but a sole woman rode out and faced our horde. She was weary with oppressive depression. There was no stopping us and she feared for her and her own with our passing. She rose a hand in greeting. I paused to speak with her. Our Gods were not xenophobic, just that we must march on. She spoke with me a very short while. Bewildered and lost, I thought, perhaps, she might join us. I was mistaken. So terribly mistaken. She was not bewildered for herself, but for us. `` You realize we live not on a world, but on a ring?'' She said we lived upon a great ring that circles our Sun. There is no end and no beginning to it. And my people have only traversed not even one three thousandth of its circumference. The Great Arc was not Heaven, but just the other side of the ring. Its flashes, not the signs of angels and those from before giving us hope, but seas and waters on the far side. We would only return to our beginning and Humanity would probably be extinct before we reached even that. She said our march was... pointless. I ought to have struck her down, but her obvious sincerity and lack of malice stayed my hand. I did not. No one else would speak with her and I rode off. My faith was firm. The Gods decreed and we obeyed. We marched on.
[ WP ] Every person in the world was created to complete one specific part of a master plan , when we die , we get to see what that one task had been . What was yours ?	My part was picking up a pencil. Simple as that. Because I picked up the pencil, the person somewhere behind me in the hallway, who would achieve lasting world peace later in life, did n't slip and break their neck. Because I picked up that pencil, I was able to give it to a peer, who would share it with others until the person who would grow up to find the cure to cancer received and kept the pencil. It's pretty cool that the one small action amounted to a cure to cancer and world peace. Still, it would've been cooler if I was the person to find the cure to cancer.
[ WP ] You have many regrets in your life , but one regret stands out above all the others . You wake up on the day of your biggest regret , and you get to relive that day the way you want it to be	A muffled clamor arose from my feet as I hurried down the hallway. I rummaged through my pockets for my phone, hoping to check the time. No use. I've gone too far back. With a quivering hand, I reach out and touch a passerby on their shoulder. Expectantly, they turn around to find themselves faced with a disheveled stranger. Before they can pull themselves away to escape, I ask them for the time. Stuttering and stumbling, they find the answer that I'd hoped for. I am ahead of time. There may be a chance after all. With light brushes and slight shoves, I make my way to the elevator and repeatedly punch the button aiming up. It glows and clicks if for no other reason than to provide me with a bit of dull satisfaction and comfort. The elevator dings and rumbles as it settles into place before me. I quickly step inside and begin pressing the close button and the button for the second floor. With just two floors to choose from, it hardly seemed necessary. There was something cathartic about that repetitive and mindless action. I could feel a fire growing in my chest as the embers fell down into the pit of my stomach. They gathered there and solidified as I choked on the smoke climbing up my throat. Cold, clammy hands balled into fists as I tried to steel my resolve. I had come this far. I owed it to myself to see this through. It was a miracle that I had been granted this opportunity and it was unlikely that I'd get another. Failure was n't an option. The bell sounded again as the doors parted. I stepped out of the elevator and into the second story hallway where many had gathered. Their faces were familiar and welcome. There was so much that I wanted to say to them, to thank them for. Things that they had not yet done. Things that they would never get to do. I steadied my hand upon the glass, looking in to the room. They were lying there so helpless, so innocent. The fire consumed my head. I felt it burning in the tips of my ears, deep in my nostrils, and behind my eyes. I tried to blink away the pain and the pressure, but I found only tears. Tears that ran hot down my face as I slipped into the room. I found myself laying there with a pleasant smile. A smile unlike any that I had ever known. I sought forgiveness within myself as I put my hand against my face. I struggled. I cried. I fell still and faded away. There were many mistakes that I could n't correct in a single day, but I was glad that I could solve the one that had led to it all. -290
Show me short fantastic descriptions of unbelievably large events . Physics optional .	Hey kids, 035fun here and today were talking about the sun! `` The sun!'' You say. `` But Mr. Fiftyfun, we know all about the sun! It's a bright happy ball of warmth and light that makes plants grow and wears sunglasses!'' WRONG MOTHER FUCKER! The sun is fucking METAL as SHIT. Its a constant nuclear explosion that's been happening for five fucking billion years and it ai n't half done. First off, lets get the obvious out of the way. You ca n't look at the sun. You can not look at the sun. You will go BLIND if you look at the most important, life giving thing in the solar system. The sun will literally strike you blind for looking at its glory, you unworthy swine. [ Look at this Godamn shit. ] ( http: //www.davidicke.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/legacy_images/stories/Feb20115/xapp-1273516872-solar-flare-and-prominence.jpg ) That's the sun shooting off a tornado of fucking fire bigger than the Earth. Just flinging that shit at us at 500 km a SECOND. That shit makes Ragnarok look like two kittens fighting and the Sun just flings them out there like singles at the titty club. As a fun side effect, flares are usually associated with coronal mass ejections, which cause the sky in frozen inhospitable wastelands to light up like a Floyd laser show. Guess the sun ai n't all the bad, huh? ALSO WRONG. A direct hit from one of those Jupiter sized fire balls would knock us back into the fucking stone age by running a current through THE ENTIRE ATMOSPHERE OF EARTH strong enough to fry the entire grid. They're happening at a rate of about three a day this year. So why does the sun hate us so much? Because we stopped worshiping it? Ha, like the nuclear explosion in the sky gives two shits about us. Different latitudes of the sun rotate at different rates, so it's magnetic field gets all twisted until up til it says fuck this and just flips out. The sun deals with its problems by hurling death at everything. Oh, its totally gon na fuck the Earth right out of existence, too. When it runs of out of hydrogen, moves out of the main sequence and into the red giant phase, right? Ha, you wish we had that long! The sun is constantly getting hotter at something like 10 % per billion years. In about a billion years, Earth will become so hot, water molecules wo n't freeze in the atmosphere and fuck right off into space. Say goodbye to water kids! Assuming androids had taken over by that point and survive the lack of water, they get treated to two billion years of the Earth becoming a more and more hell blasted desert until it becomes hot enough to melt the crust. Two billion years after becoming a lava planet, the sun will finally permit the Earth to die, vaporizing it in a wall of plasma ~186 million miles tall. All that will be left of the Earth is small increase in the metal content of the sun. Yes, it will destroy our entire planet, and only get about.01 % more METAL as SHIT for it. Recap! The sun is the source of all life, will blind you if you look at it, will kill us all with fire and famine ( If it does n't fireball us to death first ), and then destroy the entire planet. The Sun is an angry Norse god, not your friend. FUCK I love the fucking Sun! Ya know nuclear fusion, which would solve all the energy problems on Earth but is near impossible to accomplish? The sun did that just by being so big hydrogen did n't have a fucking choice in the matter and started fusing. edit: Ignore the source on that picture, the pictures accurate.
[ WP ] You wake up to hear `` ... repeat , this is not a drill . '' coming from your radio , and then silence .	`` It's the Ram Slammer Hammer 3000! Now YOU, yes YOU can flail a nail without fail on your next home project! Billy Mays here, and I've got just what you need! Bending the head? Do n't be caught dead. Bashing your thumb? That's just dumb! Hit a part that you did n't wan na smash? That's cash in trash. Sure, it's not a drill. But when your wife needs something done, she sounds too shrill! 9 easy payments of $ 15 bucks gets you back in the sack, nailing her special project so that you can relax. Call today for our special offer, Do n't let Javier butt slam your daughter Hang a picture to keep your wife subdued, instead of Craigslisting that hung strange dude! Low credit, slow credit, no credit? Just hit this post with a gold, and gild it on Reddit.''
[ WP ] Authors , playwrights , comic artists , etc . create real alternate universes when they create fiction . Upon dying they become physical , immortal , omnipotent gods who continue to preside over those worlds , though the final stories have been published and no one will ever read what comes next .	He was never special, but everyone is an author at heart. Everyone creates and every creation leaves some vibration in the world, sometimes unseen and unfelt, sometimes large like an earthquake. But everyone creates. The boy's name was Lull. As he grew the world left him behind and he was forgotten. There were great authors of his time, great artists and great men, all doing something with their lives. Lull admired them and he tried his best, his very damned best, but he never made a tremor in the unforgiving world. He grew old and he was close to death. To many, Lull had never existed. To himself he had died long ago. The world had outpaced him and he was in the darkness of obscurity, languishing often, and full of regrets. Lull had never been published in his life, he had never achieved much. He had lived a more normal life, raised a family, earned a salary and made a home. His vibrations were small and they were diminishing in his old age. And then Lull died. Death is an odd thing. Lull had never had any belief and so it was all new. It was all a surprise. All the rules were erased and he was floating for a while in nothingness. Then it all came like a rush, a tidal wave of consciousness. Lull gasped for breath and he grasped for life, for life had come back and everything had changed. In the midst of a field Lull stood alone. He stood naked. He stood as man and as something more. Something had happened. He had made a vibration. A new world had been created and this new world was his. It was simple, full of nuance and routine. It was not a flashy world and his characters were not memorable. They all had names, but they were not special. They were real and they had depth. They had fears and they had dreams. They were awful in the plain way that is truly evil. And they were good in the simple way of being good to each other, without stories or reason. They were his people. It was never commercial, but they were of him and mirrored him in all his facets. Lull had seen his world come alive. The world which no one had ever seen, the world that would forever be hidden from what was real. He became their God and for the first time in his existence, he was special. He was somebody. Death was not so bad then, and Lull ruled his world for a long time. He called it Earth.
[ CW ] Describe the room you 're sitting in , maybe r/doodle will sketch it . This would be a test of how someone processes your words .	I stand on a busy train. Not full of people, but enough that bodies are started to move into the gaps between luggage holds and bicycle spots. I stand in the doorway of the train with 7 other people and a dog. The elderly blonde woman next to me sits on the only fold out seat as he red coat contrasts the dull colours filling the rest of the carriage. The floor brown, the walls white plastic and the passing scenery just a blur of dark green and white as the train rolls through town. Silence fills the small room. The couple to my left stand close checking similarly shaped smartphones. The women dressed in white and black with a dark green handbag, her apparent lover in a drabb outfit; navy top, grey tshirt and dark blue jeans. The most stand out part of their appearance? The fact the woman wears circular shades at half 4 in the evening. The man next to them bears a grey cap and a bored expression. His hair ridden navy jacket and black trousers would have given away he owned a dog if the sleeping white and brown patched animal did n't lie at his feet. It occasionally glances around, but like the other passengers, finds nothing of interest On from him stands an art student. Short blonde hair, large stone grey headphones with a matching jumper and dress as well as striped socks sticking out large brown boots would have given it away, if the bizarrely flowery scarf and large artbag did n't by themselves. Directly opposite me stands a woman lost in thought. She stares out at the blurred hedges and houses as he light green top tries to escape the confines of her denim prison. Blonde hair, denim jacket and tight denim jeans. It's almost a surprise her boots seem look so expensive considering how little effort she seems to have put into her clothes. The final man stands staring up at the emergency information. The green men telling him to break glass in an emergency, call sos and be aware that the only escapes from the train are the doors. Even the bright yellow close and open buttons cant bring a smile to his wrinkled face as he stands in creme. Even his backwards cap quietly boasts the colour. His brown shoes being the only traitors to the cause. Oh wait, my stop
[ WP ] Mankind has succesfully deleted every trace of the year 2016 . You , a historian in the year 2416 begin to wonder why there are no records of the year 2016 ever happening . When you begin to investigate , what you uncover , sends chills down your spine .	I knew something was wrong the moment everyone around me started to get up all at once. Finally, after a meager two years chase, I was cornered in Istanbul of all places. To be honest, I was surprised that I lasted that long with the organization on my tail. `` Agent W, do n't make a scene, get up quietly.'' I recognized him instantly. I had never seen him but I was intimately familiar with his modus operandi. Surrounding the target in a public place while making sure that nothing seemed out of the ordinary. That was Agent 9, the most brilliant agent of the organization. I had gotten the call when I was nineteen. I was the youngest professor to hold tenure in world's topmost university. My achievement in the field of history was perhaps only rivaled by my extraordinary talent at making bad life choices. That was why I had accepted the invitation without much thinking on my part. In my defense, the offer was irresistible. Travelling places? Getting to know new cultures and history while being paid for it? Count me in. Things were smooth at first. The organization provided everything that it had promised. I got to travel to Greece, India, and other exotic places while learning their culture and history. I was having the greatest time of my life. Unfortunately, that did n't last very long. Things began going downhill when I was called in to provide insight into a local Ecuador tribe. I did my best, of course. Never in my wildest dream I could have imagined that merely a week afterward, a civil war would break out in the country. Started by that very tribe! I did n't know what the organization had done or how it had done it but I was certain that the information I had been used in ways that I could not have fathomed. I was alarmed! I sat down to check every consult I had given to the organization and a horrible realization dawned on me. The organization was using those consults for a single purpose: to start wars. `` Hands behind your back Agent W, do n't do anything that you will regret.'' Agent 9 whispered. This did n't seem right, why was he whispering? Granted this was another country but Agent 9 had never been so... hesitant. `` Where are the documents that you stole?'' He asked. `` I destroyed them,'' I answered nonchalantly. Agent 9 paused for a while, `` Eidetic memory, yes, you would n't need to keep those documents after you've read them. Let me rephrase my question Agent W, where do you keep your research?'' I tapped my head twice, `` In here.'' I felt something on my back. It was a pistol. Being someone of intellectual background, I was n't really equipped to handle that kind of threat. `` Do n't play with me Agent W, give me your research or I will shoot you right here right now.'' `` Agent 9, you do n't understand, the things that are in the document. The lost year... the world needs to know that. People need to know that!'' I protested. When I had decided to run away from the organization ( because you could n't quit ), I had decided to take those documents on a whim, not expecting that it would contain information about 2016. 2016, the lost year as it was called. No one knew what happened in that year. We had records of 2015: war brewing in Middle-East, high tension between India and Pakistan, increased Russian activities and so on. But in 2017, everything stopped. The era of peace began with every country coming together to form a new republic. How did it happen? Why did it happen? No one knew. It had baffled historians like me and was something of an open question with many many speculations, ranging from dubious American involvement to Extraterrestrial threats. Back in my college days, me and my much older friends used to laugh at those speculations by coming up with creative mental disorders a person might have been suffering from at the time to come up with such ridiculous theories. But after I had read the contents of those documents, ET did n't sound far-fetched. Regardless, the world needed to know their history. No way in hell was I going to give up without a fight. `` I agree.'' `` No, you do n't understand! The things that I've uncover- huh, what did you say?'' `` Agent W, I said that I agree. The world deserves to know about the lost year. Sorry for the gun, I had to make sure.'' `` Make sure of what?'' `` Listen to me Agent W, after I've finished explaining, you are going to elbow me in the stomach. You will then turn around and try to snatch my gun. The gun will go off - do n't worry, it will be an air shot. You are to escape in the ensuing mayhem. There is a vehicle waiting for you at the Bakra Bazar which will take you to the airstrip. Go to China. I am told that you have friends there. Go and stay there, I will contact you soon.'' I was stunned. Wtf was going on? Agent 9 was helping me escape? Why? Was he rebelling against the organization? `` Listen to me, W, listen to me! Something big hinges on your discovery. Make sure you understand that alright? Now, on the count of three... one, two..''
[ WP ] You can see the age of anyone you 're attracted to floating above their head holographic numbers	It was blistering hot outside. I had plans to go for a ride over the mountain pass on my new motorcycle but was defeated when I began sweating through my protective gear. I rolled into the parking lot of the cafe and decided a frozen drink would lift my spirits. I placed my helmet on the counter and retrieved my money, ordering some silly frozen thing. It was a treat, I was often teased about it but I really enjoyed the smoothie texture and generous whipped cream on the top. When I took my seat after receiving my drink I was finally able to relax. I stretched my legs and placed my bag across the table from me. I would pull out my journal later for sure, yet at the moment I was more interested in enjoying the beverage than writing down my thoughts. So many people here were young. I could see it in their faces. If they were my type, my attraction would reveal their ages. Every time they were too young. The girl across the cafe with the dark glasses and face buried in her computer: 22. The woman uncommonly reading a paperback on the sofa near the back: 36. There were other ages, too, but I was not interested in any of them. My eyes flickered over the men and women having dates, conversations, or just enjoying a beverage to themselves. When I finally saw her my mind went blank and I stabbed my cheek with my straw. Her age popped up above her head and my heart skipped a beat. She sported elegant wavy hair that tumbled past her shoulders. Her eyes were sharp, skin flawless. Her full lips carried a hint of red gloss that accented her pale skin beautifully. She looked mid-30s, but I was in awe. Her beauty was one that I had not seen in many years. I looked above her head, my eyes locked on the hologram: 834. I stood, pushed my seat in and grabbed my things before making my way to her table. She looked up from a sketchbook - she was very talented. All of those years sure added to her skill set. `` Sorry to bother you.'' I said, she gave a curious smile. `` Is this seat taken?'' I asked, gesturing toward the empty seat. She pulled free her headphones and shook her head, her smile growing. She glanced above my head and I smiled as her eyebrows rose high in disbelief. I reached out a hand. `` My name is Sam, tell me about yourself.''
[ WP ] Video games come to life and everyone is the game character of the game they 've played the most in today 's society .	So the world changed overnight for us. People went from your everyday average joe and susan, to their most played video game characters. The media was batshit insane over it for the first week, most people seemed to enjoy their new found abilities and such. Though there were a few cases of having to wrangle in a couple of insane ones that let their power go to their heads and tried to destroy more then they should. Now it's been about a month since everybody changed over, most of my own friends changed over night, family seemed to take a day or two, like the system was having to figure out what game exactly qualified as `` Most Played''. My mother changed into a deck of cards laid out on a board, she always did love her solitare games. Sister turned into a creator of worlds and human life, or well a SIMs player. Dad was an interesting case, never even knew he played the game until we changed, he transformed into a very brutish and kill hungry cat, or I guess I should say he transformed into rengar from league of legends. Then you have my friends, Greg became another league character. He was nidalee, ca n't tell you how much I was bout to plow that field until I realized it was him. Those tits and ass on him, dayum. Outside of him there was Ryan, the dude loved his GTA game series. I think he was one of the longer cases I saw, took about 4 days for him to transform into the main character of GTA V - Michael - and dear lord was he jumping for joy at that one. Dude had at least 10 figures in the bank account once he transformed. Oh, which was another interesting thing we had happen. Anything we possed in the game we gained after we transformed, including any and all powers, abilities, or other items like money, cars, or positions. Now onto my best friend, Josh, he transformed probably the fastest. He went from his regular old 6' 3'' tall self, decently built while a bit pudgy from eating too much junk food even though he was constantly moving and getting in workouts, to be this small little guy, maybe 4' at the tallest, rounded head and funny shaped body similar to domo. He told me later it was because he was playing binding of issac so much, his last clock time on the game was nearly 10,000 hours into it. So I guess now you are wondering what happened to me? Well... I became my favorite character ever. I joined a world of immortals, a world of power, and assets. Originally said I was 6' 1'' tall, built more of like a bear than a body builder. I had muscle on me, but it was definitely under some of the fat I gained from lesser activity during my college years. From that position I gained another 4'' to become 6' 5'' tall, my fat shed off instantly and the muscles showed themselves prominently, and also grew a slight bit to be more of your average bodybuilder. I gained control over a mass of empires, a multitude of wealth and ships that I can do whatever with. I became my character from EVE Online, Ultra Yeti, and I have to say I enjoy it very much. Though I do miss my friends, since after I transformed I had one of those insane people murder me through his sandbox game powers he obtained, never could figure out which game, and it caused my neural network to activate, scan my brain instantly and accurately, and then send it across lightyears of space to my home station of Jita 4-4 and insert itself into a new clone of my body. I do miss the guys, and I guess at some point I will find a way back home, but for now I am enjoying being among my own kind. Capsuleers live forever, and to make sure it never grows stale, we always have a fight on our hands.
[ WP ] A man is banished to the wilderness for 20 years . Write his diary entries for his first and last days of exile .	March 12th, 2015 Today is the day I am sentenced to my death. I had a family. I had money. I had respect. And they took it all away. I ’ m going to die here. Oh god, I ’ m going to just rot away and no one will know the truth. My wife will live her life hating me and my children will grow up thinking their dad was a criminal. Scum of the earth. I can ’ t let this injustice just happen to me. I have to try. I have to try to survive and take revenge on the ones who wronged me. The ones who framed me for the crimes I was convicted for. I was allowed to bring as much as I could carry. I have matches, knives, clothes. This journal. If I survive, I promise I will get my revenge. Ron Smith. Thomas Baker. Leslie Manner. Wesley Lee. The men who put me here. The real criminals. Never forget that. You are Joseph Garrett. Son of William and Marie Garrett. You are innocent. Never forget that. March 12, 2035 Today is the day I return to the city. It ’ s been a tough 20 years. I ’ m grateful for this journal. It keeps me human. It keeps me thinking. I ’ ve been training. Training for this day. Today is the day where all my hardwork will pay off. This is the time where real justice will be served. Ron Smith. Thomas Baker. Leslie Manner. Wesley Lee. The men who put me here. The real criminals. I never forgot that. You are Joseph Garrett. Son of William and Marie Garrett. You are innocent. Never forget that.
[ WP ] You have been magically sealed away for an unknown amount of time , but now you feel its power fading .	I peer out through the darkness, Through the world I've always known. This is my home, my haven. It's all I've ever owned. And yes, it gets quite lonely, In solitude, I abide. But this is where I'm safe and sound, From the hurtful world outside. You know what the people say - Once bitten, and twice shy. I'll never let them hurt me now, They'll never see me cry. But unexpectedly, you appeared, Like an angel from above. You showed me truth and goodness, You taught me how to love. Even when the tears came down, You held me, close and tight. And when I fell, you carried me, Through my darkest nights. So in the end, because of you, I finally found my way. The path is clear, but there is just One thing I want to say: I do n't know how I got here, Or how it came to be. But one thing that I'm sure of: Now, I'm finally free.
[ WP ] A secretly schizophrenic commercial airline pilot does n't take his anti-psychotics . The voices convince him to fly his packed Boeing 747 to the sun , so he does	`` What do these levers do?'' Allie said as she reached forward with a small eager hand. `` Ah, do n't touch,'' Captain Peterson said lightly, waving away Allie's hand. Allie frowned, looking at Peterson with the best puppy-dog eyes she could muster. `` Peterson?'' Co-pilot Johnson asked. `` Are you okay?'' Peterson looked over to Johnson and nodded, giving a light smile. He had almost given Allie away. If Johnson had known that there was a little girl in the cockpit, he would throw a fit. It would cost Peterson his job. Peterson looked back at Allie, shooting her a disappointed look that said, I need you to be quiet. `` I'm fine,'' Peterson said, after returning his gaze to the controls, `` just thought I heard something from the back.'' Johnson nodded and shrugged. He no longer appeared to be worried. `` How's the wife? Have n't heard you say much about her lately.'' Peterson swallowed. `` She's, uh, you know, it's been a bit rough lately. We're just going through a rough patch.'' Have you been taking your pills? `` Oh, sorry bud, everyone goes through that.'' Johnson replied. `` Yeah?'' `` Yeah, I mean, me and Lorena, we have n't been seeing eye-to-eye either, ya know.'' `` Really?'' `` She's been giving me shit about Choony,'' `` Choony?'' Peterson interjected. `` Yeah, our dog, I've told you about him,'' `` Oh, yeah, I remember.'' Allie leaned forward onto Peterson's shoulder, resting her chin right beside his cheek. `` Daddy, I thought you said we were going to get a puppy. He's got one.'' `` I told you we'd talk about it later,'' Peterson said aloud. `` Huh?'' Johnson asked. `` The dog, I meant, when it last got brought up, we had to shelve it,'' Peterson quickly recovered, `` what kind of dog was it? I do n't think we talked about that. What's his name again?'' `` Oh,'' Johnson said, `` it's a corgi. Little fucker's name is Choony.'' `` That's a cute name!'' Allie screamed loudly in Peterson's ear, causing him to wince. `` Little shit,'' Johnson continued, `` he's made a habit of fucking and blowing his load into Lorena's slippers in the morning,'' Johnson paused, and then chuckled to himself, `` I really need to get the fucker neutered, but hell, if Lorena wo n't take my load, she might as well take his.'' `` What's a load?'' Allie asked. Peterson laughed nervously. He raised his shoulder, trying to remove Allie from his side. She sighed and went to sit in the back of the cockpit. `` Anyways,'' Johnson continued, `` the wife?'' `` Ahh, Jean,'' Peterson spoke softly. Why the fuck are n't you taking your pills? `` She had been riding me lately about my medication,'' Peterson said. `` Meds?'' Johnson replied. He was still sitting back in his seat relaxed, but Peterson knew that he had to recover again. `` Yeah, did n't I tell you? Been having some problems with acid reflux, it's a killer,'' Peterson said, using one hand to gesture at his chest. `` Ohhh, buddy, I know how that is. Lorena, man, she loves to make these Mexican dishes, enchiladas with chile sauce,'' `` Daddy, I want enchiladas!'' `` Shh,'' Peterson said, realizing too late that he shushed out loud. `` What?'' Johnson asked. `` Uh, you hear anything funny?'' Peterson said, gesturing back towards the cockpit door. Johnson turned in his seat. `` I was n't really paying attention. You think it's Maddie fucking one of the passengers again? I swear to God if I catch her pulling that side-shit again,'' Peterson chuckled, `` you should probably check on that. Maybe snap a pic.'' Johnson smiled. He got out of his seat, kicking Allie in the face. Peterson frowned. `` I'll be back, do you want anything from the carts while I'm out there?'' `` A juice box!'' Allie said, still rubbing her cheek from where she had been kicked. `` Juice,'' Peterson responded. `` Juice?'' Johnson asked. `` Just having a craving.'' Johnson shrugged. `` I'll see what they have,'' he said as he opened the door and exited. Peterson quickly stood, being careful while stepping over his daughter. He made his way to the back of the cockpit and locked the door. He had to tell Allie to quit misbehaving and to let daddy do his job. He sat back down in his seat, and Allie climbed into Johnson's seat. `` Daddy, I'm cold,'' Allie said softly. Peterson looked at her, seeing that blood was slowly dripping from her nose. `` Honey,'' he said, wiping at her nose with his index finger, `` do n't get that on Johnson's seat. See if your mother has a kleenex,'' he continued, pointing to the back of the cockpit. He turned in his seat to look, and there he saw Jean. She was wearing a white sundress that had been stained red with blood. Her arms had been cut off with a dull carving knife. Bits of flesh on her shoulder peeked out from the straps of the dress, frayed and still oozing. Peterson jumped in his seat, letting out a small yelp. `` It's cold in here,'' he heard Jean say. She slowly walked forward, her broken kneecap twisting inward with each step. It had to be broken. There was no other way she'd fit. `` It's so cold,'' she continued. As she got closer, the smell of blood became stronger and stronger, making Peterson want to gag. He turned to face forward, putting his hands onto the controls. His palms were sweating profusely. He pulled them back from the controls and wiped at his pants until they dried, but no matter how much he wiped, they still felt wet. He looked down and saw that they were dripping blood. There was blood all over his uniform. He wiped at his shirt, doing his best to get the blood off, but it would n't stop. His hands were stained red and he instantly got the feeling that the blood would never come off no matter how much water he used. `` Daddy,'' Allie whispered. `` Yes?!'' Peterson yelled. `` How long do we have to stay in the freezer?'' `` I, I, I do n't know.'' `` Can you make it warmer?'' `` Yes,'' Peterson whispered. `` Daddy can do that.'' The plane began to ascend.
[ WP ] The New York sanitation workers have always secretly had the job of ridding the streets of cryptid monsters . Time to take out the trash !	In 1881, New York City ’ s Department of Street Cleaning was formed. Later known as the Department of Sanitation, its founders pioneered such current practices as recycling, street sweeping, while maintaining professionalism and cleanliness within its own ranks. It is the largest sanitation department in the world, with 7,201 uniformed workers and 2,230 collection trucks. Source: Wikipedia Secretly, the Department had a secondary objective handed down to them by the Mayor of their fair city: to rid the streets of any “ undesirable ” creatures they may encounter along their routes. This practice continues to this day. Source: Me The white heap of metal and gasoline bellowed its way down the block, stopping every few minutes as the man in uniform hopped off the platform on the back, and flung black bag after black bag into the compactor. Up front, the driver sat back, easing off and on the brake pedal. His smudged, thick, Department of Sanitation regulation shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a New York Rangers tee stained with coffee and burger grease. The driver turned to the seat next to him, where I was, roommate ’ s camera in hand, wearing stuff way too clean considering the night I was about to have. “ Before we start, can I ask you a question? ”. “ Sure, Frank. What ’ s up? ” “ Why are you making a movie about us? Isn ’ t there a ballet or an art opening that your teacher would like more? ” “ Students always go for that type of shit. I want to go outside the box on this. Something you see everyday, but you know nothing about. OK, Frank, ready for your closeup? ” I pressed record, and immediately, Frank tensed up, trying to avoid eye contact with my lens. “ Relax a bit. Now, I ’ m going to jump around questions, but lets start with why you became a sanitation worker. ” “ Well… ” Frank started, talking with his hands and his mouth, “ I wanted a union job, and with my father working 35 years for the Queens East department, I thought this was the way to go. I don ’ t mind getting my hands dirty, you know? My father was able to raise me and my two sisters here, and now I ’ ve got two of my own, and it makes me feel a little better knowing I ’ m making their home a little cleaner and safer. ” “ Safer? ” “ Oh, you ’ ll see. Anyway, was that good? ” “ Yeah ”, I replied. “ Great, so…what ’ s a typical night like? ” “ I do four nights a week, 8 to 5, with an hour break at midnight, where me and Danny go get 2 Bros Pizza or something at Starbucks. Danny ’ s been doing this almost as long as I have, and we ’ ve got a pretty good routine. We switch spots every hour, working Midtown for like two years now. ” “ What ’ s the weirdest thing you ’ ve seen? ” “ Hmmm…I ’ ve got two. During the day, I saw a live ratking. ” “ Ratking? ” “ That ’ s when like 50 rats congeal together with grease and shit, and they become a ratking. Hundreds of limbs move as one, and more get added on as they pass other rats. Usually, we pass the dead ones that collapse on themselves, but I saw a live one. ” I winced. Rats have always weirded me out. “ What about at night? What ’ s the weirdest thing you ’ ve seen then? ” “ Frank! ”. I could see Danny have from the driver side rear view. “ Get ready, we ’ re coming up on it. ” “ Coming up on what? ” I tried to smile, but as Frank reached by his legs and pulled out what I can only describe as a bulkier shotgun, I backed away just a bit.
[ WP ] In 2050 , planet earth is about to be destroyed . Scientists believes humanity needs about 500 to 2000 more years to develop the technology to save the planet . As a solution , one man is sent back in time to teach our ancestors . However , he encounters some resistance ...	The message was heard simultaneously across the entire world. Your planet has been selected for colonization. The terraforming process will begin in 36 earth years. Departure is advised. No one could explain how everyone on earth received the message and understood it in their own language. No one could explain from whom the message was sent. However, after the United Nations held a session to discuss the problem, everyone was certain of one thing: Humanity was fucked. Scientists all agreed that the required technology to leave earth would take much longer than 36 years to develop. In fact, it was estimated to take approximately 400 years. It was steadily becoming clearer that there was nothing that could save the human race. Then one man stepped forward, an Isreali. He claimed to have a time machine, but not only that, he claimed to have a solution to Earth's dilemma. His plan was to travel back in time to the late 16th century and convince the world of the Earth's doom, and then instruct the scientists of that age on space travel. With no other plan, the governments of the world agreed. And so he was sent. A man stepped out onto a road in Florence, Italy in 1585. He would need a new name for this new life of his, he thought. He decided his new name would reflect his birthplace, Galilee. His name would be Galileo.
[ WP ] A teenage girl is embarrassed when her father and boyfriend get along .	`` Dad please listen!'' Tina begged me, tugging on my shirt. I sighed and finally gave into her demands. `` Fine, you have two minutes to try and convince me. But the last time I let a boy pick you up for a date, the druggy idiot almost got you killed. And the time before that you got home barely before the sun came up. You've got more tally marks in the loss category than the win for guys hun.'' `` Dad I just need you to trust me. Jack is different than the others, I swear. He is a captain on the soccer and baseball teams, he delivers flowers in his downtime, and he is already planning on going to school to be an engineer. He's a really good guy daddy.'' `` Sweetie I do trust you, I just do n't trust them'' I explained to her, as calmly as possible. `` I was a teenage boy once and was friends with the best guys and the worst guys and they all share one thing in common: Brains are second, Dicks are first''. `` DAD!'' Tina exclaimed, her cheeks turning to roses. `` You know that I have n't... that I'm still a...'' Tina averted her eyes from mine as she struggled to get out the words that I already knew. `` A virgin? I know sweetheart.'' At least I sure as hell hope so, I thought to myself. `` But even if you tell guys that, they will want to do whatever they can to change that. That includes lying and putting on a face to look like friggin' Liam Hemsworth...'' `` Who is...'' Tina started to interject, to which I shook my head and chuckled. `` No one, just an old actor who teenage girls used to melt for. The point is, guys can be shitheads and I do n't want one of them sinking their teeth into my little girl.'' A look of dejection crept onto Tina's face and I could see the droplets of water spring up in the corner's of her bright green eyes. She quickly blinked them away and turned to go back upstairs. `` Fine dad. I just wish you would accept that I'm 16 now and in a couple years I wont be your little girl anymore.'' `` Wait Tina. Come back here.'' God damnit....I hope I do n't regret this. Joe, you softy you. `` What?'' Tina asked, with tinge of hope in her voice. She stared at me with eyes no longer brimming with tears but instead with expectation and a hint of excitement. `` You can go out with this boy, Jack. On one condition: He has to come here for dinner first so I can meet him. If I approve, you can go out with him.'' Tina squeeled in joy and jumped at me, wrapping her arms around the back of my neck and nearly knocked me off my feet. `` THANK YOU DADDY!'' `` Okay okay get off me you little monster'' I manged to get out over the sounds of her joyous laughter and sounds of excitement. I took her out of the clouds and set her feet back on the earth. `` Its what your mother would want. I can hear her now'Joe you ca n't protect her forever. Eventually you wo n't be around and she will have to fend for herself. Oh and cut your hair, you are starting to look like a savage.'' Tina giggled and hugged me, `` Thanks dad. I promise I have a good feeling about Jack or I would n't have even brought it up. Mom would approve of him I think, so I hope you do too.'' `` I hope so to, for your sake young lady. Tell him to come over tonight if he can. I'm sure he'll enjoy my Taco Tuesday.'' Later that Evening I can not believe what this boy just said. I could feel the juices of my taco dripping onto my pants, but I did n't care. All I was focused on was trying to process what this new boy that my daughter brought home just said to me. And then I felt it, a deep rumbling inside of me, waiting to break free. I could feel the heat rising on my face and the rumble moving up my throat. I'm sorry Tina, I thought to myself, I hope you can forgive me. A laughter erupted from me that has been foreign to me since Jodie died 6 years ago. A deep laughter that shook my entire body. My eyes teared up, I could hardly breathe, and I think I dropped my taco on the floor. `` Jack where the HELL did you hear that joke? It seems like it should be way over a 17 year old's head.'' `` My dad told it to me, and his dad told it to him. I guess it's sort of a family thing'' the boy said through a sly smirk. `` Well god damn if that is n't one of the best jokes I've ever heard. Right Tina?'' Tina shot me a look so sharp that I'm surprised did n't physically hurt me. `` I honestly do n't get why it's so funny...'' `` You know, cause the doctor... hes a monkey. And monkeys cant write... they can't..oh god'' I could n't speak through my reemerging laughter. `` Ugh whatever.'' Tina dismissively said, turning her attention back to poking her taco salad with a fork. `` Jack, you're a good kid.'' I began as I wiped the joke's aftermath off of my lips. `` You know, I was captain of my baseball team in highschool and I played a bit in college. You wan na come check out my old gear? Maybe there'll be something you can use.'' `` Dad I really think Jack has got to get going. It's getting late and he...'' Tina started, trying to put an end to the evening. `` No it's alright!'' Joe interjected quickly. `` My parents know that I'm over here so they will be fine if I'm a little late. I'll just say that I was hanging out with Mr. Staybeck, they'll be thrilled.'' Joe gave Tina a little reassuring nod and a smile, which she just scoffed at and looked away. `` Alrighty! I still keep all my old baseball stuff in my den. This way son.'' Even Later That Evening `` Alright Tina you win. I approve of the boy... err Jack. You can go out with him, but there will still be some rules.'' I said as I stacked the slightly crusted dinner plates. `` You know what dad? I think I was wrong. I do n't think he's right for me.'' Tina nonchalantly said as she moved the leftovers to their new tupperware homes. `` I think I'll tell him I ca n't go out with him.'' `` What?! Tina, you have to go out with that boy. He is a captain on the soccer and baseball teams, he delivers flowers in his downtime, and he is already planning on going to school to be an engineer! He is set up for success! Plus..that damn joke was amazing'' I could feel the rumblings in my stomach again, probably a combination of a new bout of laughter and tacos making their way through my body, so I left it at that. What the hell is Tina on about though? This was her dream boy only a few hours ago! `` No I do n't think so dad, I bet he just wants to get in my pants and then poof hes gone! I think I'll let him down easy. Thanks for giving him a shot though, its nice to see that you do trust me.'' `` Okay sweetie, if that's what you want.'' I said, feeling the disappointment stain my voice. `` It is. Oh and dad, can I ask for a favor?'' Tina asked. `` Of course hun! Anything.'' I said over my shoulder, balancing a teetering tower of plates. `` Please, for the love of god, never make me bring a boy home for dinner with you again. At least not at first.'' Tina said with a stern, almost annoyed, tone. `` We'll see. Now go finish up your homework and get to bed.'' I was n't that bad was I? I just got to know the kid, I thought she was excited about that. Oh well, he seemed like he had fun. Hopefully the next guy is just as good.
[ WP ] A device has been invented that allows the user to gaze upon Heaven or Hell . Hell is terrifying , and those who see it often need counselling . But their terror pales compared to those who witness God 's domain .	Hell is n't the worst thing you can imagine. It's not writhing in indescribable anguish in a lake of fire, being entombed in ice, or going insane in an infinite black soundless void. Nor is it drowning in corrosive shit, having your eyes and genitals eaten by maggots, being meticulously flayed by your one true love. eating your children alive as they scream in vain for you to stop, jamming needles under your fingernails just to feel something again, knowing that nobody ever loved you, or knowing that you ’ ve committed acts that make you unworthy of ever being loved again. It's not even the despair caused by the absolute and inescapable truths that your torment will never end, you will never become accustomed to it, and that any attempt to reduce that torment will only be punished by further agonies -- and yet it is so utterly unbearable that you will constantly try to escape from it anyway, recognizing the futility of your actions but unable to stop yourself. No, Hell is all of those things and infinitely many more besides, all happening simultaneously. For you see, time and space work very differently in Hell. The viewing screens ( thankfully ) only provide a limited window into that nightmarish world, but if you watch carefully you ’ ll see the same gaunt faces appear again and again as the victim of unlimited atrocities, the perpetrator, and sometimes both roles at once. And yet, while what you witness will haunt your dreams, it ’ s not the worst that Hell has to offer. If you watch long enough you ’ re sure to see faces you recognize. Remember that time works differently in Hell; its never-ending cycle of agony and degradation traps not only the dead, but also many of the living and presumably those yet to be born. Seeing one ’ s neighbors, friends, family, or spouse suffering and committing unspeakable acts is of course traumatic, and the questions it engenders are far worse. Are their loved ones hiding dark secrets, or is damnation fundamentally unjust? Either possibility is intolerable. If you watch very carefully, or are very unlucky, you may one day see yourself. But you know this all already. What you may not know is that, with appropriate adjustments, the screens can be used to view Heaven as well. In fact, some of the earliest tests looked in on Heaven rather than Hell, although researchers didn ’ t realize it at the time. Of those stygionauts who later discovered Heaven, most were so far gone to the world that they were incapable of sharing their findings, and the few of reasonably sound mind were understandably reluctant to. The problem is that, at first glance, Heaven is virtually indistinguishable from Hell: a boundless orgy of pain and cruelty in all their forms, overlapping and echoing into infinity. But in Heaven they like it.
[ WP ] Write a story in which a `` Chekhov 's Gun '' is actually Chekhov 's Gun and a `` Red Herring '' is actually a red herring .	Dvor Chekhov braced himself for the fatal volley. His blindfold chaffed, as did the coarse ropes binding his hands. `` paré, en joue, feu!'' ( Ready, Aim! ) a french officer bellowed. In that brief instant before Chekhov's death, his mind flited to the events of the previous evening. The night he had failed his Tzar and county. A mixture of Shame and fear mingled in the pit of his stomach. -- - The date was the 15th of August 1811; Napoléon Bonaparte's birthday banquet. That year the fragile Franco-Russian relations had finally broken at the violation of the Treaty of Tilsit. Tsar Alexander I had ostensibly sent Chekhov to renegotiate a truce. However his real objective was assassination. War was a foregone conclusion as Napoléon's grande armee mustered on the borders of Russia. Seated at the banquet table Chekhov's hands darted to the primed flintlock pistol concealed within his regalia. The reassuring bulge stilled his nervous fingers. It was at that moment a french accent startled Chekhov to awareness of his surroundings. A finely dressed waiter held a silver tray and gestured to the empty spot on the table. Seeing the distracted look on the Russian Duke's face the waiter repeated himself. `` Le Entrée Monsieur Chekhov?'' ( First course Mr Chekhov? ) `` Oh, Why yes that would be delightful. erm, What is it?'' `` c'est pour brouiller les pistes'' ( It is a red herring ) The running joke of the day was that the Russian nobility only ate one meal a day. It stated at dawn and ended at dusk. `` J'espère que cela est suffisant.'' ( I hope this is enough ) smirked the waiter. Red fury bloomed in the Dukes cheeks he as bristled at the indignation. But the thought of the delicious fish calmed his temper. After all it was his favourite and it had been a whole hour since he had last dined. With the hunger of the dammed Chekhov forked the salty kipper into his mouth. But then regretted his decision as he began to choke. Feeling his airway clog Chekhov knew his assassination attempt was a do or die. `` I must act now, before I suffocate'', rasped the duke. Unexpected hands wrapped around Chekhovs' waist, thrusting upwards into his abdomen. The french waiter pulled with all his might and the red herring flew across the room. The fish arced in a parabola which ended on the plate of Napoléon. A shocked silence blanked the hall as all eyes turned to the Russian Duke. This near brush with death was only an appetiser thought Chekhov. A light snack which could be brushed aside as non-noteworthy. Chekhov withdrew his pistol and levelled it at the emperor's head. With a fizz the black powder spluttered. Chekhov's gun did not fire. `` Ha.'' Napoléon yelled in terrible Russian. `` An assassin has been foiled. Not by a fish but by his own gun! Guards, seize this man for execution. Shoot him at dawn'' -- - Feeling the first rays of dawn warm his cloths Chekhov heard the last words before his existence ceased. `` au feu!'' ( Fire! )
[ WP ] You live in a small town in Alaska . Nothing signifigant has happend for years . Then Larry arrives .	At the age of 14 or 15 I lived in a small, boring town with nobody else my age to hang out with. I would spend my free time wandering around in the woods aimlessly. It was pretty obvious when looking at the faces of all the other people in the town that they too were bored as hell. It was like an eternal Monday. That should've been the name of the town, considering the fact that the mood fit just right. There were a few shops in the town. I eventually decided to work at one. It was quiet as hell. Someone dropped a glass bottle once. The silence broke into more pieces than the bottle did when just about everyone in the entire area where the shops are heard it. Everyone simultaneously flinched from being spooked by the loud noise. I got a small broom and just pan and started sweeping up the pieces of glass. `` Thanks Bruce.'' Said the manager in a voice that sounded like he just woke up. `` Did you hear about that bottle that broke today?'' My sister said later that night when my family was eating dinner together. `` Yeah. It was so loud that a bunch of people heard it.'' Said my mum. `` I was working in the shop where the bottle broke.'' I said. `` Huh.... Neat.'' Said my sister. `` I saw a frog today.'' Said my dad. `` Interesting.'' Said my mom. That was the most interesting conversation I ever had, at least until the day the new guy showed up. I was working in the shop as usual. The shops were across the street from one another and the road between the shops stretched out really far into the distance, going outside of the town. Sometimes people would stare down that road, wondering what it was like on the other side where other towns were. Maybe they were less boring. From the distance people started seeing a figure walking down the road slowly. It was a person nobody has seen before, which was strange considering everyone in the town knew each other and there were never visitors. As the person came closer, people started saying `` hey look a new guy.... `` Everyone at once started coming out of the shops. They stared at the stranger and started saying things like `` Huh... Neat.'' `` Very interesting.'' `` Hello, guy.'' `` Hm. That's cool.'' As he got closer and almost where the shops were we could see his face. His eyes were red. I do n't mean bloodshot. The color of his Irises were red. He looked about my age and had an evil looking smirk on his face. Suddenly, every window in the shops that e walked in front of started to explode into pieces of glass. People started stepping back. Some ran away. He was just about to walk in front of my shop so I hid behind a wall of items that the shop sold just before the windows broke. My manager was n't so lucky. A piece of glass went flying into his elbow and made a small two inch long cut that took an entire day to heal. It was the worst injury anyone in the town ever got and people would talk about it for years. The mysterious red eyed kid had walked past all the shops, all the windows broken. He turned around, started laughing and held out his palm. A huge fireball came out of it and he threw it at a building, causing an explosion. Some other guy got out a shotgun and started shooting at the red eyed kid. It did n't have any affect. He was invincible. Then he started flying in mod air. He continued flying around, throwing fireballs all over the place. Eventually a building collapsed on top of me. By the time I escaped the rubble I realized I was the last survivor. Well at least I thought I was. The kid looked over at me and walked in my direction, forming ad extra large fireball in his hand. `` Sir, can you please stop?'' I asked. The fireball suddenly disappeared. `` Sure...'' He said. `` Thanks. What's your name?'' `` Uh... My name is... er... Larry?'' He said. `` Cool. My name is Bruce. Nice to meet you.'' I said. That was how I made my first friend. He used his powers to fix the town. It turns out he put force fields around people that kept them from getting hurt so he was actually a pretty nice guy. He also used his powers to make the town less boring. One day I asked him how he got his powers. He claimed he did n't remember. I still live in that boring town to this day. Larry already passed away at a pretty young age without any known cause. He gave me his powers just before he died so I got that going for me, which is nice. sigh
[ CW ] '' Grandpa , tell me again how you lost your original eyes during the Earth-Luna-Mars war . ''	`` Why do you want to hear about that old dust-up again, Jimmy?'' Grandpa asked. Secretly, Grandpa welled with pride, with all his heart knowing that the colonial system war had made him a man, and more. “ Because that ’ s how you and Grandma met! ” Jimmy exclaimed, always one for adventure and romance in his stories. Grandpa was glad to oblige, he had been without Marta for some years now, and relished any chance to relive their days together. “ Well, where can I start? I guess at the beginning, so you can hear the whole thing. What do you think? ” “ Yeah! ” “ Okay, buddy. Then you have to promise to go to sleep, ok? We ’ ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow. Let ’ s see, where was I… oh yes! There I was, stationed on Luna, in a backup regiment of ex-o ’ s. They were old, clunky models back then. We didn ’ t even have neural interface, just plain old motion enhancement and a bunch of armor for protection. My ‘ toon was placed at Luna V, sun-side, and we really didn ’ t expect any action that day, or any day, for that matter. Luna duty sucked when you couldn ’ t see Earth. ” Jimmy laughed inwardly at Grandpa ’ s saltiness, but was rapt with attention just the same. Grandpa told the story a bit different every time. “ As you know, I was only drafted into the Luna army after Earth and Luna came to an agreement to combine forces against the Martians. They were winning, you know. Some of the bigwigs even thought that they ’ d be able to invade Earth in a few years, if they were left to their own devices. ” “ So there we were, on that boring detail at Luna V, babysitting a bunch of munitions. Not like you babysit your little sister, Jimmy, these things didn ’ t need any care at all. Just make sure nobody comes and jiggers with them, you see? I was on rest, and the sergeant in my toon had taken up watch not five minutes before he saw them dropping. The Martians, Jimmy, they were coming to snuff your old Gran ’ out, and steal all of our bombs! Sarge rousted us all out, and we were on high alert, boy! ” Jimmy was grinning, his favorite part was coming up. “ So there we were, ready to do battle with these slimy Martian colonists who wanted to take our bombs and use them all up on the people of Earth. We had our rifles at the ready, our bullets set to disable the martian ex-o suits -- standing orders to capture the enemy for interrogation. At that point we still hadn ’ t found their factories out on Titan, and the Earth boys were hot for that intel! I saw a few of my squadmates shuddering as their rifles cycled, they were taking potshots, standard procedure to keep the enemy at bay as long as possible. I imagined I could hear the crack of their weapons, but you know that ’ s impossible, right Jimmy? ” Jimmy nodded, but Grandpa explained anyway. “ The only way we can hear things is when there ’ s air around to carry the soundwaves to our earholes, and you know there ’ s no air out there in the great black yonder. ” “ Yes, grandpa, ” Jimmy uttered obediently, his eyes rolling inward. If he didn ’ t play along, Grandpa would postpone the story for another science lecture, and he might never get back to the good part! “ Anyway, ” Grandpa continued, sated for the moment. “ We never saw the scouts drop in, it was a new style of ex-o, something with an active cloaking technology. Plus, they were small, almost child-size to our eyes, sitting in the cockpit of our ex-o ’ s as we were. We must have been 3 meters off the ground in those old hunks! They cooked our goose Jimmy, and I mean plucked n' boiled n' roasted. Blew most of us off our feet in that first blast, and scattered the rest when their heavy armor moved in. I ended up on my back, my servos mostly melted, helpless you see? My vision programs were failing, so I thumbed my visor control to see if I could see anything with my real eyes. Man, I tell you what! That old sun almost blinded me when the visor first slid open! But it was only bright for a second, one of those crafty Martian scouts had come up and stood right over me. I ’ ll never know why she did it, Jimmy, but right then your Grandma opened her visor, and we stared into each other ’ s eyes. I fell in love right away, it sounds like something you might see in a story on the ‘ tube, but it ’ s god ’ s honest truth, boy. I fell in love; she fired 3 shots into my midsection. It crippled my ex-o, and paralyzed my real body. Not sure how she managed that, one-in-a-million shot, the doc told me later on. She stepped out of my view, and just then Jimmy, I thought your old Gran ’ was cooked for sure. I laid there, staring into the sun, which is much, much brighter out there, you understand? You can go blind staring at the sun in less than a minute down planetside, but up there it only took about 10 seconds. My vision was burned out, son, but some part of me was glad the last thing I looked at was your Grandma. ” Jimmy's breathing was getting slower, more evenly spaced, and Grandpa decided it was high time to wrap it up. “ Your dear old Grandma, well I guess she fell in love too, something like how a person falls in love with a hurt puppy, you understand? ” Jimmy nodded, understanding written on his smooth, unblemished face. He ’ d been awarded his first kitten, for good behavior, not a month past. “ She ran back to me, after their business was over at Luna V, hooked me to her suit, and dragged me all the way back to the secret Martian dropspace near our post. They shipped me back to Mars, a prisoner of war, and she would come to visit me sometimes. I couldn ’ t see her, of course, I was dead blind, but I knew it was her. Who else would come, every couple months, and just hold my hand, without saying a word? It was the darndest thing, but it gave me something to live for down in those cells. I knew if I could survive, make it back to Luna, or Earth, the docs would fix me up with some new eyes and I ’ d be good as new, and maybe, just maybe, I ’ d be able to lay eyes on the angel that was coming to visit me. See, the Martian docs had fixed my spinal cord, so I wasn ’ t paralyzed anymore. Told me it was for their convenience, they didn ’ t want to have to carry their prisoners around, or spoon-feed them. And they weren ’ t for torturing or murdering their prisoners, like Earth was during the war. They treated us humanely, and it was my first inkling that maybe this war wasn ’ t such a righteous crusade anyway. ” Jimmy ’ s eyelids were fluttering, and Grandpa rushed to the end, more for his own benefit than for Jimmy ’ s. “ I was there a few years, by my reckoning, when the announcement came down that the war was over. Mars had won; Luna had flip-flopped, and their combined forces squeezed out the last of that war-hungry regime down Earth-way. Prisoners were given choice of assignment, either in the new unified Sol system military outfit, work release to try and build a life, or assignment to the generational colony ships that were planning on setting out to AC in the next ten years or so. I ’ d always been a pilot of something, jets, ex-o ’ s, colony ship, it was all the same to me, so my choice was clear. I signed up and what do you know, they fixed my eyes for me! Actually, upgraded; these babies were state-of-the-art when I had them installed! What really surprised me though, was your Grandma, coming to get me, looking every bit the picture I had seen of her when she tried to kill me on Luna. Breathtakingly beautiful, and fierce as a tiger-cat. She wanted to start a family, and be a part of the generation ship. And that ’ s how you, your sister, your mommy and da, and me and Gram ended up here. And we ’ ll be to our destination soon, Jimmy, and you ’ ll feel that sun on your face just like I did that day. And you ’ ll remember, won ’ t you, not to stare into the sun for too long? ” Jimmy was fast asleep, kitten curled up at his feet, a hopeful smile plastered on his face.
[ WP ] The main character of the last video game you played is now your roommate . Describe one interesting interaction you had .	`` Rob, next time you invite me over for netflix and chill, at least have something planned to watch.'' my girlfriend, said, lying up on the sofa, her head resting on my lap and a bowl of doritoes on hers. `` Well I thought we could look through and pick something, but it's all...'' In the corner of my eye I could see a hand reach over the back of the sofa in the tv reflection. A hand gloved in black leather that was reaching for the bowl of doritoes `` God Dammit, Garret, there's another pack in the cupboard!'' I yelled.
[ WP ] Two people discover a fountain of youth . The problem is that upon drinking the water you turn back into an infant . The two decide to take turns raising each other in order to live forever until one day one of them decides to break this agreement .	“ Abe? What are you doing? ” I watched him from the doorway as he packed his suitcase. One suitcase. My throat felt like it was about to close shut. He looked up at me. “ What I should have done, back in Carthage, ” he said. “ Leaving. ” I hit the doorframe with my tiny, ten-year-old ’ s fist. It made a thump, but the thin plywood didn ’ t so much as splinter. I was always weak at this age, and he knew it. “ We had a deal, Abe. ” “ Yeah, ” he said. “ We did. ” He folded a pair of socks, and stuffed them in the corner of the suitcase, staring at them a moment, not meeting my eyes. “ And now we don ’ t. ” “ But why? Why now? It ’ s been, what, six thousand years? And you ’ re leaving me now? ” “ Six thousand, two hundred and seventy three years, ” he said. He closed the suitcase with a soft click. “ This is your hundred and twenty-fifth childhood. ” “ And you were just going to leave me here, after all this time? No explanation? ” I demanded. “ Come on, Abe. You owe me that much. ” He sat down on the bed with a sigh, and I stood in the doorway, staring him down. Realistically, there was nothing I could do if he decided to run; my child ’ s body weighed less than seventy pounds and Abe was a strong man, but I knew in my heart that I would try. “ Brother, ” he said. “ I ’ m losing my mind. ” It hit me in the chest like a hammer. “ What? ” “ I ’ m losing my mind, ” he repeated. “ Every time I drink from the chalice, I lose something. A memory, a concept, a sensation. Eventually I can ’ t even remember what I forgot. Carthage is- ” he paused, correcting himself. “ -was the first time I can remember it. ” “ What did you forget in Carthage? ” I asked him. He looked frightened, and his voice cracked. “ I can ’ t remember. ” He stared at me, through me. “ It ’ s getting worse, Kane. Some days I ’ ll forget a word, or a name, and there are so many more things now. The other day, in the city center, I nearly killed a man. I feel like I ’ m not really myself anymore. ” He shook his head, closing his eyes. “ I ’ m sorry, brother, ” he said. “ I ’ m just so afraid of hurting you. ” I watched him there, for a moment, the brine trickling down his face. If he kept crying forever, I wondered, would he make an ocean? Perhaps at the bottom of every ocean was an immortal man, crying helplessly. “ Please stay, ” I said, but I knew that he wouldn ’ t.
[ WP ] The cure for death is found . But die to the fear of overpopulation on earth , people are given a choice . Stay on earth and be mortal , or be cured and go on a deep space mission .	People think of the speed of light as really, really fast. Peeking out the window of his ship, Gatsby thought that it did n't feel that way at all. Nothing really looks fast when there's no reference point. Sure, in the old movies when the ships reached warp speed all the stars stretched into lines and it looked really fast. But the universe is not just stars. The universe is pretty much 99 % not-stars. Huge chunks of blackness, empty between galaxies. Over there in the nothingness, looking out the window at light speed was like being still. Floating still, hanging from nowhere. They had figured out, a million million million million years back, on Earth. A long time ago people already figured out that the faster you move, the slower time passes. Of course, you do n't feel it. To you, a hundred thousand years on Earth is going to feel like a second anyway. You don ’ t get the extra years. So, yeah, people on Earth live and die and live and die for thousands of years in the time it takes for you to watch a movie, but to you it's just two hours. You grow old and you die, from your own perspective, in regular time. Until they found a way around that. Now you could get the extra years that come from travelling at the speed of light, but the experience of non-motion. And being that at light speed time stands still, you got to go to space and live forever. Literally. But few would want that, Gatsby thought, eyes still out into the black. Few would want to spend their lives in a metal box, floating around space until the universe dies. You'd have to have a really good reason. Like Daisy. She went on the first trip. Cancer. Terminal. His best friend from school. The crush he never admitted to. She climbed onto the first rocket ship, her and other hopeless, and away they flew, to whatever immortality was saving for them. Gatsby did n't even get a chance to say goodbye. They had n't spoken in years, anyway. What was the point? But after the divorce... After his kids moved away.... Gatsby found more and more there was little to life without hope and the prospect of something. Even if it never comes to pass, you have to have a dream to keep you going. A Daisy. When she was on Earth, there was always the'what if'. What if she leaves her husband? What if I tell her how I feel? What if someday? With Daisy out in space, looking for forever, there was nothing. Gatsby took a deep breath, stepping out from the window and going for the tiny bed by far wall of the ship. When he heard about the cancer. When he heard about her decision to fly away. It took two years of the hopelessness of knowing she was gone for him to make the decision. He was n't terminal, he was n't even sick, so he could n't get a place on one of the regular ships. The ones with malls and whole cities inside. He had to go underground. The black market. And he did and he found a way. A small metal box, no more than that. A bed and a window. They would send him flying through space at light speed, all the time in the universe in his hands. Room for one. And no control. The ship just went. No direction, no way to turn back. Few would want it, the man told him, as he counted the money. Few would want a life like that. All alone in a box, floating forever. You have to have a really good reason. You have to have a Daisy. But Gatsby went. Jumped into the box and off into space he went, ready to live forever. `` No way you're going to find her,'' the man told him, just before launch. `` Do you know how big space is? Her ship could be literally anywhere in the universe.'' `` You're going to float around for eternity, and another eternity after that. And you're not going to find her.'' It did n't matter. A man's got to have a Daisy. A reason to go on. A million million million million years had gone by. Years of darkness. Of nebula crossing and molecular clouds and distant planets. Years of nothing. So much time of nothing, just blackness. No ships. No Daisy. But it did n't matter. Gatsby had all the time in the world. And so did Daisy. By the laws of nature, by the very laws of probability, one day their ship would meet. He closed his eyes and let the comfort of statistics lullaby him to sleep. One day. & nbsp; Back on Earth, a million million million million years before, Daisy's ship landed softly on Cape Canaveral. The ship of hopeless. Of cancer patients. `` Right this way, Mrs. Buchanan,'' the captain said, as Daisy stepped out of the ship into a long corridor. The news had reached them, a couple of years before. The cure had been discovered. If so they wanted, they were welcome to return to Earth. To be cured. To live a happy – if mortal – life on their home planet, disease-free. With their loved ones. `` Thank you,'' Daisy replied, with a smile. Outside by the cab, her husband greeted her with tears in his eyes. He was a few years older, but nothing too extreme. `` Your surgery is scheduled for tomorrow,'' he said. Daisy kissed him on the lips. `` It's good to be back,'' she said, with a smile, looking up at the night sky. Somewhere between the distant stars, way, way up ahead, a metal box floated silently through its first years of infinite darkness.
[ WP ] An angry/depressed dictionary writer ca n't keep his personal problems out of word examples	Life: noun 1. ) a semi entertaining board game 2. ) a shitty cereal 3. ) a complex roller-coaster that often has faulty safety features, silly rules and several people riding it, when you would much rater be riding it yourself. It is often known to break down, over accelerate, and occasionally fall apart completely. Herds of people stand in line to ride it, yet some simply refuse to ride. ex.1 ) Meh, Life is okay. ex.2 ) Life sucks. ex.3 ) I refuse to ride life. Family: Noun 1. ) a female ( traditionally ) mother whose job it is to nag, cook clean, and'raise' children. 2. ) a Male ( traditionally ) father whose job it is to give hypocritical advice about love and commitment, cheat on his wife, and bring home a pay check. 3. ) Significant Other [ SO ] ( male or female ) who spends months even years at your side promising you only the strongest and tightest bond of love you've ever seen, only to leave you alone in your darkest hour. ex.1 ) My mother is such a bitch, she makes my family look so up tight. ex. 2. ) My Dad is cheating on my mom, I hate it when he pretends our family is perfect. ex.3. ) When my seizures came back and forced me to drop out of college my SO dumped me, I guess we wo n't start our own family. Death: noun 1. ) A dude in a cool robe with a bad ass scythe who has cameos in several movies and works of fiction. 2. ) A taboo topic that no one wants to openly talk about. 3. ) A perfectly good way to escape everything. ex. 1 ) Death is so cool, he plays the same role in every movie, but he does it so well. ex.2 ) People look at me funny when I talk about death. ex.3 )
[ FF ] My promise to you ( > 300 words )	[ NSFW ] J. Hertz, Leader of ACDME Sozial; 2078 landmark speech. * My promise to you, is a prosperous society! * I promise to build the underground society that will carry the world on its wings. I promise that the world will be carried on the edge of the sword that will keep the peace at hand. * The pigs will be burned from the crotch and up, giving us, the people of the world, the symbol of our flag: The fire is the symbol of man, the pig of his origin. * Without these ugly ones, the world will be better off. The reward for their sacrifice will be the names in the halls of our constitutional plaque. * Children will be educated with culture; they will watch theatre and listen to songs of war and love. * Adults will watch theatre with orgies and cooperation. * Nothing will be hidden, but nothing unnecessary will be said. * Leaders will be the bisexuals, and the asexual will be re-educated. * Homosexual men will be given guns and computers, for only they understand the strengths of the male gender with the love it deserves. Homosexual women will run the political and the forces of utility, for they understand the strengths of the female gender with the love it deserves. The heterosexual will bring offspring, and will be educated on their weaknesses. * Man is weak for attention, and therefor power; he must be educated in this. Man must and therefor will be stimulated, but not without caution, as he will then surely crave more. * Teenagers are the weakest, but also in their prime of education; they will be educated further. * My promise is this society of greatness, which will carry the rest of the world on its shoulders, until the day that all countries understand its immense power and structure. Hail Corp!
[ WP ] You get blackout drunk before being woken up by a friend telling you that you ’ re the top video on reddit .	So basically this is what happened. Last night when we left the bar we were walking through the park and we are approached by a gentleman with a coat and hat asking us for directions to the bar but you misunderstood him and thought he said car. You told the gentleman you do n't have a fucking car and to go get a taxi about this time the gentleman takes off his hat and coat so i start recording. You got offended by him taking those items off and felt like he was trying to fight you so you pushed him, as the light hits his face you realized you fucked up because you just pushed.... chuck god damn norris.... Chuck digs his boots into the soil to get a solid stance and in one move delivers the most perfect fuckin round house kick i've ever seen knocking you out, then as you lay flat on the ground sobbing.. he sings the theme song to walker texas ranger
[ WP ] You 're the emperor of a new empire recently founded by mass conquest . You have one minute to broadcast a speech to all of your new civilians .	Well, honestly, I never thought I'd get this far! Folks, all of you, your lives, your property, your freedoms and rights and blah-blah-blah. They all belong to me now, your one true king and freakin' god. Depending on how you feel like seeing it, it's either a good or bad thing. Either way, I honestly do n't give a crap! I'd like to think of it as a good thing though, since it means I'm alive and kicking. Tough crowd, huh? Anywho, as your emperor and tyrant for the rest of my natural life, I do have one goal in mind for all of us. Conquering, taking land, that's all fine and dandy. But, you know what's better than just conquering? Owning. Dominating. Exercising power. That feeling, is something I want all of you to experience. We're declaring war, ladies and gentlemen! Pick up a gun should you wish to fight! Grasp the pen should you want to write words that will rouse a nation! Lend me voices that will convince even gods to turn to our sides! You stick with me folks, and we wo n't just get ourselves better lives, we'll get us a goddamn world to use as our plaything! God, I'm getting a freaking hard- what the hell do you mean I ca n't say- fine... Well, that's all folks! Hope to see you covered in blood and making a blast out there!
[ WP ] Write a dystopia that turns into a utopia .	Sand, fuckin sand as far as the eye can see. Still sand everywhere, sand and heat. Finally on the horizon a shine catches the eye, could it be after days in this god damn desert a sign of water? If I had the energy I'd run but every step is torture, slowly, slowly I edge closer until at last I'm there. Its a lush desert oasis. I sink into the water whic is hot from the sun and break down into tears, I had to leave her she could n't go on, I could n't carry her it made no sense for us both to die. I cup my hands and pull some water to my lips, it feels hot, grainy and dry, I start coughing and in an instant the oasis is gone. Everything is sand again. As I pull myself to my feet I hear the crack of a whip, the doom riders are out again looking for something worth stealing, they already took my water and turned me loose like some sick joke to wander out here until the sun gets me, as they get closer I hear another crack this time louder and deeper, it seems like its coming from all around me. Then. Slowly. Drop by drop. Water is falling from the sky, like magic the water pours over my skin, it fills my open mouth, fills me with vigour. This continues for days then dissapears but some water stays in lakes and streams, the sand slowly turns to grass, flowers bloom and animals return. I venture out to find her body hoping the doom riders have n't eaten her. After a few hours I spot her lying beside the same rock where we parted, as I approach I think I see some movement, just a trick of the mind, but then again, slowly she raises her head. Turning she spots me and rises on four furry legs, she looks healthier than before. She bounds over with her tail wagging and jumps on me like I've just come home from work, like the old days.
[ WP ] Write the letter that you always wanted to , but never did .	Dear soandso, I remember when we first met. Around five years ago now. How time flies. We were younger then, and I was so naïve to the suffering you had gone through at such a young and formative age. I remember us singing in the choir, me helping you out when you could n't hit the notes right. Even though you were n't the best singer, it was still beautiful to my ears, it always will be. You were dating someone far older than you were, and I will never understand why. Were you insecure? Were you afraid? You were doing things that a person your age should n't have had any business doing. I always detested the group of people you would be with: They had and still do n't have a direction, and unfortunately, it rubbed off on you. I graduated high school on time, you a little later. But on my graduation day, you told me your intentions with me. I always knew that you and I would be together, everyone did. Little did I know that life would not be easy. Love was n't easy. Learning to love you despite your flaws was hard. I craved to be outside and experience the world around us, but you never did. You feared the outside. You feared leaving the hole, physically, emotionally and mentally. I had hope that love and time would help, but it made it worse. You played more PC Games, you met some people online. I hate these people. They took you away from me. You fell for all of them, regardless of their emotional abuse and empty suicidal threats. You believed them over me. You threw away five years and friendship and love, regardless of all that I did. Christmas would've been 2.5 years, and I had intended to give myself more to you. To start my life with you. But your intentions were different. I do n't know how you're doing, and vice versa. Maybe it's better that way, that way you wo n't feel the guilt and pain I have been. But it's alright, I'll be okay, at least I do n't live with the paranoia they put me through. I'm meeting people and I'm going to the north soon, like you always wanted to. Maybe you were n't singing the wrong notes; maybe you had n't found the right harmony. I hope you understand one day. Is brea liom tu. PowerFalcons
[ WP ] You are sent back to the middle ages armed only of your iphone .	Having only woken up, I reach into my pocket and grab an iPhone. `` What?'' I say aloud, reading the time on the phone. It's scrambled, that's strange... I'll call tech. support. They'll know what to do. Oh, no signal. And of course I wake up on the floor again. Oh, wait... dirt? I'm outside? Looking up, I can see very old cottages and people riding buggies and standing in front of market stalls. It's clear that I seem to have been... I guess `` transported'' to medieval times. The way everyone is dressed and acting, its so obvious. Right then... do n't panic. First thing's first. With a level head I close my eyes and breathe. This is terrible. This is nearly an outrage. This is almost like a plague, a cancer poured into my life with almost no way of escaping. So much for calming down. First, I need to relax. Okay, good. Just me and this iPhone in a very old, old time period. Not so bad... just... just... I ca n't. I need to solve this ailment, no, this tragedy, this insult... now. I need to get rid of this stupid iPhone and get my Windows Phone out of my other pocket. I'll figure the rest out after some ale.
[ WP ] A cult tries to summon a demon/God but manages to summon you instead .	`` Hello, you've reached Abyss Incorporated. My name is Sharla and I'm pleased to be your customer service representative today. How may I assist you?'' `` Uhh...'' There is a scraping on the mouthpiece and a frenzied, if muffled, debate. `` Hello? This is The Abyss, correct?'' `` Abyss Incorporated, correct. How may I help you today?'' More muffled debate. I catch a few words - positive, ca n't be, what, we did it - the usual. `` We want to bind a contract with The One.'' I suppress a giggle as I read through my script. Something about the way the kid is saying things, in that dramatic, clipped way those with no power affect it - it just tickles me. I remember those days, all the eyeliner and piercings. Of course, all it got me was a job with odd hours at a call center. Should I tell him that? `` I'm sorry sir, did you say you would like to purchase one contract?'' The kid swallows. He sounds like he's in his early teens. `` We are the true devout. We are the disciples of Ar'gthran. We summon The One true Lord of All to bind our souls in contract. We have the Book. We know the Way.'' This time, I ca n't help but laugh. `` Sweetie, it's two in the morning. I have class tomorrow. Give somebody else the sleepover prank call, ok?'' I reach over to hang up the receiver when I hear him shout, `` Wait! WAIT!'' I put the phone back to my ear. My cell buzzes, but I ignore the text. `` What's that?'' `` I....'' More frantic discussion in the background. This time he does n't bother to cover the mouthpiece. I hear him sigh at his friends. `` I-I have my mom's credit card.'' I pause, and my eyes flicker to my sales quota. My sales quota that I'm not even close to meeting. `` You got your mom's information and all that, too?'' `` Yeah. We want the contract.'' My fingers tingle, and I feel a lump in my throat. What the hell, I'm already in hell anyway. How much worse can it be if I con one kid? `` Well,'' I say slowly, licking my lips, `` that... changes things.'' `` It does?'' `` Oh yes,'' I put my best dramatic hiss into my voice. Four years of theater will do that to a girl. `` The One is pleased with your offering. Read me the card number and the security code.'' He does, stumbling through the numbers, his voice shaking. I can almost picture his face. I almost feel bad, but then I remember middle management's faces at the last staff meeting. The One my ass, Dave is the one I'm worried about. I punch the numbers into my computer. My finger hovers over the submit button. `` You sure about this, hon?'' I ask. `` Y-yes. We want the contract. We demand the contract.'' I shrug. `` Your funeral, kid.'' I hit the submit button. There's a POP! and the world goes black for an instant. When I open my eyes, I'm in some suburban basement playroom, surrounded by five thirteen or fourteen year olds wearing what look like Halloween capes. Candles flicker and sputter around the room, dripping wax into the plush cream carpet. Seems like a fire hazard. An exercise bike reflects the light in the corner. I'm standing on what looks like an extra-large pizza box unfolded and painted with harsh, angular symbols. I've got to hand it to the kid, at least he did n't spray paint his mom's expensive carpet. I've seen that one before. The kid closest to me looks up from his polyester hood, eyes shining in the candle light. He's holding an ancient book. It's bound in human skin. I look down again at the symbols at my feet, the shaky line of the circle that confines me. Got paid, get to clean up this mess, and I get dinner. Maybe Dave wo n't kill me after all. I flick my tail and playfully spit fire at the boy's face. He flinches. `` Oh, hon.'' I say, `` That's not at all how you draw a summoning circle.''
[ WP ] Recently a new tribe was discovered in a rainforest that has never been seen before . Rather than being behind the rest of the world technologically , they are far more advanced .	The sound grew louder as a group of explorers approached the top of a steep incline; full beautiful music plays throughought the air as Mike and Janice lead four others deep into the forest. `` Is that a synthesizer?'' Mike asks Janice as she leans out from behind a tree, `` It ca n't be... These people have never been outside of this location,'' Janice says before walking out into the open and feeling entranced by the music. Mike yells out to Janice from under his breath, `` What the hell are you doing Jan?'' before he feels the music grow louder and entrance he along with the rest of the crew, entangling them and reeling them out into the open. Everything goes white, and the explorers hear nothing but the music as vision slowly returns. The explorer's find themselves sitting on the ground, surrounded by a large group of extremely fit, and nearly nude human beings. The beings stand silent, but their facial expressions change as the seem to be communicating silently with one another. One of the largest men smiles and shakes one of the woman's hands. He then approaches Mike, taking a knee to bring himself level with Mike's head. The music cuts lower as the man begins to speak without moving his mouth. His voice booms in a deep baritone, but surrounds Mike as he listens, `` Where have you come from? How did you find this place?'' the being asks. Mike looks around, frightened and unsure of whether this was all happening, `` What?!? What the hell is going on?'' Mike crys out in confusion. The being smiles as he lightens his tone and ensures Mike, `` We mean you no harm, we've simply never seen creatures so similar!'' he says happily. The being sits back and seems to have a good laugh. Mike bursts the being's happiness with a shout, `` Then why are we tied up?'' he protests to the being. The being smiles once more as the music dims out and the explorers feel themselves free to move about. `` The music was keeping you at ease until we knew what you were,'' the being says as he offers Mike a hand getting up. He leads tbe explorers down a vine-web of stairs, into a den with abundant natural lighting, and flowing water. The being shows them the room, and offers them, `` Anything you might need, do not hesitate to ask my guests.'' He the. Walks to the exit, `` I'm sure you have as many questions for us as we do you... But for tonight please rest and tomorrow we can hold interviews.'' The being bows before disappearing behind a door of bestifuly woven leaves and flowers. The explorers walk about the den, trying to figure out how the plumbing and lighting worked. `` Its nighttime, how are they lighting this place up?'' one of the explorers asks. Mike sneers as he calls back, `` I do n't know but I do n't like this one bit...'' Janice puts a hand on his back, making him jump, `` Watch it!'' Janice puts her hands up innocenlty, `` Sorry but should n't we call down to base?'' Mike laughs at her, `` Call to base? And give this up? Are you crazy?'' Mike laughs as he walks back to the other four, `` Listen up, we're going to take over these guys before they take over us...''
[ CW ] Re-tell a popular/well-known story but do so using a different author 's writing style	Samuel could n't help but stare. His life drifted from once instance of rejection to the next, a veritable string of disappointments, but one of these times would be different, right? Not really, no. People do n't change. The bald man who reeked of cigarette smoke and regret as he sat in the corner reading a pamphlet on `` How To Deal With Cancer'' was indicative of that. A sigh and a glance downward broke Samuel's train of thought. A tone over the speaker and a droning female voice called him forward. He straightened and readied his business pitch. Maybe this would be different. Then again, maybe that deranged cat lady over on 38th would magically become pregnant in her late sixties. His chances seemed about as slim. As soon as the eyes of the man in front of him met his own, those infinitesimal chances all but shattered. `` GOD DAMNIT! NO! I'M NOT INTERESTED!'' Samuel found himself on the street once more, air smoky and acrid. He nodded to the man with lung cancer killing himself out front with a wry smile. `` I do n't suppose you'd be interested in some green eggs and ham?'' -Chuck Palahniuk
[ WP ] A wizard casts a brand new spell which seems to work but has unforeseen consequences .	`` Madam! Are you alright?! I heard an explosion!'' said the Attendant. `` I've got it! I've got the spell to finally work! Quick, attendant! Come here!'' replied the young witch. `` Wait, what spell- What the hell?!'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Food shortages are relatively common on isolated island with no means of production whatsoever. Soil's dry enough to be considered sand. Freshwater sources are too far inland. Yet, the people who had decided to build a magical academy in such a poor location, decided to build it far from any useful depot of natural resources. The bright genius who had masterminded the building project reportedly said this tidbit of wisdom. `` Nobody cares about mountain water, that's what rain is for!'' Though this genius was sacked and executed shortly afterwards, the issue of food remained. This royal academy of magic that had been built upon the island was constantly struggling to trade or request food deliveries from the main continent, leaving its students and faculty in constant debt to the government. Elixers and tonics for fresh water, enchanted clothing and gems for half a dozen cows, love potions for contraceptives, and so on. Among the student population of some eighteen-thousand, however, there stood one girl. This girl, like everyone else on the island academy, was tired of crusty bread and ( allegedly ) diseased pork everyday, desired more for her daily breakfast, lunch and dinner. This witch was known by everyone as simply Goch, though her closer colleagues will call her Madam Goch. Not out of any respect or deeper personal relationship, mind you. The title was mainly meant to spite her and her age. But, we're getting off-topic. You see, it was on this very day, at this very hour, but only a few seconds before hand, that Goch had perfected a spell that she had hoped would solve all of their issues forever. A replication spell. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - ``... Madam Goch.'' `` Yes?'' In a little tower overlooking the sea, sat the young witch's lab. Bubbling vials of colorful serums were carefully held up in little clamps all around. A cauldron sat in the middle, boiling its bright green, though it honestly did absolutely nothing besides look professional. And all around the floors today, there were eggs. They filled a room as like the thick waves of the salty sea below, engulfing the lab in a heavy sea of white. `` They're hen eggs,'' Goch popped a whole egg into her mouth. Her teeth grated against the hard white shell of the little meal. `` Yes, I'm quite aware of that, Madam.'' `` Would you care to try one?'' `` No, not really, Madam.'' The Attendant stared blankly at the floor, which he had just swept dirt-clean a few moments ago. All that work gone to waste as the witch was now stomping about the shells, crushing each one under booted feet. `` Madam, why?'' `` Why what?'' `` You know exactly what I'm talking about.'' `` For science, Attendant.'' `` Science, madam?'' `` Science,'' Goch repeated. Her eyes gleamed with a childlike joy never before seen in a sixteen year-old. Noticing the yellow yolk dribbling from her lips, she wiped the mucous slime off with her sleeves. The Attendant withdrew into an unegged corner to weep like the miserable little tool he was. He sat in complete silence for the next twenty minutes or so, letting out a weak sniffle every now and then. Goch, on the other hand, had taken it upon herself to toss away her hat and her outer layer of robes out the window and try to swim in the pile of eggs. To this day, it remains a mystery how not a single one of them cracked and set-off a chain Crackening that would've devastated the castle infrastructure. Bathing herself in what she had considered her greatest work, the witch came to a realization. If a single egg can be copied into a thousand with a single spell, what could she do with a whole cow... nay, a whole horse. What about the tiny farm that had fed the whole population of eighteen-thousand? Overnight, a measly thirty cows, forty hens, and fifty pigs can be multiplied into tens of hundreds. It would be a feast fit for a king, if the current one was n't so fat already. `` Attendant. Call the kitchen staff. I know exactly what we're doing tomorrow.'' `` Please, do n't tell me.'' `` I'm copying everything in the henhouse.'' `` Everything, Madam?'' `` Everything!'' cackled the witch before she dived right back into her mountain of eggs. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Unfortunately for Goch, she later had her eggs confiscated and scolded after the fiasco. It turned out that when food was replicated, it had created an... addictive taste in fresher meats and produce. The average weight of each and every person on the island increased by about fifty pounds a week into the usage of cloned animals for meal purposes. Parents of noble-children soon came to the island as well, not to complain to the school, no sir. They also tried to take food for themselves, only to be stopped at the gates with a whole five-hundred cows slaughtered and piled up in a wagon. Litter was also an issue, of course. Pig ribs were left untouched in the mess-hall and had spilled onto the hard-oak flooring below, staining the floor with its greasy fat. Egg shells cluttered the hallway outside when students had taken hard-boiled eggs out for a mid-class snack. Of course, the attendant was immediately put to work cleaning up this mess. After approximately one month of working with two hours of sleep, he had managed to clean up a single hallway, half the mess, and the women's restrooms. His body was found collapsed on the floor due to sleep deprivation. He was then thrown into the dungeons and received eight-hundred and eighty-eight for not finishing his work on time. As for Goch, she was forbidden to perform the spell ever again on any living organism, in addition to a one month ban on any egg products. Withdrawal symptoms set in within a single day, resulting in the women's bathrooms being scorched completely as well as the attendant being thrown in the dungeons once again for not cleaning the bathrooms while he was being lashed. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - The bright side to the fiasco, however, was that the King's Army later received a shipment of eighty-thousand spear, eight-thousand crossbows, and eight-hundred sword-and-shield sets to arm their men. Though it was rumored that there would be even more surprises for the Navy as well, what with all the timber and wood suddenly appearing at the shipyards. The school received new food benefits in the form of higher-quality meats and fruit seeds being shipped in almost daily. With plenty of eggs and finer food, the student body was much more satisfied with their living circumstances. Life returned back to uneasy, though slightly jollier peace. That is, except for the Attendant, who still had about eighty hallways and a half of the dining hall left to clean.
[ WP ] Just because you love them , does n't mean they have to love you back .	She spilled her secrets quietly. Alone in the break room, her fork scratching lightly at the uneven surface of the lunch box, the pasta being cleared in a folding fan pattern by the movements of her hand. `` Sometimes I wish I'd never met him,'' she sighed, then wound her knit cardigan tighter around her. `` Do n't say that,'' he said, straightening up in his chair. `` This is just a slump. He'll come back, and it'll go back to normal.'' `` You do n't mean that.'' `` When have I ever lied to you?'' ``...'' One time they'd been in Cornwall, just the two of them. Owen had canceled at the last minute. She picked shells and soft round stones, rinsing them off in the ocean and gently placing them in his hands. `` I like this one the most,'' she said, pointing at the pinkish crescent in his palm. `` I'm gon na take it home with me.'' He had opened his mouth, or it had fallen ajar as a result of her hands on his. Perhaps it was a result of the Atlantic sea and its minuscule droplets in the air like fine mist. Maybe his breathing issues stemmed from the wetness that covered her clothes, lounging on her eyelashes and brows, she was weather-beaten but so goddamn beautiful, and maybe she was n't involved at all, his troubles could have been a result of sleep deprivation and stress, of the water heater still being broken and a faltering Jeep. They'd remained on the beach for an hour, searching the pebbles and nooks. Later, wandering through the gaping alleys, were two people and a seashell. The streetlights went on with yellow pints to illuminate cheap stores. Perched at the busiest corner was a stone wall hotel. Two of its rooms belonged to them. `` Jessica,'' he said, fumbling for scripted words, `` I've been thinking-'' She glanced at the entrance door, at heavy handles and munition. She remained on the sidewalk, with him. `` You mean,'' he went on, his cheeks burning bright red, `` You mean a lot to me. More than you should-,'' She blinked once, twice, a crease appearing on her forehead, her eyebrows in a slump. `` I...'' He looked at her shyly, suddenly coy, suddenly useless, senseless, `` I just needed to tell you.'' Squeezing the shell tightly in her hand, she smiled, barely scraping together the necessary components, `` I'm glad you told me.'' As they went inside the door shut behind them, tiredly clacking, keeping the cold outside again. Just because you love them, does n't mean they have to love you back.
[ WP ] One day , while petting your cat , you accidentally pull his tail , and it opens up . Inside , there 's a USB connector . You connect it to your laptop , an announcement pops up . -Cat Version : 1.0.0 . Update to 256.3 ?	( I could n't help but go a bit overboard, so I apologize! ) The Tube. Ah, yes, the Tube. Every day, like clockwork, the disillusioned souls of the cold, miserable city of London pile into the same set of cars, sit in the same boring places, and stare silently, as if the very light has gone out in their eyes. So many people with their headphones in, and their attention-spans turned off. The world seemed very grim, and disconnected, indeed. But, one man, one Arthur Brimble, possessed a glimmer of hope. In his hands, he clutched his affects: One Oyster card, and a bag of shopping. Arthur was a simple man, who worked a simple job, and lived a simple life, with an orange moggy named Steve. Watching the lifeless bimble of the passengers on the Tube was, quite frankly, dull as dishwater, but the hopes of arriving home always kept his spirits high. Every evening, upon Arthur's arrival, Steve would be waiting by the door, tail twitching in anticipated excitement of his master's presence. Primarily, the feline wanted fed. `` Bloody cat,'' grumbled Arthur as he stumbled through the door of his tiny flat, soaking wet from the evening's rain. He set his shopping down on the counter with an exhausted thud, and turned to stroke Steve, who was yowling loudly for a feeding. Opening the bag of'gourmet' cat food, Steve anxiously pacing'round his ankles, the man frowned in a dour manner. He began to peel his damp clothing from himself layer by layer, until he was down to an a-frame shirt, and his pants, and socks. `` I do n't know why I bother. I might as well waltz into Johnathon's office, and tell him to get stuffed.'' He groaned, pouring an ample serving for Steve. The cat greedily began to gobble it down, despite the fact he'd been fed such a large amount that morning, and helped himself to the remainder of Arthur's eggs and milk as he left through the door. Steve was a fat cat. Arthur bent down to stroke Steve briefly, before heading off into the living room to settle down on the couch. His gloomy, peevish outlook drew Steve's attention, and the cat followed eagerly, settling down into the man's lap for a good cuddle; Of course, he'd only do this after he'd efficiently cleared out the majority of the food from the bowl. He sighed, `` You're the only one who understands me, Steve.'' And sighed again, `` My life is rubbish.'' He rubbed his fingers under Steve's chin affectionately, offering a faint smile to the animal when it tipped its head further into the love, tilting it left and right. `` My boss is a wanker, my coworkers hardly speak to me. Really, they barely even acknowledge I exist.'' He creased up his face, wrinkling his nose with a resigned expression that gave way to the heavy glum beginning to creep up. `` I feel like a pillock. And Sarah, oh God, Sarah! I can hardly even get her to notice me most days, except on the occasion I've accidentally spilled water all over her blouse at the drinking fountain because I've not been paying attention to what I was doing, or stumbled over myself. D'you know, today, I saw a lone Magpie? Ruddy luck, that is...'' He trailed off. Steve simply stared at him, and blinked his eyes slowly. Arthur released a calculated breath, steady and drawn out, and pressed his lips into a pensive line. `` You're just a cat, what would you know about being a social reject, whose bad luck follows him about like a black cloud?'' Sleepily, he leaned his head back, and began to run his palm over the curved spine of his cat, who was now purring emphatically. He dug his fingertips in gently along each spinal disc, massaging Steve's back. More and more, sleep began to paw at him - That is, until he heard a click. His eyes snapped open with a surprised expression, and then, quickly twisted into terror. Steve's tail had come unhinged from his body, and there it lay in Arthur's lap, blinking vividly, the blue LED glowing brightly. Arthur paused, and then screamed. His scream was high-pitched, much like a young girl in elementary school who has finally met her beloved celebrity crush, but only if that celebrity crush were being mauled to death by a rather large badger. He quickly scrambled up the back of the couch, and ducked behind it, staring at Steve who lay lifeless on the floor, his tail squirming casually, as if still attached. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and blinked some more. He cautiously reached over the back of the couch, and down near the cushion to grasp for his phone. Hurriedly, in one deft movement, it was in his hands. He stopped. `` What am I going to do, call 999?'' He set the phone down, and peered over the couch. Steve was still quite lifeless, and the tail was still very happily wagging on. As if a caveman leaving his hollow for the first time, he crept out from behind the sofa, phone in one hand, and a pair of scissors in the other that he'd calculated with some certainty, might kill the beast if it lunged for him suddenly. `` Okay... okay...'' He breathed raggedly, heart beating wildly out of his chest. `` You can do this, Arthur,'' He urged himself onward, and stopped just short of Steve's disconnected tail. He reached out tentatively with the scissors, and poked it. He yelped slightly when it flickered quickly back and forth, as it did when Steve was annoyed. Again, he glanced to the still moggy on the floor, and then back to the tail, before grabbing it. `` What is THIS?'' He gasped, in disbelief, as he saw plain as day, a USB connector poking out of the end of the disengaged limb. His mind began to race, and he fought the urge to faint. He sprinted into the main room, where he'd set his Oyster pass, and groceries, to grab his laptop. Cursing it loudly as it slowly flickered to life, Windows 10 glaring in his face, he logged in, logged on, and carefully plugged the tail in.
[ WP ] You are in a dark room with a gun held to your head . Describe the events over last 24 hours leading up this point .	They did n't think I saw them from the corner of my eye, but I did, but they're too fast. A turn and look, and they're gone, but I knew they were there, grey and tall, standing, and watching. It was hard to focus in psychology class, because I knew they were standing there at the doorway, peeking in and keeping an eye on me. I could feel those eyes on the back of my head as if it were an itch that I could n't scratch. I knew it was there, but what could I really do about it? I heard their footsteps on the walk back to the dorm. Yes, there were other students walking around me, and they're walking created sounds, but these pursuers, they had different footsteps. More of a clack-clack than a clop-clop. They did n't think I could tell the difference, but I could, and I did. I walked around the library, deciding to take the long route to the dorm instead of the ordinary way in a bid to lose them, confuse them, or maybe just disorient them, because I knew they had a certain schedule to follow, a certain procedure. But that did n't work. One quick turn and I saw them looking at me with blank staring eyes. One of them, some girl wearing a purple cardigan and khaki pants sitting outside of the library bench smoking a cigarette, she looked at me and said `` What?'' as if I did n't know what she was thinking. She played innocent worse than I played poker, but we both knew the chips were down. Even in the dorm room, I could feel their eyes peering at the back of my head. I do n't know how they got in there with me, or how they managed to find a way to put in microscopic cameras into the porous sheet-rocked walls, but they did it. I was tired of them watching me. I was tired of it all. The cold metal in my hand felt awkward. I did n't care. I pressed the barrel to the side of my head, one of their favorite positions to look at, and I was going to scratch that itch that could n't be scratched. I knew of one place they would n't be able to follow me.
[ WP ] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how `` Dangerous '' people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them . A normal child would be a 1 , while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7 . Today , you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10 .	I decided to go with a 1-15 scale instead of 1-10 hope that's not too big a deal. Criticism welcome. -- -- - I can read your numbers. Everyone has a number. It's not something that hangs in the air over their head, it just sort of... Pops into my mind. The way someone stands, the look on their face... The numbers, as far as I can tell represent how dangerous someone has the potential to be on a scale of one to fifteen. These numbers can change over time, my grandfather is a Vietnam Veteran, when I was younger his number was a seven, every few years it drops a point or so. Last time I saw him he was a five. When I look at pictures of him when he was younger he was an eight. Most people average at about four. Kids tend to be a two or three, the only `` ones'' I've ever seen are quadriplegics. The big numbers tend to be politicians and world leaders. Serial Killers usually hit in around ten. Leaders and Generals involved with wars hit around thirteen. The only fifteens I've ever seen are on old videos, at least until today, Hitler, Mao, Stalin, and all of the people that immediately surround them. The sorts of people who are responsible for mass genocide and similar atrocities. Today a new kid came to school. His number was low, a three, until he looked at me and smiled. Suddenly I felt this oppressive fear and I saw his number shoot to fifteen. I passed out, the school nurse sent me home. I've been loading dads gun, I ca n't let him live. If you had the chance to kill Hitler before he did anything wrong, would you? I've made my decision.
[ WP ] As your dying wish , you ask that your body is jettisoned into space . Sometime later your body is recovered by aliens who are able to resuscitate you .	The shock hit me hard as my lungs filled with air. It felt like I'd just been kissed by a sledgehammer, my fingers digging into the fabric beneath me. For a while, my vision was so blurred I could n't make out more than a dull greyish-green colour infront of me. I tried to cry out in pain, but my lungs were having none of it. Sweet, delicious air that burnt like acid was hoovered down my throat. It took a good few minutes before I could even strain out a muffled `` argh''. As the room around me came into focus, I began to make out rough shapes. Some manner of lighting was over my head, and what I assumed was the ceiling, the same dull greeny-grey colour I'd been seeing, stretched out to the edges of my peripheral vision. I tried to turn my head, and my neck screamed at me like I'd slept on it badly, but for a hundred years. Of course... I had. Well, I could n't be sure about the hundred years part. But I was awake; that much was clear from the god-awful pain covering every inch of my body. How did I get here again..? Right, the program. The wristband... I strained my head and put what strength I could muster into raising my arm. My wrist was bare. Gone, then. I was dying. I had been, anyway. Cancer, the doctor had told me. Incurable. Too far along. I knew I should have gotten checked sooner. Hell, getting checked at all before I started hacking up blood would have been an idea. I had figured that was it. I'd made the arrangements, split up what little wealth I had in my will, and was ready to check out, much as I did n't want to. That was when my brother had approached me. He was always the smart one, and while he could n't cure me, he offered an alternative. The organisation he worked for had a program; mixing experimental cryogenics and extra-terrestrial contact. Take those who are beyond our power to save, but who pose no risk to others. Preserve them in a cryogenic pod. Fire them into space. On it's own, the idea sounded utterly barmy. But it was two-fold - one, it was a pretty cool way to go. Launched into space instead of rotting in the ground? Hell yeah, I was on board just for that bit. Part two was the really intriguing bit though. Our technology still was n't close to good enough to even let us send explorers to the next nearest habitable planet - Gliese something-or-other, I think it was. But what if the'explorer' was neither conscious nor technically alive? At best, a civilisation with the knowledge to revive and heal you finds you, and learns of humanity in the process, potentially making contact in the distant future. At worst, you crash into a sun or black hole and nobody's the wiser. I figured I had nothing left to lose, so I signed my name on the dotted line - all 37 of them, waivers and all - and next thing I know, I'm lying in what looks like a giant metal paracetomol capsule with the lid shutting over me. Then this. As the pain dulled, I tried to pull myself up. I even managed, to a point. All I really did was pull myself up the thing I was lying on, but it gave me a better angle to view the room. My muscles ached with every motion. God knows how long they'd been idle, even cryo'd up as they were. That's when I saw him. Her. It. Whatever they call themselves. Across the room from me - and it was n't that big of a room - facing ( I assumed ) the other way, doing something on a shelf-like protrusion on the far wall. From the metal-like clinking I heard, and my current location, I figured it was something medical. And promptly panicked. I gripped the bed again as I looked around my surroundings. Small room. No bigger than a doctor's office back home. Which was an odd comparison for my brain to make, but as I looked around, I began to see why; aside from the sounds the room's other inhabitant was making, the room had a very'medical' feel to it. Overhead lighting, standardised colour scheme throughout, relatively bare save for what were either essential medical tools or some of the kinkiest sex-toys ever seen... even the thing with it's back to me looked like some manner of doctor, given his mono-tone gown. It was a dull purple as opposed to the traditional white of Earth's doctors, but I was hardly in a position to judge. It was then that it turned around. I had n't been expecting a human face, but this was... well, about as odd as I could have expected, really. Its eyes were tiny - more like black specks in its face - and whilst I had thought it was bent over forwards, its head... or rather its face actually lay in the top of its torso; its arms protruding from either side of the face where ears should rightly be. At first glance I thought I'd caught it in the middle of a meal; before I realised the mass of tendrils hanging from its `` mouth'' were n't some kind of alien noodle and were infact part of its body. As it turned to face me, they writhed of their own volition, and a few peaked my way; before the entire mass flailed about in my direction and the creature stepped back as though in shock. Maybe those eyes really were n't much use? I stayed as still as I could, backing myself up into the wall behind my bed. The creature moved over, and as it came around the foot of my bed, I saw it did n't even have feet; rather a single slug-like'foot-tail' that it squirmed along the floor on. One of its three-fingered hands moved up to stroke the mass of tendrils on its face like one would play with a well-grown moustache or beard before letting them writhe in my direction again. It must use them for some kind of sensory purpose, I thought to myself. I cleared my throat, which hurt more than I would like, and wondered how on earth I was supposed to initiate conversation with an alien species. Those smug buggers back on Earth had n't thought to include a handbook or anything. Then again, for all they knew I was just going to end up as space-jam on the surface of some asteroid... ``..Hello?'' I asked through dry lips. No response. I tried again, raising my voice a little, and still nothing. Those... tendrils just kept wriggling at me as the creature moved slightly from side to side; probably inspecting me in whatever manner its species did so, not that that made it any less weird. Maybe... I did n't see anything that resembled ears. Maybe their species did n't do sound? As weird as that sentence sounded in my head, any concerns were quickly drowned out by the surrounding aura of Bloody Weirdness that pervaded everything about my current situation. So... I'm alive, definitely. I'm in an alien doctor's clinic, probably. With an alien, also definitely. Who is n't eating ramen... I think. And who ca n't hear me and may not even be able to'see' me in the strictest sense. This was going to be interesting. Still, beats dying.
[ WP ] A young child stumbles upon a serial killer dumping a body in the woods .	`` Your mommy and daddy did n't raise you right, huh?'' Tommy was a good kid, knew how to share, was n't a jerk to the girls in his class even if they had cooties. His parents were proud of him, and gave him a lot of freedom in what he wanted to do. This was one moment were they should n't have. `` What are you, six?'' The ragged woman in front of him spit out a brown covered blotch on the ground. It almost hit whatever she had in that big trashbag behind her. `` S-seven and a half, ma'am.'' Tommy stammered. He was scared, but his parents had drilled into him to be polite to everyone. They'd also told him not to talk to strangers, but as this stranger had a gun pointed at him, he was bright enough to keep talking. `` Seven, huh? Getting close to being a man?'' The woman sneered. `` Gon na grow up big and strong like this useless sack of shit?'' With that she kicked the bag, which let out a long, slow groan. Tommy yelped and the woman turned back to him with a shovel she'd grabbed from beside the bag. He was ready for her to hit him with it, but instead she threw it at his feet. `` Dig, you brat, you're old enough.'' He was too frightened to move at the moment, and a little warmth started to move down his legs. Was... was the thing in the bag a person? `` Dig, you little brat, or you're going to join'him.'' The woman made her point by waving the gun, and Tommy got it. He picked up the shovel, shaking, and began to dig. Tommy was n't that strong of a kid, but he'd made a shallow trench after a few hours of sweat, dirt, and the woman constantly threatening his life, his parents, and the world itself in turn. When he'd finished, he heard a click behind him, and a soft, `` Boy, you should n't have come out here. Say hi to my Jimmy for me.'' ( This is... not well written, but I had a dark story tugging at me to write it down. Hope you enjoy! )
[ WP ] Write from the perspective of a dog who thinks he is going to the park but is actually going to be euthanized .	She wants me to get into the car. It's just so hard to walk to the garage. She picks me up. When did she get so much bigger than me? I remember seeing the top of her head when she sat in the backyard stacking twigs and leaves with her tiny hands. Ha ha, I wish I could know what she was doing then. I bet we're going to the park. We do n't go very many places in the car. I want to go to the park, but I'm worried. I ca n't run with her like before. My legs do n't work. The back left one - it just wo n't move any more. I ca n't feel it. Does she know I ca n't move it? I hope she does n't know. I shift around to try to seem excited. I do n't want her to think I do n't want to go to the park, even though that's true. I hurt too much to play - but I'll try my best. She pets the top of my head and makes sweet noises. Is she upset? Not at me. I'm not in trouble. She's definitely sad though. I nuzzle my nose against her thigh. It's hard to reach over there. It's also hard to keep my mouth closed. It's hard to breath that way, but I focus on keeping my breathing deep so that I can keep her calm. Do n't be sad. The car has stopped. She makes more gentle noises and I sit up. I start panting again. I hurt all over from trying not to pant. She opens my door and scoops me up before I can try to leave on my own. We are n't at the park, but I know this place. We keep coming here. After we go, I always have new things to eat. They are n't very good, but she wants me to eat them, so I do. We see the same man as last time. He makes sad sounds and she makes sad sounds back. I sit on the cold table. I'm relieved no one is paying much attention to me. I can rest for a while. I'll just shut my eyes until she's done.
[ WP ] When you die , you do n't go to the afterlife of you 're religion , you go to the afterlife of the religion whose tenets you followed most closely , knowingly or not .	Thomas loves science fiction, and is pleased to find himself sitting by the park entrance with Arthur C. Clarke ’ s “ Fountains of Paradise ” open in his lap. He must have jogged there, he thinks to himself as he admires his brand new black-and-white Nikes. He stretches out in his black joggers and turns the page. “ But there was no substitute for reality, one should beware of imitations ”, he reads before shutting the book. Thomas ponders what he has read as he looks to the right; not a single car can be seen. The street appears infinite in length and the buildings fade in to the distance with it. He stands and begins his first step down the street. His movement halts when he hears a young voice behind him, “ You look thirsty mister. Would you like some lemonade? ” Thomas walks back past the park entrance and over to the lemonade stand, wondering how he had not noticed it before. It is beautiful, the entrance; but the park is closed now. Thomas stares up at the gates in awe. Thomas is interrupted again by the child, “ $ 5.50, please. ” Thomas looks at the counter, flustered. “ I ’ ll have the punch instead. ” As the child pours the purple drink in to the cup, Thomas reaches in his pocket finding a five dollar bill and three quarters. “ Keep the change ”, Thomas says as he picks up his drink. Thomas sips and the sky slowly dims. He feels his breath drawn away from him as a comet sails over the park entrance. And Heaven ’ s Gate opens.

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