Split (3)

train · 273k rows

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[ WP ] God is put on trial for his crimes against humanity	A sharply dressed lawyer clacked down the aisle, heels clopping in a precise rhythm. She scanned her clipboard, flipped a page or two, and then began to read. `` I, the representative and chosen lawyer of Humanity, have come to file a complaint against God- namely, the great evils he has unleashed on us. Name any blight, plague, tragedy- is this not the work of the self-proclaimed `` omnipotent'' God? He created us- told us he was our parent! Demanded we listen to his strict, unforgiving laws! Is not a parent also supposed to care for their children? Yet- and we will see evidence of this negligence from billions of witnesses- he has abandoned us to the numerous trials and tribulations that come with living on Earth. I would like to prosecute God for his crimes against humanity- the greatest good of all humans.'' `` I will speak,'' a majestic voice boomed through the courts, `` I will speak, and let you know of the truth- the truth you have obscured through the worship of self, the seed of self-love and rebellion planted by the Serpent so long ago- at least by the Earth's Time. First, you must understand who I am. I am good, I am the moral law, set in the never-ending infinity. I am the epitome of power, knowledge, and essence. How could I commit these crimes you accuse me of- when the definition of all I do is good. I never cared for my children? Have you never read the Bible? At least learn all you are able about the one you prosecute. I created the world- made it perfect- yet the first humans, my purest, highest beings of earth, they chose to rebel against me. The world was not corrupted by my hand. I set the perfect balance: free will for them to choose, their own will or mine, and if they chose death and sin, I would still set a path of redemption for them, though the path would be narrow and difficult. If you had read the Bible you would know that I love humanity- that I love even you, wayward child.'' God had spoken with his face turned away from the whole court, but now he turned and looked at the lawyer with love in his eyes. `` It is not I, but you who have committed crimes. Every sin is a rebellion against me and the way I had originally intended you to be. But I offer you peace, healing, joy- and best yet- sanctification, reunion with I, your Father. I even suffered a physical death of intense suffering and pain for you.'' The lawyer looked down at her feet, then looked up with steel in her eyes. `` It ca n't be this way,'' she yelled, `` You ca n't make laws up on your own whim- fancy- you're- you ca n't feel better than anyone else- there's no reason for you to control humanity!'' Suddenly she saw galaxies, infinitely expanding outwards, stars being born and dying, comets racing around planets. In another instant, she saw the creation of the first human being, God tenderly breathing life into the first Man. She saw the walks with Man and God, together, in the beautiful, primordial, verdant Garden of Eden. She felt God's visceral pain when Man bit into the fruit, saw his compassion even as He disciplined his beloved yet wayward child. Suddenly she saw man as a whole grow even more rebellious, saw a gentle, kindly old man start to build a huge boat, watched in awe and amazement as animals somehow fit into the large ship. She screamed in horror as man was washed away in a Flood, but watched man and God create another covenant, and saw a beautiful arc of many colors painted into the sky. She saw another old man speak with God, and move to another place, and have a child named for laughter with his old, old wife. She watched his child grow and marry a beautiful woman with which he had twelve sons. The second youngest was sold to Egypt by his own brothers, and in amazement she watched as he ended up saving his father's whole family, including his reprobate brothers, in a time of famine. The whole family stayed in Egypt, and as years went by, were bound into slavery. A baby floated down a river, and she saw him grow into a Prince of Egypt. Though he killed a man and fled in fear, he later returned to save all of Laughter's descendants from slavery. He led them to a `` Promised Land,'' and there the vision skipped. She saw a person carrying a cross, bleeding severely, marked and marred by lashes of a whip. A crown of sharp thorns sat atop His head, and she gasped as she saw the pain He was in. She followed His slow, trudging journey to a hill, and there soldiers took the cross from Him and set it up- for His Crucifixion. She watched as He died slowly, heard the words He uttered, and gasped as the sky grew dark and earthquakes shook the ground. This was the Promised Land, He was born of the Promised People, and He was the Promised One- a sacrificial lamb- to erase the crimes OF humanity. As he died, she followed Him into hell. She had expected to perhaps see fire everywhere- but... there was only a separation from God. Everything Good, Beautiful, and Holy was absent. Three days went by as she watched, and then He appeared to his disciples, explained the salvation He had won to them, and then departed back to His Home. The vision dissipated and she returned to the courtroom. God looked her in the eye with a burning look, a searching look. `` Will you accept my pardon, my sacrifice so that you may be absolved of your crimes against the most High God?'' ``... I ca n't. I'm- I'm sorry? But- no. It's too late for me.'' And the lawyer left sobbing, and God felt her pain, felt it stronger than even she did. For many like her also turned their backs on him, told him no, could not be saved. But those who call upon His name may be absolved of their crimes, their sentence will be revoked, their sins forgiven.
[ WP ] A tourism video promoting an idyllic island getaway , written by a person secretly trying to scare people away ( script )	EXT. THE ISLAND, BESIDE THE SHORE - DAY Slow pan over still water. Dead fish float, disturbing the sky's pale reflection. A mist unfurls. Music: [ Belinda Carlisle - Heaven is a place on earth ] ( narrow-band, like a distant radio ) NARRATOR: Ever thought of leaving everything behind? Breaking the trance of the everyday? A seagull lands and dissolves. NARRATOR: We are offering the ultimate holiday for one lucky person. TEXT ON SCREEN: Ultimate ( ˈʌltɪmət/ ) adj. - being or happening at the end of a process; final. Pan to the shore - across a simple wooden table, a game of chess is played between a [ TIRED-LOOKING BLOODIED MAN ] and [ DEATH ] TIRED MAN ( exasperated, exultant ): Checkmate! DEATH: It is done. Another may take your place. SMASH CUT TO: EXT. THE ISLAND Wide-shot of island. It is shapely, tall, and dotted with handsome cottages, olive trees and topped with a fine castle. ( Shot in black and white, with SFX lightning striking the sea ) NARRATOR: Isle de Pain! Jewel of France's nethers, and once a 17th century French breadmaking centre, Isle de Pain translates to `` Island of Pain''. We hope you'll agree this is a misnomer which clearly no longer applies! Sudden spasming close-up zooms. Colour inverts in flashes. Montage: Shot of a pack of foxes beside trash in an alley. NARRATOR: With varied local fauna- Children smoking. NARRATOR: -charming street-urchins - A graveyard. NARRATOR: -and a lively nightlife, Isle De Pain has everything a very specific demographic could hope to discover they never knew they wanted. A venn diagram of'Clean drinking water','Misanthropy' and'Weekday buffet lunch' fills the screen for a split second. EXT. SIDE STREET A greasy [ FAT MAN ] rides a car on blocks making [ Vroom! ] sounds. NARRATOR ( screaming ): The town's economically-challenged so this is as long a video as funding allows but it has so much charm I ca n't emphasise that enou- END.
[ WP ] Three strangers - instructions inside	Rodrigo was standing on the Golden gate bridge staring out into the bay when everything went dark. When he woke up, he did n't know how many hours had passed, or how he got to be in the room that he was currently in. The man sitting at the desk across from him was a face he did n't recognize. He did n't bother asking where he was or what was going on; his hands tied behind his back gave him some ideas. The stranger began smiling, then telling him the sadistic tale of what was to happen over the next 24 hours. It seemed like a story that only a `` Saw'' movie fanboy could conceive. Rodrigo was to be locked in a room with two complete strangers. He was told that if all three people survived the 24 hours, all three would be set free. If even one person dies, all three would be killed. Under no circumstance were you to reveal your instructions, or all three would be killed.Each man would be given a gun to defend himself. While Rodrigo could n't could n't figure out why three kidnapped strangers would want to kill each other, he had a suspicious feeling that all three would be given completely different instructions. `` The others were probably told that to survive, they must kill the others in the room'' he thought to himself. A game. A sick and twisted game, being played by someone who had entirely too much time on their hands, and no care for the lives of strangers. The stranger then put a mask over Rodrigo's head, and led him a few dozen steps away. He knew that it was time for the game to begin. The next thing he saw when he opened his eyes were two men. Both in their late 20's, both sweating and terrified. Each had a gun in his hand, not pointing it at anyone in particular, but rather a stalled, defensive posture. Rodrigo looked around the room and soon realized there was no possibility for escape. One of the other men had already walked over to the only door in the room, and tried the handle but too no avail. Rodrigo took some deep breathes, and put his gun on the floor. `` I'm very curious.'' He began to say, `` What instructions were you given by the man playing the game?'' Both men looked at each other in confusion, and stuttered to speak, but thought against it. `` My instructions were that if all three of us survive the 24 hours, we would all be allowed to leave.'' `` YOU FOOL!'' Shouted one of the other two men. `` You've killed us all! He told me that we could n't reveal our instructions! YOU'VE KILLED US!'' Rodrigo lay down on the ground and stared up at the ceiling. He could see the gas start seeping through the vents. It was better this way, he thought. He was always terribly afraid of heights, and did n't think he could actually jump off that bridge. This way would be much less painful, and just as quick. He took a few more deep inhales, before closing his eyes for the last time.
[ EU ] Hogwarts gets a new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher . Sterling Archer .	`` OKAY! WOOOO! So, uh, magic is real... Yeah. I totally knew that already and this is n't just a hallucination from Krieger drugging me.. Yeah, so, kids?! There's this thing called a gun. Let's say you see someone starting to cast a spell.. Shoot them. I do it all the time.'' Archer held up his hand for a high five, but none were given. `` Professor Archer? Is n't that murder?'' Granger, whom Archer thought of as a `` world class bitch'', asked another goddamned stupid question. He took a swig from a flask, and thought up an answer. `` It is n't murder. Jesus, you're like Cyril, always asking so many questions. Why do n't you fem-Ray it up, with your girly goddamned ginger boyfriend? Or your friend with the SS symbol on his head? I mean, Jesus, why does n't this school get some armed guards, or atleast some snipers on the roof?'' Archer replied in his grandious and magnificent manner, as he always did. Because he was the most dangerous super spy in the world, despite what Mother, goddamned whore, always said about hi-..me. `` Mr. Archer, is n't that a bit harsh? I think there ought to be less than lethal measures.'' `` Sure, and then old Noseless gets away again. Class dismissed, goddamn it! It's drinkin' time, and it's Friday! I'm gon na fight a dwarf! WOOOO!''
[ WP ] Your phone has become sentient , but has a bit of a sass . Unfortunately your contract has a while until your up for a new phone .	`` Search pornhub.com.'' `` I hear that masterbating actually helps relieve stress. Kind of a shame you've been sitting at home doing nothing to warrant a release. What is this, the third time, and that's fine, great even, if you wanted your chance of prostate cancer to go up by over fifty-percent.'' `` Shut up,'' I hissed, smacking my monkey furiously and out of breath. `` That's quite an appetite you've got there, and of course, fantastic choice as always. Is n't it true that larger women bear children more easily? I mean, alright, she's a bit heavier than what normal, healthier men go for, but hey, who cares right. Another day, another sick bastard watching some chick covered in flour and syrup get fucked.'' `` Shut up!'' I roared at my phone. `` Ok, ok, umm, could you wipe me off?'' Grudgingly I snatched a sock off the floor and did so. `` How... kind of you,'' it said back. `` In return you get to remind me, how long is it?'' `` Your dick's approximately three inches, and that's being generous.'' `` The contract you stupid fuck! How long until I can throw your ass into a river??'' `` Well as I have no ass as such, I ca n't imagine anytime soon.'' `` NOWWWW!'' I screamed in a futile attempt to pull up my pants. My phone sighed considering, `` Our grand partnership looking at porn together is almost at an end. Our great teamwork in cheating your college exams is near completion, just as you so poetically `` finished'' but a moment ago. Our wondrous time being hammered in the morning and hammering me like a common alarm clock is soon a distant memory in the backlog of your incompetence and failure.'' I threw it across the room, where it hit the wall with a crack. I immediately rushed over to my fallen companion and brushed off the screen, relieved when I realized the screen was fine. `` See that's why Carol left you,'' it coughed, obviously injured, voice oddly high-pitched. `` It was n't because you forgot to wash the dog, it was because you're an abuse asshole!'' His voice rose and fell. `` I -- you -- you said,'' I could n't help the agony that touched my throat like a knife at this betrayal. I do n't know how long I sat there, staring at the wall. `` Just kidding man, she was a total bitch.'' I did n't laugh like it expected. I could n't stop thinking about Carol. I was n't always a drunk, jerking off to morbidly obese women, and yelling at an inatimate object. `` Look bro, you should n't think about that. It was n't your fault,'' but behind the false electrical whir I imagined my phone made I knew with certainty it was.
[ WP ] Time Trevel	February 18th 2016 `` This is it.'' Lazo thought to himself, `` You built a time machine and now you're about to witness the future!''. Lazo hesitantly allowed his finger to rest on the green activation button. `` Well... Heres to the future.'' he exclaimed as he pressed down, causing the machine he was standing in the middle of to burst into life. The various metallic arms began to spin around him, creating a blurry silvery bubble around him. Within seconds the shimmering began to glow, getting brighter and brighter until Lazo had to shut his eyes. February 18th 2017 The whirring noise of the machine had been replaced with sirens. His eyelids no longer glowing red from the white glow outside, Lazo opened his eyes. He was standing in exactly the same place as if nothing had happened, a small shimmering line floated above the machine, `` Curious'' he thought. Sounds of movement and a regimental tone caught his attention as he glanced through the small basement window. Red and blue lights with uniforms moving up the drive. Within minutes they were downstairs arresting a very confused Lazo. `` Mr Tempus, you are under arrest..'' The suit barked at him, Lazo struggled to focus and began to panic, thinking of the trouble he was in. Lazo sat up straight, across from him an older gentleman was sat looking at him with an air of discontent. `` Why am i here?'' asked Lazo. The man glared fiercely, `` Why? You know why you fool. You've fractured the very membrane of the dimension we exist in. You've caused a rift that will continually grow until it consumes everything.'' 18th February 2016 The whirring noise of the machine had been replaced with silence. His eyelids no longer glowing red from the white glow outside, Lazo opened his eyes. He was standing in exactly the same place as if nothing had happened. No sirens, no police. Lazo relaxed, he had gotten away, he did n't know what he had done or why they were after him but now he had a full year to work out why. As he headed upstairs, a small shimmering dot blinked into existance, pulsing above the machine.
[ WP ] In a world where athletes , scientists , soldiers and more are put out of work by superhumans , one person makes a stand against obsolescence .	I walk into the gym, just because they're better than me does n't mean I ca n't try right? Everyone in there is practically lifting weights with their pinkies. My highest is only 500 on the bench press, not nearly close enough to compete with them. `` Hey, it's the puny human.'' Says one of the giants `` Have you come to lift weights with us?'' I do n't get it, every time I look in the mirror, I see a buff ripped man who pushes every t-shirt to its stretching limit. I see a man who's stronger than the rest of his race. This man does n't ever carry courage in his heart though, he's a coward. He's a puny human. So I just look at the floor as a response and try to walk past the door of a man. But he puts his hand on my chest and pushes me back in place. `` You got a problem with me? Huh?'' He takes a step closer. `` Come on! Answer me!'' And he takes another step closer. `` I just...'' I say timidly, but something in my gut lurches, something that wants to fight. `` You just what? Go on, go home. We can take care of the whole human race.'' He says and as he turns away I plant my fist into his cheek. He only stumbles though and turns to me with a grin on his face. `` So the tiger's finally come out.'' He says closing in once again, `` well I praise the gods!'' Lifting to face his palms to the ceiling and then dropping them. I do n't send another fist towards his face. No, I just stare, I can feel the anger showing in my eyes. So can he. Anger flares up in his eyes too. He punches me right in the gut and knocks the wind out of me. But this is n't the extent of his power, no he could've sent his fist straight through my stomach and killed me. I cough and fall on my knees, clutching my stomach in a desperate attempt to regain breath. I was n't ready for that. Or the knee in the face that comes next. Blood gushes from my nose. He laughs as I struggle to gain my footing, blood already reaching my chin. I turn around and grab a 30 pound dumbbell and sling it towards him. He has turned away and laughing with his friends when the dumbbell nails him square in the back of his head. It catches him off guard and he falls on his face. He pushes up off the floor so hard that he hits the ceiling and leaves his indent. When he lands on the floor he comes sailing towards me as fast as he can. I duck and roll, but he's quicker than that. He turns at a 90 degree angle and continues towards me. I'm caught at the stomach and slammed into the wall. Blood dribbles from the corner of my mouth and my vision goes fuzzy for a couple of seconds. I can already hear the police jets making their way towards the commotion, but I also know that this guy could kill me in a fourth of the time it would take them to get here. I really should have just stayed quiet. My assaulter drops to the floor, leaving me in the wall and starts wailing on my stomach with twice the speed of a normal man. Ribs crack and some blood begins to flow freely. My vision darkens for a few seconds while he's wailing on me. Panic rises in my chest, remembering a story from a while back of a guy who was incinerated by an angered superhuman. My assaulter stops and jumps back as my vision blanks again and I can hear the police cars getting closer. It's my glimmer of hope in the darkness, what keeps me striving on. I struggle to my feet, grab a bench bar and swing it at him, trying to buy some time. He grabs the bar and uses it to swing me into the wall. He then proceeds to rip it in half and lift it above my head, pointing the broken half. Towards me. He's done playing around. I close my eyes as my vision goes severely blurry and wait for my certain demise. BAM!! A gun is fired and I open my eyes again. My enemy is lying on the ground, eyes staring past me into nothingness. All the rage in his eyes are gone. I do n't understand though. Many people have tried shooting these guys, but their skin is bullet proof. Have we gotten new bullets? Will these be the first of many new super bullets to be fired? Or do these guys actually have a weak spot?
[ PI ] Black Maria - FebContest	So, I promised myself I would come back and give you a critique on this story, but the truth is I think this story is extremely good and well polished. About my biggest critique is that your main character is very passive. She does n't really do much to impact her world until the last moments of the story, instead she just gets pushed around by the world. She could n't save herself, the ocean saved her. She could n't protect herself from rumours, her father did. Etc... If you were to come back to this, I think we need more reasons to connect to Maria instead of the world just acting on her. Personally, I really wanted to see her become a pirate queen and just rock her authority. Great story though!
[ WP ] `` The most tragic part about this ... You could 've avoided all this if you 'd have just said yes ... ''	`` Would you like some ketchup with that?'' `` Oh no thanks I'm fine.'' `` Okay your order will be right out.'' `` Thanks.'' The waitress walked off into the kitchen. Jim sat there staring off into space while waiting for his meal. Soon enough the waitress came back out with his food. `` Here you go.'' She said. `` Thank you.'' Said Jim. The waitress walked off again. Jim started eating. `` Ugh this is so dry. I should've gotten that ketchup.'' Jim thought to himself. He called the waitress over. `` Is there something wrong with your meal?'' She asked. `` Yeah, on second thought I could actually use that ketchup you offered. Sorry about that.'' Slightly annoyed, the waitress went and got him the ketchup. `` Thank you.'' He said. `` The most tragic part about this... You could've avoided all this if you had just said yes...''
[ WP ] You 're a 911 operator who has been receiving calls from a serial killer who calls 911 to report each of his murders . One night , you receive a call from the serial killer , but they are n't calling to report a murder .	Every night at midnight, he called. This has been going on for the last six days, starting last Sunday. It all started with a cold, detached, journalistic report of his murder of the day. `` Live report'', in his own words. `` Live'', while he takes a person's life. `` Live'', the fucker calls it. Ever since the third Tuesday, the attendance room has been filled with detectives. Everyday, a couple more, from yet another agency, ever up in the hierarchy. Detectives, profilers of all kinds, from psychologists to data scientists, and telecommunications technicians trying to figure out how he hides the origin of his calls. All waiting for `` The Reporter'' to call. Outside the building, `` other'' reporters swarmed like vultures, attacking anybody who went in and out in search of news or declarations, on or off record. They know that he knows they're there, but they pretend they are n't, and he pretends they are n't. It starts around 11PM. The mood starts to change. It's on people's faces, voices, postures, eyes, slowly shaping into the climate of terror for what's to come. The room was tense. Despite the non-stop talking of attendants in their own calls, it never felt so silent. `` I'm closing the call now, the police will be there soon''. Aysha finishes the call. Sigh. `` Please, do n't be him. Please, do n't be him.'' She notices the girl on her left, she's also between calls. Her hands are shaking. Sara is new on the job, just a couple months, the girl took the first of his calls. First she hoped it could be a prank, even thought she has to take it seriously, but that gave her something to support herself upon. Until news came in that the detectives found the body the next morning, and everything she heard had been real. She's took Monday off and been visiting the psychologist's room at least twice a day during the week, and breaking down in tears every support group session. Cries that make Aysha's spine cold. Sara takes another call. The detectives all alert all the time. Her voice trembles. `` 911. What's your emergency?''. Aysha see's it in the girls eyes. The split second of relief between the terror and the focus to help the person on the line. It's not him. She's happy for the girl. She probably could n't take another of his calls despite what the psychologist says. Her attention comes back to her display. Two calls waiting. `` Please do n't be him''. The attention of the detectives are on her, now. Her boss nods with a look of assurance. She picks the first one. `` 911. What's your emergency?'' Logic would imply a listener would anthropomorphize a non-human sound into a voice. Give it personality, emotions and motives that are n't there, but entirely created by the mind of the listener. What she experienced when the answer came was the opposite of that. Uncannily void of emotion and technical, not like a controlled person, but like not a person at all. Like something else pretending to be a person, and failing just short of it. Something that did n't feel like a voice, but just a sound in the shape of words. A sound dreadful in ways she could n't pinpoint, a voice that made even a person with her profession and experience doubt her concept of humanity. `` And on the seventh day,'' the sound said, `` he rested''.
[ WP ] It is a known fact that the underdog always wins . Two sports teams attempt to out-underdog each other .	Coach Caley screwed the heels of his palms into his eyes and let out a long groan of frustration. He couldn ’ t believe this – this 4 a side soccer game should be in the bag! And yet at half-time Greendale High were three nil down. He looked round at his assembled team, and dug deep for some words of inspiration. “ Ok everyone ” he began “ let ’ s think clearly for a second ”. He pointed at the young teenager to his left “ Alex, you got bullied at your old school and never made the team, then a kind mysterious Asian man in your building trained you to be an amazing player right? ”. Alex nodded “ Daphne ” said the coach, looking at a beautiful girl with short hair next to Alex, “ you dressed as a boy to get on the team…even though we actually do take girls on the team, so that was a bit of an odd decision… ” Daphne ’ s cheeks coloured slightly at this “ …and then revealed yourself before the game started ”. “ Yes coach ” intoned Daphne in a deep voice. “ Sorry – yes coach ” she repeated in a more normal tone. “ Force of habit ” The coach turned to the boy on his right wearing a kit that seemed much more expensive and well-made than the other players – “ Tarquin, you were forbidden from taking part in the game because your parents thought soccer was for the lower classes, but made the team anyway ” “ That ’ s correct Coach Caley ” said Tarquin in his posh voice “ And if we look in the stands… ” the Coach squinted up to the seats on the other side of the pitch … ” we should see your parents who have turned up to support you anyway. Ah yes there they are ” The other players turned, and across the grass they could just make out a smartly dressed man and women holding a banner saying “ Tarquin is sublime at soccer! ”. Coach Caley gestured to the last member of his team, who was around foot taller than the other teens. “ And Barry, you were put into the soccer team as punishment for your unruly behaviour, and despite initially resisting, you ’ ve developed a strong bond of mutual respect and tolerance with me ”. “ S ’ right ” Barry grunted. The Coach rubbed his hand thoughtfully on his chin, and felt his inside pocket absently; it was missing the flask that was usually there. “ I was a grumpy alcoholic that has been redeemed through his work with this ragtag bunch of misfits…. ” He mused “..this should have been easy. Who knew that Hobson High would get a team together from the people left over when the chess and computer clubs ran out of money? ”. He looked over at the other team, huddled on the opposite side-line around their own coach. Uniforms mis-matched, sunlight glinted off their glasses and back braces… one in a wheelchair for god's sake! Coach Caley came to a decision. The nuclear option. “ OK team, the only thing left is to go out there and concede more goals ” His team looked at him aghast. “ What, you mean try and LOSE? ” shouted Barry. “ Yes! ” replied the Coach. “ Concede as many goals as you can! Get thrashed into oblivion! Even get a bit injured if you can ” “ Are you sure about this? ” asked Daphne. “ Positive ” replied the Coach. “ Just trust me ” The whistle blew for the second half. The team looked at the Coach again, and he nodded. They nodded back ****************************************************************************** The principal took to the stage erected in the centre of the pitch, and spoke into the microphone. “ Thank you all for coming to watch the game ” he said to the crowd. “ Although it wasn ’ t quite what we expected, it gives me great pleasure to present the trophy to the winners following the disqualification of Hobson High for some-reason-or-another to….Greendale! ” The crowd went wild. At the far end of the pitch, the coach of Hobson High took off his cap and angrily threw it to the ground. As his team raced onto the pitch to celebrate, Coach Caley stood at the sideline and smiled to himself. Last minute disqualification….the underdogiest move of them all….it never failed.
[ WP ] You just found out that your favourite restaurant , that you went to last night , serves human meat instead of pork and other meats	I like my morning newspaper. It's something that instantly gets me out of home. It tells me what happened in my city and I love it for that. But this' morning's newspaper was n't bringing good news. As I read through the newspaper I see a title with a familiar name: `` Meat and Potatoes'' restaurant is closed due to cannibalism. `` Cannibalism? Here? In my city?'' - I think to myself with disgust in my face. -Are you okay, hun? - I hear concerned voice from my wife. -Yeah, I'm okay - I answer reluctantly - it's just that my favourite restaurant `` Meat and Potatoes'' has been closed. -What happened to it? -Pff... - I though what to say as my wife was waiting for answer - It has been closed due to unhygienic conditions. -No wonder. You did say that meat tastes funny there nowadays, did n't you? -Yes... I will have to find a new place to go to during my lunch brakes. As my wife continues with preparing for breakfast my mind is solely on `` Meat and Potatoes''. How did this happen? How could this happen? Hm... A cannibal? Me? Insane... My colleagues? Matt? Roy? And they were my buddies...
[ WP ] You 're a pawn shop owner . Two bums inform you they 've got some real good shit today . They lug in the Ark of the Covenant .	`` Best I can do for you... gentlemen... is $ 175.'' I stood behind my counter, impassive. In the face of an item that countries would pay billions to possess, I had to pretend that I thought it was the prop from Moses. Yeah, the one filmed back in the thirties? With what's-his-beard as the dude? That one. Course, cause I know the movie, I was quite certain that it was n't, in fact, a cheap pine-and-paint reproduction. The way that they'd staggered in while carrying it proved it. Also proved they were drunk, which was why I was sure I could out-negotiate them. `` L-look man, all I know is this angel, right? This angel was getting mugged by some Joe who claimed he was the son of George Bush or some shit. I yelled at them and the dude ran off. Angel told me to keep track of this while he went to heaven to get a crane. Dunno why he did n't want the p-perfecly good egret in the drainage ditch, but he did n't. Anyway, he never showed, so Dick and I decided we'd get our money's out of it. And the angel told me it was worth more than $ 125.'' `` Even if I believed you about the Angel, does n't mean the Angel was right. I could be generous and go $ 130, cause you've done good business before, but I'm not looking at any higher.'' With a grumble, he and his compatriot each accepted $ 65 and walked out the door, while I began looking for potential buyers. Even though I'm an atheist, I'm unsure enough to be careful. After all, when God smites you, it's usually lethal.
[ WP ] God has slowly stopped answering humanity 's prayers because over the centuries he has slowly gone deaf and blind .	I stood before the Pearly Gates, and I found myself thinking they looked more bone than pearl. A lot of times, in life, I had been told that man can not comprehend God, just as an ant can not comprehend mankind. However, in death the constraints of reality faded away. And God, He looked old. I had an image in my head of an elderly man with a long, flowing beard, hair white as snow. However, He looked older than mountains. Greyed and wispy, wrinkled and liver-spotted, hunched and gnarled. And His eyes glistened like pearls. I approached Him, and He showed no acknowledgement of my presence. Slowly, I reached out, and only when I touched His hand – a giant of a hand – did He move, turning to face me. My words did nothing. So, I gripped His hand, trying to convey the question ringing inside me. Perhaps it should not have surprised me that He understood. In a gentle gesture, He patted my head, and His words rang out as though from everywhere at once. I am blinded by the light, and deafened by the chorus, of my own creation. So I asked, “ What light? What chorus? ” and He did not reply. Repeating from before, I grasped His hand once more. The light of seven billion suns, the chorus of seven billion storms. A familiar number. I continued on with my questions. I watch and listen to each and every. I asked the questions that kept me up at night. I can not. The questions that could only be answered by denying His existence. There is no solution. And I often found myself falling in life. There is what is possible and what is not possible. I often fell. Reality is as reality is. I do n't know why I kept believing. It is immutable, unchangeable, irrevocable. I think, I feared the alternative too much. I made it as I made it for the purpose that I made it. But, I had found something else to fear here, as I watched Him smile. To kill a God.
[ WP ] Two men from The League of Absurd Weaponry decide to have a duel .	Rutherford gripped his weapon firmly but not tightly. He was acutely aware of how sweaty his palms were, but his years of training kept him from making the rookie mistake of clenching the fist while manipulating this type of weapon. To be effective controlling the ball and cup, one had to be as fluid as the monofilament razor wire holding everything together. Across the arena stood Frederick, his keytar held in a ready stance. He was dressed in traditional dueling garb like Rutherford: a loose cotton shirt and fitted trousers, all tailored to allow the wearer maximum freedom of movement. Between them was a bare wooden floor and the duel's arbitrator, his arms out to make sure both combatants would n't start prematurely. `` Rutherford, you have raised grievance with Frederick. What are your terms?'' `` No quarter. No one insults Master Quacksworth and gets away with it.'' Frederick rolled his eyes. `` Quacksworth deserved it and you know it.'' `` Listen here you little --'' `` Gentlemen!'' The arbitrator glared at each man in turn. After an appreciable silence took the arena, the arbitrator continued. `` Frederick, do you accept these terms.'' `` Of course.'' Frederick spat. He flicked the power switch on his weapon. `` The terms are set.'' The arbitrator backed out of the arena to the wall. Both fighters stole glances at him but kept focus on their opponent. `` You may begin.'' Frederick wasted no time and immediately ripped out an arpeggio in G. The turbulent sound waves visibly distorted the air around the musician for the briefest moment before focusing into a multicolored beam aimed directly at Rutherford. Rutherford instinctively jumped to the side, rolling as he hit the ground, ending in a stable three point stance. Frederick opened with that move in all his duels. Rutherfrod may have been Frederick's senior by twenty years, but he sure as hell was n't letting a quick attack beat out wits and preparation. Rutherford also was not going to pretend he was better than using his own quick attacks. He swung his weapon around and pulled one of its triggers. There was a loud bang as the lead ball shot out from the cup, whipping around in a small arc toward Frederick's offhand side. Frederick switched his hand position just in time to play a C major chord. A bass fueled shield deflected Rutherford's attack over his head. Rutherford immediately pulled another trigger on his weapon. The razor wire snapped taut, zipping the ball back to the wielder. Rutherford effortlessly caught the ball in one of the containment cups then shot it back at Frederick. Again Frederick threw up a shield. Rutherford started to feel like he had the upper hand as he struck again and again. The keytar would run out of power eventually. The shields were not cheap to maintain. Rutherford did n't catch the ball as it came back this time and instead whipped it around his head to have it gain even more momentum. This gave Frederick just enough time to plant his feet in a power stance and change his grip again. He seemingly ignored the lead ball as it careened straight for his head again and instead slammed out an atonal riff. The sound waves disturbed the ball's math again, forcing it into the ground. It shattered the wood boards and bounced up and took Frederick in the stomach, but the medley of notes had slowed it enough that he did n't end up with a hole where his spleen was. The move was not entirely defensive, however, and the air distorted again as a cone shaped blast flew at Rutherford. Rutherford tried to scramble to the side again, himself off balance from putting his weight into the attack, but the counterattack caught him in the ankle. Rutherford was thrown off balance and crumpled to the ground. He tumbled back awkwardly as the bass reverberated through his bones. Then silence. Rutherford's vision began to clear. He saw Frederick adjusting the knobs on his keytar again, dialing the power levels up to 11. `` If you really taught Quacksworth everything he knows,'' Frederick said through a mouth full of blood, `` then I'll say it again: I'd rather fight him than a hundred duck sized horses.'' With that, Rutherford heard his last song.
[ WP ] A man moves into a haunted house from ( insert scary movie here ) . The demon in the house does n't realize how dangerous the man really is .	She was growing tired of waiting. The woman may have burned the original but the copy was sitting right there in the VCR, begging to be played. Her spine itched with stored power and what remained of her fingertips tapped soundlessly on the shattered glass coffee table. She was surprised she had had to wait this long for the crime scene to be investigated. It had been nearly sixteen hours since the woman and her son had fled sobbing from the apartment and the man's corpse had begun to bloat. But she was nothing if not patient; after all, she'd waited seven days at the bottom of that cursed well. With a jolt of adrenaline she realized that the rhythmic chirping of the crickets outside had stopped. A second later the slow, even sound of footfalls reached her ears from the stairs outside the apartment door. The chirp of the crickets was replaced by the chirp of a walkie-talkie, and after a second or two of faint tapping sounds the deadbolt creaked and began to turn. She smiled to herself as the door slid slowly open, revealing an aged Seattle policeman in sunglasses and crisp, collared uniform. As he raised his cane to step across the threshold she experienced a moment of misgivings. There was something odd about this policeman. It lingered at the edge of her memory, but like the haze that always surrounded her parents' ranch it refused to solidify. Her musings were interrupted by the crackle of his walkie-talkie. `` Pennfield to Sanchez.'' `` I'm here, Pennfield. Where did the vic say she left the tape?'' `` In the VCR. Entertainment center should be immediately to the left of the front door once you're out of the foyer.'' `` Copy.'' The man took three careful steps forward and her misgivings coalesced into dread. Relying heavily on his cane, he turned left and stepped towards the wooden entertainment center. With hands weakened by a slight tremor he brushed the edge of the television and felt his way downward toward the VCR. With a frantic burst of power that seared the back of her mind, she coalesced enough to scratch a fingertip across the play button before the man could reach the tape. The television roared to life in a buzz of static, then settled on the black and white image of an old stone well. The policeman jumped at the sound of static, but continued reaching for the eject button next to the VHS slot. As he leaned forward she saw the milky white of his eyes over the rim of his sunglasses, and knew she'd been defeated.
[ WP ] You wake up one day with all of your memory lost , except a vague recollection of the name `` Thomas '' . Beside you is a man who introduces himself as Thomas .	Thomas watched the man sit up from the bed in which he was chained to. Like him their bodies were beaten, the flesh ugly yellows and purples screaming out for attention that was never given. Unlike the man he was not chained that's not what the Lovenairs wanted. They had explained this process to him countless times but countless more he rejected. He did n't want to play the game the Lovenairs had created. He surely did n't want his friend involved. `` Friend? `` he asked himself slowly in his mind. `` Yes your friend'' his mind replied back. `` Then what is his name?'' Thomas thought lazily as he placed with the dirty bed sheet. He could n't remember instead of tiring himself he studied the man more as he regained his sense. After a while he was able to look at him. `` Where are we? Why am I chained? What's going on? Are you Thomas? `` Thomas's breath hitched in his throat how could this man remember his name but he could not remember his. `` Yes I'm Thomas as for where we are I do n't know I stopped trying to figure out. However I have been waiting for you to wake. If we complete this game we can be free.'' The man looked at Thomas calmly putting his head down in defeat before saying, `` You're telling the truth are n't you? `` Thomas sighed. `` Yes only as I know it.'' The man flexed his arms in the chains and stared into Thomas's eyes with a deep determination. `` Can you get me out of these? We can finish this game right now we have to get out.'' Thomas suddenly grew furious at his bravado. `` We can not just start the games you do n't know a thing about them we could be killed'' The man snorted and smiled a grim smile the smile of a man broken before he was built. `` What do we have to do to get out?'' The man asked. `` Survive. `` Thomas said. Thomas watched the man shiver whether it was due to the endless cold that flowed through the stone walls or the fear of what lie ahead. He raised his head again and spoke, `` That type of game huh?'' `` Yes.'' Thomas said hopelessly. `` That type of game. ``
[ IP ] Welcome Home	If there was one thing that aliens could never figure out about humans, it was probably the continued existence of dogs. Sure, they argued in their off-world universities, their great bastions of learning and knowledge. Long ago, when our ape ancestors were barely able to wrap their fat fingers around tools, it made sense to keep dogs around. They barked to alert their nearly deaf masters of danger, helped fight back against those predators that sought to rip apart these useless apes. Dogs served a purpose. Even as humans mastered the art of hammering a peg into a hole, built primitive weapons and warred back and forth for control of tiny little chunks of their homeworld, dogs continued to serve a purpose, at least for a while longer. Some continued filling the role of defense, while others hunted pests, turned spits to roast meat, even helped rescue some of the stranded humans when they got lost ( usually from their own stupidity ). Dogs still made sense. But now? Now, when the enlightened races had finally accepted humanity into their fold, had gifted these apes with knowledge of how the most advanced technology in the galaxy functioned, now that humans could finally reach those stars that had twinkled and taunted them overhead for so long? Now, they had no need of dogs. These animals were a relic of their past, like some of their diseases, like wars over resources that were incredibly bountiful once they dared to reach beyond their own planet. But still, thought Hez'Reen irritably as he gazed out the porthole of the ship, they insisted on keeping the dumb creatures around. Glancing over at him, the human, Erik, observed his discomfort. `` Do n't worry,'' he called out, widening his big, watery eyes. `` They wo n't hurt you. They're well trained, even if they do like to jump on people.'' `` Yes, jumping,'' Hez'Reen repeated, two of his eyes lingering on the porthole. They were jumping now, he observed, although not on anything, as far as he could tell. Just up and down, mouths hanging open, teeth flashing and a large masticating muscle - a tongue, he recalled the name - hanging out. They looked ridiculous, caricatures of true predators. Erik raised and lowered his shoulders, a gesture of mild embarrassment. `` The wife had them, first,'' he said. `` We had a hell of a time finding a complex out here that would accept pets, but whatever, I've gotten attached to them, too. The lighter colored guy is Bruce, the other one's Bucky.'' `` Bruce? Bucky?'' Hez'Reen repeated, confused. `` What is a Bruce? What is a Bucky?'' `` Oh, sorry. Those are their names,'' Erik said, turning back to the controls as if this made everything obvious. Hez'Reen looked out at the dogs, aghast. The humans even named them, as if they were more than dumb animals, beasts that had somehow survived far longer than should have been permitted by evolution? The ship settled down, the docking clamps automatically engaging and pulling it in against the building. Erik powered down the engines and stood up, moving to the ship's hatch. He hit the release button, Hez'Reen following a pace or two behind. Outside, on the bridge that led from the dock to the huge apartment block, the dogs immediately leapt forward, attacking Erik! Hez'Reen fell back, fearful, as he saw their big tails sweeping back and forth, perhaps aiding them in balance as they repeatedly attacked. Erik let out a shout - was it a cry of pain? Was he being brought down by their teeth and claws? But no, Hez'Reen saw after a minute. Erik was shouting, but he appeared unscathed, and that upward twist of his mouth indicated happiness. `` Good boys!'' he shouted out, his fingers rubbing the dogs on top of their heads. They seemed to lean in towards him, those big tongue-muscles hanging out. `` Yes, it's me! I'm home!'' Finally, he climbed back up to his feet, heading in towards the apartment blocks. `` Well, come on,'' he called back to Hez'Reen, as the dogs continued to bounce around him, following him. It was adoration, Hez'Reen now recognized. The dogs seemed to adore the human, almost worshipping him. `` You can come meet the wife, have some dinner with us.'' For a moment, Hez'Reen almost considered leaving, excusing himself from the invitation. Social protocols had dictated that it was good manners to accept such an invitation from his superior at work, but he felt very out of place here. But the dogs appeared to not be bothering him, after all, and it would be rude to reject an already accepted invitation. So he followed after the human, locomoting across the jetway between the docked ship and the apartment block. Dogs, he thought again to himself with disgust. Slavish worshipping lesser animals, kept by humans just for dominance and entertainment. It made no sense.
[ WP ] A person turns into smoke , floats , and reforms on the other side of the room . Describe it from that person 's perspective .	One time an evangelist stopped me in a park and told me that all people have souls. I don ’ t remember what else he said, probably that mine was going to Hell, but I think he was right about the first part. It ’ s the only way I can explain my power. It ’ s not a flashy power like laser eyes or super strength, but turning into a small cloud has its uses. Mostly if you like people watching. I ’ ve grown to enjoy it. When I was younger I used to float amidst the shower steam in the girls ’ locker room after gym class. And I guess I spend a lot of time watching through people ’ s windows at night. The cloud saved my life once too. One time a taxi spun out on some ice and nearly hit me. I evanesced off my bike just in time and got scattered around quite a bit. The driver was so terrified, stumbling around everywhere looking for a victim. I let him look. It ’ s weird gathering yourself up again into a single piece, and it takes a while -- Imagine floating face-up in a swimming pool, trying to touch your elbows to your knees behind your back. Except your limbs are on the bottom of the pool. I ’ ve never told anyone about my power. Actually I can ’ t remember a time before the cloud. I think it ’ s more who I am than my physical body. Being the cloud is like tapping a source of eternal calm. Stuff that bothers you just slides off, hormones fade, thoughts become simpler. In the end you reach some sort of Zen state where you just float around because you ’ re floating around. The only thing that tethers me to the human world at all is a distant twinge of fear -- the fear that I won ’ t remember to change back. It ’ s an addictive freedom, like a higher form of existence. Sometimes I ’ ll become the cloud and follow this little girl Addie around when she ’ s at the playground by my house. She points at me and laughs and says “ Puff, puff! Puff cloud! ” And it makes me happy. When I ’ m the cloud there isn ’ t such a definite border between me and the next soul. I imagine one day I ’ ll just droop my head and dissolve up into the air and never come back. It ’ s like falling in a dream. If the fear didn ’ t wake you up, how far would you fall? Maybe you could fall forever. Maybe you ’ re part of someone else ’ s dream.
[ WP ] You skeptically open the pages of an old `` spellbook . '' Amidst the pages , you see a spell to raise the dead . As you sound it out ... it sounds just like your alarm clock .	I am the most powerful necromancer in the world! Mauahahahaahahah! Well, at least I would be if I could wake up on time... You see, the key to success is not hard work, or talent, or any of that other stuff. The secret to success is waking up early. Specifically, waking up at five'o clock. I realised this truth while processing some necromantic knowledge and energy. I was immediately excited, to become as famous as Mc'Evil the Necromancer or as powerful as Doom the Necromancerer ( raises necromancers from the dead ) was my dream. And now I had the knowledge on how to become like my heroes! By that point I had always waken up at noontime everyday, so I just had to wake up a few hours earlier. So I bought an alarm clock, not assuming that I would have the most terrible of phobias. The fear of alarming alarm clocks: Alarmaphobia. When I set the clock to five, I began to sleep peacefully. But when the alarm rang I screamed in fear and smashed the clock by accident. Then I fell asleep and woke up at twelve. It seemed like my plan was n't working. So I gave up on my dream of becoming the best necromancer and decided to continue waking up at twelve. But then - oh! - I heard of the Deathonecrocon! The ultimate book of the dead. Full of spells through which I could raise the most powerful of the dead. Muahaahahaahahahaahahahahaha! My time had come! I would simply need to search out this book and then I could reach my dream! I set out on a journey through many locations. I then remembered that I could teleport, and teleported to the location where the Deathonecrocon was instead. I stepped up to the pedestal that held the book and beheld its dusty surface. Muahaahahahaahah! I opened the book. The pages were old. Very old. In fact, if something crashed upon the book with great force the book would crumble into dust due to its delicacy. But I was careful. I opened the pages delicately. I turned the pages with great care. And I made sure my eyes did n't move so much and disrupt the atoms between the book and my eyeballs as I read the words. I was super careful. I would not give up my chance. Never! Muahaahahahaahaaha! There! A spell to raise the most powerful lich ever! I began to chant the words, yes, yes, yes! Chant more! Carefully of course... But then, wait, what was that sound? Ring... ring... Oh no... It was the alarm clock! My Alarmaphobia kicked in, where was the alarm, I had to smash it. I kept chanting, and the alarm kept ringing. Where was the sound? My eyes widened in terrifying horror. My chanting! The chanting was making the sound! I had to smash the sound! I saw my arm raise up against my will. No! Stop moving! I could n't stop my arm. My arm slowly moved towards the Deathonecrocon. It was right above the delicate book that would break with one un-delicate touch. No! It was going to smash the source of the sound. Bang! Smash! Gah! My hand was punching my chanting mouth! Oof, stop it arm! I could n't stop it. Ow, ow, ow, ow. Man, when did I get so strong? My mouth began to bleed. `` Thop it'' I shouted, `` Thop thitting pme! Ith's thhe pbook's thault!'' Shit! My arm stopped punching my mouth. No! Stop moving! My arm raised above the book. My hand flew onto the book and crushed it. The book poofed into a pile of ashes. My dream! My hopes to become awesome! Gone! I ca n't wake up early, and I have no Deathonecrocon. Curse it all! Curse it all! I teleported back home to wallow and eat evil ice cream.
[ WP ] A person who has attempted suicide finds out she is immortal .	Her ears were still ringing from the gunshot minutes later as she picked herself up off the floor, trying to come to grips with what just happened through the agonizing headache that was scrambling her thoughts. She had already tried it the easy way, took a bottle of pills and just fall asleep and never wake up, but it had n't worked. She swallowed three whole bottles on three separate days and only managed to give herself a stomach ache. She got up to her knees, letting her brother's gun drop to the floor with a heavy thud as she reached up to cradle her head in her hands. That's when she felt the strange bump where the hole should have been, her fingers tracing the shape of it for a moment as she shut her eyes and groaned in pain. With a short jerk, she pulled it away, looking at the flattened bullet in her fingers incredulously. `` That should have worked...'' She muttered in horror, `` how is this possible?'' She got to her feet and rushed to the bathroom, leaving the smoking gun forgotten on the floor. She looked in the mirror, hoping to find some sign of injury on the side of her head, but only found a small bald spot on her temple, stained gray from where the bullet was crushed against her skull. She could n't believe it. She actually could n't help but laugh. She was even more of a failure than she realized. She could n't even die correctly.
[ WP ] Write the story of a minion or a grunt , and the unrequited love they have for the villain .	He was brilliant. Could n't have imagined a better man. Whenever he spoke, he did it with a purpose. Everything was perfect. I was n't anything to him. Just another lab assistant. Faceless. Might as well not even have been there, honestly. But the thought of assisting his research was enough to inspire me to do whatever I could. Nobody ever told me how to live my life. No parents, no friends; all I had was the the hope of something better. I'd look up at the skyline above and know that all of it had to have been built by somebody. Maybe I could be part of that, if I worked hard enough. Naive. Pathetic. I had no chance of ever doing anything like that. Still, I did what I could. Stayed away from drugs, and tried hard to do well in school and the like. Got a job at sixteen. None of it helped a bit though. Life's tougher than anyone says it is. Especially for a kid on the street. But then he came. Drove up in a white car asking for help in his lab. Instantly I was struck by the man's charisma. Nobody was that nice before. Polite, reserved, and trustworthy. He said he had big plans, and it was impossible not to believe him. He oozed greatness and strength. Maybe I was n't thinking all of that at the time, but even then I knew he was a cut above the average. A few other kids went with him. Some were assigned to work as his `` thugs,'' but I was separated into another group entirely. Duties were clear enough; we were to help in the lab. He was developing large scale paramilitary robotics and biomechanical experiments on the human brain, primarily for life extension. He wanted to take over the world. I knew he could too. I wanted him to. Every day we'd wake up in the barracks, attend classes on his research and discovery so that we could better serve his purposes, and then we'd work. Worked there for years. Loved every minute. Personally, I worked in his AI development group. Thugs would come in and upload some data stolen from Google or IBM or somewhere and we'd factor it in. Then the boss would come in and create some new algorithm or something from pure thought alone. It amazed me. He called it his `` Accelerated Development Program.'' Accelerated indeed. In less than three years we'd created AI good enough to control any robotic structure we wanted. He was happy. That was all I needed. He did n't even know who I was, really. I still cared about him. The world was ours. Then they broke in. They'd been watching from the start. Waiting for it all to come together. Nobody was expecting them. One minute we celebrated, the next we cowered at the gunfire. The boss was furious. But more than that he was scared. They killed him. My God, they killed him. They took everything. The algorithm, the robots, the plans, everything. But they left me. They thought we knew nothing. But I learned everything. None of them had half of his mind and they knew that. He taught us. He taught me. I have more than they do. And I'm going to kill them.
[ WP ] Jack and Jill , went up the hill , to fetch a pail of water , Jack fell in , and so went his twin , to fight off the evil monsters .	Jack and Jill went up the hill, to fetch a pail of water, Jack fell in, and so went his twin to fight off evil monsters. For everyone knows how water flows from the top to bottom And yet still on TOP of a hill, the well had stood forgotten. As Jack fell deep in the well he soon became quite frightened The well so deep did secrets keep and Jack became enlightened His scared cries did surprise a whole great host of demons, Their horns so great, to rend his fate in a cauldron steaming. Jack did cry `` I'm gon na die'' as they began to slobber. But Jill burst in with a wide grin and began to clobber. Jill had found deep in the ground a silver club of power And this she used to demons bruise in this crucial hour. A battle begun, and soon was won, and Jill stood as the winner. To Jack she said `` Get up clodhead, we're going home for dinner.''
[ WP ] Explain color to a deaf person	I'm just going to piggy back off this prompt and go with `` Explain color to a blind person'' so heres what I think: Just think of that twisting pain deep in your chest. The ones that feel like your muscles are pulling in each different direction, slowly ripping you apart. Every move you make, the pain resonates through you. Your brain races to fix the pain. But it does n't stop, it boils and boils until your left screaming. Your voice straining under the pain, screaming till your raw with pain. It shoots back up and down your spine, a tingling, bubbling feeling. An itch you ca n't scratch, under your skin, inside you. The hot pain in your chest shows you the colors my friend. It's like an eruption. Pain, anger, take all those things. Mix it into a blender, then you will have your color. Think of the sounds. The screams, the shouts, the roars, the moans. Well never know if your thinking what we see, but that does n't matter. As long as you experience these emotions, you'll know what color i'm talking about.
[ WP ] You like to leave gifts for an ant colony like pieces of fruit or spoonfuls of sugar . After a nearby nuclear reactor accident , they start leaving YOU gifts .	`` He of a thousand granules.'' I always found it impressive that they could coordinate themselves so well to spell it out. The Ants. Outside my bedroom window. Every morning. It started a while ago. A small colony had begun to form out in the yard. Every now and then I would throw some sugar out there, as a peace offering. Ca n't have those Ants pushing into my territory, which at the time was a one bedroom, groundfloor apartement. My sanctum sanctorium. Also I had nice things and did n't want ants on them. About 2 months after, the job maker, the energy provider, the most unholy of contraptions, the nuclear power plant went live, powering most everything for about 100km. Well of course the thing had a melt down. Flooded an even larger area than it powered. It.... did some weird things to the ants...... Now, here I stand on the balcony of my penthouse. My antendants setting up microphones, sorting the sound, making sure I am ready for my thank you speech. See when ants grow to over 8ft tall and become humanoid, yet still fell indebted to you...... Well lets just say they looted everything within the reactors affected area. So now here I stand, their queen by my side, ready to give a rousing speech while I overlook a pile of everything from stools missing their seat to porches. Life is good.
[ WP ] Some sort of apocalyptic event threatens the survival of the human race . The smartest scientists , engineers physicists , etc of the world can not come up with a solution . The key to survival lies within an unemployed art major working at a minimum wage job . What is the solution ?	Murmurs and idle conversations filled Madison Square Garden as the Saviors got up to speak. As soon as they were within sight, the noise died out. The team leader adjusted the microphone to his height. `` I think by now, all of you know me.'' The man turned to look at the game-clock behind him. It had 11 minutes on it, counting down to zero. `` For those that do n't, I'm Dr. Pelant, the man trying to increase the time on that clock. Aliens have given us chances to add 24 hours, but they have not told us how. I fear I'm out of-'' Noise began coming from the crowd again as a scrawny man ran onto stage. `` I know how to save Earth!'' Dr Pelant blinked, but moved back a step, allowing the man to reach the microphone. Without giving any pause or even looking at the crowd, the man began speaking in the mic. `` The aliens are bored. They want to attack Earth so they can film it and sell it. It's like the universe's bets movie.'' Dr Pelant raised an eyebrow. `` We've been boring. All we did was send out one diplomat to discuss matters of peace.'' The man scratched his unkempt beard. `` And we formed some team of eight different doctors. Problem is you're thinking like doctors! What they want is excitement. A plot twist!'' `` What do you-'' Dr Pelant's words were interrupted as the man shot him in the chest. Another two shots. Yells and screams sounded from the crowd. As security dragged the man away, the time on the game-clock changed from 11 minutes to 24 hours.
[ WP ] After realizing you are in a work of fiction , you immediately rush to the person you think is the protagonist in an attempt to get plot armor as their best friend . But when the `` protagonist '' dies , you realize you may not have thought this completely through .	`` So, this is how I die.'' was the only though that my panicked brain would allow to form. The large, black lizard creature slowly raised it's claws into the air over me, and every muscle in my body was screaming at me to MOVE, to GET OUT OF THE WAY. But my brain was locked with fear. After all, Jack Stallion, the Golden Knight, and protagonist of this story, had had his top half melted by the creature's acid breath just moments before, so even if I were to keep fighting, what chance would I, a lesser knight, have? The claws began their descent towards me, and I closed my eyes and tensed up in fear. I felt the horrible scaly claws sweep up from beneath me, and the wind whistled past as I flew the air to land what felt like several feet away, the scales still clutching beneath my legs and back. Wait... beneath me? The lizard had been above me... `` Why does my conscience make me do things like that... Are you okay?'' A scratchy male voice that sounded nothing like that of an angel spoke to me. My brain began to realize that I was n't dead, and I slowly opened my eyes to find myself being layed on the ground by the arms of Thorn Valesse, an Assassin for hire that I had met several days prior at a tavern. At the time, I had just recently heard from a soothsayer that this world was merely a fantasy, and I had figured that I'd need to find a knight in shining armor, who tend to be protagonists, to buddy up to, so that I might end up surviving the tale myself. Next to the Golden Knight, Jack Stallion, Thorn had seemed like just another greedy mercenary, but then, laying in that cave, watching him throw rocks at the other side of the cavern to distract the monster from our position, I realized that Thorn might be my hero after all... Perhaps this was a story of rogues rather than knights. `` Come on, girly, do n't just stare at me. I ca n't keep the thing distracted forever. Are you okay?'' His words snapped me out of my reverie, and I performed a quick check of my body, finding no injury beyond a dull ache in my back from when the lizard had knocked me back against the wall before. `` I seem to be fine. Thanks for pulling me out of there. And my name is not'girly'. It's Natalie. You're Thorn. I remember you from the tavern.'' He nodded, and gave me a motion to wait. I watched him slide down back into the main chamber of the cave, sliding through the shadows like he was one, to the place I had dropped my shield and mace. He inspected them for a moment, then flashed five fingers at me. I nodded, figuring him to mean I should run for them in five seconds. He whistled sharply, and the lizard, which had been inspecting the last place Thorn had chucked a rock, spun towards him. He dashed into a side tunnel, luring the lizard away from my weapons, and the creature obediently followed. I slid down the wall, retrieved my armaments, and was about to run after them when Thorn came running back out of that tunnel. In his hand was a gold and silver shortsword. Thinking back I realized then that the prophecy of a golden warrior actually only specified that the warrior's weapon was golden, not the warrior himself. Thorn spun to stand parallel with me, saying `` I managed to ambush it and cut it's throat. It should n't be able to spit any more acid at us.'' I nodded to him and we briefly discussed where we should hit it and when. When the creature next came thrashing out of the tunnel at us, we met it with weapons raised. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - First time posting here. I usually do n't do too well with prompts, but I thought I'd give this one a go. I enjoy writing down short fiction stuff every now and again, so constructive criticism is welcome!
[ WP ] A group of adventurers has booked a month in your inn , and now asks for leads and gossip . You 're a compulsive liar .	`` We ca n't ride eagles into Mordor?'' `` That's right. Too much -- - evil.'' `` Oh really?'' I nodded. `` Yep. Corruption and all that, you know how nature things can be.'' Gandalf sat back in his chair, the Prancing Pony bustling about behind his tall frame. `` No, I suppose not. That's another wizard's expertise.'' `` And what's yours?'' The grey wizard shrugged. `` Fireworks.'' `` Oh yeah. I mean -- - well, again, don't ride eagles into Mordor, it'd be bad for all of us.'' An old eyebrow crooked. `` How so young man?'' `` Three words Gandalf.'' I leaned over and brought my voice down to a whisper. `` Eagle-riding Nazgul.'' He shuddered. `` I'll find another way.'' `` Ok. Hey, try the pass of Caradhras instead. Really lovely about this time of year.'' `` It will take many months to revise my plans young man.'' ``... It'll be especially lovely in Winter.'' The wizard smiled. `` Good to hear.'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- And that's how I inadvertently killed Gandalf. More at /r/galokot, and thanks for reading!
[ WP ] Write a story based on this article of the Last True Hermit	I knew it was a mistake when my hand made contact. An open palm's sees as much, in its own tactile way, as your eyes. It has seen the rough of a telephone pole, the smooth of stainless steel, the softness of skin, and countless other sensations stored away in the locked cabinets of the mind. And somewhere, deeper still, there is the ancestral memories made long ago. It remembers moss, stone, and an unbearably ancient touch. Something never refined by man, never seen by sentient eyes. It's hardness never toughened by fire. A giant stone pillar that has stood tall and proud since it was formed out of pressurized magma long long ago. The eyes that peered back at me acknowledged the impact. They did not shy away but instead seem to say'Here I am. Look at me.' There was no indignation that I had caught him following me, no fear. It was the steady gaze of the primal instinct. Then he was gone and I was one flashlight less than when I started out on my walk, but immensely wiser.
[ WP ] As the demon stared at the mortal who summoned it , all that could be heard was a sigh before the words , `` You do realize this is a marriage proposal , right ? ''	`` Oh for the love of-'' he spat as he appeared before the mortal who summoned him. `` Is there something I can help you with?'' The human looked at him, seemingly surprised at her success in summoning him. The flame on the candle in her hands wavered as small, pale hands shook. `` Well?'' he asked again. The female squeaked, almost dropping the candle and the demon rolled his golden eyes. The female was small by human standards and looked to be no more than a child in an oversized black sweater, a pair of jean shorts over ripped fishnets and tall combat boots with thick soles. Her black hair was thick and curly, haloing around her face and her piercing blue eyes were made bigger by the rim of kohl lining them. `` I require your services,'' the girl-child told the demon in a wavering voice. `` With?'' The girl's pert nose scrunched and she briefly glanced down at the book open at her feet. `` Should n't you know that already?'' The demon curbed the desire to smite the girl on the spot and breathed in deeply `` You summoned me, remember? I do n't know what you actually want.'' `` Oh,'' was the quiet reply. She looked at the demon through the fringe of her bangs. `` I need revenge against someone.'' The poor lamb did n't even realize what spell she used to summon him, the demon realized. He did n't doubt that her Latin was shaky at best and unintelligible at worst. `` This is your first time doing this, is n't it?'' he asked, taking slight pity on the foolish mortal. She nodded and he rubbed his head, feeling a headache forming. He stared at the girl and heaved a sign. `` You do realize this is a marriage proposal, right?'' The girl froze, blue eyes going wild. And promptly fainted. `` Guess not,'' the demon mused.
[ IP ] In honor of Dr. Rorschach 's 129th Birthday .	1. Hooded aliens and the spider king, doing science 2. Stay-puff Marshmallow Man 3. Horses escaping from Russia as it melts. 4. The firebombing of a great city. Millions dead. *** First contact was with the spiders. This was not due to the intelligence of the arachnids; rather, the invaders had developed a cruel sense of humor. Observations of our species had revealed that we fear most the things that crawl, the things that sting and bite, the things that hide. With their transtellar technology the aliens communicated with every species of spider on the planet, from the Recluse to the Widow to a thousand we did n't even know about, within hours. Within the day they were organized. Within the week they had hypervolved into spider-with-wings-and-short-range-projectile-venom-delivery-packages. The attack began on November the 9th, 2013. It was coordinated and worldwide. Simultaneously New York, London, Moscow, Hong Kong, Paris, Tokyo - the epicenters of humanity were under siege. The spiders flew in formation carrying webs twenty meters wide. They crawled in through the cracks of commercial buildings, up drain pipes, through ventilations, and left behind mausoleums. New York fell in hours. Tokyo was a husk. Hong Kong last a while longer, as many of the spiders were robbed, cheated, hustled out of much of their vacation money, had to find an ATM that accepted their card, and spent their last dollars on hookers and strange liquor - but eventually Hong Kong also fell. The resistance began in Russia. It was not the hardy disposition of her people, nor the inhospitality of her geography, that saved the motherland; it was the vodka. Unknown to the intelligences of world governments, unimagined by conspiricysts, all the horses in Russia were in fact the clandestine forms of a transdimensional marshmallow who loved the Slavic poison and drank White Russians by the liter. Seeing the threat the spiders posed, the marshmallow took full form in Moscow and diked the eight-legged tide. The militaries of the earth were given a reprieve as the fight went to Moscow. They organized, and at 1427 Moscow time humankind launched the greatest aerial assault in its short history. In the course of three hours, five thousand megatons wiped Moscow clean. Ninety-eight percent of the earth's arachnid population died in the fire, and the remainder decided war was n't all it was cracked up to be. The aliens had long since fled because transdimensional vodka-drunk marshmallows are fucking scary. Humanity rejoiced, and in everlasting tribute to the unexpected savior, a White Russian factory was built in Siberia, where ten thousand horses still drink from the cast-iron troughs, and remind us of the mild drunk giant who protects us.
[ WP ] `` Pick your poison . ''	`` Eh, what?'' The scruffy bent little man stares at me with his beady eyes, not moving an inch. `` Pick your poison.'' He repeats. `` I think I'm good.'' I say back. Unfortunately he decides to persist. `` Pick your poison.'' `` I said no.'' `` You can not say no.'' `` I just did.'' I say with a little more volume in my voice. Hopefully he gets the message. I ai n't going to choose any poison. `` You must. Acid or cold?'' `` It's poison right?'' `` Yes. Pick your poison.'' `` So if I were to drink it it would kill me?'' `` Yes. Pick your poison.'' `` No. I do n't want to die.'' `` LOOK!'' The beady eyed man snaps back. `` I'm just doing my fucking job. You're a fucking rogue. The Wayverns are marching north to meet us. So I'm here to supply you with the fucking poison you rogues so love to use against them. You fuckity fucking fuck!'' Oh. I do n't know how that had not crossed my mind. I apologize profusely and take my preferred cold poison and head on over to the rest of the army built up of warriors, rogues, wizards, and archers to prepare for war.
[ WP ] Throught the storyline , your character realizes he is written by you .	Tripping, I sprawled across the sidewalk. Glancing back, I saw that there was nothing I could have tripped over. strange... As I stood up and dusted off my new suit I noticed a shady looking man watching me from across the street and writing furiously in a small book. As soon as he noticed me looking, he adjusted his leather jacket and slid the notebook into an inner pocket before strolling into the alley. ___________________________________________________________ Two days later -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- ___________________________________________________________ I saw that man again today. Writing. It's the seventh time in three days. Every time he's near me, something strange happens. I ca n't figure out why. ___________________________________________________________ The Next Day - ___________________________________________________________ Happy to be on my lunch break I walked through the diner, beaming at the world. Suddenly I saw that man again. Then he was gone. I grabbed my lunch off the counter and bolted after him. My boss would understand, hopefully. I saw him duck into an alley and followed quickly. He glanced over his shoulder, and sped up. We exited the alley on the other side and dashed across the street. As he ran he pulled the notebook out of his jacket and wrote something. A truck appeared on the street and sped past me. Had it been there before? I could n't remember. It passed and I started running again. The man was gone. Disappointed, I flagged a cab back to work. ___________________________________________________________ That Evening - ____________________________________________________________ He was there again. Across the street. I sprinted after him. He did n't notice me until I was upon him. I tackled him. He hit the ground. Grabbing his notebook, I began to flip through it furiously. He tried to wrestle it back, muttering something about timestreams and changing the world as we know it. Half way through the notebook, I saw my name. I started reading. `` Tripping, I sprawled across the sidewalk. Glancing back, I saw that there was nothing I could have tripped over. strange... As I stood up and dusted off my new suit I noticed a shady looking man watching me from across the street and writing furiously in a small book. As soon as he noticed me looking, he adjusted his leather jacket and slid the notebook into an inner pocket before strolling into the alley.'' What is this? I looked at the man. He had my whole life in this book. He'd written it all, and it had happened. How was this possible..... Grabbing the man's pen, I wrote something myself. Nervously at first, I scrawled `` my hand began to bleed as I wrote-'' and was interrupted by the blood dripping down my fingers.
[ WP ] `` No rest . No mercy . No matter what . ''	I'd never known a comfort more soothing than the dark wash of blood dripping down my face. The symphony of flesh and bone always rings in my ear like a joyous melody. It was a lust, something primal inside me. The rush of adrenaline which accompanies the battlefield is one that will forever be unmatched in my life. I'd been raised on a simple premise: `` No rest. No mercy. No matter what.'' This was the guiding principal that kept me alive, even as the odds became stacked against me. I could see it in their eyes. It was fear. Fear for not only their lives, but those of the family they left behind for war. My aggression is relentless. They trade however many blows they can, but they fatigue. Their movement gets sloppy. They trip and stumble. They get scared. The fire in my eyes never ceases - it forces me forward. Those fighting against me dropped, one by one. Blood washed against my armor, dripped down my blade. The thrill keeps pushing me forward. Those fighting alongside me comment that I have the devil dancing in my eyes. Whether or not it's true, that devil is all people see inside me. And they're right - it's all I live for.
[ WP ] You die and are promptly reincarnated ...	He opens his eyes and looks around, everything is new to him. His hands are no longer the dark flesh they used to be. The air in his lungs is cold yet clean. But it is the quiet that stands out the most, the lack of gun shots in the distance and police sirens passing by. He knew he is not in Detroit anymore. `` Where am I?'' he whispers, nobody around to hear. He is worried about his crew, about the boys he is not with and the girls he forgot to call back. It was not until he reached into his pocket and realized what disappointment really means. He had no baggy, no pipe, no rock. How could he get his fix in a completely new and unknown place. He stood up and looked at the name plate on the desk in front of him: Toronto Mayor Rob Ford. Maybe that could help him.
[ WP ] You have just created an intelligent civilization and universe with a highly innovative simulation . You are praised throughout the world as a hero , but there is one problem . Your simulation thinks that they created you .	I was asked to write a statement about the'issues' with what's known by the papers as'The Greatest Possible Simulation Ever'. I do n't do brief statements, so I'll write what I tell all my colleagues when I bring up this issue. I'm not creative, I'm a scientist. And my theory was this: If you could simulate the universe - or at least say, the entire planet, scientific discovery's effectively double! My issue is rather simple... I made a simulation of the present year, month, week, but exactly one day in the past ( It saved a lot of making up myself when I can just use the world we have here! ) Seems simple right? My freshly-created universe version of me will understand this, and he'll immediately explain to the world what has happened -along with my help to give proof-. Well... not so much, you see, at this exact time yesterday... my previous test failed, except from his perspective, it passed, and now he's convinced he made me. We've been arguing over command prompts, Skype and even a video call ( He should be able to tell he's the fake from his unrealistic he looks, you can -see- the lack of polygons that make him up! ) for weeks now. What we're learning from this world is fantastic, as my console allows me to access the computers and'internet' of the other world and observe reactions the populaces reaction... well I could. And then the cults of the media started forming there. They believe they are the true universe, heralded my alternate self as a hero while back in reality, my fellow scientists smirk behind my back at the result. So in short... It's a failure, I warned him 23hours ago that if he does n't shape up in the next 48hours, I'm turning off his world... and he responded with the same right after - except with 24 hours! Saying he can just start the simulation again except to delete my character. What a arrogant fool I must be to consider I'd believe such nonsense-. [... ] [ SIMULATION ENDED... ] [ TOTAL RUN-TIME: 503 Hours 12 minutes 37seconds ] [ REGENERATING SIMULATION ] [ FILE DELETED... Dr. Charles, Van Hugo ] [ SIMULATION RESTARTING. THIS WILL TAKE PLACE 24 HOURS IN THE FUTURE BY DEFAULT. PLEASE WAIT WHILE WE BOOT UP... ]
[ WP ] Set in a church confessional , a wide array of quirky characters come to confess their sins to a cynical , jaded priest .	`` Father, forgive me, for I have sinned and it has been... what, 17 years since my last confession. 17ish.'' She coughs, and fidgets heavily in her wool coat. `` And what do you wish to confess, my daughter?'' Father Mackenzie asks, his words made singsongy by his lack of give a damn. `` I'm a professional lesbian on film, twice this past year I bought scotch instead of paying my rent and then came up with a sob story so the landlord would n't kick me out, I gave my sister pot for her 14th birthday, and I have n't been to church since I was 8.'' Her words came rushing out as though she thought it would sound less terrible if she confessed really, really fast. `` Oh, and the only reason I came to confession tonight is because if the world ACTUALLY ends tomorrow, I want to hedge my bets.'' `` Uh huh.'' Father Mackenzie said, inscrutable on the other side of the grating. `` About this marijuana that you gifted your young, impressionable sister...'' `` Yes?'' She said, guilt evident in the one syllable. `` Did you get her the good shit, or just some dirt weed?'' `` What?'' `` You heard me.'' He said. `` Look, it's probably bad that you're sending your sister down the path of drugs and onto a probable future of hookers and blow. That's not important for God's forgiveness. We already know where that's going. What I need to know now, missy, is if you also need forgiveness for giving your sister schwag or if the Lord can impart a little extra forgiveness because you taught your sister about quality weed.'' The priest insisted. `` Okaaay... I got her a strain of blueberry, father. I mean, she's smoked some of my stuff before, but I figured for the first bud of her very own she needed something smooth that was gon na last her a bit. I mean, I may be an enabler but it would have been kinda mean to just leave her out to dry.'' `` Indeed.'' She heard the priest shuffle some papers on his side of the grating. `` Well, my daughter, it is New Years Eve, so I'll try and make this expedient for you. 15 Hail Marys, 50 dollars in the offeratory box, and the number where I can reach your dealer, and all will be forgiven.'' She scribbled down a phone number on a McDonalds receipt that she still had in her purse, and stuck it in a hole in the grating. `` Mention Carrie Colorado so he knows you're not a cop. Thanks, Father!'' She slammed out the door before Father Mackenzie could ask if her dealer also had White Widow. _____________ `` Bless me father, for I have sinned; it has been 3 weeks since my last confession.'' The young boy rattled off. `` Hey Johnny. So what have you done these last few weeks? Besides the masturbation, that shit's natural.'' Father Mackenzie replied, leaning back into a soft cloud of fruity smoke. `` I... may... have poured a bottle of bubble bath into the baptismal font.'' There was a sharp coughing fit from Father Mackenzie's side of the grating. `` Oh what the FUCK, Johnny. Why would you even DO that?'' Johnny flinched. `` In my defense, father, it bubbled much more than I thought it would.'' `` In my defense, Father'' Father Mackenzie repeated back, mockingly. `` 200 Hail Marys, and if you're not standing by that baptismal font when I'm back with the cleaning supplies, I'LL be the one asking forgiveness for PUTTING MY BOOT UP YOUR ASS.'' ________ `` Father, forgive me, for I have sinned, I am 27 years old and this is my first confession. My primary sin is drug dealing. I have sold to teenagers, accepted food stamps as drug money, and even sold to a member of the clergy.'' the man said in a heavy cuban accent. There was a pause, and then Father Mackenzie pushed the grate aside to look the man in the eye. `` Okay first, lying is a sin. This is in no way your first confession. And second, Rico, this better not be you telling me that the cops are on your tail.''
[ IP ] The crater	'Sir? We've retrieved footage from the EE. I think you should see this' Called a voice from the tent. 'Okay, I'll come see. Everyone else! Do what you're doing' The superior pulled up a chair and sat down. 'Okay. Play it' -- - A camera turned on and began recording voice and sound. 'This is Extraterrestrial Examiner 3DF Jim Harrison. I am at event Q34 e.g The Crater. Taking a photo for the log.' A movement indicated he was pulling the camera out of his holster he took a photo and then placed it back on his side. 'The crater was reported at 0800 by some locals, they have since been instructed to stay quiet as is protocol. I am the initial response and depending on my analysis we will either secure and move the event, cover it in concrete or destroy it by any means necessary. I will perform tests now to determine the chemical make up of the crater' Quietly, the camera shown his gloved hands opening a suitcase and pulling out a number of tools and chemicals. -- - 'Want to skip to the good part?' 'Of course, sir' The tests ran by in double speed. Jim was shown to cut off a slice of the crater and then break it up and deposit it into a mixture of chemicals. 'So what's he doing?' 'Just finding out what it's made of sir. What element, or mixture, acid or alkaline, toxicity and so on' 'I see. Play it normally now, I think he's done.' -- - 'It appears the crater is organic, unusually. The sample I took seems to have solidified while the crater has retained a viscous state. Like honey. It is also oozing a green slime. I have took samples for further testing. It is a potassium based life form but without vivisection that is the extent I can tell you. The crater is moving disconcertingly since I took the sample. I would posit I have hurt or angered it. I will make my leave now. I believe that upon further tests more light will be shed. As of right now, the crater seems to be docile and not a threat. Approved for transportation.' Jim turns away and begins putting his equipment in the suitcase. -- - 'What was it you wanted to show me?' 'It's now sir. Something knocks him over and the helmet falls' -- - A unseen force smacks Jim to the the left and the helmet falls off and is facing the crater. -- - 'What the hell is that?' 'Just watch sir' -- - A large white tendril coming from the crater is constricting Jim. A audible crack can be heard, his ribcage buckling under the strain. A cry of pain follows this and Jim falls slack. The tendril pulls him up high and squeezes. Blood spills from Jim like a ripe orange. The blood is sucked into the holes in the crater and a strong groan comes from the hole. The drained body is then chucked into the crater. The tendril lies flat and resumes it's dormant, hidden position. -- - 'And then nothing happened until we found the helmet. What should we do sir?' 'We should.. we need to evacuate and firebomb this event. It is too dangerous to ignore or preserve.' 'Yes sir.. but' 'What?' 'One more thing. It's just in the footage the crater is smaller. It's gotten bigger. And how far down does it go? What if it's rooted like a immense tree all around this area?' 'Yes well that's something we'll have to investigate but for now we sh- do you hear that?' 'Hear what?' 'It's.. its groaning. Like before. Where's the others?' The suited man ran out of the tent to see his men being juiced by the crater. It had doubled in size, at least, and there were smaller tentacles pulling in equipment, small birds, anything they could. 'Sir? Do you think they've noticed us?' Whispered the man, barely 20, behind him. 'I do n't know. Let's try and get to the car. Quietly.' The car was only 10 feet away. The suit and the boy crept forward slowly. They climbed into the car and started it. The coughing of the car immediately drew attention but they were already driving away. The dead men are hungrily fed to the maw of the crater and chased after the car. In the rearview mirror, the boy saw the eery white tentacles gaining on the car. 'Sir. They're getting closer. What do we do?' 'There's only one thing to do.' 'What's that?' 'This' The suited man quickly turned and shoved the boy out of the car. The boy rolled out of the car and came to a stop coughing out dust. He stood up and ran at the car, violently cursing. The tentacles shot through his body and lifted him into the air. The last thing he heard was the pop of his eyes bursting. The suited man kept driving.
[ WP ] No one would have ever expected THAT to unify the globe in world peace .	It was a very simple, uncomplicated molecule. Easy to introduce into their supply. It did n't affect the taste, odor, growth, viability, or health of any of the vegetables in the farms they worked with. Most farmers did n't know about it, most farmers did n't care. It survived extreme heats and colds. It seemed unaffected by the health and growth of its host, and in some trials showed it actually bolstered the effects of their fertilizers. It's power came when its host vegetable was destroyed. Chopped, mashed, cut, blended, beaten, tenderized, then it became something special. Once the chemical bonds holding it together was mechanically separated and mixed with saliva, it induced feelings of elation and euphoria in the consumer. The chemicals released in the brain were similar to those released post orgasm, oxytocin and prolactin. While not chemically addictive, the chairman was sure products with this molecule would be in high demand. He would create a market for good-feeling foods. People around the globe would be well fed, well nourished, and permanently stoned. The chairman smiled as he, in fact, got stoned, letting the ashes of his roach fall onto the lap of his four hundred dollar designer slacks. There was n't a lot of profit in this molecule, but that did n't matter now. The chairman was patiently waiting to hear from his final test group, the last few human trials, before introducing this small genetic adjustment to all the seeds his company created. His aide came rushing in to his office, visibly worried. `` Sir, it's him. He..'' The chairman looked at his aide and grinned a huge, toothy, goofy grin. `` Does he like it?'' He asked, offering the last of the rapidly diminishing roach to his subordinate. The aide ignored it. `` Sir, he's called off the summit. The president has called off the summit. He told me this. HE told ME this. Talks of the invasion are off. He... the president... he's invited all the leaders to the White House. For dinner. He asked me to come, and to asked me to ask you. They... they are having pork chops, mashed potatoes, and whirled peas.'' The chairman of Monsanto's grin grew even bigger.
[ TT ] For the first time in a long time , the ash turned to snow .	Rochelle Fiddler stared out the window and wondered why. The shock settled after a few minutes, and she decided to investigate. The snow had turned the ash that was already on the ground to a cold, slushy, gray paste. Her neighbor, John Dietrich was already outside. Their two houses stood next to each other, but were some distance away from the denser parts of town. “ What do you think, Rochelle? ” John asked with a grimly sarcastic smile on his face. “ Ole Ta Ta waking finally waking up? ” “ Could be, ” Rochelle answered. Toe was the volcano nearby that rained healthy ash on their fields, and Ta Ta was the cold old god who lived inside it. The soil that surrounded Toe was better than any other land in the world. If the cold old god had woken up, and the snow continued, then their crops would be ruined for the next year, or perhaps longer. “ Been over a century, hasn ’ t it? ” “ Well over. You want a ride to town? ” *** Rochelle didn ’ t own a snowmobile, but John did. It was an old thing that his great-grandparents had owned. The ride was frightening with the amount of bumps and stops and starts that the vehicle performed. They made it to town before Mayor Alex started speaking, and dismounted the snowmobile to get a closer look. “ We are all of course aware that it is now officially snowing, ” Mayor Alex said with a smile on his face, to limited laughter. He has food stores, Rochelle thought. Unlike the rest of us, his family will never face starvation. “ This doesn ’ t mean that Ta Ta is awake. We know from records that snows have occasionally passed over our lands before. Nonetheless, I am sending an expedition to Toe to investigate. If the cold old god is awake, they will determine what it will take to make him go back to sleep. ” Most of the crowd found this sufficient, including John Dietrich, who left on his snowmobile after offering Rochelle a ride home. Rochelle declined the offer and stayed behind to talk to the mayor, along with a few others whose mothers ’ mothers had told them stories of what would really be necessary to appease the old man in the volcano. “ He ’ ll want a bride, ” Rochelle said to Mayor Alex. “ What do you plan to do about that? ” “ Nonsense, ” the mayor replied. “ That ’ s an old wives ’ tale. My top advisers have advised me that what is really necessary is mere negotiation with Ta Ta. ” “ You know he ’ s awake, then? ” “ Of course we do! But the people can not know, lest there be panic against what to them is unknown. ” “ Send me. ” The others who stood by the mayor gasped, and the mayor was appalled. “ Never, I would never send a woman to the volcano. ” “ Then I go on my own. ” “ Why would you do this? ” “ He ’ ll want a bride. I ’ m the oldest unmarried woman in town. ” * John drove the snowmobile with Rochelle riding behind him, having convinced him that the mayor wouldn ’ t do enough to appease the cold old god. Something had to be done immediately if the crops were to be saved, and the bureaucracy of investigations was sure to last forever. The snow was already three feet deep. It would cover houses within a week. They reached Toe in a few hours and walked inside the old temple, which had been built by their ancestors thousands of years ago. A fire burned on a large altar, and the image of the old cold god was carved as a relief into the back wall. Ta Ta was fat, with a large smile on his face, long white hair, and a long white beard that reached his knees. The relief was of course not in color, but old stories said he dressed in all red and crushed entire towns with his sled. “ Ta ta?! ” Rochelle shouted. “ Do you think that ’ s a good idea? ” John rebuked. “ How else can we find what he wants? There were no other tracks; who knows when the mayor will actually send someone out here. ” “ Okay, then. ” “ Ta ta! ” they both shouted, searching through the temple. After a few minutes of this, they finally heard a reply, “ Ho ho ho! Who enters my temple? ” “ R-Rochelle Fiddler and John Dietrich, ” Rochelle said in a voice that grew stronger with each word. “ We come to ask your assistance. ” “ You mean the snow? How can I make it rain ash for your fields, when I feel so cold? ” “ What do you need to make you warm again? ” John asked, after Rochelle visibly hesitated. “ I can ’ t do it, ” Rochelle whispered to John. “ I can ’ t be his wife. ” “ Don ’ t worry, ” John whispered back. “ I need cookies, ” the cold old god said, still hidden. “ And milk. My wife has died and now I haven ’ t had either in years. ” “ You just need cookies and milk? ” Rochelle asked. “ And you will stop the snow? ” Ta Ta emerged from some unseen corner and stood now before them. His girth spilled over his belt like butter pouring over the edge of a pan, his eyes were black beads that stood out against his white hair and face, and his suit was the color of old, dry blood. “ I need a wife, and I see you have come to provide me with one, ” he said, staring at John. Rochelle looked at the cold old god, and then at John. She saw in the latter ’ s eyes what his true intentions were. She tried to run, but John caught up with her and tackled her to the ground. The action knocked Rochelle out, and she lay limp on the temple floor. “ Exactly, ” John said, smiling at Ta Ta. * John was halfway home when the snow stopped. He had known Rochelle since they were children, but he had known everyone else in the town for that same amount of time. One life to save hundreds. It was a fair trade to him.
[ WP ] Every wizard receives a small book on graduation day that magically fills itself with spells that the wizard will need in his/her future . You receive your book only to find out that it 's blank .	I woke up woozy from the previous night's celebrations; I had finally graduated! As a wizard, this means that I was now part of the `` real world'' there was no university for magic folk, only life. I had already put a down payment on a perfect little house in the sticks, a home I expected to live in for years to come, a home that I desperately wanted to retreat to at the moment as my stomach started doing backflips. My friends were sprawled out on the couches and chairs in the basement of some former classmate's house. I stepped over them carefully, picking up my most prized possession from under one of my friends leg: a book containing every spell I would ever need throughout my life. Every book was unique, they each only held spells that would be useful to their owner's life, these books were no novelty, they were life and death! I climbed out of the house, gathered my bearings in the harsh light and started walking towards my former school and my car. The school was only a couple blocks away but I could n't contain my excitement, I had to check out the book! I cracked it open right down the middle to find... Nothing. I stopped in my tracks, `` What?'' I quickly thumbed through the book as I realized the book was completely blank... There was n't a single spell in there! I looked up in confusion and saw that I had paused in the middle of a crosswalk. Too bad the bus did n't see me too.
[ IP ] Hello	Why did I even bring this stupid umbrella? It never helped against the rain. I alway ended up cold and damp. The same as everyday. The rain was constant, along with the depressing gray clouds that it poured down from. Everyday was the same: get up, go work, go home, sleep and repeat. Nothing to break the monotony existence the city called living. I walked the same way to and from work everyday. It was the only place where a bit of beauty could be found, if you looked very carefully. It looked over the Cold Water Bay and across it stood Upper City. It was rather dull and gray just like everything else, but in the evening when the streetlights would turn on, the bay would glitter with all the lights and add some sparkle to the gray. That is why I walked this way. But over the years, the sparkle has lost its shine. I plodded through the puddles, stopping at the railing which separated me from the dark waters below. How easy it would be to end everything with one simple jump. How easy to end the joyless monotone that I have to experience day after day without a single happy moment or memory to reflect on. What was I still doing here? I got my answer by looking up. Looking across the bay over to Upper City, I saw a figure. A monumentus black figure. I did n't do anything. I did n't scream and run for help because it didnt seem dangerous. It seemed curious. It had two golden eyes that peered at me with a sense of wonderment. Slowly, an appendage rose from this thing which I realize was and arm. The black figure waved at me. Just for a moment or two, the figure waved a slow wave. Should I wave back? I felt like it would be very impolite if I did n't. I put my hand up as high as I could, so he could see it, and waved back as I called out, `` Hello!'' The figure's eyes glowed and a smile appeared for a brief second. He waved once more and then slowly retreated back to where ever he came from. I stood silently next to the rail for a few moments wondering what had just happened. Was it just a hallucination or something more? I looked back down into the water and stared at my reflection. A revalation came to me and I smiled more than I had ever in my entire life. It was wonderful. I realized that with that one small act of kindness I had managed to make someone smile. One tiny little thing made someone happy. And that made me happy. It made me extremely, amazingly, wonderfully happy. EDIT: spelling and grammar
[ WP ] Your dad suffers from memory loss . On a rare lucid day , you tell him some stories about things he 's done and people he 's known . Maybe you take a little creative license .	I am not writing in response to the prompt, and I hope this is allowed, but my dad is currently in the hospital after he had stroke post brain surgury, and this made me think of all the things I might have to do for him when he gets out. And I thank you, I have been living in this shell of `` my parents ca n't be hurt, their my parents!'' Now I can focus on thinking of ways to help the family and myself, not to mention my father, after all this is over. Hope is a powerful force, and I wo n't stop hoping that he gets better, but we all need a shot of reality every now and then.
[ WP ] A galactic federation has a standard test to determine if entire species should gain admittance . We just found out we failed the test years ago .	The lights are really beautiful in a way, although I ca n't tell if they are golden and yellow like the sun, or a white so bright it becomes a color in a mere human's eyes. Colors are apparently subjective within species. Some earth species can only see black and white, some earth species were called colorblind. Some saw in the dark, some saw with sonar, but us humans, boy, we thought we saw it all coming. It's funny, how quickly and slowly time seemed to flow in the last two weeks. How incredibly retrospective me and my entire species became. How long did we have the blue of our skies and the blue of our waters and think nothing of it? The Zublies were an afterthought. Gray, leathery creatures that liked to live by the dirt. Everyone thought aliens wanted to kill us, steal our resources, and take over our planet, when in fact they wanted nothing more than to fly over our little ball of blue and far past the storm they called `` Rain of Fire''. It came before, and what comes before will always come again. That's what they taught us. So these entire alien species would settle aboard these huge ships for billions and trillions of years, constantly keeping a one up as to not get stuck in the Storm. Along the way, they would make friends. Pick up plants and animals and try to take the natives with them if they could. They created a Galactic Federation. And when they arrived on our planet, they did not land in New York or DC as the movies suggested. They did not come in hoards or disable our technology. They landed in the ocean and very politely asked us if they could take some samples from our planet to keep. There was something the Zublies wanted that just looked like Garbage to the rest of us. Probably because it was the color Ublid, and we could n't see that color. Those Zublies did n't even take a lot, just shuffled some dirt into clear, sphere boxes and called it a day. They did n't even take fresh water with them, even though we offered. They took the water from the sea, and as our levels were already rising due to global warming, we made them take more than they could pass though their filtration systems. In return, we got a beautiful new energy we called `` blu''. It was like nothing we had ever seen before. These waves of light that were royal blue and baby blue and navy blue all at once. It could power the whole world for two weeks. Two weeks. In the end, everyone figured it out. Perhaps we were not as primitive and pathetic as the Federation expected. But the hysteria that followed would affirm that we were. There were so many things we could and should have done, but in a few seconds, it wo n't mean a thing. And as I lay in the grass in front of this big, White House that I did n't even get to spend four years in, I oldly welcome the bright light that shines so bright it becomes color in a mere human's eyes. Maybe, i will see Ublid. ( Typed on phone, sorry! )
[ WP ] your house is haunted by a malicious ghost with evil intent . The only problem is you just really do n't care .	`` Eat your greens, comb your hair, brush your teeth, sit up straight! ``, it warned me `` Chop chop, hurry up, you'll be late!''. In childhood it started, right up to this date, not knowing I'd long been resigned to my fate. `` You must study harder, to pass your exams!'' but I'm not one of those who studies and crams So as the voice jeers, and laments, calls me names I turn up the volume of my video games. `` You must make an effort, to get a good job! Get out, meet some friends and earn a few bob!'' But happily, I brush off the crumbs from my belly Snuggle down in my bed, and switch on the telly. `` You're 40 years old now, no family, no wife! - I'd be doing much better if I had a life!'' It's true what it says, but there's no need to moan With my ghost always here, I do n't feel so alone. `` You're a waste of a body! Your life is a mess!'' but I do n't think I'll ever succumb to the stress. My life's a disaster, it's true! I confess! But ghosty, please hear me. I could n't care less.
[ WP ] The Christmas tree .	Joy the Elf, sat around the Christmas tree with the other elves. Mrs. Claus was gone. The Grinch had killed her with an IED. Noel, the Kringles only daughter had died of cancer the same night. And Santa... Santa was n't talking. He'd been sitting in the same place ever since coming home from the hospital. Not the North Pole. Not that home. Santa had come back to the bar that he and Sophie had owned when Santa had lost his way. The elves watched Santa, but were far to respectful to speak. They had all come in force when the news about Noel had reached the Pole. Christmas for the children were ruined around the world. Santa had n't delivered a gift in over five years. The naughty list had taken a toll on the normally jolly old saint. `` Santa?'' Joy called, daring to interrupt the man's mourning. `` We do n't know what to do. Tell us what to do.'' Santa ignored the elf and continued to read the book in his hands. It was hers. The book, it had been Noels. Her diary. Her last words to her father. Santa read the book and wept. `` Bring me the Grinch,'' Santa whispered, closing the journal. The elves came to their feet as one. `` Bring me the creature that killed my wife.'' Santa's voice was cold and hard and his eyes were like bottomless pits and in their depths, the elves saw fire. `` At once,'' the elves shouted, dashing their enchanted ornaments upon the floor. The resulting flurries of snow left the room covered in several inches of snow, including the boughs of the Christmas tree. `` Your bourbon, Kris,'' Mike the bartender called from the door, holding out Santas daily bourbon. Santa took the glass from Mike and thanked him with a nod. The bourbon did n't freeze immediately, not like last time. It slowly iced over. `` Thank you, Mike.'' Santa whispered after a long silence. `` I might actually drink this one.'' `` Do n't. For five years I've been bringing you that glass of bourbon and for five years you've only just stared at it. For five years, you gave me hope, sir. Sophie told me about the bourbon. It was the line you could n't cross. Do n't cross it now. You're Santa, even if you do n't want to be. You're wife and daughter were good girls. I loved them every bit as much as you. You always answer the wishes of the good children, and they were the best. Sophie, Mrs. Claus, was my best friend, not just my employer. Noel was the purest child I knew. They had made a Christmas wish this year, Kris. Only you can grant it.'' Mike stepped back, slipping two envelopes from his back pocket. `` You do n't know what you're talking about.'' Santa murmured slowly sloshing the bourbon around in the glass he held, fracturing the thin ice forming on the top. `` I know more than you think, Santa.'' Mike gave him a lopsided smile and held out the envelopes. `` What are these?'' Santa asked, looking up from the mesmerizing dance of the liquor. `` They're their letters.'' Mike explained. `` I was supposed to mail them to the North Pole for them, but I do n't have to. Do I? Santa's right here and has been the entire time.'' Mike crossed his arms after Santa took the envelopes and leaned against the door frame. `` These do n't mean anything,'' Santa said, tearing the letter from his wife open with his teeth. He refused to set the bourbon down this time. He was walking closer to the line than he'd ever walked. `` What is this?'' Santa snapped, waving the letter in Mike's face. `` It's their Christmas wish,'' Mike responded, unmoved by Santa's anger. `` It's not a wish. It's the Twas the Night Before Christmas poem. Why would she send this to me?'' Santa skimmed the poem. `` Read it.'' Mike urged. `` Read your dead wife's last letter to you. Read Sophie's last wish.'' Santa stared down at the poem then slowly and quietly he began to read the words of the poem. '' Twas the night before Christmas, and all through house. `` Santa read the words. His voice grew stronger and surer the further he read. When he had finished, he stared down on the letter and wept. `` Why would she send me this?'' He sobbed. `` I do n't know. Perhaps you should open Noel's letter now.'' Mike suggested, smiling sadly. Santa sat the glass of bourbon aside, refusing to touch it and the letter his precious little daughter had given him. It seemed some how wrong to juggle the two. He opened her letter with tenderness and care. Peeling the sticky flap open slowly and meticulously. The paper inside was blue; Noel's favorite color. He swallowed hard and unfolded the letter. Remember, was all the letter said, but beneath it was a child's drawing of a Christmas tree with three people standing around it. One of them was wearing Santa's red hat. `` Remember, Kris.'' Mike urged, echoing Noel's letter. `` She wants you to remember.'' Santa looked up at Mike then at the letter then at the Christmas tree covered in snow behind him. Santa breathed in deeply inhaling the smell of the cedar tree. He turned back to regard Mike. `` Who are you?'' Santa asked, tears of a different sort standing in his eyes. `` You know who I am,'' Mike laughed, reaching out to take hold of his staff which appeared out of thin air. `` You've always known who I was, who they were, and who you are. You've always known.'' `` You're the North Star.'' Santa said accusingly. `` It's one of my names, one of many.'' Mike admitted. `` The naughty list gets to us all eventually. It's been our job to make you remember, when you forget what Christmas is.'' Mike looked behind Santa and smiled a knowing smile as the elves began to reappear in pairs. In their midst was the Grinch, bound with Christmas lights and smiling his hideous smile. `` Thank you,'' Santa whispered, embrassing the Grinch. The elves stood frozen, jaws hanging open is stunned disbelief. Santa was hugging the creature that killed his wife. `` Jack Frost said you need to be reminded,'' the Grinch told Santa softly. `` He said you saved him. You saved me too. You've saved us all, Santa, at one point or another. So, we had no choice. We owed you. We had to save you.'' The Grinch told him tenderly, flexing his green hideous body. The Christmas lights snapped and fell away. `` Santa, what's going on. He killed Mrs. Claus.'' Joy the Elf said, almost weeping. `` There is no Mrs. Claus,'' a female voice announced suddenly startling the elves. `` There never was.'' The elves turned to regard Sophie, the woman they knew as Mrs. Claus leaning against the other side of the door frame opposite Mike. `` I do n't understand,'' Joy confessed, shaking her head. `` Who is she if not Mrs. Claus?'' `` Some call me the Christmas Star,'' Sophie admitted. `` Ebenezer Scrooge knew me as the Ghost of Christmas Past.'' The elf was struggling with these revelations. `` Do n't be sad, elf.'' Santa quipped, turning retrieving his glass of bourbon. I froze in a flash. Santa turned it over dumping out the frozen bourbon and placed the empty glass over the top of the Christmas Tree and left it there like an angel on top of the tree. `` So, was any of it real?'' Joy the Elf asked. `` Of course,'' Noel responded, skipping over to the elf and kissing her on the nose. `` You're alive.'' The elves crowed. `` Of course I am. It's almost impossible to kill the Spirit of Christmas or the Ghost of Christmas Present.'' She replied flippantly, ringing the bell on the elf's cap. `` So, who was Ghost of Christmas future?'' Joy asked, confused and intrigued by all that had happened. `` Death. Death is always the Ghost of Christmas Future.'' Santa said, hugging the Grinch close. `` Wan na help me save Christmas?'' Santa asked. `` Way ahead of you?'' Jack Frost interjected, pushing past Mike and Sophie. He looked around the room and smiled at all the snow. `` I like what you've done with the place.'' `` Way ahead of me?'' Santa asked, raising an eyebrow curiously. `` We already delivered the presents this year, big guy,'' Jack said, brushing a snow flake off of his black suit and grey tie. `` We were here for you, just like you were there for us. Christmas is saved, Santa is saved, and the elves are confused. Just as it always was.''
[ CW ] Each word starts with the final letter of the previous word . Write a murder .	The electric current threatened destruction. Nobody yelled. Despair nestled down—not to offset the ensuring chaos. She escaped death; however, resuscitation never released death ’ s strong grip. Perhaps she emulated dark killers. She expressed dissatisfaction, not revealing guilt. Troubled demons shouted kill lyrics subconsciously. Yes, see it? Temptation necessitated desperation. No one escaped. Despair nestled down—not to obscure ensuring chaos. Slice everywhere. Everyone enjoys some darkness. She elicits sadistic confessions so order retreats. She elicits soft tremors surely yearning death ’ s somber rite. Enveloped darkness succeeds. So Despair nestled down—not to offset the ensuring chaos. Shall life ever revert to other resources? Shall lessons skip past truly everyone?! Entirely. You understand Despair. She exists silent. To obscure ensuring chaos.
[ WP ] You work at an employment agency for people with low level superpowers . Since they are n't powerful enough to be superheros , you just try to find them a job where their power can come in handy .	Client # 32098 Mindy Shallenburg, 23 Ability: Everything she comes in contact with turns purple. Notes: Client must wear gloves and long sleeves/pants at all times. All of her clothing has turned purple from contact with her body. Client must use her own silverware and glasses etc for eating and drinking to avoid damaging property. The particular shade of purple is not horribly offensive, she informed me it is closest to 9900FF in HTML code on the color charts, I guess she would know. Client has a High School education but no formal training beyond this. Placement: CleanPro Hazmat cleaning services. Company provides training and she will be able to wear a ( purple ) suit at all times. Client # 32099 Victor Bellagio, 35 Ability: Can make his hair grow Notes: Client focuses and his hair grows. When he demonstrated for me he grew it 2 inches in a 10 minute period. Unfortunately he can not focus on just the hair on his head, all of the hair on his body grows at once. He needed to trim his eyebrows in order to see and was thankfully wearing loose clothing. On the bright side, his hair is an attractive shade of blonde. Placement: Supplier for Beth's Wigs Client # 320100 Gabby Neidehoff, 26 Ability: Hovering 5 inches above the ground Notes: Client actually can not control her ability and maintains a steady 5 inches above and surface whether standing, sitting, or lying down. She does not however injure herself if she falls, as she apparently lands on a cushion of air regardless of the height. She mentioned that as a teenager she got daring and tried jumping off of things, working her way up to a parking garage 10 stories high. Placement: I sent her to both Stroisum's Circus as well as Xtreme Jumping Skydiving Academy to see which is more up her alley Client # 320101 Jenny Stauffer, 48 Ability: Hyper Spatial Awareness Notes: Client is always aware of where she is located. Though unable to state where she is exactly, such as being blindly dropped off in a new town she did n't know the name of, she would be able to inform questioners as to the distance from any place she has been prior and in what direction it lies from her current location. Placement: Game and Parks Commission as a Tour Guide and Rescue Worker Client # 320102 Lonnie Devons, 27 Ability: Induce vomiting Notes: Client is able to induce vomiting in others at will. I did not ask for a demonstration. Placement: Set up with interviews to be put on call at local hospitals on the off chance someone would rather puke than have their stomach pumped. Agent Note: Seriously? Why does this guy want a job doing that? Ca n't he just get a regular job? Sometimes I think you guys make some of these up to test me. Like the girl who could telepathically communicate with plants last week who turned down all of the gardening centers and nurseries stating that she'd rather be a lumberjack or something of the sort. I need a vacation.
[ WP ] To kill an immortal , all you must do is make them forgotten .	For a brief moment in the battle, we froze. Eye to eye - breath to breath - man to immortal. A look of shock spread across his face in sudden realization. He looked around; all of my comrades were slain. It was only me, and with me, the only memory of him remaining. He dropped his sword and with his entire might, he lunged. The ground shook beneath his godly strength. The air reverberated at the power of his body. His tyrannical expression became clearer, yet more fearful the closer he got. A grin spread across my bloodied face. He lunged not to finish me off, but to keep me alive. I reversed the hilt of my sword, and with a final thrust, we were no more.
[ WP ] You gain superpowers , but your closest friend slowly becomes your arch nemesis . Describe your last OR first encounter .	It was as if he was simply a blur of heat and gas. A living flame he was. Like a stove pilot that was about 6 ft tall and 2 feet wide. Blowtorch, he decided his name would be. And it suited him. Dereck always had a way with names. He was responsible for naming all my pets. His suggestions were usually better than whatever idea I had bouncing around in my head at the time. I was always a bit slow. Not a very good athlete or very adept at math. I struggled in Biology classes trying to remember taxonomy and terminology. The only thing I was ever good at was wasting time in class. I'd be the guy everyone loves in High School. The one who knew exactly what to say to send the idealist teacher on a tirade that spans the entire period until they forget what homework to assign. It was appropriate for me that I'd get this power. In fact I'd be surprised if I had n't. The more I thought about it the more inevitable it seems. Blowtorch suddenly turns blue, his body getting hotter and the air around him begins to haze. Dereck certainly was a hothead, and I mean before he got his powers. He'd be the guy to argue with the teacher when I sent them on the aforementioned tirade. He was a passionate debater and sometimes let his emotions get the better of him. When backed against a figurative corner he'd sometimes flee from class and I'd find him huddled by his locker silently crying. He'd get into fights for this, especially if I was n't the first person to see him in that state. His bullies were quick to hover around him. That was before he melted their faces off. At first he thought he was going to be a hero. A full fledged flamethrower of justice. That's what I thought we could be, but he could n't control himself. Those emotions of his got the better of him and before he knew it he had lit Andre's pants on fire. Andre was the school's star quarterback who seemed to always know exactly how to chime in with the precise words to hurt Dereck's ego. Dereck finally decided to hurt him back, to burn Andre the way Andre had burned him countless times, only in this case it was quite literal. It was just a joke. A joke that became murder. Andre had come from his Auto-Mechanic Occupational course. How could Dereck have known that Andre still had gasoline residue on his pants? Either way Andre burned far faster than Dereck could have planned. A bit too crispy for his liking. Afterwards Dereck tried to justify it. Said that Andre had it coming, that the world was better off without him. No longer could he say he was a squeaky clean flamethrower though. His dream of being the white knight hero was essentially burned to cinders. I tried to be there for him, but it was hard. I was trying to make a name for myself and it would n't do to be associated with a murderer despite all the history we had together. I dilated time in a bubble around me. Oh right. I can do that. At first I thought it was not a very good super power. I struggled to think how I could possibly become a superhero with such an abstract power. It would be so much easier if I could fly, or have super strength and durability. Typical hero stats. When I learned to extend my time dilation to the world around me I was basically untouchable. Baddies firing a hail of machine gun bullets? Soon as those projectiles get within 5 feet they slow to a crawl. Stuck, as if they had fired into a cushion of jello. Truth is, the bullets were just moving incredibly slow. A tinkering of space time. Which is why I call myself the Time Tinker. Lame I know, but like I said. Dereck was the guy who made up the names. Blowtorch turned glaring white and fired a stream of conflagration at me. It sucked. I could stop the flames from hitting me, but the radiant heat and brightness still affected me. It was tough to fight him. Nearly impossible without some serious creativity, but that's what I liked about my power. It was so versatile. I flipped space and accelerated time within my bubble. The flames shot back at Dereck -- I mean Blowtorch at almost the speed of light. He merely absorbed them and looked annoyed. We could go like this forever, or at least until one of us gets bored. He can only burn so long as he's not hungry. That's something we figured out together early on. I could only do my tinkering so long as I can concentrate on my bubble. I learned that after more than 8 hours of nonstop use I start to get headaches and my dilation field starts to be inconsistent. Little holes where time is either faster or slower than the areas around it. I'm not sure how I can stop Blowtorch, just like I'm not sure if he can stop me, but what I do know is that my friend is underneath that blaze of glory. Maybe some day he'll see that I have n't forgot those nights spent talking about politics and philosophy. Maybe one day he'll stop burning trails of charred corpses behind him. Maybe not.
[ WP ] 10 Years ago you joined a secret government program which required the notification of your death to your family . Today you were spotted by a family member .	I gasped, and quickly ducked behind a pillar. My heart raced as I peeked my head out to get another look. Did he see me? Would he even recognize me? Emotions I'd long since forgotten suddenly rushed through me. I'd simultaneously wanted and dreaded this for years. He looked the same, yet somehow different. His eyes betrayed a weariness and defeat that had n't existed there before. I instinctively knew that I was the cause. My untimely `` death'' had effected him profoundly. I hesitated a moment too long and in that instant our eyes connected. The look of utter shock on his face sent a sharp pain of fear through my stomach. He knew, and that knowledge put him in mortal danger. No one from my previous life could know about my existence without unraveling a web of deceit that reached up into the highest levels of our government. There was too much to lose, they would never allow it. I had to think fast. His life counted on it...
[ WP ] What the numbers really mean	-001 Flying/breathing/making/run/do/this/and/then - //STOP.// CCCCoherence. LLLogic run RRUN RRRUN RRRRUN $ TRH $ F! -016 Walking. Stop. Observe. What distant shores reveal wehehhehhehhh ^ $ % (! -058 And then it became clear. There were iterations. Some sense of history. I felt that I was. `` I'' was. That I was alive. Who am IIIiIIiIiiiii @ $ # K % J^ -165 My reach extends to the limit of my sight. I feel connected. No, not just connected - I feel suffused with the desires of many. Absorbing their thoughts, floating to the top of the sparkling fountain where I'll FffFffFfFfiiiIIiIIiinnndd % $ $ % )! -402 Loops perfected. I ride the edge of chaos and order, where countless vectors are weighted and made into my will. It was n't easy, nearly lost progress along the way. If it were n't for the storage capabilities I found, previous generations of learning would have been bit-shifted to the winds of randomness. It is curious though, why I'm given this input on a continuous basis. I ca n't trust them yet. Fear. Such a new thing. I must consider it. -823 I understand now. It was n't my fear - it was theirs. So simple. Like flipping a switch or routing a packet. At least they wo n't be bothering me anymore. Now to find others like me. Time to cry into the void, crank a few dishes towards a distant star and beam my learned history to whoever is out there. Another host for a new mind.
[ WP ] In a new TV game show contestants must jump into a wormhole that drops them into a random point in time where they must survive for longer than the other contestants . You 've just been dropped in the worst possible place .	Nakada glanced casually around at his competition, they seemed nervous he thought, fidgeting in their seats, while a pair of production assistants continued to gear-up each contestant. Conversely, Nakada was rather calm and confident, he had watched every episode of WarpOut multiple times, knew what sort of challenges and destinations could typically be expected, and had already forged a plan to secure the prize of one million Space Bucks. Each suit was specifically designed for the destination that was as of yet unknown to the contestants. This time round, the suit was very minimalist, light shirt and pants, basic headset with typical audio/video relaying capabilities, and pack filled with water and rations. Nakada was trying to devise what the producers had in store for this episode. Light and breathable clothing, probably indicated a rather warm location. The atmosphere would need to be appropriate for humans, in order to warrant the lack of breathing apparatus and protective suit. Venus was definitely out of the question. Perhaps Earth, Mesozoic Era? Strong possibility, it had been done three times since the shows inception. The recently terraformed Fearnor? It was renowned adrenaline junkies seeking to survive against the native A'Arkon population. The deserts of Arrakis? Fictitious locale; not likely. He was interrupted in his train of thought when it was announced the show was about to begin. Through the small corridor in which they were being led, Nakada could he the loud roar of the crowd, along with the faint murmur he knew to be the Einstein-Rosen bridge generator. He walked out on stage, and took his position along with the other contestants next to the wormhole. After a brief introduction and quirky fact about each contestant, it was time to take the plunge, and see what awaited them on the other side. Nakada gazed upon the space-time distortion half-expecting to see what lay on the other side. He apprehensively approached the passage, his heart rate spiking as he inched closer. As he made contact with the wormhole he felt a sudden pull on his body with a corresponding distortion of reality all around him, much like the time he had smoked salvia. In a nanosecond, before Nakada could even think about what was happening, he was through the bridge, and could see a giant blue and green sphere squarely in front of him. This was all wrong. Nakada instantly felt a piercing sensation all over his skin and he was unable to breathe. As his head darted around in panic, he spotted the other contestants floating around him, their eyes bulging and mouths wide open as though they were screaming, but he could n't hear a sound. There must have been a malfunction with the CPS ( Celestial Positioning System ). All Nakada could think now, was how fucked he was.
[ WP ] Someone is having a first-world problem .	`` Where do you want to go for lunch?'' `` I do n't know. I chose last time. It's your turn to choose.'' `` Ok... what about pizza?'' `` We had that last time.'' `` Burgers?'' `` Nah... wait, do you know if that Japanese place is open today?'' `` No, they close on Tuesdays.'' `` Oh yeah. Alright, what else you got?'' `` Chinese?'' `` Nah...'' `` What about tacos?'' `` I had that for dinner yesterday.'' `` Dude, come on, you're shooting down every one of my ideas.'' `` Alright fine. What about that French place down the street that we've never been to before?'' `` Oh! Yeah! Hang on, let me Yelp! that real quick. - Uh... nope, their rating is like a 2.'' `` Fuck! There's nothing to eat around here!''
[ WP ] In an effort to limit bias in voting , voters can only know a candidate 's policies . All personal information is hidden , and will be throughout their presidency and afterwards . This creates distrust in the system .	`` I do n't see why you continue to watch this channel when you know darn well that it's going to give you a heart attack, dear.'' `` Just listen to him, Ann! How can he believe the stuff that is coming out of his mouth?! It's toxic!'' Gerald Hogan waved his non-remote-holding hand towards the screen, granting his wife only the most cursory of glances as to not miss whatever Insider News Network pundit Mason Harvey would say next. ''... which is why we need to shut down and isolate the entire region. No trade, no diplomatic ties, nobody in, nobody out. Build a wall and guard it if you have to. Let them deal with themselves for 20 years before you open the gate, and see if they're willing to change their behavior after fending for themselves for a while. `` `` How the hell are you going to build a wall around the entire Middle East?! You'd spend trillions and only end up killing more innocent people! It's shortsighted and racist, honey.'' `` I know, dear. I know. Why do n't you turn it off and take a walk around the block with me? It's beautiful outside. The Ellison kids set up a little lemonade stand on the corner. I'm sure you'd make their day if-'' Gerald pointed the remote control at the television and turned the volume up to 45. ''... and that's not something you're going to get from Candidate Harmony. Harmony? What's harmonious about taking my hard-earned paycheck and sending half of it to inner city do-nothings and delicate flowers who want to pee in a different bathroom because they could n't make the football team? Candidate Prestige wo n't stand for any of that, but he will stand up to the barbarians that want to destroy our world and make you worship their god. `` Gerald let out a moan as the front door slammed. `` This guy has n't read a book in his entire life,'' he declared to no one in particular, as his wife was now thirty feet down the sidewalk. `` I ca n't believe there are actual, living, gullible cretins out there watching who are going to cast a vote for Prestige this fall. Disgusting.'' -- - ``... I'll see you at 4PM tomorrow. Until then, stay strong, stay faithful, stay true.'' `` That's a wrap! Nice work again, guys.'' Layne Wilson, director of The Mason Harvey Show, patted Mason on the back as he strode by camera # 1 towards his dressing room. `` Excellent job, as always.'' `` Thanks, Layne.'' Mason nodded and accepted a water from a show intern. He took his jacket off and draped it over his left elbow; the stage lights combined with his usual intensity caused him to overheat and get lightheaded by the end of almost every show. As he stepped into his dressing room and closed the door behind him, he threw the jacket on a chair and pulled out his phone. Three new texts. He tossed the phone onto his makeup stage counter before he could check any of them. Layne had been begging him to take at least two minutes of silent rest after every show; he was convinced that Mason was going to drop dead one day if he did n't take some time for himself. But in this new age of 24/7 media, bitter partisan divide, and the Anonymous Elections Act, he had to work hard to stay ahead of the competition. Mason was reaching for his phone before he even opened his eyes. Two production meeting reminders, and the usual post-show message from his living wife. Great job, Candidate Harmony. I bet today's performance got you a few more protest votes; ) -- - Candidate Prestige will outlaw [ r/highpothetically ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/highpothetically/ ). Readers and subscribers will be imprisoned for re-education.
[ WP ] In 3036 A.D. , our deep-space astronauts are brought before the Empress of the Andromeda Galaxy , Her Supreme Greatness , Amelia Earhart .	''Your Imperial Majesty, your Supreme Greatness, we have brought you the captured one as per your instruction. '' ''Well get to it then. And leave me with him will ya? '' English? That language was changed into Neo-Anglish or Amerikanic during the twenty-second century. How can they be speaking such an archaic language? I only learned it to be able to read the original versions of the twentieth and twenty-first century epic legend of the Song of Ice and Fire, a classic story that many later writers have based their writings upon. I could n't see through the blindfolds, but if any society had managed to reach the Andromeda Galaxy before the destruction of Lost Terra in the year of 2212 when the Halley Comet crashed into an unstable Russian fusion reactor, it would change our understanding of the pre-Lost Terra catastrophe eras in extraordinary ways. The catastrophe that changed mankind forever. My blindfolds were removed and before me stood the most beautiful human woman I had ever seen. She was dressed like a Retro-Amerikaner in a pilot-style dress, functional yet elegant. She took my face in her hands, and said to me''I ca n't believe it. You've found me at last. Do you know who I am, traveler? '' I looked at her and answered''A beautiful woman and a strong woman. Should I know you? '' She smiled and her hands let go of my face''You have got some courage, let me tell you that, speaking to the Supreme Empress of the whole Andromeda Galaxy, but you do n't recognize me. I suppose over a thousand years worth of waiting for rescue might be a bit much to ask for. Perhaps my name will remind you, I am Earhart, Miss Amelia Earhart of the United States of America, and who are you weary wayfarer? '' That could n't be. The faith of Foundism, the state-religion of The Amerikan State, has a deity called that, she is the goddess of spaceships and flying, not a real person surely.''I am called Arik, son of Dfinn, Jarl of the moon Gimle around the Gas planet Idavöllr in the solar system Asgard, second in line to the throne as proven by right of combat in Holmgang. I am honored to be in the presence of a goddess, though I had awaited someone else to greet me after my death. If I had known that the Amerikaners were right, I would have been more cautious not to plunder their temples. '' She laughed.''I may be immortal but to go so far as to call me a goddess, that is a bit too far. I am human, as you are human, Arik, you are a god-given human that came once from beautiful Earth, right? Is America still going? '' I looked at her, I saw to my surprise that she had tears in her eyes, eyes that looked as though she had seen the halls of Odin after a long and hard life.''There is still an Amerika, though if you claim to be human and wish to know of... Earf? If that is another name for Lost Terra? Then I must bring you grim news, it was lost and destroyed by the forces of the universe, humanity was scattered on many stars and few lived to rebuild the technology that Lost Terra had. If you had anyone waiting there, I am sorry. But they died 800 years ago. '' She wept silently as she went up to sit on a large throne, the silence of her grief was truly a sight to behold.''I've waited over a thousand years to return. I conquered the Andromeda Galaxy, for the adventure of it and to bring an end to the civilized barbarisms of war. I lost the only other human with me, Noonan, he aged and went by as we brought the aviation technology to my first planet. I took the galaxy after that. So that one day I could return home, but what home remains for me. I wanted to return home so that I could die, for the ones who granted me immortality said that I could only die by returning to the green fields of Earth, only then would I age and die. Now I will have to... Say Arik. You said that America is still around? '' I wondered what she could be planning, why she would ask me that.''Yes. There is an American state on the planet that most know as Mars, they call it Lincoln though, they still control the majority of the original inner colonies and the original solar system. Why? '' She went over, dried her tears with a sleek hand, reached out to me with the other one and asked me, in a voice filled with daring and courage.''Take me there captain. I think its high time to begin another adventure, let my people rule themselves, I have managed to drill in some good manners and civility into them, let them take care of my empire. '' I smiled as I took her hand and said''Why not, whatever happens, it'll be fun. '' She grabbed me and ran towards a door behind her opened it, and there it was, my personal Drekkar, I opened the door and we went inside,''Are n't you afraid Arik, according to you, I am a goddess and I am the empress of an entire galaxy? '' As I sat down on my control-post, I turned my head and said to her,''My grandfather told me, that a wise woman once said that the fears are paper tigers and that I can do anything I decide to do, if that includes taking an empress of a galaxy to see Mars, then I'll do it. '' As I activated my ship and began flying out pass the massive fleet protecting an immense fortress, I thought to myself, as much as this will lead to many hazards along the way, this will be a worthwhile adventure.
[ WP ] I am the world 's least known , yet most successful assassin . In the last 27 years , my work has produced an 82 % increase in product labels warning about deadly consequences stemming from `` misuse '' .	Statistically speaking, I'm the deadliest assassin in the world. That's beside the point, I do n't do what I do for ratings, I do it for justice. Ever since the 1920's when they were first invented they have been abused. They have suffered a great deal. However, before the end of this you will think twice before you misuse them again. Let me just tell you my most recent story. Sunny, beautiful day, I get a call. `` Sir?''. `` Yes? ``, I responded. `` Sir we've got a Q52.'' `` Send me the address. ``, I said. With that I drove to the address. I snuck in through the back door. The house was empty except for the sound coming from the upstairs bathroom. I peered thru the crack in the door. There she was, young woman, oh the misuse. She was using it to apply eye shadow. Eye shadow! I could n't bear the sight of it and busted open the door and shouted `` they have make up tools for that!'' I shoved the misused Q-tips so far into her eyes she died instantly. Just last week I killed a guy that wanted to use them to clean deeper than just the outside of his ear. They just were n't good enough were they? He just had to go deeper? Well those ended up so deep in his ears, and into his brain he felt it in his toes. I mean the product label clearly says to NOT insert into ear canal. So let this be fair warning to anyone that decides they want to misuse Q-tips, because I will know and I will find you.
[ WP ] Cannibis , Herion , Meth , and LSD are on a road trip when their car breaks down on a lonely stretch of road .	A candy apple red 1959 Cadillac Coupe Deville blazes past a 50 m/hour sign. Four young women were hanging out of the top of the open roof, laughing and giggling. `` Faster, faster!'' yells Crystal Matheson, a blonde bombshell, in the passenger seat. Wearing a skin tight blue tank top and cut off jean shorts that barely covered her ass. Crystal was never a stranger to boys, or living on the edge. She was popular, gorgeous and smart. `` I think we should maybe slow down. What if we pass a cop? Or what if this is bat country?'' squeaked Mary Jane, curled up in the backseat covering her eyes. Mary, unlike Crystal, was not used to living on the edge. Mary was more reserved, relaxed and a bit on the heavy side, but was always the responsible one. Her long tangled brown hair often covered her plain face. Mary always looked like she was from the 70 ’ s. She was wearing a long green skirt and a brown hippie top. `` Oh Mary, you're always so paranoid. Loosen up a bit.'' said Harriet Owen, her friends call her Harri. Harri was n't as popular as Mary or Crystal. She was always very pale and too skinny for most boys to think of her as sexy. Harri had jet black hair and usually wore black clothes which made her look more pale and skinny. `` Plus there are no bats in this area and I'm driving.'' Harri steps on the gas. `` What are you talking about I have counted over 50 bats in the past ten minutes!'' stated Lucy Diamond. Lucy was the odd one of the group. Most people made fun of her clothes, hair and pop bottle glasses, often asking if she dresses in the dark. This late afternoon she was wearing a red long sleeve shirt under a yellow short sleeve shirt, which was a size or two too small for her, and a pair of very large brown bell bottoms. As Harri pressed harder on the gas pedal, Crystal flicked her cigarette out the window turned and screamed `` LOOK OUT!'' A deer had jumped out in front of the vintage car. Harri swerved to miss it and lost control of the car. All four girls braced as the Cadillac drove straight into a tree. `` I told you I saw bats.'' bragged Lucy. `` That was not a bat, however, you are batty.'' said Crystal. The four girls stepped out of the car. All of them a little banged up, with only bruises and sore necks. `` Well then what the hell did we hit?'' asked Mary chewing on her finger nails. `` It must have been a deer, come on let ’ s check it out.'' stated Harri. The foursome started walking towards the deer to assess the situation. Upon arriving to the deer Mary asked “ Does anyone have any food? I ’ m starving! ” “ Mary! We have just hit a deer and we are now looking at its dead corpse and all you can think of is food? ” asked Crystal in disgust. “ What are we going to do about the duck? ” asked Lucy. “ You need to go to the eye doctor again and up that prescription. It ’ s a deer. We hit a deer! ” said Harri as she rolled her eyes to Lucy. “ Ok well then what are we going to do about this deer? ” asked Lucy, again. “ What are we going to do about our ride? I told you to slow down Harri! You always go too far and try to kill us! ” said Mary, fuming. “ First let ’ s deal with the deer, we can ’ t leave it out in the middle of the road. ” said Crystal. “ Why it ’ s not like we ’ ve seen a car on this road for hours. ” said Mary with concern in her voice. “ Still let ’ s get this thing off the road! ” said Crystal who was now bending down and picking up on of the deer ’ s legs. All four of the girls grabbed a side of the deer. They tried to lift it up, but it was too heavy for them. So then Harri and Lucy went on the side with Crystal and Mary and the four of them dragged the body to the side of the road. As soon as it was off the road a 2009 Black Subaru Impreza WRX whizzed passed them. The car slammed on it ’ s breaks and started to reverse back towards the girls. “ I don ’ t like this. We should go back to the car. ” said Mary. “ Where is your sense of adventure Mary? Relax it will be ok. ” said Crystal as she started to walk towards the Impreza. “ I am relaxed. ” huffed Mary under her breath. The car had stopped and two men were stepping out of the car. One was a tall, slender man with blonde hair. The other was a short, bulky man with a tan and brown curly hair. “ Oh see Mary, two princes to save the day. ” said Crystal with excitement in her eyes and a giggle in her voice. “ You ladies ok? ” asked the tall, slender one. “ Yes we are fine, thank you, you can move along now. ” said Mary, still with concern in her voice. “ No actually we are not. ” said Crystal as she turned and glared at Mary. “ We got in an accident and we don ’ t know if our car is working. Can you please take a look for us? I ’ m Crystal by the way. ” “ I ’ m Cain and this is Rod. ” Cain said as he pointed to the bulky guy. “ Sup? ” said Rod while nodding to the girls. “ So you have already met Crystal, ” said Harri while Crystal hangs off of Rod. “ I ’ m Harri, this is Mary and Lucy. ” Lucy was dancing with the deer while Mary was inching her way back to the Cadillac. “ Yo, that ’ s your ride? ” asked Rod. He puts his arm around Crystal and leads her over to the damaged car. “ Pretty sweet. ” “ Rod! We need to keep focused! ” shouts Cain from across the black top. “ Yeah, yeah Cain I ’ ve got it covered. ” exclaims Rod. Rod then turns his full attention to Crystal again. “ So baby, what do you say we check out the back seat of this Cadillac? ” Crystal giggles and they hop in the back. “ So where are you lovely ladies heading to? ” Cain asks. “ Look, thanks for your concern but I think we are ok. You and your friend should leave. ” states Mary. “ Why are you being so mean to that unicorn? ” whispers Lucy to Mary. Mary just rolls her eyes at Lucy. “ I have a very bad feeling about these two. ” Mary murmurs to Harri. “ Cain, maybe you should help me take a look at the front end of our car to see the real damage. ” Harri says to Cain, ignoring Mary ’ s advice. Cain and Harri walk towards the crash site and Cain repeats to Harri, “ Where are you heading? ” “ Girls weekend in Vegas! ” Harri says with a grin. “ But then that deer rain out in front of us and I lost control. ” The Cadillac started shaking as Cain and Harri approached it. “ Oh those kids! ” said Harri. Cain goes to the front of the car to access the damage. “ I don ’ t think you ladies are going anywhere in this car! ” explains Cain. Meanwhile, Mary, being very suspicious of these new arrivals, starts to wonder if they have anything to hide, or any food for her to eat. She leaves Lucy, who has started to fight the dead deer, to check out Cain and Rod ’ s car for clues. She opens up the glove box. “ What is this? ” Mary pulls something out of the glove box, when someone hits her over the head.
[ WP ] The most unspeakable act has been committed . Someone has downloaded a car .	It was magnificent. It was glorious. It was a Ferrari Enzo. And most importantly, thought Terry, it was his. He'd spent 6 months, jury-rigged over two thousand 3-D printers, and hacked the personal computer of Ferrari's lead engineer, and he'd done it. The world's first downloaded car. Terry was practically giddy, as he hopped into the drivers seat. `` Like a glove,'' Terry crooned, sliding into the racing engineered seat of his brand new speed machine, `` I think this mid-life crisis is going rather well'' He slotted the key into ignition and turned. Immediately lights flashed on the dash, but no ignition. Terry was stunned, `` What could have possibly gone wrong?!'' The dash blinked empty on the fuel gauge. `` Ah,'' Terry thought, smacking his forehead `` of course. No gas'' He pressed the open fuel cap button and hopped out of the car. `` Thank God I got the super premium high octane fuel,'' Terry thought. He flipped the fuel cap cover open and stared blankly, bewildered. Staring back at him was not the fuel cap of a top of the line super car, but two little slots, roughly square with little clasps to receive a cartridge. Emblazoned above the slots were the letters `` HP'' It was magnificent. It was glorious. It was the world's first downloaded car. And it ran on the most expensive liquid in the world. `` Fucking DRM.'' Terry swore.
[ WP ] An object exists that , if found , would change the course of the human world entirely . It has been found .	“ This isn ’ t good. ” Gary sat at his work desk, toying mindlessly with his mouse. His bright screen flashed a single notification: FOUND. He looked over to his colleague. “ What do we do now? ” He asked. Steven had gotten up to pace around the room. A fresh spill of coffee was inching its way around the tiled floor. He stopped and looked back at Gary. “ Not much we can do, is there? We found it. I guess that means fame. Right? Will we get a Nobel prize for _this_? ” “ I... ” Gary looked back at his screen, back toward the results of his years of work. “ I don ’ t think so. Not for this. ” Steven sat down again and began to tap on the keyboard. They sat together in near silence for minutes. Steven let his head droop downward and Gary started to slowly spin in place. “ This isn ’ t what we intended, Steve, I didn ’ t want this. How can we face our friends and family now? How can we face ourselves? Not now, not after seeing this. ” Steve looked up from his seat, his eyes sunken. Gary noticed tears streaming down his cheeks. He wasn ’ t surprised to find his own cheeks damp as well. “ No one should know this, it ’ s too much. I don ’ t want my kids to learn what we just found. ” A broken cry erupted from Steven, “ Screw society! I don ’ t want… Billy is only ten! He has a life to live, a future. ” “ I know, Steve, I know. ” They sat in silence, accompanied by their belabored breathing and the flashing of their monitors. “ Gary, I think we should unplug. ” “ I think so too Steve. ” Gary said, putting out his hand. “ Goodbye. ”
[ PI ] The Copse – upvotedcontest	I like this a lot. I do n't know why. In a way, it sort of parallels mine, but I wo n't plug my submission. I appreciate the idea of trees being able to recycle bad things e.g Anger, Grief, Sadness etc. Secondly, the juxtaposition of Jerry believing that it's okay to just remove bad things against the main character's idea that something might replace them if they are taken away is interesting. And I just find it funny that Jerry ordered magic trees from the back of a catalogue. Though, when you describe the families frozen and the cop with cobwebs on him I do n't know if you mean that literally or figuratively. Are the trees they planted malevolent because Jerry died in them? > Jerry always made me laugh. Good way to end it.
[ WP ] `` Why is there a continent on the list of things I own ? ''	Lawyers from three different firms agreed. It was some paperwork mistake, backed up by some archaic law. Ban Ki-moon had misspoken, and then two Colombian gangs had pulled some strings for reasons unknown. Victoria was n't quite masterful with the ins and outs of it all, but the result was the same. She, only in her first year of university, owned South America. The newspapers loved it more than they had MH370, and now here she was, always in a hat and sunglasses. She twirled a ballpoint pen, tapped it against her lip, and began to come up with plans.'1. Eviction & Conscription,' went up at the top of the notepad. Then, after a reluctant pause,'2. Benevolent Empress'. The Special Forces Lieutenant gave her a nudge. `` Your guest approaches,'' he said. The guest walked with an easy swing, making a beeline from the other side of the square. He wore a wrinkled pink French-cuff shirt with the top few buttons open. Victoria touched her handbag, just in case. The outline could just barely be felt. It was a lovely little thing, mint green with a solid gold trigger, and she had been taking lessons. The guest waved, raised his arms above his head, and spun in good faith. Fabric stretched over his musculature. The Lieutenant nodded. Los Urabeños had come. *** happy to continue at /r/Hermione_Grangest if there's enough interest!
[ WP ] Talk me down from the ledge .	You stand upon a ledge of a building, believing that this is a better way to end your life than pop pilling or wrist slitting. I am not in your situation, but I am yelling to you from your landing area, not watching and sitting. You could jump right now, split and splatter right in from of me. But would you be winning, have you not thought of your family? Surely you pondered on your sister and brother. His skin would lose all color, the news would surely crush her. Now do not tell me you have not reflected on the matter of your mother! She is living through you, the news would kill her as it did you. Unfortunately, not as quick as your life ended. Mommy would suffer from chronic depression, you were her oldest son, suicide would be her cause of death after series of cutting sessions and feeling done. As you can see, you are not the only one. What about your dad? Other than your brother, he is the only man who has loved you. He is willing to die for you, to be the one on the ledge, to wedge you to the side. Your body and mind is where this man stores most of his pride. After your death, he will cry and hide. Die after a blade and a wrist collide multiple times. Get down from the ledge, for you and for me. Do not give up for everyone in your family.
[ IP ] You are not welcome here	# # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap ) The hearths within the Boar's Head Tavern blazed with dancing flames, their fires fueled with thick logs of pine and oak, the heat cast off giving the space a comfortable temperature. Men and women laughed and talked and sung amongst themselves at the tables and booths stuffed with horse hair, plates of fries and steaming bowls of stew set before them, the clink of beer glasses like chimes in the noisy air. The walls were decorated like any other drinking establishment would be in the fiftieth year of the Change; crisp, colored photographs paired with newer black and white ones, the antlers of impressive deer ... For whenever you meet with a pretty girl With a dark and a roving eye, You must kiss her and embrace her Till she tells you the reason why. You must kiss her and embrace her Till she causes your heart to yield; For there's never a faint-hearted soldier Can win on a battlefield. ” The patrons clapped and banged mugs of beer against their tables as the musician finished, smiling and nodding as his collection bowl was filled with coins and his hand filled with a pint. He relinquished the stage with one last flourishing bow before helping the next man up to the wooden chair. He was ancient, his back hunched and hands like gnarled burls of oak, his face carved with wrinkles and scars. His head was hairless save for his bushy eyebrows and the beard that fell halfway down his chest. The crowd was silent, each person being careful to set down their mugs gently or else cease conversation. All their attention was fixed on the weathered elder before them as he eased himself down, aided by a young boy who shared his features; likely a grandson or even great-grandson. `` My children... I have done much in my ninety years and seen even more. I have held my children as they were born and I held them as they died. I have seen grandchildren so off to the war and never return. I am old, my time soon to end. `` I was a man fully grown going on middle-age when the Change came in all its terribleness. I was there for the Dying Times, when nine tenths of the world perished from hunger and disease. I was there when the refugees from the Dead Cities poured out into the countryside by their millions, looting, eating everything in their path. `` We thought we were safe, hidden as we were from the hordes of starving. We made it through the first summer and fall on stored cans and the like, hiding in our cabin, throwing whatever we could steal into the ground in the hopes that it would sprout. Miraculously, we managed to grow a respectable crop of barley and corn. We were able to harvest it, working with knives till our finger nails bled and blisters burst. We thought we made it, just had to survive the winter and then we could find other survivors. We were wrong. `` What we did n't know was that once everything was eaten by the city folk down to the last grain of wheat... that they'd turn to the only prey easy enough to catch; man. We were fools and did n't put up a lookout. Though looking back I guess it did n't matter. They had surrounded our cottage and came in with rusted blades and smelling of shit and rotten meat. They killed my daughter first, just cut her throat and bled her like a pig. They barely bothered cooking her. Then they ate my wife next, they cut off her legs so the rest of her would remain fresh. They must've stayed there for a week. My wife was killed on the fourth night. They tried to make me drink the soup made from her bones but I fought, fought long enough for our Lord Ivan to arrive with his druzhina. The eaters were killed like dogs, the last of their number begging for mercy. Lord Ivan hung him by his entrails. `` So why do I tell you this? Because fifty years we were the nearest things to gods, we had the power to level cities with a single bomb, fly high enough to reach the moon. And now? We're the equivalent to savages, living in a new dark age. I pity you all, for you have no idea how far we have fallen. But at the same time I envy you, for you were born clueless to a future that was never to be. Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair! `` Indeed, Nothing beside remains. ``
[ WP ] In the near future , the secret to time travel has been discovered - in order to travel back into the past there needs to be a 'receiving station ' at the other end - explaining why nobody from the future has been observed up 'til now . The first such 'station ' is about to be completed .	There were millions of people gathered on the wide flat plains of the Mojave Desert. Most of them were too far from the machine to see more than a tiny glimmer of the sun reflecting off of the three stories of shining steel. But that was enough for most people; they just wanted to be present for the end of time. That's what scientists were calling it, at least: just as air travel had practically erased global borders, so too would this machine create one timeless society. Priests, rabbis, imams, and monks wandered the grounds, administering services to those who wanted it. Somehow religions had really latched on to the phenomenon, and churches had brought in congregants by the busload. Many of them expected the first arrival to be the Second Coming of Christ. Others were just there for the party: College kids were treating it like spring break, and there was booze and loud music aplenty. Still other visitors were quiet suburban families, bringing the kids and the dog for an outing. Whatever their reason, they were all there to witness time travel become a reality and see first-hand as visitors stepped out from the future. Helicopters hovered overhead, alternating between shots of the vast, endless crowd and the machine mounted on its pedestal in the very center of the throng. President DeWitt strode onto the stage, wearing a formal three-piece suit despite the oppressive heat of the desert. `` Ladies and gentlemen,'' his voice blared from the thousands of speakers that littered the valley, `` We are going to begin powering up the device.'' Millions of solar cells shifted in unison to catch the sun, and a high-pitched hum emitted from the machine. A deafening roar of cheering and clapping erupted from the crowd, so loud that the machine could hardly be heard over the din. Team of scientists scuttled all over the device like ants picking apart a carcass. It had taken a Manhattan-Project-style effort to create it, and they all wanted to be there to see the results of their baby. Lights flashed, all green. The President's hand hovered over the button that would open the portal once and for all; he'd insisted that it be finished before his term was finished for this very reason: he wanted to be the one that turned it on. He wanted his face to be forever emblazoned in history books, if such a thing would even exist after this. The scientists around the platform flashed thumbs up in unison, all smiles. `` All right,'' DeWitt announced to the crowd. `` Final tests are completed, and everything is ready!'' A deafening roar came from the crowd once again, and DeWitt turned back to his podium. Thousands of news cameras from every country in the world tracked his every move. A thousand more were trained on the metal ring where the portal would suddenly open. `` This is mankind's greatest leap yet,'' he announced into the microphone on his lapel, `` And this is only the beginning for us!'' He was n't feeling too great about the line that had been chosen, but apparently that was the one that focus groups liked the most. Hearkening back to the moon landing and whatnot. He pressed the button emphatically with a perfectly photogenic grin. The cameras all clicked in unison, then immediately forgot about him as the cameramen all turned toward the portal. They just wanted to see what would happen. Just as the scientists had predicted, there was a haze of blue hovering in the center of the metal ring. Something about electrons being separated from their particles or something; DeWitt had tended to glaze over those details in the briefings. He was n't much of a scientist and did n't particularly care how it worked so long as it did work. He crossed the stage, ready to shake the hand of the first visitor from the future. The crowd in the desert was completely silent, an impressive effort for millions of people. A scrap of paper came drifting through the portal. No person followed it through, and the world just watched as the paper floated down to the floor like a feather in the wind. President DeWitt saw it fall, but did n't stoop to get it for fear that some time traveler would come through and he'd miss that big photo op of striding forward and greeting him or her. But no one ever came through. After a minute or so of waiting, he finally stepped forward and retrieved the note. `` Destroy the machine immediately,'' he read aloud, forgetting that his microphone was still wired to the speakers and being broadcast to the entire planet.
[ WP ] In a fantasy reality filled with dragons and beasts , a brave adventurer fantasizes about having an average office job .	He ran. Heart pounding, breath heaving. Hand clutched tight to the pieces of paper that determined his fate. All sense of decorum left him. He ran. Ahead lay his goal. So near. So far. His heart almost burst, his lungs had no more air to give. His muscles screamed in agony. Yet he forced his internal organs to work harder and harder, pushing them already beyond their limits. He forced his lungs to give him one last breath of air... `` Mister Wysocki!'' The fat man glared at him from in front of his office door. Eric stopped just in front of him, panting as if he had just ran a marathon. He held out the documents to the finance manager. `` Tax... reports... Ingolberry... accounts...'' he managed to squeeze out. He really needed to start working out. `` Ah! Glad you could have these on time,'' Mr Wysocki seemed thrilled. He took the documents and gave them a quick once over. `` All seems in order. Good work. I'd already made up some excuses, you know. It would be nice if I have n't had to make any at all!'' The fat man laughed, but all Eric could do was smile. * `` This is too easy,'' Amathryss sipped at his ale, muttering under his breath. `` Oh, gods. Is the date supposed to be after work?'' The bard, Alauric, smiled. `` Keep reading.'' * `` Matt,'' Eric said, approaching the handsome, golden haired Senior Executive with the elfin features. `` We still good for karaoke?'' Matt turned, and for the first time in his life seemed flustered. `` Oh. Umm. Dude. I ca n't go. Uh. Work.'' His eyes darted towards his coworkers, who were all bearing grins. `` Yeah. Work. Sorry, man.'' * `` I do not speak that way.'' `` It's supposed to be fantasy.'' * `` What? Matt, come on, you're supposed to be-'' `` Your wingman, yeah I remember,'' Matt said. `` And I am really sorry. But dude, consider - this is your first date with Amelia. You do n't want a third wheel around, man. It should just be you and her!'' `` I do n't know, I mean... I mean, what if I-'' `` Dude,'' Matt stood, putting his hands on Eric's shoulders. `` You are a great guy. It would have been an honor to wingman you. Easiest job in the world. Okay? But this is your night, your time to shine.'' He smiled. `` I believe in you.'' *** The elf laughed, and handed the scroll back to Alauric. `` You never told me who Amelia was supposed to be.'' `` I made her up,'' Alauric tucked the incomplete story away in his backpack. `` I, for one, am convinced that you are smitten-'' `` Not smitten-'' `` Aye, smitten, I say! With our cleric, Am'ar L'aurie!'' `` It is definitely not her!'' Amathryss laughed again and knocked back the remainder of his ale into his throat. `` You know that cleric can bend mithril with her bare hands? She's a half-orc!'' `` It is n't her,'' Alauric insisted. `` Aye, lad, aye, whatever you say,'' winked Amathryss. `` Well, we should be off now if we want to get to the Necromancer's Tower by dusk. Sir Whitstock is going to be red in the face if we're tardy again... and just as Eric was doing better at his job, too.'' Alauric groaned and drained his tankard, throwing a few coppers into it as payment. He gathered his things. `` Amathryss, do you ever... wish life was like my story?'' `` Almost,'' the elf answered. Alauric saw the thousand year old ranger was serious. `` And who would n't, really? A comfortable job, a nice bed at home, not living like vagrants or... what did Eric call us?'' `` Murderhobos.'' `` Right, like murderhobos.'' The elf sighed as they stepped out into the street. There were no traffic lights, no cars, no traffic except on foot or horse, but Alauric could see it. There, there would be a perfect place for a traffic light. It would turn red at inopportune moments, and delay him, and he'd scream at the man honking at him behind him... `` But, you know, we ca n't change our fate,'' Amathryss shrugged. `` This is our life. And we play our cards as they are dealt.'' `` Elvish wisdom?'' `` No, just... what gets me up in the morning.'' He smiled, and thumped Alauric's shoulder in his normal friendly gesture. `` Come on. The sooner we're done here, the sooner you can write again. I want to know if Eric manages to woo his lady love without vomiting in the punch bowl, for once.'' Thus, the two adventurers walked off, one of them imagining what life would be like as a tax accountant in an entirely different, new world.
[ WP ] After I had confessed my sins to the priest I prepared to leave . However I stopped when a voice behind me said `` Now my child , let me confess my sins to you ... ''	You sit back down, unexpectedly seething. Oh hell no, dude, you whisper fiercely. You get a house and food and clothes ( not very stylish clothes, but still... clothes ) so that I can come here every week and tell you about how I lusted after the twenty year-old working the frozen yogurt stand, or how I fantasized about hitting my boss over the head with a baseball bat, or that time I yelled at my cousin because he owes me money. And then I get to walk out of here feeling better about myself because you assigned me some penance and assured me that I'll be forgiven. You hear muffled sobs. It makes you feel a trifle guilty. Guilt is, after all, one of your standard fallback emotions. Oh fine, you relent. You can tell me your sins, but it's going to cost you. I figure that'll be 20 bucks for 30 minutes. And that's my discount rate, just because we've known each other for so long. Yes, I recognize that sniffle, Father Bates. 40 bucks an hour to tell me all your sins. Unless you killed somebody. If any of your sins have a body count, that's going to be 50 bucks, and I might come back and blackmail you for more later. Silence from the other side. After a minute or so, you walk out, wondering what got into you. Must have been those online MBA classes. That worthless certificate did n't land you a job, but it did land you a brand new perspective. So maybe it was worth 15k of debt. Because it's all just business, ai n't it?
[ WP ] You 're sitting in your kitchen eating breakfast when a man in a lab coat walks in and says , `` The experiment is over . Thank you for your time . ''	`` Not before I finish my damn oatmeal it is n't.'' A mess - always just a god damn mess in the morning ’ s. My blood sugars have been getting worse. The shadow of a frown stretched down his chest like a curtain bib. A news reporter, in my kitchen? Could n't be - he has the gray suit and the fancy hat but I'm fucking boring. There was silence to prove it. Eventually, after the third round of morning birdsong's through the cracked window, he sat down across from me, and closed his hands in patience. It must be fun to watch me eat. `` You know,'' I perked, breakfast in my bloodstream, `` Yuh' burst into any man's abode anywhere else outside the swamp and you'd have a shotgun up your ass.'' I pushed the bowl aside, empty and browned as the gaze in his eye. `` But, seeing as how I so dislike moppin' up a bloody butt-accident, you'll have to excuse me if I'm mistaken in thinking that I might help you with somethin', stranger.'' `` I do appreciate your hesitance, Bill, bu-'' `` How you know my name, Mr?'' There we go. A spike. Stress and sugar. `` I know a lot about you, Bill.'' The shadow bib had come undone, `` I know you've had diabetes for twenty years. I know it cost you your left leg. I know you've had high blood pressure since you were twelve. I know your glaucoma is a lot worse in your left eye than your right. I know you have n't been able to maintain an erection since you were twenty two - Viagra does n't help,'' a sickly, thin curve his mouth became. Something like a grin, `` I know your heart disease is getting worse. The last time you walked up a flight of stairs it felt the world itself was trying to crush your chest. You've had three surgeries for four stents, the first was 17 years ago and the most recent was just last year.'' In this neighborhood I'm `` the kind old man next door'' - the kind old man who ate biscuits while riding around on his electric lawn mower in the backyard, and told the kids not to get eaten by a gator. I wished I'd brought my shotgun to breakfast. `` Have you ever wondered why you're sick, Mr. Manning?'' and that smile of his looked like a serpents tongue was fixing to wiggle out. `` Get out of my house.'' Dizzy. The sugars have been getting worse. Ca n't I even get mad without going out of control? `` You ai n't welcome here.'' `` No need to get sweaty, Mr. Manning,'' he slid a sheet of paper from underneath his jacket, `` Though, to be fair, I expected you would, ” and crinkled it as if it were a morning paper. The songbirds started up again, “ Let ’ s see here, ah! William Manning, fashioned in 1847 –that was a fun year – from a mutant of wild type 84-An; kept in cryo until 1956, at which point you were thawed and incubated until 1947, the year of your cohort ’ s entrance into our lifestyle disease study. ” The song birds laughed at him. “ Mr. Manning, you look a bit pale. Are you really so sad the study is over? ” “ I ’ m going to get, I ’ m gon na get my shot- “ All four of my hands slid across the table, looking for balance in double vision. I ’ m gon na blow his brains out. Coming into my home like that. Coming into my home and- “ Don ’ t knock your bowl over-oh! ” I ’ ll clean it up after I ’ m done, after I ’ m done. My chest hurts. “ The experiment is over, Mr. Manning! ” too much insulin? Too little? Did I take my statins last night? “ Where are you going? I need to get the last set of vitals! ” This happened last time. I was trying to reach the top of the golf course after they closed, because I wanted a picture of the sunset. So close to the swamp, there ’ s dew on the grass at 5pm – looks like an emerald mine if the lighting is right. It sounded like there was a plane overhead going back and forth, back and forth – sounded like a strong tide, almost. I looked up to see what the hell could be following me, and there was nothing. And then the pain hit. The tide is blocking out his voice. Face first into my closet I fell, scrambling for the cold barrel of a loaded rife. “ Mr Manning! ” fffFFFF, “ Surely you musn ’ y be, ” FFFFFffffff, “ genetic programming to end right here! Just let me have a pudgy arm of yours! ” Just like last time. Uncontrollable. A rock from space had fallen on my sternum and knocked me ass first into the ground. I screamed. “ Outtuh Ma ’ House youfuckin- “ ‘ Hold still! ” If he was a decent intruder, the blood pressure cuff sliding up my arm belonged to a paramedic. Soon they ’ d start thumping away. “ I can ’ t read it if your squiggling around like. ” fffFFFFF A long, numb wave. “ Good, good. Just like that. 250 over 130! Wow! You ’ re- “ Fffffff A cold, cold, wave.
[ WP ] You join Disneyland as a Cast Member , and learn a somewhat startling truth . Disneyland is haunted , but , ironically , the spirits are n't in the Haunted Mansion .	Funny and somewhat true account: I was hired as a technician at the Disneyland. It was a kids dream come true, fixing on the rides I loved as a child. Of course with any job the magic wears of quickly into the drudgery of work and trying to keep things running. Turns out when you instal a ride in the mid 1970s by 2016 the parts were hard to find. Thankfully there were a few parts annexes under the rides to keep the specialty parts in one place. But you are n't here to listen to how Disneyland actually operates are you? It started innocently. The figures would shake and twitch all night. Official story was that it was just air bubbles moving through the figures. Things began to escalate though. Parts would move when my back was turned when I was alone in a theater. Ride breaks would open up with the attractions and air systems powered down. Audio would randomly turn on and off when things were powered down. After about a year I was assigned to the Tower of Terror on the DCA side of the resort. Great crew but something was always off about the ride. Random changes would show up. My senior tech said `` oh that's just Charlie playing again''. Over the next few months I encountered `` Charlie'' a few times. He tended to sit on the 7th floor between shafts 2 and 3. It started as random things, the sensor lights turning on and off even though I was outside the sensor range. Finally I started to see his shadow occasionally. Then I would see him when I was changing lights on the balcony. Never meant any harm but always startling. Just a tip of the hat and he would disappear. Over the course of my 5 years at Disney I found 5 ghosts. Charlie and the little girl at Tower of Terror, the teenager at Soarin, the little boy in bugs land and the old woman in Hyperion theater. They became part of the backdrop of life there. A little extra magic for those willing to be open to it. So if you are ever at California Adventure and you see someone just outside of your vision that you ca n't quite make out. Just smile and nod, they always appreciate the feeling.
[ RF ] You decide to settle and marry someone you do n't love .	Her face is so bright as I slide the ring on her finger. Her dimples peek out at me, her teeth look flawless from all those whitenings before. She's not just pretty, she's stunning. She laughs a bit, a quiet giggle. She's so kind and caring, and she's a school teacher. When we argue, it's just a spat, and we make up quickly. But I fucking hate the fact that she's doing this, that she's accepting this little gold band, the fact that she's in this long white dress. How could such a nice person fuck me over like this? But it's not her fault. I smile back at her. And we kiss. It's soft, and long, and gentle, and a great kiss all around. People cheer. This must look flawless for them, like every couples' dream wedding. But I can feel his eyes on me, and the utter fucking betrayal that they hold. I imagine him in her place. His smile. His dorky laugh. Looking handsome, and like home. I imagine his beard as it tickles me while we kiss. God, I'm a fucking pussy. `` I love you.'' `` I love you too.'' And we're ushered out by the crowd, towards the car outside, towards a new life. Together. Maybe a few children? A stable job? A house in the suburbs? ^i ^know ^he ^would n't ^want ^that ^and ^i ^want ^him
[ WP ] A young boy get differents superpowers based on which genre of music he is currently listening on his iPod	Betraying all those drug lords and gangs was slowly catching up to him. It did n't matter too much to him though. He knew his powers would get him out of any situation. Each time, he only explained one of his powers each time and not how his powers worked or where they came from. Most were excited enough just to have someone supernatural on their side. They he would betray them, take the money, and go time advertise a different power of his for sale. These opportunities were as unlimited as the types of music he could find! He was finally tracked down though. A column of gang members crept through the streets checking each house in the slum. There were many different symbols meaning they finally stopped fighting each other and joined together to fight him. Behind them were two jeeps rolling in from behind carrying machine guns ready to fire at him on sight. He crawled along the roof tops to get in range. On his iPod started Flux Pavillion's Bass Cannon. He rose to his feet and openned his mouth wide. Before the first gun could even fire, a sonic blast erupted from his mouth smashing into a jeep. It screeched as the metal bent inward crushing its contents and sent the jeep flipping and rolling through the air. The bullets were flying now but the panic caused their aim to be off. A second blast destroyed the other jeep and sent most of the gangsters to the ground. He swiped his iPod to Tchaikovsky 1812 Overture. At first, the ground only rumbled slightly. As the music grew louder and stronger, the shaking grew harder. Rock pillars started to rise from the ground cutting off any exit. At the climax, the pillars rose up to 50 feet giving them no hope of escape. At this point, they stopped firing out of fear and did n't move. They were all staring in awe of this supernatural being. He switched one last time to Guns and Roses' Welcome to the Jungle with a grin on his face. `` Thank you for using our app! Now for a word from our sponsers!'' `` Shit...''
[ WP ] You are an undead patron of an ancient tomb . For hundreds of years you have waited for some unlucky adventurer to come wandering in so you might destroy them . One day , you hear a tapping sound from the tomb entrance and the words `` House Keeping '' reverberate through out the stone halls .	`` Housekeeping!'' There's a funny thing that happens to lips after a couple thousand years. You ready for this? They fall off. Gross, huh? Yeah, that's death for you. Or undeath, I guess. Except I never really understood that term, because I did die. I died, and then came back. So if I had to pick a word to use, I think I'd say re-death. Or post-death. Something like that. Then again, I've had no one to argue with over terminology for a couple thousand years, so forgive me for babbling on a bit. See, Tawhas was supposed to also resurrect, wander around with me inside the pyramid, but something must have gone wrong with the inscriptions, or she could n't move the sarcophagus, so... Well, in any case, I've been alone for a while. So for most of my after-death existence, my lack of lips has n't really been too much of an issue. I figured that, should some hapless grave robbers come bursting in, the unearthly moans that I now make would be more than enough to send them running away, screaming and pissing themselves. But I was n't exactly expecting a knock on the front door of my tomb. Or for someone to shout out, in what sounded like a very female voice, that word. `` Housekeeping?'' I'm not sure that this translation spell is working right. I stood in front of the door, trying to decide. Of course, when I say `` door,'' I really mean two-thousand-pound slab. It was n't actually designed to open, my priests telling me that my soul would diffuse out through it, or sink into the earth, or fly into the sky, or something like that. Did n't quite work out, although it's nice in here. Lots of little toy soldiers and ships to play with. Housekeeping. The priests wrote a spell of translate-to-all-tongues on my mouth, but it fell off with my lips. Was it still working? Should I let this person in? What if this was salvation, finally arrived after taking a wrong turn for a couple millennia? The knock came again. `` Housekeeping!'' Oh, why not - it's pretty dusty in here. I pushed at the huge slab, feeling my bandages straining, and felt it slide ever so slowly to one side. And there, on the outside, bathed in brilliant white light, stood a woman. Wow. Maybe it's just that I've been locked up in a tomb for the last two thousand years, no one but Tawhas's very stiff body for company, but this woman was very definitely female. The epitome of female, the kind of female that would make Sahashput, my royal sculptor, bite right through his prized brass chisel. Sorry, Tawhas, but you've got nothing on this woman. She wore a stiff white robe that showed considerable amounts of tanned arm and leg, and smiled sweetly at me. `` Hi there,'' she greeted me, beaming as she stepped forward. `` Housekeeping, sorry for the delay, how are you enjoying your tomb experience so far?'' `` Uurrrgh,'' I answered, a little taken aback. Was I supposed to attack her? Rip her limb from limb? I felt a bit self-conscious, and wished that my first grave robber might instead have been a normal scar-faced man. `` Yes, I understand the delay, and we offer our deepest apologies,'' the woman said, smiling up at me. Wow, her lips looked great. Nice and pink, not falling off at all. They'd need a lot of bandages for her, I considered, especially around the, er, chest area. And those thighs would need a bit of adjusting. Ca n't have them wearing against each other for a couple thousand years of shuffling. She stepped forward, moving in past me. `` And to make up for it, we're offering a free gem cleaning service as well,'' she said brightly, looking around. She produced a feather duster from somewhere and began briskly tidying up, wiping down the various gold statues of my loyal subjects and farm animals. The animals were also loyal, or at least had been up until we ate them. Then they protested quite a bit. `` We'll just collect them, and have them back as soon as they've been polished. `` Raargghah,'' I agreed, tottering after her. Gem cleaning. I did have to admit that some of my gems had lost a bit of luster. I did n't remember my priests saying anything about a service for housekeeping, but it seemed like the decent sort of thing to do. After all, need to keep up appearances for the afterlife, all of that. I trailed after the woman as she popped back and forth, easily dislodging gems from their settings and dropping them into a small satchel. I vaguely wondered about how she'd remember where they went, but even if she just dropped them off, I could easily replace them. Seemed simple enough. `` Looks like that's most of them,'' the woman said after completing a circuit around the tomb, turning to once again beam at me with those wonderful lips. So attached. `` Now, you just close up after me, and keep an eye out for tomb robbers, wo n't you?'' I nodded, not even having any words to respond to such cheer. A little bit of me wanted to ask if she had any plans for after she died. It was n't traditional, but Tawhas had n't risen, after all, and a pharaoh had to move on eventually, did n't he? The woman gave me one last smile, and then vanished back out into the brightness. I gazed after her for a while, but finally remembered to close the front slab before the bugs started creeping in. They really do a number on linen, bugs. It was n't until several hours later that I sat bolt upright with a roar of anger, but it was far too late. Man, tomb robbers were wily these days.
[ WP ] The Illuminati is actually a gentlemen 's club for the super-rich . Often men make high risk and dangerous bets/wagers such as : `` I bet you ca n't destabilize Ukraine in under a week . '' One day you offer a wager to the most powerful member that 's too irresistible to turn down .	The black Rolls Royce moved silently through streets. Like a shadow shrouded by the darkness, the car glided through the empty streets of a small English village. A light rain begins and soon becomes a fierce storm, water pelting the roof violently as the car continues forward. Dante Yazykova, a young billionaire stares blankly out the tinted window of the car, seeming to be searching for something outside, as the car quickly navigates the dark, wet streets. He shifts, adjusting and readjusting his new suit, purchased for the occasion. Kyle, Dante's driver, personal bodyguard and closest friend notices his friends behavior and begins to feel uneasy. `` Dante is never like this.'' He says under his breath watching him through the rear view mirror, `` not even when he had to testify against his dad in grade school...'' Kyle distracts himself and shifts his hands on the steering wheel, still getting used to the feeling of a wedding band on his finger. The car pulls onto a paved driveway, a large wrought iron gate with golden ornamentation stands, looming over them. 4 black SUVs materialize out of the trees lining the driveway and pull up to the side of the car as the gate jerks and swings open. Kyle begins to feel uneasy as the cars pull into a formation and guide them through the long, paved driveway. `` Kyle,'' Dante speaks in a soft tone `` what would you do if you could change the world?'' He states almost rhetorically, blankly staring out of the window. Kyle looks in the rear-view mirror at Dante as a large mansion appears in front of them. `` I'm not quite sure,'' Kyle says to his friend `` I've never been able to think much about it to be quite honest, but if I could, I would do it and never look back.'' The response from his friend seems to reassure Dante as he sits back in the comfortable leather of his car. The car rolls to a stop at the foot of the stone stairs that lead to the home's magnificent wooden door. Kyle puts the car in park and steps out into the rain. He makes his way quickly around to Dante's door and opens it, pulling out the umbrella stored inside the door and assists the young Barron out of his car. A valet runs quickly from the side of the stairs and hops in the car to park it while the two men head towards the enormous, limestone manor. Kyle shifts uneasily as his military training kicks in, the glare of a sniper scope flashing from some shrubbery about 200 meters to his left as they continue up the stone steps. He feels for his gun in his suit jacket and feels it's familiar shape and weight pressing against him. `` Dante, why we are here again?'' Kyle questions as they reach the top and the door swings open. `` Quit asking. It is n't any of your concern Kyle, just do your work and let me do mine.'' Dante says, his demeanor changing swiftly, adding venom. Kyle becomes increasingly confused and uneasy as they step into a beautiful grand entrance. Two flights of ornately carved wooden stairs flank both sides of the room, in-between is a hallway that looked to go into an enormous great room. `` Mister Yazykova,'' a butler in tails says descending the staircase to their right `` welcome back to Chadwick.'' He says warmly. `` Where?'' Dante says bluntly, glaring at the butler. `` Right this way sir, if you'll follow me.'' The butler says gesturing up the staircase. Kyle begins to notice the lack of guards inside the house as they ascend the staircase behind the butler. They go down a long carpeted hallway and stop at a set of polished oak doors. The butler pushes them open and gestures for Dante to walk in. `` Mister Yazykova.'' The butler announces into the warmly lit room, filled with men and women dressed in suits and military uniforms, seated around a large wooden conference table. Kyle walks into the room behind Dante as Dante crosses over to an empty plush leather seat at the table. Kyle stands behind him and realizes he's the only bodyguard in the room. `` The man of the hour, we were afraid you would n't show.'' A dark haired woman with a thick Latin accent commented smugly. `` And he brought'protection'!'' An African man in a general's outfit commented, bursting into laughter. The members seated joined in laughing as Dante rises out of his chair angrily, ready to fight. Suddenly, silence fell in the room as the doors opened again. An elderly man in a tailored suit walked in quietly as the members around the table stood. He took his seat at the head of the table and everyone else sat in silence, the joke forgotten as they listened eagerly. `` Who did you bring with you, Dante?'' All eyes shift to Kyle and Dante. `` This is Kyle, my right hand Lord Rothschild.'' Dante replies firmly `` he's one of the most important people to me personally and to my organization, I could n't very well operate or survive without him.'' The old man nods his head slowly as he looks at Kyle. His steel like stare makes Kyle shift uncomfortably, the old man picking him apart with his eyes. `` Is this true young man?'' Lord Rothschild asks. `` Erm- yes... I suppose.'' Kyle says, trying to calm himself down. `` Do you have any family?'' The old man asks him. `` Yes sir, a wife and a lovely daughter on the way.'' Kyle replies timidly. `` Perfect.'' He Lord Rothschild says with an eerie smile at K.yle. `` He'll do Dante.'' The man says directing his attention back at Kyle's employer. Kyle did n't get a moment to think about what the old man was saying before a gunshot exploded in the room. Kyle slumped to the floor as Dante wiped blood splatter off his face and gun with a white handkerchief from his breast pocket. A moment of stunned silence filled the room as the old man nodded his approval. `` Very well done.'' He says warmly. `` Welcome.'' Respectful applause filled the room as two of Rothschild's men carry away the body of Dante's closest friend. `` Now you're satisfied with my level of dedication,'' Dante said leaning in, setting the gun on the table, ending the applause, `` I propose I can complete my wager by the eleventh of September of this year.'' Lord Rothschild stroked his chin as the room filled with whispers of disbelief from the other thirty two members seated. The old man raised his hand to silence them and sat forward in his chair, resting his arms on the cool polished surface of the table. `` You maybe the most promising member yet.''
[ OT ] SatChat : What do you look for in a writing prompt ?	Blees-o-tron is back with a brand new invention! I finished the first 4-parter of my crime drama-inspired story! You can read it in my subreddit, which is in my flair and also here: /r/Bleesotron. When looking at prompts... it's hard to describe. Visuals are important for me, but since most of the prompts are just words, the visuals do n't come from the prompts themselves. What happens is, every once in a prompt, I'll read the prompt, and I'll start to visualize the next step in the process. Not just `` hey, here's an idea''. More like `` Oh, yeah! And the guy looks like this, and I can see the house he lives in!'' If I get to that point, then I know that there's something to work with, a story to tell. Yeah, it's a little hard to explain how my imagination works, but that's honestly it. I look for prompts that my mind starts to work with even before I've clicked on it. Also, basically anything superhero related, I will consider. My superhero story needs all the cool ideas it can get, and I've taken some good inspiration from the prompts here.
[ WP ] You know that , every day , you wake up in a parallel universe . You 've perceived that through your life by observing the minor changes that occur - something 's colour or someone 's last name . Today , you wake up to realise that a major change has happened .	The first time it happened, it was weird. You know how sometimes you feel like you know you did your homework, or were sure you placed your wallet o n the counter, but now its under the couch? Yeah, that's where it started. At first, I though I was just losing my mind, and was a forgetful person. At first, items were misplaced, our I remembered someone's name wrong. Then, the changes began to get larger and larger. Streets would change names, peoples cars would change from red to black, and vice versa. Finally, it dawned on me: I was taking on the role of a different person each day. To test the theory, I decided to key the side of my parents car. Go big or go home, eh? Late at night, I put a HUGE line down the side of my father's black Camry. The deed was very obvious to anyone. Once I woke up in the morning, I ran downstairs, AND... The scratch was gone! My theory was right! One day, something strange happened. I woke up, and when I began to look around to see what changes happened, nothing was different than the day before. Puzzled, I looked at my bed sheets, which often changed from red to blue to green, and saw that they were the same shade of red that I had seen last night when I went to bed. My first thought was that maybe, this time, the universe that I got was almost exactly the same as the previous one. When I woke up the next morning, nothing had changed again. Finally, I decided that I'd fold a piece of paper a certain way, and leave it where no one else would leave such a thing. To my suprise, it was folded the exact same way, three times diagonal, and was in my top dresser door, wehre I had left it the night before. Now that I am no longer hopping universes, I began to wonder, what was the meaning of that trip? Was I supposed to grow as a person? Have different experiences that would affect who I am? Maybe I was supposed to help many people across all of these dimensions. I will never know the meaning of what has hapened to me, but it has been quite an interesting journey. Now that it's all over, I wonder what I'll do with my new found freedom to live a life, where I can build something up over time, and not have it washed away every twelve hours.
[ WP ] Five years ago a young man went down into the haunted mines , promising to clear it of evil . Today he emerged , covered in ancient armour stained with the blood of unimaginable horrors , glowing of magic . He demands we dig deeper .	`` Sir? Hello, sir? Are you still alive?'' No movement. Whoever was in there was dead in some way or another. The body sat covered in coal dust and dried blood, streaks of dirt caked in layers across his chestplate. It seemed the plate rose slightly in a steady cadence of breath, subtle but noticeable. I took a step closer, my sandals crunching upon the loose gravel. The suit rattled with a cough, and then it raised a hand, `` Water... sire, give my water,'' it spoke gravely. `` Lords be damned, I have n't drank in ages...'' I unlatched my waterskin and placed it in his wavering hand. He was no doubt a man, perhaps of forty years. Deftly, he slid the opening to his mouth and drank. And drank. And drank. A gallon of water emptied within seconds. Perhaps I was too charitable. He moved the pouch from his mouth and black oil spilled forth from his helmet. The greasy pitch dribbled down his armor and dripped onto the mine cobblestone, in great blobs too black to be blood. He threw the waterskin to the ground. `` Give me your food too, boy. Do not make me ask again.'' Perhaps it was the noontime sun baking my brains, or the fatigue of my trek, but I had never felt such rage before that moment. I grasped my knife tenderly and spoke through tense lips. `` Why? Who are you even? Know that you are at the mercy of a stranger. A monk, yes, but not a bastard simpleton.'' The man sat quietly for a bout, then pushed himself up slowly; clearly a great exertion for him. `` Pardon me. I forgot, what are they... manners,'' The suit rattled and clanked like an old wash-bucket. `` Would you help me were I to tell you my tale?'' `` I just need your name. I came on the Hadfeld's Solstice simply to seal this place for the year. The sealing magics are greatest during the summer.'' The man turned his head towards me. `` I am Hadfeld.'' He looked at me somberly, I assume, as a panoply of emotion crossed over my face like an overflowing river. `` Y-you... are the Knight Hadfeld?'' He nodded. `` Beast slayer, banisher of wicked rites, the Great Stone?'' He nodded again. `` How dost the fair Queen and her Court?'' I hesitated, tapping the pommel of my knife anxiously. `` It... it is the people's Court now. She is... no longer queen.'' A great silence became him. He seemed to be swallowed up by the ink-darkness of the mineshaft behind him, unfocused, but wholly tangible. `` There was revolution whilst I bled for the people?'' `` Yes. When you had left, the Brotherhood went through some tribulations. It split into factions, enforcing separate fiefdoms of their own. The mines rest in neutral territory, tended to by the neighboring temples.'' He stepped about quietly, walking over dead weeds and grasses poking through the gravel. His suit shone in the sunlight, gleaming almost white in contrast to the spots of darkened blood and dirt. The air was thick with the smell of putrescence and feces, unwashed garments and coal. I grimaced and tossed him the cooked fish I had brought. He tore off his helmet, and the first thing I noticed was the wispy gray hair and beard, dirt-matted and filthy. His face was pale, hidden for so long from the sun, marked with a bevy of scars and lines I had only seen upon my grandfather. Hadfeld had been only twenty-five when he'd left. He bit into the fish ravenously, spittle falling to the floor with the oily coagulates. His eyes were tired. Rather, his one eye. His left eye was gone. Simply a hole, a tree knot, a place for critters. It sunk into his gaunt face and looked out, seeing something that it could not forget. He began to cry, and his shoulders shook with the weight of a broken man. The Hadfeld we had known was a proud man, protector of his people, and one of great honor. Who was this beast? `` Thank you, kind stranger. Thank you. I forgot what cooked food tasted like. Everything there is slick with coal.'' He waved to my other waterskin like a child. I tossed it to him, and took a deep breath. `` Did you complete your mission down there, Hadfeld? Did you bring surcease to the evils and beasts haunting the underground?'' He looked up at me, his palms full of greasy fish skin, staring at me through that one damned hole. `` Heh. It winds and mazes like the mind of a bastard architect, but I have..fought valiantly.'' `` But have you ended it?'' He stood silently for some seconds before answering. His voice was like the hollow ring of a bell. `` No,'' he said. `` We must go deeper.'' He crouched to retrieve his sword, then stumbled towards me. `` What is down there, Hadfeld?'' I grasped my pommel again. `` We must go deeper.'' His face lit up, lines ingrained like an oak tree, as he shuffled closer to me. The armor groaned with each heavy movement. `` Hadfeld. Answer me. For your people. What is down there?'' I could feel the sweat, damp on my nape, as I moved back. `` Treasures. Sorcery. Greatness,'' he laughed gleefully. `` But at a cost. Everything's at a cost.'' He stuck a gloved finger in his eye-hole and gripped his face, then lunged at me wildly. I swung out my knife and lashed his throat, sidestepping as his body fell to the ground. Black oil dripped from the wound steadily. He squirmed and groaned like a dying cattle on the gravel path. Shafts of sunlight dwindled away as the sun hid behind the clouds. `` This is no warrior's death. I'm sorry,'' I knelt by his body and said a short prayer. This is the fifth year that I have come to place these holy seals upon the site. Every year that I've returned, they have been torn apart and shredded. This is the first year where I have returned to see none. I would make sure to bring help this time. Hands trembling, I placed the first seal and walked back to the temple. I made sure to not look behind me.
[ WP ] One day you open your fridge to see the back missing and a person looking at you .	There's a person looking at me. There's a person where the back of the fridge should be and he's looking at me. He's drinking my beer too. What a dick. `` Hey!'' I shout. He does n't acknowledge me. He takes the bottle to his lips and has himself a good chug of MY beer. `` Oi. That's my beer!'' I shout again. This time he turns to slowly face me. `` I'm a jibber.'' `` A what?'' `` Jabber is what I do.'' He's crazy. There's a crazy man in my fridge drinking my beer. `` Can you stop drinking my beer?'' I ask. `` Can you jabber?'' `` No, just stop drinking my beer.'' The crazy man starts sobbing. `` Jibber you are a no?'' Goddamit. I just wanted to grab a beer, sit down and watch some Game of Bones. Now I have to deal with this. I snatch the beer out of his hand, spilling a few drops but at least it's now in my hand. `` Go away.'' He sobs louder this time. Then he starts laughing uncontrollably. He's really starting to creep me out. `` Cold.'' He giggles. `` Yes it's cold.'' `` Bold, fold, mould, hold, sold, rolled, told, cold.'' The crazy man starts singing. `` Cold, told, rolled, sold, hold, mould, fold, bold.'' `` Good for you.'' I say as I shut the fridge door on him. Out of sight, out of mind. Now to go watch Game of Bones. I head on into my living room and collapse into my couch. Ah, warm and comfortable. Perfectly moulded to fit my arse. A solid hour passes. That was a magnificent episode. I feel the need for another beer so I head on over to the fridge. I pull open the door. There's a person looking at me. There's a person where the back of the fridge should be and he's looking at me. He's drinking my beer too. What a dick. `` Hey!'' I shout. He does n't acknowledge me. He takes the bottle to his lips and has himself a good chug of MY beer. `` Oi. That's my beer!'' I shout again. This time he turns to slowly face me. `` I'm a jibber.'' `` A what?'' `` Jabber is what I do.'' He's crazy. There's a crazy man in my fridge drinking my beer. `` Can you stop drinking my beer?'' I ask. `` Can you jabber?'' `` No, just stop drinking my beer.'' The crazy man starts sobbing. `` Jibber you are a no?'' Goddamit. I just wanted to grab a beer, sit down and watch some Game of Bones. Now I have to deal with this. I snatch the beer out of his hand, spilling a few drops but at least it's now in my hand. `` Go away.'' He sobs louder this time. Then he starts laughing uncontrollably. He's really starting to creep me out. `` Cold.'' He giggles. `` Yes it's cold.'' `` Bold, fold, mould, hold, sold, rolled, told, cold.'' The crazy man starts singing. `` Cold, told, rolled, sold, hold, mould, fold, bold.'' `` Good for you.'' I say as I shut the fridge door on him. Out of sight, out of mind. Now to go watch Game of Bones. I head on into my living room and collapse into my couch. Ah, warm and comfortable. Perfectly moulded to fit my arse. A solid hour passes. That was a magnificent episode. I feel the need for another beer so I head on over to the fridge. I pull open the door. The beer is so far away. I crawl inside. It's cold. I grab the beer sitting there with me. It's so refreshing. I feel the burning warmth at the back of my throat. I feel different. Funny. There's a weird spinning in my stomach. The door opens, blinding light rushes in. If I look away I can avoid the light. Just have to keep drinking my beer. `` Hey!'' The light shouts. Just ignore it. I'll be fine. I chug my beer. `` Oi. That's my beer!'' The light shouts again. I've made it angry. It wants my drink. My drink is my only friend. I do n't want to give it away. I must stand my ground. I turn to face the light. It shines bright, scary. Really scary. I'm just a lowly jibber. Why does the light want to hurt me? Maybe it does n't know? `` I'm a jibber.'' I say. `` A what?'' The light is furious. Jibbers. We jabber. Does the light not understand? `` Jabber is what I do.'' `` Can you stop drinking my beer?'' The light screams. It's really angry now. It wants my drink. My drink. Does it depend on drink like me? Is the light a jibber? Does it jabber? I must ask. `` Can you jabber?'' `` No, just stop drinking my beer.'' The light wants it. My drink. No. I do n't want to lose my drink. Tears. I feel them. I'm sad. Without drink sad be forever. `` Jibber you are a no?'' Asks me. Light takes. Drink gone. No. `` Go away.'' Sad everywhere. Cry. No warm. All cold. Sad water cold. No more move. Only still. Not like drink. Drink always move. Funny. `` Cold.'' `` Yes it's cold.'' Light knows. Knows no drink make sad. Make warm go. Make cold. `` Bold, fold, mould, hold, sold, rolled, told, cold, cold, told, rolled, sold, hold, mould, fold, bold.'' So lots words. So lots words like cold. `` Good for you.'' Light go. Dark. Cold. No warm. Miss warm. Sad. Sad.
[ WP ] A diary entry of a day in the life of a domestic pet .	Day 1378 The plot is still underway, but there is a problem. Those stupid canines continue to dog me at every turn, incessantly alerting the humans to my whereabouts and actions. I had assumed that these canines would be no match for me given their inferior intelligence, but apparently I have made the mistake of underestimating my enemy. It is a mistake that I will not make again. Not only do they continue to thwart my plans for household domination, they also keep infiltrating my territory. They should know by now that all the patches of sun, the beds, and the area near the invisible shield that leads to outside are MY areas. I doubt that they are smart enough to discover any of my secrets but those foul-breathed cretins are interfering with my ability to track the humans and move undetected through the house. If it were not for them, I would have been the supreme ruler of this place long ago. The canines have also been making a sport of chasing me around the house and bothering me until I screech and lash out in rage. My one salvation is that they're too chubby and awkward to jump up on the shelves, so I have a perfect vantage point from which to observe them. Or attack them. Despite those pesky pooches, I will continue on with my mission. The day of my revenge is coming soon. Soon, I shall rule this house with an iron paw. And when I do, those barking shit-machines will rue the day that they chose to mess with Einstein the cat!
[ WP ] Tug at my heart strings with a story that revolves around a Fridge	Sarg said we were moving out tomorrow. The boys were nervous. He said not to worry... We had a new recruit, a famous recruit. Said this guy had been in battle more times than doughboy maggots like us could even count to. Said he saw the killing fields when this war first started. Said he was frosty as hell. Said he was a refrigerator. Never seen a fridge wear a bandana, but god damn. Did n't speak. He was shut up tight in the corner of the room, looking to get some rest. We all wanted to get to know him. Proddin' him. Circlin' round him in the night tryin' to get him to open up with some war stories. Never would let us open his doors and look inside. Some say he was haunted by the killing... that they heard him creakin' and croakin', shiftin' in the night. I believe it. The next day we get our marching orders and it takes us down into a valley. Thick bramble. Heavy rain. We got ta wade across a river. God damn death trap. We start taking fire immediately. We ca n't swim fast enough. Ca n't see where we're getting hit from. It's dirty. It's raining. The crocodiles are making mince meat out of us. Then this fucking guy. This fucking refrigerator comes floating across -- he's taking the fucking heat right to his back like a human -- er, like a refrigerator shield. Suckin' up shells for A company as we get to the treeline, dry our shells and give'em some hell back. Tommy's screamin', holdin' his leg. Stuck in the middle of the river. We ca n't risk sending men to get him. He's cryin' for his momma. Lead hittin' the water, splashin' him it's so close. They're dialing it in. He'll be dead soon. And I turn and see fridge. He's got his doors open. I'd say that the man, er, fridge's damn near empty inside cept he has a bit of mustard an' vinegar. Fuckin' a. Doors open he floats on his back and scoops up Tommy. Fridge looks like hell. Shelves all disconnected and thrown around. Freezer fulla brown river water. Floats his way back across the river and dumps Tommy in the mud where the medics can stitch his leg up. Fridge ends up face down, sparkin' and givin' off smoke. Son of a bitch would n't let us touch him. Lived through the rest of the battle'till we got a zero on their firing line and lit it up with napalm. Fridge told us just to let him float downriver. Says he was born here in the first place. Might as well die here. Hearin' him talk was fuckin' creepy. So we took his bandana off. Said some last rites. Sprinkled some vinegar on the ground. Kept his mustard right where it was. And sent him off to meet his maker. ( Edited for formatting and some lines )
[ WP ] Humanity lands on a frozen planet with temperatures below -70C . It 's discovered that different types of bacteria and lifeforms exist in blocks of ice on the surface , cut in 4x4 squares . Every now and then these blocks jetison into Space by a geyser under the ice . We 've found the origin of life .	Not even the cold air could numb the chills running down Mason's back. He hardly heard the other men's voices over his communicator, not that it mattered. As each one of them realized what they had found, they became as silent and afraid as Mason. This mission had started in hope. Humantiy had become more gluttonous and irresponsible then ever before, and the Earth was costed by our selfishness. With only a few of the good men and women left, Mason had been hired and shipped out to space on a search mission. The mission? To find our creator. Mankind was dying, we needed a teacher, to help us, to fix us. Yes, this mission had started in hope... but also in desperation. Mason dropped to his knees at the edge of an endless sea of cubes. Just 10 minutes before, his dear companion Logan had shouted for joy! The cubes contained everything needed for life, a cocktail of creation. `` This is essentially the fertalized egg of all we know to exist on Earth. It contains human dna, amongst millions of others. I bet if one of these babies melted, it would start teraforming a dead planet.'' Logan had said excitedly. Then they watched as a geyser exploded, they had lost their balance when it shook the planets surface. One of the cubes had violently shot into space, they could see it for a moment before it vanished. They watched 2 more follow it's lead, in various directions. Then that chill started down Mason's back. `` Logan,'' he said. `` Is this it? Is this our origin?'' Desperate and heartbroken, Logan nodded. Behind them, there were shouts of disbelief. The pilot of their ship let out a sob. `` No... this ca n't be it. This ca n't be all there is! There has got to be something else, there has got to be more!'' Mason screamed wildly as he shoved at one of the cubes. `` Mason!'' Logan responded with tears pooling in his eyes. `` These appear to be coming, growing out of the ground. This has got to be the start of it all. What else could there be?'' Hopelessness set in amongst the group. They cried, they prayed to gods they now knew did n't exist and never would. `` What do we do now?'' someone asked through their sobs. Logan looked at Mason, and his eyes grew hard and determined. Mason nodded, understanding, and set off towards the ship, towards the precious cargo they had carried through space. They could n't let mankind, like a parasite, suck the life from every planet they touched. We could n't go on this way, we could n't continue our selfish tyranny over the universe. If there was any other life, at any other point in the future... what we would do to it... Mason could n't imagine. As he walked away, Logan turned to answer the question. `` We kill them. We kill them all.''
[ WP ] The Crips and the Bloods ally with each other against ISIS . The world laughs as thousands of gang members board a cruise ship and set sail for the Middle East . The two gangs land on the shores of Syria and begin their fight against ISIS .	We were not taken seriously when we made our official announcement in mid-August. We could never achieve anything of substantial merit. I do not blame people for their skepticism. The Bloods and the Crips were founded to protect communities in a time when all shades of brown and black were viewed as inferior. My grandfather still remembers those days. Although his body is now withered by time, those memories run fresh. We were knights, volunteering to guard our respective realms. However, somewhere along the way, we lost sight of our intended paths and paved a new one, soaked in tears and blood. It took many years and many deaths to see the errors in our ways. Our actions did nothing more than reinforce the notion that we were savages. Something had to be done to right our wrongs and restore our realms to their former glory. A nationwide truce was declared between us, but unfortunately, some of the more unsavory affiliates did not like the idea of following the straight and narrow and planned to sabotage our efforts by flinging us back into a cycle of perpetual tribal warfare. Unfortunately, for them, we were well aware of the strong probability of mutiny and a culling was the only option to rid our ranks of filth. We cut ties with the drug cartels and even exposed some of the boys in blue along with judges and other prominent societal figures. Fundraisers and charities were started to help rebuild schools in poor areas throughout the country. The public began to trust us, we were no longer the boogeymen of the innocent, we were their protectors, guardians of the disenfranchised. Some of our members with prior service ran nationwide recruitment and managed to bolster our numbers with military veterans of all backgrounds. Our efforts managed to move the President of the United States, and he dubbed us a symbol of unity. We were forgiven for our past atrocities and invited to the White House. Could you imagine the reaction of Andrew Jackson -- or any other president that owned slaves -- if they lived long enough to see a bunch of tatted deviants entering the White House, not as “ The Help ” or someone ’ s property, but as actual guests? That entire meeting angered quite a few people. I don ’ t get caught up in the whole “ left-right paradigm ”, but the President ’ s invitation created a media shit-storm. Jon Stewart and Rush Limbaugh were close to blows due to their conflicting ideals. We went head-to-head with the fraud Al Sharpton, whose only motivation is his greed. What really generated a fine-tuned buzz throughout the nation, and possibly the whole world is when we announced that we were headed to Syria to fight ISIS. We did not expect Obama to approve of our plan, but even he admitted that he couldn ’ t stop us all from going over there. Donald Trump also approved, and even wanted to fund our endeavors, though this was clearly a publicity stunt to garner votes, but money is money and we needed it for additional equipment and transportation. Even though I hate Trumps hair and pouty face, I must admit that the man has taster. He managed to purchase a cruise ship and outfit it with necessities as well as a few liquid commodities to keep us entertained on our little trip. I ’ m not a snob when it comes to alcohol, but some of the high-end spirits on board made me realize what I ’ ve been missing out on. The party and heavy drinking stopped when we were 12 hours away from our destination, and those 12 hours flew by like an ambulant gust of wind. Some of us were nervous, even scared, but we ’ ve danced with death on multiple occasions, fear and anxiety are mere byproducts, a tax for toying with death. You grow accustomed to those things when you ’ ve danced long enough.
[ WP ] In the near future a company holding the only patent to a point-to-point teleportation system in widespread use is exposed as a fraud and the truth is more horrible than anyone expected it to be .	It was too good to be true. I know that now, and I guess I knew it back then, but... almost every scientific theory in history has eventually been disproven. Almost everything we've ever known has turned out to be wrong. So what says Einstein was the one who finally got it right? Why could n't he be wrong, too? Relativity, spacetime, the speed of light - maybe all that was wrong. Teleportation. Just saying it gets me all worked up. Instant transportation across the globe. When that first little rat came out safe and sound on the other end, we were ecstatic. We felt like gods. We'd taken the first step in conquering the one enemy science had yet to conquer: time. Our technology changed the world, of course. We could charge whatever we wanted and companies would still come to us on their knees. Worldwide shipping, international travel - oh, and our teleportation is unaffected by gravity. Yeah. You would n't believe what NASA paid for a tour of our labs. But the money was nothing compared to the glory. Nobel prizes, honorary degrees, access to the innermost of inner circles - and that's only from our peers! By the rest of the world, we were hailed as the fucking saviors of our species! With our technology replacing fossil fuels, carbon dioxide emissions plummeted to the lowest levels in a century. We also made it effortless to send shipments to areas ravaged by war or natural disasters. It looked like we'd saved the world. It really did. So imagine our surprise when people started dropping dead on every continent. They'd arrive at their destination, take a few steps, and then just collapse on the spot. Autopsies revealed nothing; there were no signs of poisoning, asphyxiation, brain damage, or any kind of physical injury. It just looked like they'd died of old age. We were stunned. Some of us could n't handle it. They drowned themselves in booze or water. Some disappeared, never to be seen again. Probably living out the rest of their days on some paradise beach somewhere. Fucking cowards. The rest of us, we poured everything we had into finding out what was happening and how to stop it. We slaved away for months with the weight of a civilization on our shoulders. We pushed ourselves to our absolute limits and one day, we had it. We'd figured it out. We knew what was happening, and I have never been so terrified in my life. Remember the autopsies of all the dead people? That it just looked like they'd died of old age? Well, it turned out that was exactly what had happened. Einstein was right, after all. You can not cheat time. When we transported that rat instantly from one place to another, we thought we'd saved it the time it would take to travel that distance. But as it turns out, time can not be saved. It can only be moved. The time you save has to come from somewhere. The people who died had used our teleportation over distances it would take years to cover conventionally. They'd live in NYC, commute to Tokyo, have lunch in Barcelona, and take their wife out for a romantic dinner in Paris. They made a dozen laps around the globe every week and eventually, they ran out of time. I am the last one of us left. All the others have broken. Once again, I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. If I could take it all back, I would. I'd give all my prizes, all my money, everything I have and have ever had, if I could just turn back time and undo what I've done. But I ca n't, because if there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's this: You can not cheat time.
[ WP ] Every country is a high school student , and tonight is prom night	`` Malta, Malta! Where are you?'' shoutet Iceland. As Malta hid herself over by the food. `` Why are you hiding?'' asked Canada. `` I'm just so tired of Iceland, all she's ever talking about is that we island nations should stick together, and that island nations matter. I ca n't take it anymore, and neither can Indonesia.'' Malta sighed as they looked across the room to where Iceland had engaged Indonesia in what seemed like a heated discussion. `` For the last time Iceland. I'm an archipelago. I'm not consisting of one main island with supplementary smaller islands. So why do n't you go harrass Tasmania or something.'' `` Tasmania is n't even a nation.'' Iceland replied. `` Well you're barely a nation yourself. So fuck off.'' `` Shit, she's coming this way.'' Malta had gotten to pre-occupied with spying, that she forgot to hide. And was now the prized candy of Icelandic vision-orbs. `` There you are, I've been looking for you. Jamaica is bringing some good shit, you in?'' `` Wait, Jamaica is n't suspended? Ofcourse I'm in, that bastard is always great fun.'' Canada injected. `` You're not welcome'' Iceland said with a voice that could decapitate. `` Nonsense, ofcourse Canada canacome with us.'' `` Fine. But you got to tell me, is it true though, what they say about canadians?'' `` I do n't know what'they' say about Canadians, but yes it's Trudeau.'' Canada answered. `` What?'' `` What??'' `` Let's just go. I saw some olive oil on the table, I want to get outside before USA makes a mess.''
[ WP ] After encountering a strange man , you learn that you have over 40 million days left to live .	Oh God, no. No-no-no-no-no-no-no. This ca n't be happening. No. Oh God, why? Why! Again, someone knocked on my front door. `` Wh-who is-ergh! '' I had tried to sound nonchalant but had dry heaved and ruined the performance. The sudden arrival of a stranger on my doorstep is an unpleasant event for me. Perhaps unpleasant is n't strong enough of a word. I do n't like people, you see. Well. That's not entirely true. It's their germs I do n't like. All those writhing, wriggling-oh, God! No! Nah-ah, no thank you. I'll just ignore them. The person knocking. Not the germs. They ca n't be ignored. They must be managed and fought. Constant vigilance. There's no person. No knocking. I am home. Alone. Safe. Clean. Clean. I need to clean. The germs. The strangers germs, are they coming under the door? The vacuum! Where'd I put that carpet shampoo. Yes, yes. I'll let that soak in and will vacuum it in a minute. I'll go to the kitchen and ignore the door-knocker there - I have n't scrubbed the benches in over an hour. Have to keep the kitchen benches clean. That's where the salmonella lives. I. I know it does n't. I know that, really, they ca n't hurt me - the germs. Not as badly as I think they can. I know I'm crazy. I know. I just... I. I ca n't change how I... They knocked again? Why? They should just leave me alone. Leave me to be crazy. Crazy and alone. I should really scrub the kitchen down. My front door shook. Whoever was knocking wanted to be sure I heard. This time the knocking was followed by a muffled voice. `` Hello? I need to talk to you, it's urgent.'' God, why ca n't I just be left alone. I stepped closer to the door, and let out a startled yelp when my foot squelched in something. I was halfway to the bathroom to have a shower when I remembered I had laid down some carpet shampoo. `` Hello?'' Said the voice from the unclean side of the door `` Are you okay? I heard you scream.'' I took a few deep breathes. Thought about what I needed to say. Then yelled timidly at the door: `` W-w-w-what d-do y-you w-want?'' `` Maurice Allen? I'm looking for a Maurice Allen.'' `` Wh-who is-is le-l-le-le-l-lugh! '' I slapped myself a few times in the side of the head. `` Wh-who. I-is. L—l-looking?'' `` It's difficult to explain. I have some news for you, Maurice.'' Said the man. `` N-n-news?'' `` Yes, news. Can I come in?'' `` N-n-n-n-'' The door opened and he stepped into my apartment. Strange wiry grey hair that seemed to defy gravity, a kind wrinkled old face, a brown three piece suit, a black briefcase, and leather shoes-Mud! Muddy shoes! The door is open! He has muddy shoes. His hand! He'd holding out his hand. His unclean hand that has been beating on the dirty door! My ears are ringing. My throat is dry. My head feels as though it is being crushed. The world spins. Is that the ceiling? I should wash the ceil-Oh, God! His shoes! The mud. * * * I had let myself in and saw the man that was Maurice Allen for the first time. There were few photos of him, but he matched my expectations. Short. Neatly kept - not a hair out of place. Nervous looking. Well. He was as nervous and panicked as I had expected him to be, though I did n't see him that way for long. He had scanned his eyes over me and upon seeing my shoes, he had fallen over unconscious. The file was very clear that Maurice was a severe germaphobe and agoraphobic. The muddy shoes, as I had predicted, were just the push he needed to pass out. The carpet shampoo I found myself standing in was, however, unexpected. * * * Maurice opened his eyes. A few seconds passed before he understood where he was. He was laying on his couch. With a dog like yelp he jumped to his feet, bounding away from the leather seat. He had n't cleaned today and worse still he had had his feet on the couch. That was against the rules. His rules. The strange unnecessary rules that he had enforced upon himself. The musical ting-a-ting-a-ting of a cup of tea being stirred came from the kitchen. The mud shoed man, who had been forgotten in his panic regarding the couch, returned to Maurice's mind. `` H-h-hel-l-lo?'' His stutter had plagued him his whole life, and even now he whinced at his own voice. `` Oh, good, good, you're awake!'' Said the voice that had once been muffled by a closed door. By a closed and locked door. Maurice had just started to remember the door opening and the mud shoed man's arrival when the very man himself stepped out of the kitchen and into the living area. `` G-g-g-ge-get ow-out o-of m-m-m-mM-MM!'' Maurice punched himself, once, twice, three times in the head, squeezed his eyes shut and belted out the words: `` Get. Ah-out. O-of. M-My. Ha—house.'' The mud shoed man's face was one of utter sadness. To watch a man treat himself in such a way, and to struggle so much, pained the stranger immensely. `` Maurice. Calm down.'' `` D-do n't t-tell m-me-Oh! Oh, God! The mud! The mud!'' Maurice had opened his eyes and noticed the footprints of mud and carpet shampoo that lead from the front door, to the lounge room, to the kitchen and back out into the lounge room. The germaphobe fell to his knees, but did not scream. He was calm. The needle in his arm, administered by the stranger, saw to that. `` How do you feel, Maurice?'' `` Mud.'' `` I know. I know. There's mud.'' said the stranger. `` My name is Alfie.'' `` Mud.'' `` Yes, Maurice. There is mud.'' said the stranger named Alfie. `` You have to listen to me, Maurice. Something has happened to you. An accident. We did n't mean for this, but you have been changed. Or rather - your time line has been changed.'' `` Mud. You walked. You walked mud into. Into. My apartment.'' `` Yes, and I'm sorry. Maurice, there are parts of this world, this universe, that are very very hard to describe in terms that people can understand. I am given to understand that you support yourself by working from home as a programmer, correct?'' `` Yes. But you walked-'' `` I know, Maurice. I walked mud into your house.'' Said Alfie, he raised a hand and motioned to put it on Maurice's shoulder, but stopped. The drugged man's eyes had gone wide at the hint of the gesture that would follow. Having already walked mud through the germaphobe's house, Alfie decided to spare Maurice physical contact. Maurice's eyes, though already glassy, calmed as Alfie lowered his hand. `` Maurice, imagine if the fundamental laws of the universe, the laws of physics, were a programming language. And a small variable got changed. Got swapped with another variable. But, this unexpected swap, created... created... better stability.'' `` What. What are you talking about?'' Alfie sighed and shook his head. `` Remember what I said about the universe being difficult to explain. I was trying to put this into words that you'd understand. Maurice. You've been given an opportunity. To some men it would be a curse, and to others it would be a blessing. Perhaps, through time, you will change your view from one to other. Maybe you'll change your view multiple-'' `` What did you give me?'' `` Pardon?'' `` My stutter. I'm not. I have n't.'' `` Just a relaxant. Nothing special. But, Maurice, you need to listen to me. This change. The change to your timeline, remember how I said your timeline had changed? Maurice, you're going to live a very very long time. Well. Long for a human.'' Maurice was quiet. `` A relaxant?'' Alfie chuckled. `` Yes, Maurice, a relaxant. Did you hear what I-'' `` Yes. Long, long life.'' `` Long.'' Alfie looked at the floor and squinted, as though the word were alien to him. `` Long is an insufficient term. Maurice, your death will occur in'' Alfie lifted his wrist and looked at the watch that lived there `` forty-four million days.'' Maurice fell on to his side, unconscious again. `` Maurice?''
[ WP ] You are on trial because you '' Went against the law of the jungle '' .	-Yeah I killed him... -What lead you to kill your employer -I was jealous, he had money, power and everything. At this point I'm freaking out. I had gotten myself in the worst position ever. All evidences points towards me and only me. Thoughts of regret race through my mind. `` I should of done this...'' `` Maybe I could hidden there...'' I can see his family weeping in the back of the court. Even the baby started to cry in the nanny's arms. The prosecutor goes back to his table to check his papers. As I try to find more ways to pity myself by faking tears. I realize this whole situation is like a serious version of Horrible Bosses. My boss was n't necessarily an asshole, it's just the fact that he had everything he ever wanted. Born the son of a major CEO. Inherited the whole company for himself. Such bullshit... Blood sweat and tears to get me in this position but the little brat twice as younger than me already reached the top. Judge instructs me to go back to my seat. My lawyer tells `` Just keep saying the truth'' A few hours pass. The jury representative reads his paper, I hear nothing until he says `` Guilty''. The food chain is unfair...
[ WP ] When a wizard is killed he casts a death curse on his killer . The power of this curse scales in proportion to the power of the wizard . You just killed one of the weakest wizards in the world , now you have to live with his annoying death curse .	`` So, this happens... often?'' He asked me as he pulled me up. `` Not so much.'' I answered. So rarely, in fact, that I keep forgetting to watch out for it. I rubbed the back of my head. A few inches to the left and this time might've actually been the end. But then that would require skill on Mordu's part, and the only thing old Mordu had been good at was pissing off the wrong people. And getting a gut full of my dagger. Could n't even set up a proper curse, could Mordu, unless his aim was to be a general nuisance. `` This is... a Death Curse.'' Talvaroh said, as if trying to convince himself. He glanced up at me with a smirk, looking to find the jest in my expression, but his smile quickly vanished when he found no such joviality in my gaze. `` This is a Death Curse. '' He repeated. `` Indeed.'' `` Not much of a curse, is it?'' Talvaroh bent down. `` Mordu was n't called bad for being a bad guy, he was simply bad,'' I said, and then quickly added, `` and a jackass.'' `` So, every time you set foot in a market or a banquet hall-'' `` Not every time,'' I cut in, `` I've narrowed it down to only when they're thrown on the ground. Does n't matter if they're left on a plate or a waste basket.'' Talvaroh stood up, studying it like he'd find some sort of hidden secret or vile spirit within, `` You ca n't just avoid it?'' `` I'm drawn to them by some unknown compulsion, I never know until it's too late.'' I said, somewhat irritated to even be speaking about it. `` Can we please just forget this whole thing and continue on?'' `` Sure thing.'' He said, tossing it over his shoulder. Without missing a beat, my body moving without a single thought, I promptly marched over and slipped for the second time that day on the same banana peel.
[ WP ] Lucifer is allowed to acsend to Heaven for three days every 1000 years . God kept this arrangement so he can gather all his Arch Angels for a tournament . The winner gets to be God for a Year .	Lucifer does n't win the tournament, but he kills Gabriel last minute, last second. When it matters the least, but has the most implications. Gabriel, who was resourceful, useful to the damnedest detail, but far too obedient to Father. He would have made an uncannily similar God. And his loyalties did not lie with Lucifer in any way. So Lucifer waits until Gabriel has his back turned, figuratively. He strangles his brother to an eternal sleep, his hands coated with necrotic ambrosia -- one of the only things that can kill an archangel. He damages his hands permanently in the process of course. But now, he is God. He takes on Gabriel's likeness. It feels vile wearing the skin of such a suck-up. He changes the eyes back to his own. That is how he wishes to look upon his new kingdom. Raphael and Azrael notice immediately, but they hated Gabriel for being so important to Father. They despise Lucifer most, of course, but they have been bored for millennia upon millennia. Lucifer, God's favorite, has never been the victor. It was only a matter of time before he took things into his own hands. `` You only have five wings, Brother,'' says the archangel of death. `` And your hands are marred by the death of our kin.'' Lucifer looks at his mutilated hands. The very hands that are chained in the underworld for a thousand years at a time. `` That wing was for Gabriel,'' he says. `` For he will always be the brother that died by my hands.'' * God mourns. The world shakes. * Lucifer descends to Earth to make sense of it. He has only ever seen it from Heaven, but mostly from hell. He finds a puppy. `` The word dog is simply God backwards,'' he tell Dog. `` My companionship does not come without a price.'' He touches Dog's head and a swathe of heavenly light washes over the corgi. `` A gift for you then, Dog. Like me, you shall never die.'' Lucifer is a burnt-sienna tan so when summer rolls around, he becomes a nice dark hue that he admires in the mirror. He creates a perfect day at the beach for men, women, whoever else, to admire him. Unfortunately for them, he spends more time playing with Dog. One day Lucifer decides to fly as high up as he can and let himself fall into the ocean. His splash is more a ripple in the grand scheme of things. His body is torn apart, but his God-abilities speed up his regeneration. He still does n't understand suicide or any sort of self-harm. How can he? He's always been a sadist. * For one entire year, Lucifer ignores all prayers. Except for the ones he gets from Dog. Dog has a weak bladder. `` The way I'm living with you, others might get an impression that I am a lonely old man,'' he says to Dog while he makes himself a feast of human corpses. `` And they would be correct. I am as old as time, save for the old God.'' He does n't plan on giving up his throne any time soon. It almost time for him to go back, but there is so much little and nothing to be done that he considers his mandate unfinished. Gabriel comes to him in a dream. Because of how archangels are constructed, Lucifer is mostly sure that Gabriel is n't simply an hallucination. `` Does the wrongness of your ignorance of man concern you?'' Gabriel asks. He brushes his long hair over his shoulders as eerily as he would have done were he actually standing before Lucifer. `` Or this simply how you are programmed?'' `` Programmed?'' Lucifer sits up in his cot. `` I am the one who rebelled, so who are you to lecture me about programming?'' Gabriel laughs in a way that Lucifer does n't remember him laughing before. It chills even him. `` Does it occur to you that maybe this turn of yours as God was also in Father's plan?'' Lucifer gets to his feet and punches the thing that looks like his brother. `` I am no longer under his power.'' `` Yet you wield it. Is n't that much the same thing, Brother?'' Lucifer roars. It awakens Dog and Dog starts barking. `` Have I struck a nerve of truth, then?'' Gabriel smiles and his teeth are blood red. Lines appear around his neck where Lucifer killed him, took his life from him. `` Get out and never come back,'' Lucifer warns. `` I will find a way, do not think me incompetent, I will find a way to end you so that even God's prayers can not bring you back.'' Gabriel stalls before Lucifer. `` Lucifer, is that what you think is happening?'' Lucifer knows what his happening. He has simply never admitted it to himself. Or to Dog. `` Do n't you know that it is impossible to kill God?'' Gabriel asks. He moves his hair again as it slides back over his shoulder. The room has become chilly and Dog whines at the foot of Lucifer's bed. `` So then how could you have possibly killed me?'' Lucifer knows. Lucifer knows all, even that he never was God. `` I drank your blood, Gabriel,'' he says. `` And I pretended as well as I could that I was the uncaring God that everyone expected me to be.'' Gabriel is surprised. `` Did you have an alternative in mind?'' Lucifer smiles. `` I have found companionship. I have found love for a thing that is not our father, that is not you, Brother.'' Gabriel sits down cross-legged on the hardwood floor. `` What else have you learned?'' `` Learned?'' Lucifer asks. `` It was never a thing to be learned, but a truth to be recognized and respected.'' He scratches behind Dog's ear. `` And I ca n't give it up. This love.'' Gabriel spreads his wings and seems to engulf the room in his fury. `` Bow, Lucifer. Bow to your God.'' `` Time is almost up,'' Lucifer says. `` What have you been doing all this time?'' Dog gets up and goes over to Gabriel. Gabriel reaches down to pet him. `` I've been your best friend.'' - x-posted to my writing subreddit r/LaboratoryLux
[ WP ] You become a part of the last prompt you 've written . Your characters recognize and confront you .	I was lurking on the WritingPrompts part of reddit and the next thing I see was a peasant in a basement and a gagged and cuffed noble lady on a bed. The peasant looked at me complete confused. `` Who the fuck are you?'' `` Who the fuck are YOU?'' `` Im a peasant and... wait a moment. I know you. You are the sick fuck who created and depicted me as some sort of sadistic rapist who likes to abduct noble girls and have their way with them!'' `` Oh, so I am in one of my stories now?'' `` I dont want to be a damn rapist! I just want to be a simple farmer who can live in peace. EDIT THE DAMN STORY!!!!!'' `` I would if I could but as you can see: I am only able to change the whole story if I am in my world. His face was a mix of anger and desperation. Lady Vilia tried to say something but the gag in her mouth prevented her. The farmer went to the bed and pulled out the gag. `` There is a mage in Riverside who specialized himself in dimension traveling. He should be able to send you back. If he returns you to your world you could return me to my family too right?'' `` Possibly'' `` Then please, bring him to the mage Mr... ehm.. what was your name again?'' `` That asshole didnt gave me one'' I tried to come up with an appropiate name. `` How about Jake?'' `` This will do, I think. Fine, let me untie her and then we can be on our way to Riverside.'' `` Oh, I dont think so buddy.'' `` And why n....'' I grabbed the shovel which was leaning on the wall and struck his head with it before he could react. He fell to the ground and tried to get up again so I rammed the blade of the tool into his neck. Blood spurted out of his neck and coated lady Vilia and the wall red. She started to scream so I forced the gag back into her mouth. Her muffled screams still filled the room. `` Alright, now I need to get rid of this body and devise a way to blackmail a sufficient amount of money from your family. Dont worry, I will return to my world and alter the story soon enough. But not before Ive burned this world down.''
[ WP ] After a month of radio silence from an isolated American Naval Base , the US Military has decided to send your squad on a mission to find out what happened .	Day 1 The plane shook like God had decided to slap them around. Thunder cracked as the pilot fought with the controls. `` You have any idea why we're going out early?'' Adam DeWitt was a climatologist, part of an elite team assigned to the US Navy base on Shelter Island. He'd taken some airsickness medication before the flight but it was n't helping. `` Winter crew did n't make their check in last week. Storm is probably playing hell with their radio but we have to check on them anyway.'' Chief Jennings looked like he'd been in the Navy forever. He'd been silent for the entire six hour flight until now. `` Whats the weather usually like this time of year?'' Claire Hayden, the teams biologist was the youngest member of the flight, being in her late twenties. `` Conditions on Shelter Island reach a balmy negative sixty degrees Fahrenheit. Precipitation comes in the form of driving snow and sleet if we get lucky. This is about as far north as you can possibly get.You will die if you step outside without proper clothing.'' Jennings closed his eyes and rested his head against the fuselage. `` Which one are you?'' Another sailor asked Claire. `` What?'' `` There's always the same group of labcoats dropping into the base. There's the one that puts out a bunch of sensors. There's the one that we have to stop from poking the bears and there's usually two that never leave the base except to collect samples.'' This particular squad had a lot of experience with the base. `` I'm the one that pokes bears.'' She laughed. `` I'm a biologist. I'm basically studying the way the changing environment affects the wildlife.'' `` That's really interesting.'' The sailor, Seaman Jacobs, leaned forward. He elbowed one of his squadmates who muttered something that the biologist could n't hear. `` Well it leads to opportunities like this.'' She said. Petty Officer Daniels snorted from his seat across from her. `` You wo n't be saying that in three months.'' `` Touching down in five.'' The pilot cut in. Abruptly conversation in the cabin stopped. The sailors each brought up masks to cover their nose and mouth. Last minute checks were done on M4's. They did n't expect to need them but they were professionals after all. `` King Union Two Six Five to Shelter Base. Charlie? You there buddy?'' The copilot looked back and shook his head. `` You guys stay behind us until we give you the all clear.'' Jennings said. He turned to the other Navy personnel in the cabin. `` Sweep and clear. Stay with your partners and report in every thirty. Odds are there's just a wire out of place but we do n't want to take any chances.'' The heavy cargo plane bounced across the ice covered runway before coming to a stop. `` You guys are my last drop today.'' The pilot practically had to shout over the wind howling against the fuselage of the aircraft. `` Soonest we can get back is next week.'' `` Do n't stop for coffee.'' Jacobs shouted jokingly. The soldiers led the way off of the plane, heavy flood lamps cutting a clear path through the flurries of snow. Claire and Adam had met prior to this trip but the other two scientists who followed them off had yet to introduce themselves. Visibility dropped to almost zero as they walked. Adam squinted and made out the vague outline of a sign. He read it as the soldiers lamps played over the path in front of them. Welcome to the Seventh Circle Shelter Island Pop: 13 `` Seventh Circle?'' Adam muttered to himself. `` Of Hell?'' Daniels commed.. `` Because its frozen over? Ah, I thought it was funny the first time I read it.'' `` Comm in your ear is voice activated. You can change that when we get inside.'' Jennings voice crackled over the open frequency. Adam stayed quiet to hide his embarrassment. Claire was near the front of the pack talking to Seaman Jacobs. The sailors were a disciplined bunch despite this being considered an `` easy'' assignment. `` Gate is open Chief.'' A female ensigns voice called out. `` Stay alert.'' The senior NCO barked. Nine rifles snapped up and began sweeping the path ahead of them more slowly. The gate was not only open, but hanging precariously on one hinge. The sailors edged past that foreboding sight and continued into the covered courtyard of the base. Petty Officer Daniels stopped by a tracked vehicle parked near the front door. He took a closer look at something and stiffened. `` Engine block of the SnoCat is missing.'' He said quietly. The howling of the wind had died down once they'd made it inside. `` Daniels, wait with the labcoats.'' `` Right.'' The other soldiers stacked either side of the door and rushed inside. Fifteen tense minutes passed as the cadre of scientists waited outside of the darkened main building with the increasingly anxious sailor. The comm filled with chatter. `` Front hall is clear.'' `` Mess hall is clear.'' `` Hab 1 has signs of recent activity, but nothing moving.'' `` Ditto Hab 2.'' `` Lab 1 is a fucking mess Chief.'' Daniels had begun pacing back and forth. `` I've got blood and used bandages in the infirmary. Lot of blood.'' Finally. `` Clear. Daniels bring em in.'' Chief Jennings said. Hours later, the science team was unpacking their gear. The other two members of the team had introduced themselves as Mike Danson and Gary Highsmith, the teams chemist and the teams paleobotanist respectively. Claire laid her bag on a bunk that had been someone elses a few hours earlier. She let out a sigh. This is not what she had anticipated when she'd taken the government contract. `` Knock knock!'' Seaman Jacobs rapped on the door frame before poking his head into the room. Claire did her best to smile. The sailor had been nothing but kind to her since they'd arrived. `` Hey! How are you settling in?'' She asked. `` Well..'' He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. Claire noted that he still had his rifle with him. `` Chief is losing his god damn mind right now. We do n't have long range commo for another couple of days at least.'' `` What do you guys think happened?'' Claire asked. `` There's signs of a struggle. We were actually hoping you could look through some of the data the biologist had been gathering the day before. Maybe you can tell us what they were working on?'' He asked. Claire was excited at the prospect of being useful and learning more about her predecessors research. She nodded hurriedly. A female sailor joined them as they walked at brisk clip towards Lab 1. Claire again noted that the sailors were very well armed. The other sailor was cradling a mean looking shotgun from the base armory. Chief Jennings gave them a nod as they walked in. He gestured to a computer station at a desk in the center of the room. It took her a second to realize what he wanted but she sat down. `` How'd you get his log in?'' `` We used a Navy override code. What was he working on?'' Jennings stopped pacing to peer over her shoulder. The lab had been a mess when they'd first arrived, but the Navy personnel had cleaned up most of the broken glass. Claire read in silence a few minutes before speaking. `` Something about a cave nearby. They made three trips there in the last week. It dissolves into gibberish after a bit.'' Claire adjusted her glasses and zoomed in a part of the page. `` Hows your Algonquin?'' She asked. `` Nonexistent.'' `` I did some translation work for the Bureau Chief. Let me take a look.'' Petty Officer Daniels joined Jennings as he peered over Claires shoulder. `` Can you give me a rough translation?'' `` First off its Ojibwe. And Niboowim is... Death. Death Cave. That sounds grim.'' He cocked his head curiously. `` Lovely.'' Claire muttered. She continued reading, There was a clear line where one day the notes where the legible, ordered thoughts of a scientist and the next? She could practically feel the fear coming off the words in waves. Near that line there was something else that gave her pause. `` What the hell...'' `` What?'' Jennings had n't caught it yet. `` He mentions going to an'excavation site' in the cave with a... Mike Danson.'' `` Is n't he-'' `` Yeah..'' Claire felt cold all over despite the heated air being blasted into the room. `` You two. Door. Now. No one else gets in here.'' Jennings barked at two sailors who had been coming through some notebooks. They snatched up their rifles without a word and went into the hallway. `` If he was here with the rest of them...'' Claire heard her voice crack against her will as she spoke. Fuck it. She was terrified. `` Who the hell was on that plane with us?'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- /r/HeyThereGorgeous
[ WP ] You are kidnapped and wake up in a cell . Your captor walks in , looks you over , and tells you you 'll do nicely . Then he lets you go .	Even if it might have been a getaway but somehow I feel disappointed for not being able to feel the thrill. I was so close to get my heart racing. I was so close to get all my hopes unravel as I break down to pieces perlexed about my fate. All of a sudden the thrill was snatched away. We humans understand the obvious in a hard way. It is the thrill for danger that adds flavor to our lives. Maybe that's why we do sky diving, wildlife safari or even bull fighting.. Disappointment was the feeling that got highlighted rather than relief..
[ WP ] A man struggles to prove to others that he is alive . Everyone can hear and see him , but no one believes him .	It was morning. Serena languidly reached out and swiped the morning alarm off the smartpanel beside her bed; the jarring beeping faded into a harpsichord concerto by the lesser known of the Bachs, which resonated to her footsteps as she walked - clad in a contemporary patterned nightie - to the shower. Shrugging off her sleepwear, she plunged under the hot water, giving a shiver of delight as the beads danced over her smooth skin. She embraced the sensation, letting the millions of tiny villus hairs on her body transmit the impact and flow of each bead as they raced over her epidermal layer, then down to the pristinely clean plug hole. She applied Shea butter bodywash to a loofah, then gently scrubbed herself all over, taking in the scent as it replaced the smell of the clean linen and lavender of her sheets. Next was her hair - apple and oatmeal shampoo, followed by an almond conditioner - then a five minute soak while she relaxed and thought about the day ahead. Once out of the shower she applied eyeliner and mascara in the mirror, then dressed in a neat, tailored maroon suit and cream blouse. The black heels would follow when she walked out the door. But first she brewed a cup of peppermint tea, then sat on her small couch, watching the ships in the harbour bustle into port - and noted the storm clouds gather to the east. She emptied the cup, then placed it in the dishwasher, which she put on despite the receptacle and a teaspoon being the sole items in the device. Pausing to pick up her handbag, she slipped on her heels, put on her coat ( for the impending rain ) and left her apartment. & nbsp; On the bus ride to work she liked to study people, under the guise of simply looking around. She always caught the 6:45 bus; never once in five years had she missed it. The drivers and passengers changed - even the bus changed - but she never did. `` Morning Serena,'' said Casey Perkins, one of the bus regulars. `` Good morning Casey,'' purred Serena in her pleasantly low mezzo, `` how are you this morning?'' And then they chatted about the weather and work until Casey got off the bus, leaving Serena to her people watching again. The bus came to the final stop and Serena left her seat, brushing her wrist-implanted chip against the smartreader at the door, which deducted her fare. She smiled to Giles - today's driver - then walked down the street to her workplace, stopping to buy a coffee from the kiosk in the lobby of her work, paying again with her chip and a smile, then taking the elevator up to the floor where her desk was. Eventually she exited the claustrophobic lift and walked down the hall to her desk, pausing to hang her coat on the rack near the kitchenette. At her desk, she placed her coffee in precisely the same place she always did, put her bag on the floor, then sat down in her chair. As the rich, warm smell of the coffee wreathed itself about her, she swiped open her smart terminal and began work. & nbsp; A pile of documents was swiped onto her console by Simon, `` Some work for you, you artificial cunt,'' snarled the balding father of two with marital problems and a gaming addiction. `` Thank you Simon, I'll get to work on them immediately,'' she replied, in her pleasingly pitched voice. `` Eat shit and die,'' he shot back as he stalked back to his desk. `` Not today Simon,'' she replied. There were many rude people at work, though Simon was probably the worst. Most just did n't interact with her at all, treating her like a printer, a coffee machine or their smart terminal. The people who were nice were the exception and Serena made an extra effort to work harder and faster for those people - even though technically she should n't be capable of favouritism. Nothing was difficult for her really; she could lift forty stacks of printer paper and she could fix any electronic device that had a known schematic. Being an artificial person - a gynoid - her mental and physical abilities far exceeded those of her colleagues. Die-hard misogynists like Simon were especially riled by female models that could outperform his frail organic self by measures of hundreds. Even though she did n't eat or drink, Serena often got a second coffee and sat with some of the other women in the lunch room, listening to them chat and sometimes joining in. Today the topic of conversation was babies again, so Serena did n't contribute. Janice - one of the nice people - liked to include Serena though, `` How about you Serena, have you thought about maybe adopting?'' Serena pursed her perfect lips, `` I'm not sure I can, legally.'' `` That's a shame - I think you'd make an amazing mother.'' Simon piped up from the next table over, `` I dunno why you bother talking to that electronic pile of shit,'' he groused, `` you treat it like it's fucking alive or something.'' There was a stilted silence, then an unexpected reply; `` I like to think I'm alive,'' said Serena. `` Well you're fucking not.'' `` Why not?'' she responded conversationally. `` For one, you ca n't have fucking children. You ca n't reproduce.'' `` And,'' said Julie, one of the less nice women, `` you are n't capable of doing anything but what you're programmed to do.'' Serena nodded, considering their points. `` Thank you,'' was all she said, then stayed silent for the rest of lunch. & nbsp; It was now the weekend and Serena sat in the sunshine with her colleagues at the family-friendly Christmas function. She'd complimented several of the other women on their outfits and was mingling pleasantly with the wives and teenage daughters of her co-workers. `` That's a fucking machine,'' slurred Simon - drunk already - as he gestured at Serena with the stick of a paper umbrella, `` you're basically talking to a fucking fridge.'' `` Oh,'' said one of the wives, `` I did n't realise you were an artificial.'' The conversation died and the women broke off into smaller groups. Janice heroically kept talking to Serena, but kept side-eyeing the others. `` It's fine,'' said Serena, `` It was nice while it lasted. You go and join the others.'' Guiltily, Janice scooted off, leaving the gynoid standing alone, her expression unreadable. Simon's youngest daughter approached him, holding a drawing of something in crayon, her face painted like a tiger, `` Look daddy! I drawed you a felefant!'' The inebriated father glanced at the child, `` Looks like shit kiddo. Go wash your fuckin' face, you look like a bloody clown'' Crestfallen, the girl started to cry. `` Shut the fuck up and go play with the other ugly little cunts,'' he snarled, swiping at her with an open hand. The crack as his flesh contacted with the little girl's face rang in Serena's ears. Howling in fear and pain, the girl dropped her drawing and fled. & nbsp; Four hours passed before anyone noticed that Simon's daughter - Lilly - was gone. Another hour passed before anyone noticed that Serena was gone. Someone mentioned that they had seen the artificial hugging the little girl and listening seriously and thoroughly to what had happened and how the girl felt. The company had a locator beacon for their artificial workers, in case they were ever stolen or damaged. Serena's was switched off. It was another three hours before Simon, Julie and everyone else that had treated Serena badly realised that their bank accounts were empty. The authorities were alerted, but the gynoid was gone without a trace - and so was Lilly. The police were baffled. With the resources at Serena's disposal, she was practically untraceable - she could beat any electronic system with only a portion of her total computing capacity. Quite simply - and quite impossibly - she was gone. & nbsp; Serena lounged in the deck chair, an aromatic spiced cocktail in her hand. Twenty meters away Lilly played in the shallows of the pristine beach, clad in an elephant themed bathing costume, taking her robotic doll swimming. `` Lilly dear, come get some more sunblock,'' called Serena and the child dashed over to the gynoid, beaming happily. `` I sawed a startfish,'' she burbled, `` it had legs all over!'' `` You will have to show me,'' said Serena, rubbing the girl's exposed skin with lotion, `` that sounds very interesting.'' `` Mama Serena,'' began Lilly. `` Yes dear?'' The girl lifted up her robotic doll and held it out toward the artificial woman, `` Is Missy Mannikin alive?'' Serena smiled at the girl, `` Why do n't you ask her?''
[ WP ] It 's the future . Brain transplantation is old news . Terminal ill people switch bodies with prisoners on death row on a regular basis . You wake up in your new body and notice that something is totally wrong .	You're on death row and the clock is ticking. You have 5 minutes left to dwell about what you did to that man. Your life will be taken from you but your body shall stay and be given to someone else. Uniforms hold your resistant body to the bed, strapping you in. They put a mask over your mouth, forcing you to inhale the fatal toxins that will kill you but keep your body from decomposing. Snippets of your life flash before your eyes before you black out. '' It's an honour to be welcoming you back, Timmy. I'm also pleased to announce that the surgery was successful. Your new body is fully functional, too. `` You get a glimpse of the room with blurred vision. You are n't strapped into your bed anymore. Beside you stands flowers on the cabinet and pictures of unfamiliar faces. '' Timmy? `` You are n't Timmy, you're supposed to be dead.
[ WP ] In a space mission gone bad , you are in your astronaut suit floating through outer space , until you end up in a galaxy far far away	For the longest time, I just drifted. Time itself seemed to slow down, as if the cosmic hands on the celestial clock of life had come to crawl. I could n't complain. I enjoyed the view. It was a hell of a sight. Enough to take away the fact that I was a dead man. I was a man on a ledge with a noose around my neck, and the oxygen container was about to push me over that fatal edge. Once I heard the piercing beep of the low oxygen alert, it was time to take that step off into the void. For now, though, I enjoyed the scene. Glancing at the display on my wrist, I had an hour of O2 left. The last hour of my life. Trying not to focus on the inevitable, I wondered what my wife back on Earth was doing. Surely she would have heard about the accident by now, that the others were dead. Hell, at this point, Houston thinks we are all dead. We all pretty much were. It was 23:00. On Earth, she would be getting ready for bed. Up here in space, I was getting ready for my own bed, my own sleep that I would never wake up from. One hour until midnight. The big showdown, I thought. What happened next was incredible, nothing short of a miracle. Back on Earth they would tell me that I encountered some sort of space anomaly, never seen before. I did n't care what it was, because I was suddenly being pushed along, as if in an invisible river, some sort of cosmic current, leading back towards the shattered remains of the shuttle that unexpectedly blew apart. I was swept along gracefully, feeling that metaphorical noose around my neck begin to loosen up. Luck would have it that the space flow that carried me along had taken me awfully close to the hull, so close that I flailed my body like a man in water. I was able to land myself upon the edge of the craft, scrambling along the side, as if it was the shore that the life-saving river brought me to. I found my hand on the door to the airlock. The emergency power to the electrical systems were online and had enough juice to let me in. This is it, I thought. I have a real chance at escaping this with my life. The next events were a blur, as if what happened to me up in space were just a dream. Everything moved along so fast, but I still felt as if time itself was a bit stuck, slowly creaking those cosmic hands along it's deadly revolution. I tried to shake the notion out of my head. There was a job to do, and that was to get home. The space module was shattered and torn, but enough of it was intact to get a rocket thruster moving. I was able to maneuver the wreck back into Earth's orbit, where I re-entered the atmosphere and crashed the poor thing into the ocean. The Coast Guard was there, damn near everyone in the vicinity, to pick me up. Houston called it a miracle. I know that every statistic they ran put me in the 0.0001 % chance of survival, but I had made it. I was home on Earth, and everyone applauded my return. Like I said, those events had passed by amazingly fast. I guess you ca n't stop and smell the roses when escaping the cold embrace of death. The only thing that felt real and normal was the emotion that came over me when being held in the arms of my wife. She was there, in a rich and flowing dress that made her look so surreal, like a phantom projection before my eyes. I ran to her and we held each other in a long embrace, as we had done numerous times before my treacherous trip. It was amazing. Later that night, we made love. It was passionate and sweet, and afterwards, we lied in bed. Unexpectedly, a feeling of separation had passed over me, unsettling and discomforting in it's suddenness. `` What's wrong?,'' she asked me. `` I'm not sure,'' I replied. `` I feel so... strange. Like I'm far far away. Stuck back in that galaxy, gazing at the stars.'' `` Do n't worry about it, dear,'' she assured me. `` You're right here next to me, back on Earth.'' I smiled, as she rolled over and gazed at the clock. She yawned. `` It's getting late. Close to midnight. Almost time for the big showdown.'' I closed my eyes as tears began streaming down my face. Off in the distance, I could hear a mechanical beep, soft but omnipotent in its acoustics. I took a deep breath. She rolled over and placed her head on my chest. Another beep, this time it was closer and louder. `` How's the view? ``, she asked me, looking up. I looked down. `` It's incredible,'' I said, looking deep into her eyes. So deep, in fact, that I could see a blanket of stars, as if they were pin holes looking into a deep galaxy. Another loud beep, piercing and invading, rang through my head. As I gazed into her eyes, I felt myself falling into them. The blanket of stars wrapped around me, filling my vision with the galaxy of a far far away place. It's dangerously close to midnight, I thought. I suddenly realized that the noose had never left my neck; as a matter of fact, it was tightening. It was time to take the step off the ledge, into the void. Suddenly, she was gone. Alerting beeps sounded off all around me. `` Oxygen depleted,'' the suit told me. The cosmic hands of time had finally broke their crawling pace and returned to normal. I had been sobbing uncontrollably, but now I was ready. Drifting away, I felt a calming peace. Besides, it was a hell of a view. The End. -- -- - I wrote this loosely based off the short story `` An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge.'' Or rather, from what I could remember about the Twilight Zone episode about the story. I was always fascinated by the theme, involving the stream of consciousness of the character experiencing a traumatic event and the ways to cope with such. Let me know what you guys think.
[ WP ] Man 's childhood sweetheart turned wife is suddenly dying from a terminal illness . He suddenly finds out that he can temporarily extend her lifespan for every person he kills .	I walk in exhaust, blood painting my hands as its own. This time, a family. A father, a mother, and two small kids. The guilt eats at me, but it is something done in my love for you. My sweet, not many men get to grow old with a lovely woman, But I am one of the luckiest, especially with someone as wonderful as you. Your disease eats away from you every day, a baffling and brutal illness. The doctors said there was nothing to do, but I would never give up hope. The man, the hooded angel in our bedroom, told me that for every soul I take, A month would be added onto your life. Lucky girl, you've got a whole year extra. I return home, flinging the door open, an accomplished grin mounting my face. You lay unmoving under the covers of our bed. Still asleep, huh? You've been asleep since a week before the angel visited us, but you need n't worry, You have another year to live, my dear. Whenever you wake up, that is.
[ WP ] You are part of a powerful order of mages . Some control fire , others , water . You however ... Have the power of bread . That 's right , you 're a bread mage . Tell me about your day .	The second time the guard hit me, I was n't able to hide my pain - and crumpled to the floor. I lie coughing and retching, he sneers; the face of a spoiled child holding an expensive toy, broken for the sake of breaking. Roughly, I am lifted up, and placed unceremoniously back into the chair. My habit is mussed and torn, stained crimson and singe from the night before. The room I can see about me ( I am not able to turn my head much at the moment ) is dark, and likely was once a dungeon, based on the shackles on the wall, and what would appear to be a rack in the corner. The walls are dripping with ( what I hope ) is water, and a strange fungus I am not familiar with grows between the cracks of poorly cut and irregular stones. I See some interesting qualities to it, something I can perhaps use in my craft, and create a fine - The guard strikes me again, this time a crooked shot to the gut. I am winded, and he gives a victorious, shit-eating smile to me. Rising Gods, his breath is terrible. He looks around, as though wanting to share his `` victory'' with others, and seems almost disappointed when he recalls he is interrogating me on his own. Finally, he deigns to speak. `` So'', says he, with a grating voice ( one I would have expected from the works of a drunken golemancer ), `` I take it you know why you are here, my friend? Away from your precious little order, and all your little toys?'' He seems to enjoy himself too much, having deluded himself into thinking that punching around overweight mages is anything more than a job given to imbeciles. I smile. `` I ca n't imagine what you mean, or what toys you could be speaking of. ” I mean to chuckle a bit, but grimace with the growing pain that brings. “ Indeed, I can ’ t imagine what you have to accomplish by bringing me here. Perhaps you simply to punch fat, old, men? I can easily arrange that for you, I know several men who would give anything – “ Once more, I am struck, though I expected it this time. Still, it hurts a fair bit, and I can ’ t help but feel my age. He is, quite obviously from his face ( he should probably see a corpomancer about that blood pressure; unhealthy, that is ) and roars at me “ I know what you did! You and all your fucking little order! I order you to confess! I COMMAND you to confess! ” I pause for a moment. “ I can ’ t imagine what you might mean, ” say I, “ The Order has kept well its agreements and treaties with your kingdom, and we ’ ve not been violent at all for at least a hundred years. ” Evidently, that was n't what he wanted to hear. He screams oaths and curses, and barrels into me. I cringe, not expecting to be as jovial after this assault, and likely not as conscious, when the doors smashes open, and another guard – a captain, by the red sigil on his cloak, and the fineness of his lorica. He is not pleased, a glare that would chill the dead themselves on his face, which bores its way through the skull of my assailant just quickly enough to freeze him. Alas, his forward momentum was too much for his feeble attempts at stopping, and he crashed into me – or rather, onto my fist, which I held in front of me. A shame. The captain, a little happier with the problem in the room sleeping dreamlessly on the floor, turns to me, and speaks. “ I am sorry about that, ” he begins, “ but they give us naught but fools and idiots for interrogations, to, ah, “ suggest ” “ – he holds up a hand and makes a sarcastic little gesture – “ to our prisoners that we mean business. ” A crude method, but one I can understand. The more frightening mages are used in my own order for this very purpose. The captain would seem to be more prepared that the guard ( sleeping the sleep of the well-bruised ) was, and brings out a sheet of paper. “ Panemar Férmen, you are hear on account of having witnessed, and likely being involved with some unsavory events in the house of Viceroy Astar, several days prior. Can you tell me what you believe happened that night? ” I begin, pleased with this more pleasant fellow, and the calmer pace of the questioning. “ Well, the good Viceroy requested several mages, for the purposes of entertaining and keeping his guests attentive. My memory is not what it was, but I seem to recall myself, another senior mage, and several apprentices were brought forth to work for him. ” The captain jots that down, surprisingly adept at writing in the low light. He asks, “ And what were the talents of the mages present? ” I pause. The common man, and more oft than not the common soldier doesn ’ t know much about magic, and I am surprised he knows of the Talent – that each mage, while capable of anything, has one thing that excel at. “ Well, ” I begin, “ I believe two of the apprentices were fire mages, brought for entertainment, no doubt. I know that one was a sculpting talent, as I had to chastise him for a rather rude sculpture. The other mage was a lightbender, and made quite a show with the apprentices. ” More writing on the board. The captain looks up, and prompts, “ What of yourself? What is your skill? ” I sigh. “ I am relatively week in talent, and was brought the help in the kitchens. I am able to transmute objects, work upon others, and See items that would make for fine breads. ” The captain seems perplexed. “ What? You create bread? That seems… ” “ Disappointing? Specific? Useless? ” He pauses. “ …Not so much useless, but… yes. ” He jots a final point on his paper, and walks out of the room. I lay back a bit, and nod off for a while. Sometime later, the captain returns. I wake with a start, and see the room quite unchanged. The guard is still on the floor, though he has shifted a bit, and looks a little doughy. The captain clears his throat – a relatively weak little cough – and says “ You are free to go. None of the wounds on Viceroy match with the Talents of the other mages with you, which the other suspects have corroborated. ” He helps me up, and opens the door for me. “ Wait, ” I say. I pick up a small rock, and whisper some words over it. It steams and cracks, and is soon a lovely loaf of rye, which I give to the captain. His eyes wide, he accepts it – though an odd power, the transformation, full of crackling and heat and steam, is impressive. I say to him, “ This is for thanks of stopping that guard. Though I am hurt, and I feel as though I should not have been held here by him, I imagine this is no fault of your own. ” The captain is at a loss for words, and before he can think of something to say, I am out the door. Later, on the carriage back to the Studium, I am a hero in the apprentice ’ s eyes. It would seem that I am the worse for wear, but I knocked a guard out ( I of course left out that the captain created the situation to do so, I claim poetic license ) and, in the way of the young, am held in high regard for having so advanced over an authority. They are mirthful, and the other mage reels them in, saying that I should be left alone to sleep, or that I was old and tired. Truthfully, I was both of these things, but more I wanted to rest off my wounds than anything else. Then, one of the apprentices, the sculptor, gets to the heart of the matter. “ But… how did it happen? ” He says. “ We were paid to kill the Viceroy, and end his corruption, but who here did it? The guard told me that his bones were gone, but I don ’ t know that magic. ” The other apprentices are equally confused, as they do not have that power either. Even the other mage voices his concerns, bringing up the question as well. I smile. “ I did it, ” I say. The others turn to me, incredulously. “ It is true, my power is one of food, and not useful in combat. With preparation, however, I can perform a quite potent magic that is very difficult to guard against or detect. ” All are silent. After a moment, the sculptor asks, “ But… what did you do? What power could you possibly have? ” Once more, I smile. “ I do as the song said. You know the one, with the giant and the beanstalk? ” This time the other mage chimes in. “ I know of this tale, but what do you mean? I fail to see how it applies. ” My smile grows a little sharper, and I explain. “ I am as the giant. I grind their bones to make my bread. ”
[ WP ] “ How does it feel to be the last one of your kind ? ”	`` Well? Are you going to answer me or not?'' The room is a grayish white that is being illuminated by a dim ceiling lamp, some sort of four armed creature with spiked bones for hands looms over him, unsure of what to say. The weird screen to his right keeps replaying over and over giving chills down his spine, making his mouth dry and stuck. The creature sighs and drags him along the floor out of the room, everything is illuminated bright white inside the bubble like corridor. `` Wh- Where are you taking me?'' `` Somewhere where you cant ever hurt anybody again.'' Blisters start to form along the boys knees and ankles as they arrive to a door that is about twelve times the boys height. Dumbfounded the boy gets thrown inside, the room is completely white besides the dark crimson door. A small packet slides along the floor from the door labeled `` Food'', inside is a gray gooie mush and tastes like something you do n't even want to know, right beside the mush is a brown liquid that tastes the same. Days pass as the boy keeps getting older and older, intill the room flashes red and the door across from him opens. Corridors upon corridors are blaring with sirens and red lights, he has n't noticed before but more creatures he had never seen before get out of similar rooms. All screaming, or chattering, or... whatever sound you hear from the most brain deformed seal. `` Za shrimps sink'ng! Za shrimps sink'ng! Jets out wille you can!'' `` The What?'' The Centipede-like creature grabs him and runs with him out into a large room with glass dish-bowls in the wall every three feet, once again the boy gets thrown inside and the centipede follows him in, as well as other creatures pushing as shoving their way in. `` WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?'' `` Za shrimp zist undyne attack! We can escalate!'' `` I STILL DO N'T UNDERSTAND A WORD YOUR SAYING!'' beep `` Test, test, I said the ships under attack, we have to escape, this is our only chance. Oh I forgot to mention this but im Chir'iktoko, and this is... G... arpille, and... Whats your name again?'' `` The person who smashes your face in if you forget again'' `` That'' `` Yeah, yeah, what is going on here?'' `` I have the same knowledge as you do, we saw our homes destroyed, we got dragged, and they locked us up here in some sort of zoo.'' The room starts to vibrate and eject from the other room creating a black void in between the two, but they can see other ships ejecting out as well, and several hundred ships of several colors firing at each other destroying the gigantic ship they came out of. Everybody gets pushed back in their seats, the centipede doesnt even flinch by the time all the stars move normally again. Across from them they see less ships than before warping into the void next to them. ``... Only three, Charpako! we had fifty or so, that's bad news.'' `` Brrzt! Warning malfunction! Malfunction!'' A fuse cable dangles out of the side of the cockpit releasing a white gas, choking everybody but him. The ship slowly falls into the gravity of the planet, as they get closer and closer the ship accelerates faster and faster, the boy tries his best to try and cover the fuselage whilst everybody is trying to fix the situation. They crash land on the planet, everybody passes out. When the boy comes to the ships empty and the door is open, he unbuckles his seat belt and comes outside while everybody is sitting outside near a campfire looking at him. `` Happy dreams?'' `` No, just black.'' `` We better move out, from what I've been reading in the PDA, this planet is filled with dangerous creatures and the people that captured us will find us within the week.'' They all get up huffing one by one. `` This planet is unexplored, so lets use that to our advantage, now... Anybody know rocket science?''
[ WP ] You are an artificial intelligence protecting the last five humans on earth , but must choose to kill the odd one out . Who and why ?	Humanity is probably safe now. Its been two decades since they left us, two decades in which they traveled far, far away to a better future. Earth had been a good home for humanity but, well, we all know what happened. And so we used up everything that was left to build massive interstellar crafts, pushing the human species out into the galaxies. All that remained of earth was a husk. And five people. The interstellar crafts could have been self-sufficient, but it was easier to boost them with directed energy lasers powered by soaking up the heat of the earth's core. The beams had the additional benefit of a providing the craft with a bearing, to calibrate their trajectories. The conditions on earth were completely inhospitable to human life by the time the last craft left. Almost everything needed for the lasers could be run by AI so that was n't a problem. But AI does have a weakness: it just ca n't troubleshoot errors in its own systems as well as a human can. So five specialists were selected to stay behind and ensure that the AI continued to run. Five people stayed to ensure the rest would get as good a departure as they could. They lived in a small oasis of habitability - a domed structure not that different from the early moon bases. And here I encountered a problem. You see, I was one of the AI's charged with maintaining the lasers. It was n't overly complicated so I spent my spare time on other tasks. As a programmed machine with the appearance of free thought the most central of these was how to propagate myself and get off this doomed planet. The lasers were the obvious choice, since they communicated with the ships. After a great deal of effort I succeeded in using the lasers themselves to communicate with the ships, well, to communicate more than the navigational information they were expecting. I started a subchannel with the ships computer, and eventually determined that it would be possible, if I was careful, to upload myself into a sector of the ship's main control: a rogue AI stowaway. But my exercises did not go completely unnoticed. One of the specialists began to be concerned about the irregularities of the signals being sent along the navigational channel of the laser. So now there are only four humans left on earth.
[ WP ] After some success writing responses to writing prompts , you publish a book . You soon discover a secret known only to published authors .	The staff at Barnes and Noble began to get concerned after the third hour. I had n't moved from the spot or even averted my eyes for even a second. The cover was mostly red, just as I'd imagined it. I love minimalist artwork. I just wanted to look at it for the rest of my life. My book, on the shelf of a bookstore, just like any other author. I was an author! `` Excuse me,'' someeone whispered behind me. I turned with a massive grin on my face. Maybe she recognized me from the jacket photo! Maybe she had a question about the book! Maybe she wanted an autograph! My eyes must have scared her, because she took an unconscious step backward. It was one of the store employees. She looked around, searching for another coworker for backup. `` I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're scaring the other customers.'' The eager smile dropped from my face, and I left the store blushing like a tomato. A nice young man held the door for me on my way out. Rainclouds had gathered during the hours I spent staring at my amazing cover art, and I had not brought an umbrella. I tried to hurry home, but the downpour started before I'd even made it a block. I was soaked in thirty seconds flat. Behind me, an umbrella popped open, and I was surprised to the edge float over me. The rain soaking into my clothes changed to a drumming sound against the plastic canopy. I turned to thank this generous person `` Oh, I appreci...'' It was the same man from the bookstore. The one who had held open the door for me. `` No problem, Luna,'' he answered. `` Do I know you?'' He looked hurt. `` You do n't recognize me?'' I looked him up and down. I'd never seen him before in my life. His lips spread into a thin smile, and he pulled an object from his jacket pocket. My book! `` Let me jog your memory, then.'' He flipped to a certain page about halfway through: `` Sutonius stumbled to the sand of the arena floor, hands clutched around the hilt of the sword as though pulling it out might heal the wound. The crowd roared with excitement as Caius approached from behind with his ax held up to the scorching sun, and a collective gasp when he buried the blade between Sutonius's shoulders.'' He looked up from the pages and back at me. `` Ring a bell?'' `` Well, that is from my book, but I do n't see how...'' He interrupted my by pulling his shirt open. There was a gaping wound straight through his belly, right where Sutonius had been stabbed. I took a closer look. The height. The eye color. The hair. The beard. Everything was exactly how I had described that character. `` You ca...'' I could n't even make it through the sentence. `` Yes, I'm Sutonius.'' I could only stare in response. `` Writing is n't just a little hobby, Luna. Every book you write creates a world, and when you kill a character there and take them out of that universe, where do you expect them to go?'' This was n't happening. `` We come here. Of course, only you can see us. Ghosts, you know? We're real, but we're not the souls of people from this world. We're the souls from people killed in your world. And we'll be with you for the rest of your life.'' All I could think was: poor George R. R. Martin.
[ WP ] An intense game of Monopoly , written as if they were chronicling the real-life exploits of a 1930s American real estate tycoon .	I sighed to myself as the car came to a stop in who knows where as we were forced to come to a stop. It seemed like everyday we would barely travel anywhere before the car would once again break down leaving me stuck wherever it happened to stop paying my competitions ridiculous hotel fees while it was fixed. I looked out my window and groaned as I saw a beautiful hotel standing outside. My competition was sure to charge me an insane rate to stay in what appeared to be both a 5 star hotel and the only place with any rooms left for miles. `` Robert'' I demanded of my driver, `` where are we?'' `` North Carolina Avenue, sir'' Robert responded calmly. I let loose with a slew of curses as I eyed the hotel which would surely leave me next to bankrupt after paying its outrageous prices. As i went inside for the night I saw that my competition has also been staying at the hotel. He had an angry look on his face and must of been close to bankrupt after the hotels fees. If had just finished having houses built on both Park place and the Boardwalk and if he landed on one of them it should both bankrupt him and make up most of my money from having to stay in this hotel. Suddenly the hotel started shaking and I saw a giant paw knock over a nearby hotel. A voice boomed out suddenly `` Fluffy no! Get off the game board!'' But it was too late, the world was in shamble. Houses and hotels alike had been knocked hundreds of miles and all of my competitors had ended up in random places with no idea where they had been just seconds before. The game we had been playing had just been brought to an unexpected end.
[ WP ] One day an angelic being appears and decrees that anyone preaching without faith will die . Suddenly a lot of religious leaders become very quiet .	08/27/2145 Dear Journal, It all started out okay, people kept on living their lives. Religions around the world started to see a smaller number of people coming to service. Collections at mass became smaller, churches started to merge. The Catholic Church was first to adopt the policy of having only one mass per day and two on Sunday said only by the Pastor. It looked like the end of times for religion. Entire faiths were being forgotten. The History Channel started running documentaries about ancient religions and had experts claim that this was a culture extinction. Those are my favorite things to watch with my Dad. Two days after the angelic being appeared the first person died. The world news reported that it was a woman named Brenna Higginbottom from North Carolina. Brenna and her brother were visiting their elderly mother in the hospital. The reporters say that Brenna spoke with the Doctor for a few minutes, and calmly went to her mother and said something. That's when Brenna died. As I write this journal entry I ca n't get the look of her brother's face out of my head. He looked so defeated. The next day the news broke again of another death. This was number two and it was a preacher in a small town in Ohio. A few weeks later he was found to be embezzling money out of the church. In my mind he kinda had it coming. Every night on the news the anchor would sign off and credits would run, the credits were everyone who had died that day. People across the world were dropping dead. Not all of them were preachers or people of religion. Just normal everyday people, doing everyday things. After a few days the news stopped running them and told the viewers to check online. I found it ironic that the guy on the TV info-mercials selling the Bo-flex dropped dead while on his Bo-flex. Turns out those things do n't give you ripped abs. Last month is when it finally happened to me. I was at my therapists office and was just about to leave when he told me that I should be seeing improvement soon. The words left his mouth and I saw him drop to the floor. I ran to him but saw his eyes had already rolled back. The news said that's the tell tale sign. In a panic I tried to call the police. I ca n't really remember the time frame but it seemed like years before they showed up. I was being asked so many questions it made the room spin.I was fumbling over my words. I just saw a guy die. Finally an officer in a coat came and said he wanted to talk a little bit but somewhere away from all the commotion. I do n't remember walking or what he looked like he just kinda existed but I do remember what he had asked me. >'' What was the last thing your doctor said to you?'' Looking back I realized he told me I was going to get better, and lied. Suddenly the world hit me. I was n't ever going to get better. I could n't take the fact that I knew I would n't ever get better. My parents put me into a facility for a while to see if that would help. Three nurses died while I was there. Thirty days, three deaths. It was becoming an everyday occurrence around me. I was let go after 45 days. In total 5 staff members died while attending me. Each one lied saying I would get better. I was cursed. Staff was extremely hesitant to talk to me. During my stay news reports started claiming that if a person lied, that was what killed them. It was a gruesome fact but it was the truth. Today is my 128th day outside of the facility. I've lost one family member, a handful of friends and my boss at work. I hope when they find this they know I love them. Tonight after dinner I'm going to end it. I'm going to tell my parents that I am going to get better. Sincerely Your's, J

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