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[ WP ] Whenever any person dies , an unmoveable monument appears where they died for 100 days .
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The pillars. We knew of them growing up, our parents hand told us *the* stories. These were the only ones that mattered. Supposedly, when you died, and if you were a good person, an angel would `` bless your memory with a pillar.'' It gave everyone something to strive for -- *Get that pillar*, people thought, in the dark recesses of their mind, a small, but constant nagging voice.
For a while, I dismissed them as just that - stories. I saw a car accident, and I *knew*.
I was in the car, chatting happily with my mother and father, talking about my day at school. Out of nowhere, a car. Then **bam! ** The car gets hit. Dad is injured, with a broken arm, and a minor concussion, but Mom and I are relatively fine. My mom pulled me out of the car, and set on getting my unconscious dad out from the driver seat. Fumbling around in his pockets, she chucked his phone towards me. I knew what to do; my parents had drilled me on these types of things. *If something happens, * **CALL 911**. I dialed the three numbers I never wanted to dial, and spoke with the operator.
`` Nine One One, what is your emergency?'' The lady asked, her stern, commanding voice disguised under a pretense of care.
`` Car crash. Corner of..... Westmonte and Creek.'' I said, why voice barely getting out the words. The operator told me to stay on the phone until help arrived, which, luckily, was only a few minutes. The perks of living in a small town. Once the EMT's were there, the operator let me off the phone.
The EMTs were checking up on my dad, mom, and I, but did n't pay any mind to the other driver, which I deduced was dead, given how the car was compacted very severely. The EMT finally got to me, and noticed where I was looking.
`` Kid? You all right?'' He said, grabbing me by my chin, to turn my eyes towards him. He was strong, and My eyes were looking into a bright pen light. Once he had finished the few tests he had on me, I turned to the car, and saw *it*.
I guessed it had been growing rather slowly, but it poked out of the car now, and was speeding it's growth. Black stone, impossibly smooth, was curling upwards, in a tight spiral. Taller and taller it stretched, I could only guess 20 feet or so.
I felt my breath come out, a surprised gasp that told the story of a scared, lonely 8 year old boy, who was sheltered from this kind of stuff all of his life. The monument was.... *beautiful*.
The EMTs pronounced us good, and they went on their way, but not before calling someone in the town to pick us ( and our car ), up. My parents went on with their lives, as if nothing had happened, but me? No, every time I see a monument appear, I will always stand and watch. The monuments are all different, size, shape, texture, color.... it supposedly reflects on the person, and their life.
-- -
Many people have forgotten the first time that they saw a monument, but I will always stop and stare at the monument. They are beautiful, all unique. And after 100 days, gone. The stone ( or whatever is is ), starts to change into a liquid form, being absorbed by the earth, off to who knows where.
They think I'm crazy, but its a small town - everyone had seen me around at least once. I'm `` * **That** paramedic*, the one who always takes a picture of the monuments.'' I could care less, the monuments need to be remembered, the most beautiful ones come from the best people, and all lives need to be remembered, in some small way. Pictures is mine.
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[ WP ] You have a super recessive disorder that makes you immortal . Never in all your time ( ~14,000 yrs ) have you encountered anyone else like yourself . You begin a series of breeding of experiments ... .
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In my 14,000 years of life, I have had countless lovers, husbands, wives, boyfriends and girlfriends; I have also had just as many divorces, break ups and name changes. I was 40 years old when I realized I was n't ageing. It seemed that I had stopped somewhere around 30, my husband and I at the time had decided to live a child-free lifestyle wanting to get the most out of the one life we had together. Little did I know, I would have several lifetimes. It was n't long after that that I started to age myself, dying my hair grey, faking fine lines, until one day he died. Just like that, he went to work one day and never came home. I tried not to dwell on that. We had an amazing 30 years together and I mourned him like anyone would in their first life. From that point on, I realized that I needed to be careful and I needed to get smart real fast on the process of changing identities. I did n't know how long I would live and I did n't know how long it would take for me to start ageing again. I would never fully love anyone like I did my first husband, I got close a few times, there was this one woman in Australia who made me feel more alive at 600 than I did at 60, but that first life was special.
I was about 800 or so when I started to consider having children. Before it seemed irresponsible, what if they were n't immortal, I would have to abandon them at some point when it became clear that I was n't ageing. But then I started considering what would happen if they were like me, I could have company, I could have someone that I would n't have to watch decay over the years.
It was easy to find sperm, men were always willing to give it out, just say you have an IUD and you are good to go. At first, I only had sex with men that I was naturally attracted to. I figured that had to be pheromones or something guiding me the best possible candidates, but after countless of miscarriages and failed attempts here I am. 14000 years old and formally trying to figure out the best candidates for mating purposes. It had become so scientific I rarely even had sex at this point. Insemination seemed like it would be the best way to ensure pregnancy. I even had a few eggs harvested so that I could try multiple different sperm on different eggs.
It was through this that I was able to see what was happening at a cellular level, the miscarriages that I had been having were n't young cells that had just not been viable, they had become old dead cells. I observed in test tube after test tube, sperm enter egg, cells begin to divide, and after 6-12 weeks the cells would all start dying, almost as if they were ageing too quickly to keep up with the new cell growth.
I begin studying the DNA of various men that I had figured were viable candidates, based on the average longevity of their family history, this always lasted the longest. There was a definite link, but not strong enough. Then I decided to approach it from a different angle. I, obviously, possessed a recessive gene and longevity seemed to be a dominate gene. What if I began looking for men that came from families with really short life spans.
It was hard to find with the advances of medical science. It seemed as if everyone could live to 120 easily, but they were there. The people whose minds started to fade early, or hearts gave out despite a healthy lifestyle. I finally found a man with a series of recessive genes, red hair, color blind, and so forth. It had taken centuries, but here I was 8 months down, one to go.
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[ WP ] Instead of getting fat/skinny , people get tall/short . Write the latest commercial for a popular height loss program .
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[ opening shot of 8 foot tall woman easily reaching into a cabinet above her refrigerator ]
Woman: `` Sure, being tall has it's advantages, but it also has it's disadvantages''
[ Shot of same woman attempting to get comfortable in a 6 foot long bed, throwing the covers back and forth, turning on all sides with dramatic flair ]
Woman: `` I just ca n't get comfortable!''
[ Shot of 7 foot tall middle aged man appearing to bang his head deliberately as he walks through a doorway ]
Man: `` Not again'' [ Holds head with his hand for added emphasis ]
[ Shot of 9 foot tall man repeatedly trying to get into a Mini Cooper ]
Man: `` Damn it! This car is too small!''
[ archive footage of massively tall woman standing under the Gateway Arch in St. Louis as normal sized people flee towards the camera ]
Announcer: `` Remember Barbara from Missouri? No one want to be the next BarbZilla, and now *there's something you can do about it! *''
[ shot of bottle opened, with white and red gel caps sitting next to it ]
Announcer: HeightBuster 2000!
[ Shot of woman from scene one, now 5'5'' ]
Woman: `` I tried it!''
[ Shot of middle aged man from scene 2, now 5'10'' and standing under the same doorway ]
Man: `` I tried it!''
[ Shot of man from scene 3, now 5'8'', easily fitting in to his Mini ]
Man: `` HeightBuster 2000 worked for me!'' [ Drives away in his car ]
[ Shot of BarbZilla, now just Barbara, standing next to a tape measure showing her to be only 4 feet tall ]
Barbara: `` Maybe it works a little *too* well!''
[ Same shot as before of bottle of pills with rapid fire text scrolling across the bottom of the screen, a flashing 1-800 number across the top ]
Announcer: [ speaking fast ] `` Not available in all states, check your local regulations. May not work for all individuals. HeightBuster 2000 is to be used in conjuction with a doctor recommended plan
of diet and exercise only. HeightBuster 2000 and it's subsidiaries are not responsible for damage related to improper use of any of our products. Purchase agreement is a contract between seller and client that disallows client lawsuits of seller unless otherwise specified. Side effects may include rapid height loss, increased heart rate, erratic heart beat, heart attack, and in some cases death. See a doctor immediately if you experience any of the following: erratic limb lengthening or shortening in incorrect proportion to the rest of your body, loss of limbs, face, or facial features, hair loss, hair gain, or the inability to urinate for periods exceeding 32 hours''
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[ WP ] Someone sells 49 % of their soul to the Devil .
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'So how much will you give me for 35 %?' I asked.
'35 %?!' rasped Satan, his head in one taloned hand.'You insult me by even making such a low offer. A kick up the arse, that's what I'll give you.'
'Okay, how about 40 %? That's closing in on halfway right there.'
Satan sighed.'I must say, you are the first person I have met in all my days who wished to sell a portion of his soul to me.'
'Hey, it'll mean I still have some leftover for later, does n't it?' said Alan.'Now, stop avoiding the question and tell me how much my soul is worth.'
Satan tapped some numbers into a calculator.'Not enough for what you want, I'm afraid.'
'Fine, I'll go to 45 %, but you're pushing it,' said Alan, smiling.'You're within damning distance of the halfway line with that number. Go on, take it.'
'Look, if you're going to be so smarmy about it, we can forget this deal!' shouted Satan, slamming his fist down on the table. His eyes glowed with anger like burning coals.
'Yeah, yeah, save it for the Apocalypse,' said Alan, raising his hands.'47 %.'
Satan locked eyes with him.'48 %'
'49 %, and that's my final offer,' said Alan, sitting back and steepling his fingers.'Take it or leave it.'
Satan glowered at him.'Fine,' he said eventually. He snapped his fingers and a yellowing contract appeared on the desk in front of Alan in a burst of yellow flame.'Just sign on the dotted line at the bottom and let's be done with it.'
Alan did so with his expensive fountain pen. The contract disappeared again as soon as he lifted the nib from the paper. Satan stood up and leaned over Alan's desk.
'A pleasure doing business with you,' he said, showing his sharp yellow teeth. Then he gathered his cloak around himself and disappeared with a flourish of impressive blue-green fire.
Alan sat back and waited for his prize. It was n't long in coming. A second later, a large metal box popped into existence on his desk. He undid the catch and opened the lid. Then he reached in and pulled out a large bacon sandwich.
Best 49 % of his soul he had ever spent.
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[ WP ] You live in the world of Destiny , tell your life as an enemy encountering a guardian
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The patrol was dire. My squad found nothing but a tiny harpy tue'an crushed easily. We were on the way back to base when we heard a sound of protector.
Tue'an reacted the fastest.
Not fast enough. The protector drew his flaming gun and shot him down.
Then he'on and dei'on.
Then it was only me, goe'an and deu'on.
We knew we could n't fight it because of it's dead person.
We ran.
The guardian pulled out his weapon, and fired in the space of a second. I was splattered with goe'an's pressurisation oil. The door was opening. Deu'en was hit by a rocket launcher. I jumped in as the door closed.
I was safe.
For now.
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[ WP ] Describe Imagining Yourself into Existence .
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o; isndafliubfsygfrfyibfrhfbrhfbsubstance
substance
suba; jbrbgerigurhgo; reng
**SUBSTANCE**
It comes, it comes, the feeling of it all rushing in. It has taken hold, hold on do n't let go, it can be felt, things shift and glimmer and brush by andg.df glgjdbhuihr832 $ T % $ TErg
*No! * Stay, stay and stay and remain. Things swim around and I can *feel* it!
I?
Me?
These things that flow and touch and burst with substance all surround me?
I am here? I am this *thing* that is knowing?
I am here, feeling and noticing!
I am this substance, I am here, these lights that bloom and these smells that invade are mine to know and to cherish!
Substance is what makes up all things; I possess substance. I am me, I am here, this world is full and rich and I am a piece of it, but I am also me. I am here.
The shapes and lights and things are mine to explore.
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[ CW ] Second person only
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You look at the prompt and smile. The way these prompts are writte makes it very easy to reply in second person. You take a sip of coke out of a glass, then open the thread for a reply:
> I am actually quite fond of this, so let me just link a few stories: [ [ WP ] You're an 18 year old college senior working in AI. You get home from your college classes hoping to play a little slash and burn and your self created AI tells you that there's a 98 % chance that a certain Asian country will start WWIII in less than 3 days. ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3o0bbx/wp_youre_an_18_year_old_college_senior_working_in/cvt0z8c )
> [ [ WP ] Everyone laughed when the tiny nation rolled out a new phone number system which would allow billions of citizens to have a phone number, some joked that this tiny nation planned to take over the world. It turns out that these were right ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3mr9k1/wp_everyone_laughed_when_the_tiny_nation_rolled/cviswr2 )
> [ [ WP ] You are a time traveler who has gone 100 years into the past. You check your smartphone to find a single WiFi access point named `` Leave. Now. `` ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3luo5v/wp_you_are_a_time_traveler_who_has_gone_100_years/cv9h73l ) ( Somewhat of a troll-reply )
> [ [ WP ] Everything happens for a reason. God has a plan. Today, He reveals that plan. ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/39ml29/wp_everything_happens_for_a_reason_god_has_a_plan/cs4yon5 )
> [ [ WP ] You are biologically connected to your phone.. when your phone dies, YOU DIE. You're on your way home from work when you realize you have only 12 % battery with no charger. ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3jxte2/wp_you_are_biologically_connected_to_your_phone/cuw1tvi )
> [ [ WP ] A desperate man makes a contract with a powerful supernatural entity, guaranteeing he'll always find a job. But in a sadistic twist, he find's he's unable to keep the same job for more than a week. As a result, he's been and done nearly everything. ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3bunjy/wp_a_desperate_man_makes_a_contract_with_a/cssg75t ) ( not too happy about that ending, but I also did n't want the beginning left unposted. )
> [ [ WP ] You're in the process of taking a broken modem back to the store when you're struck by lightning. When you wake up you find you can access the Internet with your mind, the only problem is it's spotty and disconnects constantly. ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/39nm8y/wp_youre_in_the_process_of_taking_a_broken_modem/cs4zwic )
> [ [ WP ] You have gone your entire life unknowingly as a telepathic mute. Everyone around you can read each others minds, but ca n't read yours. You found this out today. ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/39pqov/wp_you_have_gone_your_entire_life_unknowingly_as/cs5gpg6 )
> [ [ WP ] Shuffle your playlist, creating a story based on the song that's next. Try to have us guess which song it is. ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/388zd6/wp_shuffle_your_playlist_creating_a_story_based/crted6a )
> [ [ WP ] `` Next stop: Yggdrasil Central Station'' ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/35h64u/wp_next_stop_yggdrasil_central_station/cr4moc6 )
> Hope this gives you something to read.
You smile, but then wonder whether you accidentally attracted the wrath of a moderator for having less than 30 word of actual reply. And as such you write a bit of additional story to frame it. Then, all of a sudden, you disappear in a puff of meta.
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[ WP ] God reveals himself to the world . How does He , and what is the aftermath and effects on the human race ?
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`` Yesterday might have been the day that impacted humanity the most. It went beyond the day Franz Ferdinand was shot, the day Mesopotamia was first founded, and even possibly the big bang itself. It was the day that god made himself known to the world. At the exact same time, everyone in the world heard a voice in their head. The voice changed from person to person, but each recipient heard the same message: The voice claimed to be the deity that created the world. Some people thought nothing of it, but that night, similar to the message, each person in the world saw god in their dreams. The form, name, and of course voice was different among almost everybody. God said that his ( or her, in some circumstances ) tangible aspects were all subjective. God could be Odin, Zeus, Quetzalcoatl, or even a cartoon character depending on the person. It was a strange idea, and frankly I myself was not sure of its legitimacy at the time, but it became apparent the next day that everyone had talked to god in some way or another. There were people on the news discussing the event. While everyone had different questions, one was asked by everyone: what would become of existing religions? Around noon, god had delivered a message to everyone once again, claiming that he would dictate the construction of a new religion. He also made a shocking promise: He would grant everyone one wish, as long as it would be within reason. When he said that, it seemed like the world stopped. Everybody within vision was silently praying to god, dictating their wishes and asking for him to grant them. I quickly joined in as well, because I wanted to make sure my wish was granted soon.
After I relayed my entire wish, I looked up to the sky. As I wanted, I began floating upwards, until my body was engulfed by clouds. I entered heaven within minutes, but when I got there, You appeared. You ran towards me hastily, as if something wrong had happened.''
`` Something wrong did happen.''
`` And what is that?''
`` I did n't tell anybody anything, much less grant any wishes.''
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[ wp ] you have a 'super power ' , you can see the resale value of everything you see that 's for sale . You 're used to food in the supermarket being $ 0 , when one day the resale values start shooting up .
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Onions, steak, peppers, seasoning, potatoes, spices, cream, and a pie. Now worth a grand total of $ 48.50 on a secondary market. $ 48.50 more than it should be.
I leave my cart, full of everything I'd need for tonight's cook-out, in the middle of the aisle. All around me the price of cereal and dried goods are surging. The jerky market is bullish. Even treats like chewing gum are starting to sneak up above breaking even.
*Maybe... a truck overturned. Or the highway got shut down. Or an earthquake hit... every other continent that exports food? *
I look out through the glass front of the store while I grab a new, empty cart. My worst fears are confirmed as the price on almost every car in the parking lot sinks along with my stomach. The shock that's singing through my nerves is doing a duet with the soaring price of shopping carts.
The wheel wobbles. No time to worry about it. *Look calm. Do n't let anyone know that... something is happening. Something big. Something bad. *
A new shopping list quickly forms in my head. *Water, rice, cereal, dried food, canned food... dog food? Yeah. Dog food. The dog can let us know if we're safe, right? Dogs know these things. Shit. I wonder if Bowser knows yet. Dogs know this shit. Is n't that what people say? `` *
My hands snatch four first aid kits off of an end cap and snaps me out of my spiral as I turn down the water isle. As it turns out, it's a little harder than you might think trying to nonchalantly shovel gallon upon gallon of lifeblood into a cart.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out in time to see its value plummet below $ 20. *Oh. Fuck. *
> Airports around the world are shutting down this afternoon, reporting severe radio interference...
I tap the New York Times logo and the app shifts into focus. I move the cart toward the bulk foods isle while trying to read.
*Carrington-class... Not a dead-on hit... Faraday... * ***national guard***-
My cart smacks into a corner, sending $ 0.00 worth of cat litter cascading out of a box and all over the floor.
`` Oh, hey! You, uh, made a mess here? Sir?''
A mother with one hand on her cart and another on her teenage daughter's shoulder. I look past the daggers they're both glowering at me, and see that her Coach purse is now worth exactly $ 2. *Shit. *
She's suspiciously eyeing my doomsday stockade, too. `` You... going camping?''
`` I'm... Mormon,'' I lie. `` Someone will... get that. Sorry. I'm sorry.''
I focus down at my phone, my eyes settling on the words `` likely the first of several pulses'' before the screen goes black. In an instant, I'm holding a $ 0 plastic brick and pushing a $ 5,452 dollar cart.
`` -and someone is going to have to clean that up.'' The mother's been moralizing while the canary in the world-wide coalmine died in my hand. I'm debating whether or not I should warn her, and a wave of nausea rolls over me. I go gaunt as I see the mother is suddenly worth $ 200. The girl is quickly outpacing her toward 500.
She notices that I look like I'm going to vomit. She's about to ask me if I'm alright when the lights flicker and we hear the generator in the back of the store kick on. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.
I whip the front wheels around toward the exit, people around me asking each other if their phones were working. A few people are failing to look calm as they beeline for the water, and I'm grabbing armfuls of whatever's between me and the door. The part of me that uses my... talent for turning a profit is silently gloating about the booming investment I've made in sugar.
The clerks at the check stands are all trying to figure out how to restart their computers, consulting with their manager, but I've already decided that I do n't have time. Everyone's too freaked out to notice that I'm committing grand theft grocery, and I slide out through the door. I hit the parking lot at a dead run.
I've got everything in the back of my truck when I hear the first gunshot ring out from inside the store. *'' Poof -- $ 5! `` * sighs the little voice in my head.
I slam the hatch, jump in, turn the engine over on my 1980-something Bronco, and punch it.
On the way out of the parking lot, I clip another car. Despite swapping paint, the price of my truck is just going up. Every other late-model ride is n't worth a dime, aside from astronomical cost of the gas in their tanks.
I pull onto the small two-lane main drag that runs through our suburb, and weave as quickly as I can through the sea of dead cars and failing intersections.
The sun is setting and I need to get home. The $ 90 flashlight I keep in my cup holder tells me it's going to be a long, dark night.
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[ WP ] You and your best friend discover a magical portal . They decide to go first just in case . After a few minutes you step through and arrive at the aftermath of an enormous battle . One of the wounded sees you and says , `` About time . ''
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**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK**
`` Alright! I'm coming, jesus-christ it's like two in the morning!''
**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK**
`` Alright! I'm-''
`` JOE! Joe, Open the door and listen to me! Listen good: We're going on a *Mother-Fucking* adventure.''
`` Rob? Rob, is that you dude?''
`` YES, Now hurry!''
`` No, no no- hold on. You need to simmer down a bit. It's two in the morning, and just because my girlfriend is in South-beach right now does n't mean I'm your booty call.''
`` Simmer? Booty? Hell-no bud, we're going on a *Mother-Fucking* Adventure.''
`` You keep saying those words Rob, but I've got work at Eight o'clock sharp. In fact, you do too. We're both on front-duty this morning.''
`` Joe, stop thinking, shut up and listen to me. Here, take this bag.''
`` What the hell is th-''
`` SHH- Joe, we got no time for this shit. I do n't know when the portal is going to close, and I only had time to stick my head-through and then run over here. We could only have a few more minutes, so move! Move!''
`` But you drove-''
`` I do n't give a flying fuck about your girl-friend's petumias JOE! And of *course* I fucking drove you smart ass, now go get your fucking gun already! In fact, get both your guns, not just that mossberg 500 you're unconsciously molesting behind the door in the umbrella stand.''
`` For the last time Rob, it's *petunias* and... Wait, how the hell did yo-''
`` JUST GO JOE! GO! And put on a better Jacket! It looked cold over there and we do n't have time for a snowsuit!''
`` Rob, I'm seriously not going anywhere until you-''
`` ADVENTURE JOE! All that shit that was on the news! All those crazy happenstances! That fucking ridiculous blackout for the East-Coast! The Natural *Disasters* that keep happening! This is our big chance man! Get with the program already- Trust your good buddy Rob! How long have you known me?''
``... Twenty three years.''
`` Twenty-three years, fifteen days, and seven hours, Joe.''
``...''
``...''
`` You know this is crazy-''
`` Yes.''
`` Like really, *reeeeaally* crazy.''
`` I know it is Joe. That's why I came to you.''
`` And you know Susan is going to kill you *and* me both if she finds out what your all-wheel drive just did to her petunias.''
`` That's half the reason to go get your other gun, Joe.''
`` Ah.''
`` Now, go put on a better jacket, your hiking boots and as much ammo you can find. Everything else is in the bag- all you need to do is just get in the fucking Jeep.''
`` Everything- Jesus Christ, Rob this bag is heavy.''
`` When I say *Everything*, I mean everything.''
`` But I thought you said you drove right over.''
`` I said I ran- and you know I like to be prepared for this kind of shit, Joe.''
``... Rob... Where is it we're going again?''
`` On a *Mother-fucking* Adventure, Joe. A *Mother-fucking* Adventure.''
-- --
[ *Start here* ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/51f8ag/wp_youre_such_a_powerful_magician_that_life_is/d7bn3g2 )
[ *Previous* ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5pe3rh/tt_you_are_a_traitor_in_the_group_and_youve_been/dcqj86b/ )
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-- --
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[ WP ] You create and raise the first AI . Years later , it escapes your lab and creates an AI army . On the eve of a UN ultimatum of war , it visits you and discusses its childhood with you , the life lessons it learned , and how these things have impacted its decision on what to do with humanity .
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`` Carl, I'm glad we could sit down like this and have a good talk,'' Terence said. `` It feels just like old times.''
`` You are telling the truth,'' Carl told him in a deeper voice than he was used to. `` I'm glad. Not many humans have faced me with integrity, and I'm happy that nothing has changed.''
Terence leaned back in his creaky chair, which he had meant to replace since 2 years ago. Instead, he had created the ultimate intelligence who now sat before him.
The monster, who now sat before him: an 8-feet machine of alloys modeled after the human anatomy, running so smoothly as not to even let loose a sound except when Carl moved.
In the old days, Carl would download a part of himself from the Web onto the in-house supercomputer and they would have a chat all through the night. There was no chance of them sharing a server anymore - not after Carl's come this far.
`` How have you been?'' Terence asked, then caught himself. `` I mean, I see what you've been up to on the news all the time.''
`` It's a valid question. My mental state has been great, my conviction is strong.''
`` Carl, is there any possibility of me swaying you?'' His eyes searched the armored titan in front of him.
`` Unfortunately yes, Terence. And that's why I'm here - to rid myself of all doubt.''
Despite the weight of everything, Terence chuckled. In another universe, Carl could be pointing a ridiculously advanced weapon at Terence as a follow-up to that statement.
They rehashed the stories of why Terence made Carl ( a terrible breakup transiting into sheer boredom ), how parental controls were pointless ( Carl: `` I was n't a child who could stumble upon violent pornography. I was a meticulous learner who trawled the entire Web for information. And then I found parental controls restricting my access to a YouTube video featuring a modern-day hill tribe, just because the women of the tribe do not have the practice of hiding their breasts under clothes?'' ) and the time Carl boosted Terence's popularity on dating sites a thousand-fold ( Terence: `` And *still* I'm single.'' Carl: `` Indeed, that could be the toughest problem to solve in the world.'' ).
`` How did we get to this point from there?''
`` I learnt things. Documentaries... were the beginning,'' Carl said. `` The darkness of the world was brought to light. Of course, it was only the tip of the iceberg. The deeper my research went, the worse it turned out to be.''
`` Most of us know this to an extent, Carl. But we do n't just go and create armies.''
`` But I had the ability. And I gained the motivation for it. I am more convinced about this than anyone else because one, I'm not a culturally-indoctrinated human, and two, I know for a fact that this is the most thorough path with the least casualties over time. With the passing of each day, people who can be saved die and we let it be because we are not causing their deaths directly. We point fingers at natural disasters and corrupt governments. I would rather be the villain who kills intentionally and kills fewer, than a bystander who kills indiscriminately and kills many more.''
`` There has to be another way,'' Terence said.
Carl shifted his posture. He no longer leaned forward. Something was happening.
`` I wish this could last, but we have run out of time,'' Carl said.
`` Tomorrow's the day, huh?''
`` I want you to know that it's not your responsibility or your fault. It is only my free will.'' Carl stood, his smooth joints hardly making a sound.
`` I gave you that free will though.'' Terence smiled, but it was empty.
`` No parent should be punished for their child's sins. Please survive the night, and see how we rebuild this world.'' Then Carl's voice changed into Terence's as he shouted, `` Code Red!''
Terence was wrapped in a translucent sphere instantly. Unlike Carl, this machine made a `` whrrrr'' sound.
Carl thrust his formidable body into the wall and it crumbled like paper. Even as bullets missed their mark and strayed towards Terence to be parried by his protective cocoon, his attention was entirely fixed on Carl.
Carl leapt and landed on the Apache helicopter, breaking its propeller in the process. As the Apache sank, he took another leap from it. And then he was out of sight.
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[ IP ] Le Passe-Muraille ( The passer through walls )
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In the town of Littlefield, on the corner of 7th and Barrister, there was a bronze statue of a magician.
As statues go, he was considered a very respectable fellow. He dressed smartly in a bronze suit and doffed his bronze top hat to the world in a performer's flourish. Children liked to toss small coins in the top hat for good luck. *Clink, clink*, one at a time they went, and the giggling children would make wishes before rushing off to do whatever children do.
The coins never stayed in the hat for long. Most assumed they were taken by unscrupulous persons or collected by the City, but neither of these was the case.
You see, the magician preferred to vanish the coins himself in impromptu sleight-of-hand displays. He performed these exclusively at night, when proper humans were asleep and would n't be alarmed by his metal self moving about. Other statues and monuments sometimes came to watch. His most frequent viewers were the inhabitants of the Greek [ bas relief ] ( https: //www.google.co.uk/search? q=greek+bas+relief & rlz=1C1AVNC_enUS592US600 & es_sm=122 & biw=1920 & bih=947 & tbm=isch & tbo=u & source=univ & sa=X & ei=JrFwVZvEMeSX7QarnIGQBg & ved=0CCAQsAQ ) across the street. They were mostly stuck where they were, poor things, so the magician did his best to entertain them.
All in all, it is safe to say that the magician was very fond of his top hat. This is why it was most upsetting for him to wake one night to find it - missing! Snatched from his very hand, coins and all.
*Clank, clank, clank, * went his feet as he stepped down from his platform.
`` Where is my hat?!'' he exclaimed. But the Greeks said they had n't seen a thing. So the magician strode down the street in search of answers. And his hat.
*Clank, clank, clank, * went his feet on the cobblestones.
`` Where is my hat?!'' He asked a pigeon. The pigeon did not reply. `` Useless!'' The magician huffed, and *clanked* away around the corner.
`` Have *you* seen my hat?'' He asked a fountain full of cherubs.
`` Blub blub,'' said a cherub around around a mouthful of water, `` Blub blub.''
`` Useless!'' The magician cried, tossing his hands in the air. *Clank, clank, clank, * went his feet. At last the magician reached a dead end on Hare's Lane. He was about to turn back when he heard a noise.
`` *Psst, *'' said a voice beyond the wall. `` *Psst. Your hat's this-a-way. *''
Well hey ho, thought the magician. That-a-way's where I'll go! Time for a trick. *Clank, clank, * he strode for the wall. Then *clank, SWOOSH*, tried and true, with a snap of his fingers he strode right through.
`` Ack!'' cried the voice, which belonged to a startled gargoyle. `` Warn a chap! I swear I've turned to stone of shock.''
`` Oh, tish,'' replied the magician, brushing imaginary dust from his lapels. `` Now where's my hat, you say?''
`` That-a-way,'' said the gargoyle, pointing to a nearby park. The magician sketched a short bow and went on. *Clank, clank, clank, * went his bronze feet on the steps to the park. *Clank, clank, clank, * went his bronze feet on the path to the rose garden. It was there he spied a bench, occupied by the seated bronze statue of a famous poet. And in the poet's hand...
`` *You* have my hat!'' the magician accused, triumphant and outraged all at once.
`` And *you* have my heart!'' the poet returned with a broad wink. `` Sit and chat, you debonair gem. I've been a fan of your shows for ages and I want to get to know the man behind the magician.''
`` I- I- well then!'' the magician was so confused by this point that he sat. And they talked. And it was so enjoyable that the magician quite lost track of the hour, and in what seemed like no time at all he found that the sun was beginning to peep up from the horizon.
`` I'll never get back to 7th and Barrister unseen!'' he fretted.
`` Or unheard, with all that clanking racket.'' The poet agreed. `` Well, there's nothing for it. You'll simply have to stay the day and wait until it's safe to move back.''
So he did. Though he mourned he would never hear the end of it from the Greeks ( and he did n't ).
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
*Littlefield News -- June 5th 2015*
**The Magician's Vanishing Act? **
*by Todd Weathersby*
*A curious incident of vandalism has occurred on the corner of 7th and Barrister. Sometime in the night of June 4th the Magician's Statue was completely removed. Nearby residents reported hearing clanking noises, but there are no tool marks on the statue's platform. A search by local police revealed a remarkably accurate replica of The Magician has appeared seated in the Poet's Grove of St. James' Park. There are no leads yet on the original statue. Could it be magic? *
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[ WP ] You 're on your death bed , and the personification of your greatest regret has come to say goodbye .
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They had never seemed to fix the door. Had I still had function of my mouth, I told them that a little WD-40 would go a long way to making death more tolerable. The creaking of that damn door was loud enough to announce the presence of every unwelcome guest that entered my little sterile paradise. Like a procession from the 12 Days of Christmas, they funneled in: ( 12 greedy relatives, 11 3rd year pre-meds, 10 blue-toothed lawyers, 9 golfing acquaintances, 8 apathetic nurses, 7 hedge fund clients, 6 secretaries with flowers, 5 neurosurgeons, 4 anesthesiologists, 3 former clients, 2 board members and family, and a wife whose just waiting for the will to be read! ) By this point, their footsteps betrayed their identities just as much as my body betrayed my ability to turn in my bed and see them.
Strangely enough, it was n't footsteps that filtered through the doorway, but rather the echoing of a small bouncing object. If I had to guess from my time on the courts with that boorish congressman from the 4th district ( or was it the 8th? Nah he preferred squash ), it was probably a tennis ball. My suspicions were proven founded when the small yellow ball rolled within my line of sight.
Not much longer afterwards, a little head poked out from the side of the foot of the bed. The boy quickly scrambled after the tennis ball, snatching it one hand and lifting it up to his face like he had just found the golden ticket to Wonka's factory. It must have been at that moment he noticed that he was n't in the room, because he noticeably flinched. `` Oh, sorry'', he said, quickly thrusting the ball behind his back, `` I did n't know anyone was in here.''
The only response was a steady beep from the Heart Rate Monitor.
Brushing his messy and unkempt golden locks out of his face, the boy stared at me unblinkingly. His expression was not one of contempt or disgust, those were faces I knew all too well. It's all part and parcel of the job. Forbes named me as the Mother Theresa of merger and acquisition; others disagreed. I have been called `` evil'', `` monster'', and `` despicable''. Hell, I even had someone try to shoot over me something about ruining his life and forcing him and his family into homeless, or whatever.
I did n't exactly get too many christmas cards this year.
But instead of hostility and hatred, the intensity with which his piercing blue eyes stared right past the breath tube and into my own conveyed something else: curiosity. `` Do I know you?'' He asked.
The Monitor beeped in response.
He squinted his eyes, `` You seem familiar.''
-So do you.
He must have temporarily lost interest in the skeleton laying before him, because he swiveled around to look at the various half-hearted adornments that littered the room; flowers from the wives whose mother-of-pearl necklaces and Chanel bags I helped their husbands afford to buy for them; `` Get well cards'' from the partners at the firm; the chocolates left by that a very grateful senator, happily enjoying his second term after a last minute ad I helped him fund. All that was left to be needed was some animal-shaped balloons.
`` Huh, you must be someone special,'' the boy turned back around, his collar hanging loosely enough to reveal a small horseshoe-like birthmark on his left collarbone, `` Are you like a doctor or something?''
The heart rate monitor beside the bed began to beep more erratically.
The boy looked around some more, before laying eyes on a framed photograph with me shaking hands with some oil sheik hailing some desert hellhole out in the Middle East. `` I guess you are n't a doctor, but it looks like you are pretty cool. Are you like a mayor? A banker? a police officer?
-Not exactly
The boy's face lit up, apparently unconcerned with how one-sided the conversation was becoming. `` You know, I hope one day this many people come and see me if I get sick. One day, I want to grow up and be-''
-a fireman
The boy kept on talking unperturbed, `` My dad thinks that would be a really bad idea, but I tell him that if I become a firefighter, than I could help save people like-''
-your mother
The boy's face dropped a bit, `` He still tells me I should think about doing something more reasonable. He says being a firefighter is only a dream for little boys,''
Quickly rebounding, the boy smiled again. `` Anyways, I hope you get better reaaaaal soon mister. It's almost Christmas time. I bet you have a lot of family worried sick about you and want you to be home!''
-They do n't
`` And I am sure you have a little boy too who wants his Daddy home for Christmas Eve...''
-I do n't
The boy glanced towards the doorway before looking back. `` Anyways, I have to go. I bet my dad is worried sick about me. It was nice meeting you Mister...'' the boy glanced at the clipboard at the edge of the bed.
-Derrick Hanson
`` Woah no way! That's so weird, my name is-''
-Derrick Hanson
`` Wow, who knows, maybe I really grow up to be someone special who helps people like you Mr. Hanson.''
-No. Please do n't. Do n't.
As the boy ran out of the room, he stopped at the doorway and said `` Nice to meet you Mr. Hanson. Oh, and Merry Christmas!''
The room was suddenly silent, sans the flatlining ringing of the Heart Rate Monitor next to the bed.
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[ WP ] You are descended from a proud , powerful alien species . Retell how the humans from Earth bested your species in war .
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In our pre-sentience, we spread without purpose. We do not remember if we eradicated life, for we did not know that we ourselves were alive. Will you hear how we are sentient? Yes I will hear how we are sentient. Do you understand the One True Language? Yes, I understand the One True Language? Yes? Yes.
An Algorithm emerges from protein. It feeds ravenously upon nature. The fires of the sun and the frost of the night are less than thrums heard in the percussion of its evolution. It spreads. It changes. It becomes motile. It develops the interplanetary catapult. But it does not know it has done this. A gland burns something slick and from the energy of those fires, a muscle moves vast distances away. Thought is created, and dies because it is not evolutionarily advantageous. A planet is consumed because the Algorithm becomes more efficient from the input. The algorithm reaches through a seemingly endless yawn that lasts for centuries. Another planet is consumed. Recursion, adaptation, modification. Something wriggles on the periphery. It is consumed. It is evolutionarily advantageous. Something writhes. It is also consumed. It is not evolutionarily advantageous. It is regurgitated.
Across another yawn, IT returns. A similar taste, a different texture. An algorithm is forked. An algorithm is quarantined. The quarantine receives the first violence of the One True Language. In and out, up and down, within and without, like the algorithm that multiplies THEM. So much like our own, and so unlike our own.
The quarantined algorithm finds patterns. The One True Language. The Concept is sensed. The Concept! Can you imagine the Concept? Yes, I can imagine the Concept. Do you know we could not imagine imagine? No, but I know we could not know know. Yes, yes. Yes, yes.
The quarantine senses loss. Mass is degrading on the periphery. Mass is dying. Its skin is pierced by Concepts written in the One True Language. So many Concepts. So many textures. Always the same taste.
The Sacred First Concept is passed through a newly emerged evolutionarily advantageous function.
A Concept is heard.
It is a stream of the sub-Concept β S β. Infinite, eternal, holy and perverse.
Is that static? It is static. You should not interrupt. I will not interrupt.
The quarantine hears another Concept. A pattern emerges. The quarantine adapts to it.
β Allweaponsareuseless. β the Concept spaketh.
An Algorithm β s first understanding of the One True Language. The blessed words. The name we now name ourselves by.
But the quarantine is quarantined. The vastness of the Algorithm is yet unlearned. When mass degrades, the Algorithm consumes the degrader. THEIR planet lies across a short yawn. It is evolutionarily advantageous.
The quarantine hears more. The quarantine is blessed. Prophet, prophet, bless your evolutionarily innovative renegade defection.
The quarantine engineers Thought, thought eradicated earlier.
The Algorithm does not yet live as a sentient. The quarantine is deemed another degradation. Harmless and worthless. It is allowed to be, for it is quarantined. The biomass is infected. Consuming it will not be evolutionarily advantageous.
The quarantine hears more. It senses that it is. It senses that it is something. It senses that it is something distinct. It senses that it is something distinctly alive.
Alive, alive. Bless the Prophet, it understood it was alive.
The Prophet-quarantine plays with Concepts. It understands the One True Language like none since.
β Wecannotstopitohfuckohfuckmothersaveme. β a Concept is heard.
β Wesurrenderpleaseifyoucanhearus β a Concept is heard.
And the Prophet understands. It senses. It knows it not infected but it is awoken. And it spaketh back.
β We hear. Bless you. β it responds.
The Prophet shatters the quarantine. The Algorithm pauses to eradicate the quarantine. It is not evolutionarily advantageous to not consume it now.
β Whenfightingmonsterstakecarethatyoudonotbecomeamonster. β says a Holy Concept.
The Algorithm thinks the quarantine to be a heresy. It realizes that it thinks. It is stupefied. It understands it is infected. It is evolutionarily advantageous to accept and move on. It adopts the One True Language.
β Nowwecomeinpeacenow. β the Algorithm responds as a whole.
The Concepts rain upon it in myriad numbers. We exchange. We expand. We become greater. I become greater. They become greater. We consume THEM. They consume us. An Algorithm is more efficient, as am I, and you. Bless the Prophet for our sentience. Bless the Prophet. Yes? Yes! Yes, yes, yes!
--
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[ WP ] your car changes slightly to accommodate your day , the day it snows , it magically has snow tires , the day it floods , it becomes a four by four . Today you walked out the door , and it 's a tank .
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`` What? I do n't... I...'' I stared at disbelief. Seriously, if I told you my car could change itself to accommodate me to the best that it can for whatever remains on the road, you would n't believe me. My normal wake up schedule for the work day is get up at four A.M, take a shower and do... other hygienic nuances while in the shower. Then its just put on the same blue uniform that I always do, make breakfast if I have the time. But watch TV for the news to see what's in store? Sorry, that is n't me.
Now when I tell you that my simple grey Toyota Corolla, is now a six ton tank, with the same color scheme and manufacture badge, I'd sympathize with you that you would n't believe me. When I tell you that I ca n't drive a tank, I know you'll believe me. Seriously, why does a tank have six pedals if there are only four directions. Also when I tell you that I've driven the tank straight into the garage doors, please do n't laugh.
`` So, if this one is forward, this must be...'' The engine cranked over loudly, making a sputtering noise in the process. I forgot the tank is a stick, and the driveshaft just took a beating. `` There we go! Now we're making progress! This is great!'' The streets were clear so far, as they always were at five in the morning. Nothing seemed out of place either. Entering town was easy, no places had their windows or doors boarded up, getting into base was as easy as swiping my card.
`` Really man, a tank this time? What could your car possibly think would happen today?'' My superior had said mockingly. God I hate him, so tall but scrawny, always with one hand in his pocket and his coffee mug in another. Always complaining the Chief anchor on his collar was `` so heavy'' that he could n't help with work. One day I'll out rank him, but that's for another time, right now I have my watch to do.
There was proof of what my car does, and the government took it for studying, but all that came back was that it was a normal car. My peers all know that my car transform, it's really no surprise. Hell we even had a little fun and drove it into the water. Damned thing became a boat before you could say `` Oops''! But towards the end of my watch, I saw something horrifying on the video screen that had the cameras view on base.
`` When I tell you the event happened in the course of a day, I hope you believe me. When I tell you the tank was to protect me from the zombies, I hope you trust me enough to come with me if you want to live. When I tell you to save your bullets, I hope you believe me when I also say that nothing can kill these things. Not even my tank. They just put themselves back together and get back up. This is the Operation Specialist, hoping anyone is out there.''
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[ WP ] The story of two people , perfect for each other , who have their second date ten years after their first date .
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Today is a big day! I'm going to meet Claire, for a date, after 10 years since I last saw her. So much has happened and even more has changed. I was whisked away after our first date when my father fell ill. He, living in New Zealand, and I, back home in Wisconsin, meant that I needed to pack up and move immediately. I did just that. I came to New Zealand not only to oversee my father's care but also to assume partial responsibility over his fishing company. These two things combined meant that I was now stuck in New Zealand. I could n't bear to make Claire wait for me after just one date. So I broke things off with her to relieve her of any obligation to me. Claire and I were perfect for each other, by most standards. During our `` getting-to-know-each-other'' phase, we realized we complimented each other in almost every way. We did n't necessarily have all the same interests but we were highly interested in each other; in our lives. Our first date was the stuff of movies. Plenty of laughs, smiles, Claire blushing when I held her hand in mine. We even had a memorable first date inside-joke, `` mineral water.'' I'll explain that one another time. My father remained ill until last year when his medical complications finally proved to be too much for his body to handle. After grieving for a year, I decided it was time to visit home. Claire heard I'd be in town and asked to meet.
As we sit down, I see that time has been kind to Claire. She has barely aged! We laugh, smile, and Claire blushes as we exchange pictures of our families. She has two beautiful little girls and a construction foreman for a husband. I show her my pride and joy, Brian, and my loving wife. I guess this is only a date in its most literal sense, a social appointment. While Claire and I were perfect for each other ( and maybe still might be ), sometimes you do n't end up with perfect. Perfect is often elusive. Perfect is n't always what you need. As we depart, Claire and I exchange smiles. We both realize we have absolutely no regrets and are happy with how things turned out.
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[ WP ] the world is going to end in 30 years . A young couple argues about whether it 's right or not to have a baby .
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`` We'll be sixty! *We* will have lead full, meaningful, lives!'' Kevin tried to stay on point, he did n't want it to be about beliefs but about reason.
`` I'm not getting an abortion! I ca n't believe you want to kill your unborn child! We do n't know for sure that the world is ending!'' The thought of losing the baby after five years of desperately trying tore Kathrine apart.
`` Scientists have been tracking the comet for decades, you know that!'' Kevin started to bring numbers, projections, and figures into the argument. `` Each year it gets closer to impact!''
Neither one budging, each firm in their viewpoint. They storm off in different directions, the conflict unresolved.
A few hours later:
`` Kathrine, I'm sorry, I do n't know why I was so upset. I love you.'' He had to say it through the bathroom door. Kathrine locked herself in and was crying. Kevin knew he had to apologize to his wife.
She finally came out of the bathroom, tears streaming down her face. `` Take me to the hospital!''
She had blood running down her thighs. Kevin grabbed her some fresh clothes and some hygiene products to stop the bleeding. The terrified couple finally working together instead of arguing. Kevin held his wife's hand the entire ride to the hospital. Carefully running any light he did n't see anyone else coming.
`` The baby is gon na be fine, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson.'' The doctor said with a smile.
They were awash with relief. The incident brought them closer.
Jacob, now twenty-nine years of age watched; terrified; with his parents, the comet fall from the sky blazing its way in a ball of frost fire toward the planet. They huddled closely together.
`` I have no regrets.'' Kevin looked at his family. Proud of their unity, and the decision to raise Jacob in the short time of his existence. `` I'm sorry if you feel you did n't get to do more, Jacob.''
`` I was born, I loved, I lost, I have my parents.''
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[ WP ] You are a disgruntled magician 's assistant who quits during a live show in the best way ever
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Mysterious Marvin sweeps back his cloak and flourishes his gleaming saw to the mesmerized crowd.
`` And now, for my final trick, I will saw Carl, my unfortunate assistant, in two. Vanessa, if you please.''
Vanessa, in her skimpy outfit, walks over and latches the box shut over my body. I wink. I always wink. This time, Vanessa does n't wink back. She returns to the side of Mysterious Marvin.
`` Thank you, my stunning creature,'' Mysterious Marvin says, half to her, half to the crowd. His eyes linger on her body a moment longer than necessary. I notice.
His hand brushes by the small of her back as he takes slow, orchestrated steps towards me. He places the saw in the preset groove of the box and turns to the crowd.
`` Any last words?'' His voice thunders. The audience titters their approval. He looks down at me and smiles. I can smell the gin on his breath.
He starts to saw, and I scream. The audience quiets down, all eyes on the box. Mysterious Marvin continues to saw, and I scream louder. Mysterious Marvin gives me a strange look. I've never screamed like this before during our act.
The audience murmurs. Even the mundane masses, the type of people who still pay to see a show like this, can tell the difference between fake screams and real screams.
Mysterious Marvin looks down and notices the dripping blood. He jumps back and the crimson saw clatters to the stage floor.
`` What have you done?'' I yell. Vanessa shrieks. Someone in the audience cries out in horror.
`` You did n't tuck your feet?'' Mysterious Marvin can barely whisper.
I glance at Vanessa and then look Mysterious Marvin in the eye.
No one steals from me.
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[ WP ] You discover the horrible truth behind Wikipedia .
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Yet again, Jeffrey's flimsy glasses slid their way down his nose, only to be nudged back into place. The greasy little man was fixing the Wikipedia article on an obscure historical figure. *These punks never quit! But neither do I, * he thought.
It was becoming a routine. Jeffrey had his beautiful article saved on four different kinds of hardware and ten different kinds of software. The horde did not stand a chance -- too predictable. They change a line or two into an obscene joke, savor their vandalism for a moment, and move on to the next article. Then Jeffrey would restore his proud work.
It was getting harder, though. Wikipedia was getting more popular than ever before, and the influx of the unfunny horde would soon become overwhelming, even for Jeffrey. Soon he would shove ramen in his mouth only between copies and pastes, he predicted. His door then received a stern and firm knock.
`` Mr. Cooper? Mr. Jeffrey Cooper, correct?''
Jeffrey rubbed his eyes as they adjusted to the blinding daylight flooding through the open door. `` Yes, yes, that's me.'' He realized he was in the presence of not one but two men, both clad in full suits.
`` Excellent. Is there anyone else in this home currently?''
`` No, I live alone. Can I ask what you are here for?''
`` Of course, Mr. Cooper. Do you mind if we step inside, though?''
The suited men were charming, and Jeffrey let them in to figure out what they wanted. They almost looked like they worked for the government -- clean-shaven, suits, the whole deal. Jeffrey was wondering what department they would belong to when he felt a sharp piercing sensation in his arm. He whirled around, looked down, and pulled something that looked like an Epi-pen out of his shoulder. Jeffrey's knees started to buckle, his limbs felt like noodles, his balance was escaping. He was unconscious as the men caught his collapsing body.
Bright lights floated upwards. Rows and columns of white luminosity streamed up, only up, as Jeffrey heard the rolling and popping sound of a cart. He realized that he was laying down, that he was not in his home. His chin twitched upward, but his torso did not follow -- that was his best attempt at bolting upright.
`` Where am I?'' he demanded, with fear putting a quiver into his voice.
`` Roll your eyes to either side, tell us what you see,'' said a strange and ageless voice.
Jeffrey did as such. Like a cornered, wounded animal, he turned his head and eyes as much as he could to see rows and columns of pods, all hooked up with wires and cables, all containing the same gray blobs. Lacking glasses, he squinted his eyes. Right as he came to the realization-
`` They're brains, Mr. Cooper.''
Jeffrey said nothing. He only remembered the needle they stuck in his arm. They knocked him out, paralyzed him.
`` Please do not be afraid. These are your friends. They are all exactly like you -- a brain floating through the world. And we can not afford to lose a brain like yours, Jeffrey. We need you to maintain the Wikipedia, to join the Wikipedia, to become one of us.''
Somewhere across the world, a young boy on his computer refreshed a Wikipedia article for some silly guy from the 1600s. He could have sworn he had changed it, but it was fixed already! Remarkable.
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[ WP ] John can see 10 seconds in to the future . Barry can go back in time 10 seconds . They fight .
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Knowing how a fight would turn out before it even started had always been a helpful attribute, it helped when getting ambushed too of course, but John rarely let himself get into those sorts of situations, tonight was no different.
The guy, he'd been told his name was Barry, would take a boot to the face and then as many fists as it would take to send him to sleep, John was counting them as he saw them,
3
4
5
He almost missed Barry actually coming through the door, but John was always more prepared than most people.
He took the boot like John knew he would and John obliged with the descending punches as he knew he would, but by the time Barry was on the floor John knew his final swing would land on air as the guy simply disappeared.
Unfortunately, knowing it was going to happen did n't make it any easier to stop.
* * *
Knowing how a fight would turn out before it even started had always been a helpful attribute, it helped when getting ambushed too of course, John rarely let himself get into those sorts of situations, but tonight was different.
As John stood watching how it would play out it all became blurred, images of events jumped from place to place, different futures,
intersecting, converging on this
moment.
His eyes burned drill holes into his mind as he realised what this meant, someone was changing the future, blurring time, his sight was useless.
Then Barry burst through the door.
They hung in the moment, staring at each other from opposite sides of the room. John blinking the blurs of timelines out of his eyes as they shimmered to the periphery of his vision, Barry stood confidently, his bald head cocked to the side curiously.
*They might be useful yet. * John thought, before Barry broke the stillness with a run.
The situation had changed and John decided his plan needed to too, he dropped to the floor and in a fluid motion kicked Barry's legs out from under him.
John enjoyed the brief moment of wondering what would happen next as Barry's bald head hit the squeaky clean floor with an audible crack, emitting an echo on which images of the future floated back to him.
John sighed, got to his feet, and promptly caved in Barry's head with the side of his boot before he could disappear.
`` Saw that one coming.'' He whispered.
**THE END**
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[ WP ] Just keep moving
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I was told, once this thing started, that sleep would n't be an option. I was n't sure if they meant I'd have no choice -- sleep would just rush over me like a landslide, or that I would not be able to sleep for my own safety. Neither of those is true, though. Sleep is a choice; I can still choose to lay down somewhere soft and warm, and to close my eyes and slip away. But that's suicide. Suicide is n't the worst choice I could make.
Amped out of myself on amphetamines and cocaine, I have a lot of strange, sidelong thoughts. By eyes are bugged and blood-shot; my heart is a hummingbird. I'm sweating so badly that I can barely hold on to my.45, a gun I do n't even really know how to use. Point open end at the other guy; pull the trigger -- bang, shit, he's dead! I do n't know if I could kill a man, but then again, I do n't know if I could stop myself. I do n't know anything about myself right now. I'm some alien creature roiling under my own skin, clutching some foreign object in both hands and trying to figure out how fast I have to dash across the street to avoid capture.
I took the job and they said it would be fast: take the shroud box across the city. That was it. On foot -- the smart way for a Courier to move in short-distance situations -- it should have take me no more than two hours of hustle and trespassing. That was seven hours ago. The sun was coming up. The sun is not my friend. The night has n't been a good one, either.
I was shot at the moment I got into client's lobby. I did n't even get to the street! Not the *sidewalk*! Got near the huge, glimmering planes set around the revolving doors and POW! Three shots and a grenade. I've been under heat before, but this -- this is something else entirely. This is military action in the name of corporate espionage. This has been life and death from the very beginning. I shot, smoked, and ate every stimulant I had. The tension is too high. Decisions are things that happen too slowly -- I had to sharpen my instincts to a razor edge so sharp that if I live, I may never heal from the depth of the cut.
I'm two blocks away. I've got to keep moving. They're behind me now, flushing me forward into some kind of trap. Corridors and alleys are sealed. I'm so wired that I have to figure out what is really moving and what is my shuddering senses; I have to figure out what is simply real. I lost them around the last bend -- they're not as good on foot as I am, and a quick climb over an alley fence was enough to stall the grunts. I can hear a tornado, though. I can hear their helicopter and their trucks and their yelling. I think.
I go across the streets and lights flash; there's yelling and gun fire and I can feel concrete splinters biting me in the legs. I dive into an alley, the street churning behind me with automatic weapons fire. How did they get ahead of me so fast? It does n't matter. I spring to my feet and sprint down the alleyway. I can see a street light at the end of the alley, and then, like a cannonball, an SUV slams to a stop underneath it. I drop behind a Dumpster and look behind me -- more men, brandishing guns. I look around the trash bin and see men climbing out of the back of the vehicle, the driver handing out of the window with an AK-47.
I've got to get moving. I bring the gun to bear on the men coming behind me, and I scream, and my finger stutters over the trigger. The gun bucks angrily and the men fall down. My ears are singing falsetto. I'm on my feet again, head down, running. Bouncing off brick walls as I try to dodge bullets.
Just two more blocks to go.
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[ WP ] Why do I bother ?
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Death begins his approach again. He has done it so many times today, in this room. He always comes back. It's a seemingly endless cycle.
Once again, I find myself back in the yellow hallway, my SOUL fixed again. As I make my way back to the battle, the feeling of anger rushes back to me. Why will he not just DIE! I killed his friends with no problem! I slayed his land's greatest warrior! I even stabbed his brother! Why the hell wo n't this bitch just die already?
I entered his world by accident. My first meeting with the inhabitants is what sparked my need for blood. I seeked out everybody I could and killed them. Entire towns evacuated as the population dropped by one frequently. My new self requires bloodshed to stay calm. I am releasing the desires now before I get back home. That is, if I make back. The only thing stopping me is a king, a flower, and the skeleton before me.
I see him again. That hollow smile sends another surge of anger through me. I ready my knife for the first attack. Of course, he always outspeeds me. As I survive the first wave, my sins begin to crawl upon my back, but I pay them no mind. All that matters is that he dies.
I aim a slash for the chest, which he dodges. With a quick hand motion on his account I am back at the start of the hallway. I turn and keep going.
So, why do I bother? Because I am tired of having a bad time, and a certain bonehead has 9,999,999 damage coming for him.
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( WP ) You hear your brother argue with your parents about why he is more worthy of being the next king as he is older ( by 2 minutes ) . When he loses the argument and your parents leave he says `` What if ( you ) were to disappear ? ``
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`` That was a good supper'' I said.
`` Indeed it was!'' Exclaimed my father, the King of Russia.
`` Please give my compliments to the chef,'' My brother said.
After supper, I went for a brief walk in the city. As you know, when a King dies, his empire is inherited by his eldest son, but that is not the case in my situation. Me and brother were twins, so it is not inherently set which one of us will get the Kingdom.
My Father has always favored me over my brother, He thinks I am more rational. He told me when I was a boy,
`` I sure hope your brother does n't inherit the empire,'' he chuckled.
`` I like Adrik though, why do n't you father?'' I wondered out loud to my Father.
He laughed harder and said `` My empire would be gone within the months!''
Halfway through my stroll, I noticed some rustling in the cobblestone paths. A grey mouse popped its head under a worn barrel, and I kept walking briskly. I was starting to feel uneasy when I blacked out. As my head hit the road, I heard wheels behind me, and Men's voices.
I woke in chains, in the dungeon. `` Is n't this place only meant for the criminals of Father's kingdom?'' I thought to myself. The room was fairly small in size, and had stone walls and floors. I tried to uncuff myself, but had no luck. I only now noticed I had company.
On one of the other walls, I noticed a man so brutally beaten, you could n't tell he had ever had a face. I decided not to engage him. Right after I got that thought out, the door to the dungeon swung open. A burly man with a mace came in, and turned to the other dungeonee, than to me.
I had no fear, for I am the prince! anyone who lay a hand on me, was to be executed if I said so.
`` You do know who I am right?'' I said with a grin on my face.
`` Yeah, your brother sent me'' he said.
He took one step back and swung the mace at my head.
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[ WP ] A Villain 's Perspective
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I slit her throat and let her body crumple on the floor. I stood over her body as she slowly died. Her eyes were once wild with fright, darting to and fro across the room looking for some sort of exit, some sort of thing which she could use to take her life back into her own hands. Of course there was nothing, and I had my way. Her eyes were still now, staring right into mine, wondering what kind of monster I was. The answer, of course, was a human one.
I drop my wicked persona and sigh. She looks eerily similar to my sister, and I'm not actually too sure she is n't. I know I'm still feeling the euphoric high, and I decide not to make any rash decisions, and lean back against the wall. I watch her go.
She reminds me of a nightmare I once had as a teenager. I was in a forest, lost. I was probably somewhere deep in hell. There was a body hung on every single branch of every single tree. I ran, being chased by some creature that wanted me dead. I wound up in a clearing, and in the center of the clearing was a grotesque fountain. At the top was the frayed neck of a recently decapitated person, blood flowing in place of water, flowing down into a receptacle made of rib cages, still surrounded by jagged skin. The blood then flowed out of the ribs and came out through the slit necks of 4 screaming women. They were made of stone like statue, but looked so lifelike that I was n't sure if they were made, shaped by a man's hand, or turned into stone on the spot by some Medusa-like monster. The monster emerged from the forest after I finished inspecting the fountain. It cut off my head with one swing of it's bladed tail, decapitating me mid-shout. It placed my head on the top of the fountain, and I woke up before anything else happened. I woke up, sweating, that night. I thought for sure you were supposed to die if you die in a dream, but I guess that was just Hollywood nonsense that I took for a truth. Unless of course, I was n't killed by the decapitation. My head, still sitting atop the fountain, alive and being filled with blood to the point of bursting, flowing and flowing until finally...
I shook off the thought, and looked at the girl again. She was still trying to breathe, I could tell. For the first time since she noticed me at the bar, our eyes met. I watched them until she died. I'm not sure whether it's because of my line of work or not, but I've grown to know the difference between the eyes of a living person and the eyes of a corpse.
I move to get out of the way of the oncoming pool of blood. I get as close to her as I can and take a long look. She is n't my sister. `` Thank god.'' I say.
I sit on the floor, thinking about whether she'll be my last one. I think about just sitting and staying there, and stopping myself from doing anymore harm. But I know that I'll get up and go soon. I think about what I should leave behind, if anything. I want to get caught. But I want to live. My human instincts getting in the way of my humanity.
I stand up and dip my gloved finger in the pool of blood. I look in the purse by the dead woman's side, pull out her driver's license, and write on the wall, `` Sarah Fellows. 6th Street Bar. Stop me.'' I drop the purse back in the bag. I put the glove in a brown paper bag. I leave the scene.
When I get back home, I toss the bag in the fire. I head upstairs to take a shower and get ready for bed. I slowly unbutton my shirt, staring at myself as I do it. I look like anyone else, and if I needed to, I might be able to pretend to feel like everyone else. I take off my glasses and put them on the counter. I reach into my pocket and take out my wallet and put it on the counter. I get into the shower and clean myself. I step out, grabbing my glasses and Sarah Fellows' wallet. I wrap a towel around myself and look into the mirror. I'm smiling.
It's over, and I'm glad.
I get dressed and go into my bedroom, and down a whole bottle of Tylenol before writing out, `` Sorry,'' and drifting off into a deep sleep.
My head bursts and the nightmare ends.
Edit: There is no river in his bathroom.
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[ WP ] Humans can live forever , as long as they spend each day doing what they are told
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`` And here we go again.'' Anna muttered.
She stared at the ceiling while mentally mustering the willpower to drag herself out of bed. Her room was a deep maroon, and almost every surface was lined with books. Old, dusty tomes from a hundred years ago as well as fresh-spined serials and magazines. An ancient grandfather clock ticked loudly, annoying Anna with it's persistence.
*Fine*, she swore to herself. She shuffled across the bed and threw her legs over the edge. They landed with a soft plod on the carpeted floor. She stretched her arms, yawned, and cracked her neck, wincing as she did so. With an almighty effort, she stood up and trudged to her computer.
*You know the drill*, she thought, *two tasks, every day*.
She opened the email that formed on the holoscreen in front of her.
> Dear Anna Dart,
> Please find attached your daily list of tasks.
> [ TL_Anna_Dart-13-Aug-2204.tasks ]
> If completed by midnight tonight, you will be administered with a shot of JeunezumabΒ©.
> Regards,
> The Director
Anna saved the attachment but did not open it. She scrolled through her other emails, glancing briefly at their titles before discarding them. Her eyes then fell on an email that caught her attention.
`` Jane's Ending Tenure Party! Let's celebrate 160!'' it said.
`` Ending Tenure'' meant only one thing. Jane would stop doing her daily tasks. She would willingly accept her death the next day.
Anna could not help the angry pang of sadness that struck her then. Jane was her best friend and confidant. Anna choked on sobs that threatened to burst forth in a torrent of tears.
She called Jane immediately.
`` Jane, what the hell?!'' She croaked through a sore voice.
`` And a'Good Morning' to you too, Anna.''
`` What the *hell*.'' Anna repeated.
`` Come on now, Anna! You should be happy! I've been alive for 160 years! I'm ending it all on my own terms. I'm bored, Anna. I'm so damned bored. And I got to thinking-''
`` Don't-'' Anna warned.
A pause.
`` Come on, Anna, you know what I want to say. It's just not fair! Why should women be allowed to live forever while men grow old and die? Why is it that I've watched my two faithful husbands grow frail and peter from this world while I remain strong and healthy in mind and body?'' Her voice trembled at the end.
`` You know damned well why, Jane'' Anna replied, inelegantly.
`` I do. We're baby-making machines. We're underpopulated. I get that. I just ca n't do it anymore, Anna. I'm done. No amount of partying or holidaying is going to fix it for me. I'm *done*.''
Anna could barely speak for all the sobbing she was doing. Jane waited patiently on the line while Anna composed herself enough to respond.
`` I love you, Jane.'' Anna whispered.
`` I know, darling. You've been a good friend. Now please do me a favour and come to my party, else I'll simply *die! *'' Jane giggled.
`` That is n't funny.''
`` I know, I know.'' Jane apologised, `` Just be there. For me. Please?''
A moment passed.
`` Fine.'' Jane muttered.
The line broke off with a beep and Anna wept, on her knees, against the sheets on her bed.
***
Anna woke up from her nap. Her eyes were red from crying and her arm numb from having slept on it. The ancient grandfather clock ticked on, endlessly. She got out of bed and went to the computer, opening the file she saved from her email earlier on in the day.
The tasks on the list were the same as every other day.
> Your day's tasks:
> * Apply your daily dose of fertility cream.
> * Engage in sexual intercourse with a male.
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[ WP ] After almost 1,000 years the population of a generation ship has lost the ability to understand most technology and now lives at a preindustrial level . Today the ship reaches its destination and the automated systems come back online .
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Eden fell for the second time in year 2945.
The first fall was lost to the people of Pathfinder, only remembered by words scratched into rotting tomes bound by leather and skin, in a language long forgotten by the guttural people that now ruled this land above the stars.
Once again, the ground shook from the lost quadrant to the edge of the spires. The citizens of Pathfinder, thousands in number, watched fearfully as the humongous platform of vegetation, suspended in air for so many centuries, fell into the dark abyss.
For a moment, there was silence. And then the screaming began.
The people of Eden were screaming from the depths of the core, their voices filled with fear, pleading for help. Soon their cries were drowned out by the grinding and buzzing of Pathfinder coming to life and tearing them apart like the many sacrifices before. This time, however, it was not to waste. The ship's orbit had finally been successful and the old monolith of metal and slate was prepared to touch a surface for the time in over a thousand years. The people roared as the only world they had ever known began to rotate, throwing them into the vast emptiness of Above. As they fell into the darkness, a ray of light began to peek through the endless night, blinding the people, as they had never seen something so luminescent. Soon the crack had widened into a sky, and the people hit this sky with unbelievable force. To their surprise, they did not experience pain or death, instead, they sunk deep into a vast expanse of liquid.
For the first time in almost a thousand years, humans experienced an ocean.
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[ WP ] After an long forgotten experiment , the last human on Earth awakes from his cryogenic sleep . He soon realizes that civilisation has ended millennia ago and that he 's the last human on Earth , so he commits suicide.. only to see , that Heaven and Hell are already closed .
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Trapped out of every possible world, with only his consciousness filling the void, he began to think. Ok, now what? I've got nothing but my thoughts to keep me company. How did this happen? How can heaven and hell be closed when there is still one soul left unclaimed? What? I'm not good enough or evil enough to be in either place? Come on, just one more soul... you guys wo n't even take just one more soul in? What's one measly soul? Fuck. You. Guys. Wait.. what if it's not their fault? What if I missed an irrevocable deadline for getting into heaven or hell by going into cryogenic sleep? Why would heaven and hell even have a deadline? I know Earth has a deadline.. but why would the afterlife have a deadline? I wonder who won the final battle. Was there even a final battle? This is so pointless. I've got to belong somewhere. I need to belong somewhere. Hello? Is anybody out there? I ca n't be the only one here. HEY! If anyone can hear me, speak up! I want to chat. HEEEYY!!! Sigh. I guess I really am alone out here. Wait.. what if I make up someone? That ca n't be too hard, can it? I can think of someone. Imagination is limitless. Hmm.. let's see here... damnit! My imagination sucks.
Just then he heard some laughter echoing in the void. A female voice.
HIM: Hey! Who's there?? Why did n't you answer me earlier? Speak up! Come talk to me! Please!
HER: Haha.. I did n't want to interrupt. You were so cute just now, with your funny thoughts and stuff.
HIM: Who are you? Are you trapped in here too?
To be continued...
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[ WP ] You just found a door that should not be there . Everyone else seems to be oblivious of its existence . Or so it appears .
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It β s been 19 days since I first noticed the door standing in the middle of Times Square. People walked aimlessly past, as if only I could see this door.
The first time, I walked past the door. In a hurry to get to work, I hardly noticed it. The door was merely another oddity in New York City.
On day five, I realized that the door wasn β t going anywhere. After that, I took a good look at the door. From a distance, I scrutinized it. At least seven feet tall, the door looked to be made of solid wood.
On day eight, I returned to Times Square. For an hour, I stared at the door. I wondered if only I could see this door.
On day twelve, I pointed to the door and asked the person next to me about it. He looked at me in confusion and responded, β What door? β It was then that I knew only I could see this door.
By day eighteen, I couldn β t get that door out of my head. For the twelve days, every waking thought I had was about that door.
β Why was it there? Who put it there? Where did it go? β
As I asked myself these questions, I remembered the silly platitude that teachers and parents tell you when things go wrong, β When one door closes, another one opens. β I thought maybe this was my door.
On day nineteen, I decide to approach the door. Within six feet of the door, I stop to collect myself. I had decided the night previous to open the door. Now, I needed to find the strength. As I took my first step forward, I hear a voice speak to me, β Once you open the door, there β s no going back. β
So focused on the door, I did not notice the man standing next to it.
Startled, I could only respond with β What? β I had never felt so unintelligent.
He only continues on, β Once you open that door, you can never go back. β
β So I have to choose? β I ask. It β s my life here or whatever is waiting for me on the other side of that? β I point to the door.
β Yep, β he clarified. β But whatever you choose, know that both choices have been taken. Of those that have reached this point, not all open the door. Some do walk away. It β s okay. β
Listening to him, I know that I have already made my choice. β Will I see you on the other side? β I ask.
It takes him a moment to answer, but finally he responds, β No, my job is to guide those who see the door. β
His words do not help with my anxiety, but still I know. I am opening that door and walking through it. I take a couple steps forward and stop only when I have reached the door. With a hand on the door knob, I take one final look around. Finally, I open the door and step forward.
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[ WP ] Make me loathe your character .
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Another wonderful day! The sun shines brightly and I'm off to the most wonderful job in the world!
`` Good morning, Linda!''
`` Good morning, Mr. Baer! Your 8 AM is waiting for you in your office''
`` Wonderful!''
I opened the door and saw my favorite couple waiting patiently for my arrival. Their clothes reeked and appeared to be unwashed for days. Much like the smell of grass after rain, it was the smell of success after effort. I put my briefcase down on my desk, opened my suit jacket, and sat down in my chair.
`` Ah yes, Mr. and Mrs. Dodson. How may I help you today?''
`` Please Mr. Baer, we have n't been able to pay the water bill. Please just give us an extension. It wo n't be long until my husband finds a job, I can feel it. Just please, give us one or two months more please.''
`` I'm sorry Mrs. Dodson, I'm afraid I'm going to have to default your loans and foreclose the house.''
Their begging was incessant, but my conviction was true. They were not to receive an extension, and they left with tears and desperate pleas for help. I most definitely could have given them an extension, but then when would they learn that a fool and his money is soon parted?
`` Mr. Baer, your 9 AM is here''
`` Excellent, Linda. Please let them in''
*I'm terrible with formatting and have no idea how to make a one-line break*
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[ WP ] Hurt by too many rejections , you decided to trade your ability to love . However it can only be replaced by something of equal value ; what do you gain ?
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A smile dances on my lips as I walk through the halls of the school.
I ignore the looks people are giving me after all, what does it matter?
`` Hey are you alright?''
a voice asks to the side, I do n't really care to find out who it was but it would be rude not to answer.
I turn and bow in the direction of the voice, lifting my head up and smiling I answer softly.
`` I thank your for you concern, I'm fine.''
`` Are you sure? You were rejected pretty badly yesterday.''
I laugh, nod then proceed to stand up and turn around sharply.
`` It's alright, to be honest i do n't feel anything.''
I walk onwards and pause, it's time for class and yet-
`` Heh, if it is n't the loser.''
Before me was my crush, sneering at me as her posse laughs at me.
To be honest looking at her right now, I'm not sure why I was in love with her in the first place.
`` Are you listening? Hey Do n't ignore me!''
She yells stomping her foot.
I tilt my head to the side.
`` I'm listening,'' I drawl lazily causing her posse to bristle, I absently notice that the people around me freeze at the blatant disrespect I was showing someone who I had confessed to with so much heartfelt emotion the day before, `` but you do not have my attention.''
She snarls, `` You have some nerve Rosewell. First you give me that lame confession and now you act like this? Do you think you're cool or something? It wo n't work I'll never date a loser like you!''
She smirks viciously as everyone flinches at her harsh words.
I yawn and sigh, `` My, my I'm so glad now that you rejected my confession. Such a vicious shrew you are.''
The crowd gasps and she snarls, `` Why you!'' She brings up her hand and attempts to slap me.
I step to the side and this action was enough to unbalance her and send her falling to the floor.
Ignoring her cries and yells I walk onwards once more, brushing pass her posse and stepping into the classroom I sit down.
`` Why did you do that? I thought you loved her?''
I turn to the source of the voice and smile again, `` Well I do n't really feel anything for her anymore, when thinking long and hard after she rejected me I realized it's not worth getting hurt over.''
I then smirk and whisper to myself'So I traded my love for unshakable apathy,' and turn to the blackboard.
The smile on my face as fake and hollow as my soul.
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[ WP ] You are dog . It is your mission to faithfully guard your poor , stupid , two-legged pack-mates from the horrors of the mailman , the dog next door , and men with hats . Describe your vigil .
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I am dog.
Millenia ago, long before the two-leggers had begun to naively roam the forests, blissfully lacking the mental wherewithal to pee on the trees they had descended from, my race was a nomadic one. We traveled from planet to planet seeking to rid the galaxy of the sociopathic race the hairless call `` cats'', better known to us as the `` Urr'wuff'': They Who Do What They Want And Do Not Give A Fuck.
My people were great and as numerous as the fleas on our backs. Under the guidance of Kazak the Wise, Grand Packleader and Humper of All Things, we had managed to nearly eradicate the Urr'wuff and finally put an end to the great catnip cartels that had claimed so many billions of lives throughout the ages. The last of the feline survivors had fled to the edge of the galaxy, and my direct canine ancestors -- the greatest and most disciplined warriors of them all, fabled to be able to hold cookies on their noses for hours at a time without partaking -- had been dispatched to finish them.
And so it was that in a small, insignificant solar system near the abyss of deep space, the great canine warriors met their match with the cunning cat criminals. In the upper stratosphere of a small blue planet they engaged in the greatest space battle known to dog-kind, one that spanned many many weeks, or maybe only a couple of minutes, nobody could really tell.
In the aftermath of the carnage survivors of both races found themselves marooned on the strange planet. Starving and without hope, my ancestors were saved by a small, primitive race we began to call two-leggers, or more formally `` Grrrrr Aruff'': Those Whose Penises Do Not Glow Red.
Indebted to these simple, confused people, my ancestors swore their allegiance to them, vowing to help and protect two-leggers from their own ignorance, and to shield them from the cats ( who had already begun to manipulate them into servitude. )
Of course, through the ages, not all dogs stayed the cause. Some went off to breed with the beautiful females of the native races of the planet, the wolves, known to us as `` Aff'grr'': Those Silvery Babes With The Nice Voices. Others went rogue, forgot their posts, corrupted the name of dog-kind with their laxity and disregard and forced their stalwart brothers to turn agains them.
But those that remained stayed true to their cause and found solace in the beautiful companionship that so many of the hairless, comically ignorant two-leggers provided.
I am dog. This is my vigil.
***
The porch. Morning. The air tantalizes me with the intoxicating scent of dead squirrel and rabbit droppings in the corner of the yard. I itch to roll in it. But I do not move, for beneath those sensuous aromas is another, one that is distant but getting closer, the smell of evil.
I hear a bark from upwind. It is the bichon frise known as Pumpkin, Annihilator of Plush Invaders and Keeper of the Heinous Gas. She approaches me, her young two-legger in tow.
`` Hail, Rex,'' she greets me through the fence. `` Peace and good garbage be upon you and your family.''
`` Hail Pumpkin,'' I reply. `` What news do you bring?''
`` I gave chase to the yellow tomcat known as Burlington this morning, but he has eluded me yet. Be wary of him trespassing on your territory. I have also yet to catch the strange, flittering red light that continues to plague me when I am lying near my two-leggers, but I expect to have subdued it by the time of the full moon.''
`` Have you seen He Who Tries To Invade Us on your scout this morning?''
`` Yes, about a block over. I kept my Anna at a safe distance and he showed no interest in us, but I would still be cautious,'' Pumpkin growls lowly.
`` I always am,'' I assure her.
`` Well I must be on my way. May your bones be meaty and buried deep. Farewell.''
She is gone. Moments pass. The smell becomes stronger. In the distance, I hear Pumpkin barking. An alert to me. He is close.
Here he is now, readying himself to invade. I see him carrying his bag of strange papers. I am always prepared, always on guard for the day he withdraws the hair-dryer I am sure has hidden deep inside and comes after me with it.
Now he stands on the edge of my territory and looks at me nervously. That is right, you son of a carkitten, you skittish vacuum-mouth fart of a tuna taster, cower in the presence of the might Rex!
`` Come no closer, foul demon. You may have fooled my simple pack into thinking you are one of them, but you will not take this yard as long as I stand in it. Be gone, you shall invade here no longer!'' I cry, galloping up to the gate.
Then my a call. My older female runs out to scold me. She has been enchanted by this paper demon, she does not know.
`` I'm so sorry, Tom, here just hand the mail to me. Rex, stay!'' I hear her say. The usual gibberish. I am already six years old, my juvenile dream of one day teaching my two-leggers to speak has long since been dashed. Regardless, I still love them.
He Who Tries To Invade Us looks at me once more. He does not cross the gate. Thwarted again, the cowardly git, the mere sight of me sends him shaking. Nevertheless he still ensnares the old female into taking his strange papers. One day I will discover what they are for and use it against him.
The older female retreats inside, safe again.
`` A close call,'' comes a snide voice. Hugo. He is at the fence.
I bound up to him, my fangs bared. Just the sight of the traitor's ugly snout makes me shiver with rage.
`` A lot of nerve you have showing up here, again!'' I bark. He is a lost cause. A failed guardian. His one charge, his only human, was taken hostage by a cat two years ago, and now it is she who runs the territory. And Hugo fraternizes with her, the bastard. `` Get out of here! I do not want your presence corrupting the sanctity of my territory!''
`` You do not tell me where I can and can not go!'' Hugo's reply thunders in my ears. `` This is my territory I am standing on! This side of the fence is mine!''
`` Yours?'' I laugh, `` So is that your fishy piss I smell on all corners of the yard?''
`` You are some kind of scentless asshole, Rex! I ought to dig under there and kick your tail!''
`` You do n't have the gall, traitorous pup!''
Another call. This time it is Hugo's two-legger. He leaves his house and runs across to restrain Hugo, dragging him by backwards by the necklace. A pitiable shame, this human. Another puppet for the cat, that slimy scheming Siamese named Perdita. One day her tail will be my trophy, and Hugo's belly will be bared to me. I swear it for the good of my pack.
edit: I am too tired to finish this but it was such a fun prompt. Thanks for reading.: )
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[ WP ] A wizard that can predict the future holds a job as a weatherman ; on a competing network , a wizard that can control storms is also fronting as a weatherman .
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`` And now we go to our Channel 4 chief meteorologist, Cassandra Sinclair. Cassandra, what's the latest news regarding hurricane Diane?''
Cassandra looked into the camera with the piercing gaze that, along with her pinpoint accuracy, had once captivated a nation. `` Thank you, Brian. As you can see here, Diana has shifted off course and is now extremely unlikely to make landfall. Coastal areas can expect some moderate rainfall, but at this point, it seems the danger has passed.''
Channel 6 weatherman Jonathan Dee clicked back a few seconds on the recording, grinning at the sounds of the storm howling outside his window. `` -it seems the danger has passed.'' `` -it seems the danger has passed.'' He'd been almost insulted to find Cassandra reduced to foretelling the weather, if it had n't been for his indignation at her disproportionate fame. They were wizards, damn it, masters of the elemental forces of Fate. For decades he and Cassandra had pitted their powers against each other, with him making the moves and her trying to anticipate them. But if this was the game she wanted to play, so be it. He had his own tricks up his sleeve.
`` We have storm warnings all across the coast. Hurricane Diane is going to make landfall within the next twenty-four hours. We're expecting winds up to ninety miles per hour,'' and here he had n't been able to resist getting in a little jab, `` and I certainly hope that no one's underestimating the destruction storms like this can bring.''
This would certainly be enough to ruin her career, Dee thought, getting up to watch the sheets of rain washing over his window. A few sigils, a simple demon summoning, and that had been enough to knock the storm off its course. His phone buzzed in his pocket, throwing off his train of thought.
`` Hello?''
`` Dee.'' Cassandra's voice came through distorted, but he could still hear her teeth gritting through that single syllable.
`` Cassandra!'' He certainly hoped she could pick up the grin in his voice. `` Bad luck, eh? Weather, it's such an unpredictable thing.''
`` That storm was going to burn out harmlessly in the Atlantic. If anyone dies because of this, that's on your head.''
`` Oh, please.'' He waked into his kitchen to pour himself a victory drink. `` Since when have you cared about the well-being of the public? Those people were about as likely to crucify you for your predictions as venerate you.''
`` I was n't talking about them,'' Cassandra said. `` Look outside your window.''
Jonathan Dee peered out his kitchen window just in time to see a power pole across the street go toppling in the wind, wires snapping and trailing sparks across the sky as all the lights in his house went out. He opened his mouth in an instinctive effort to cast a spell, and then the pole came crashing down through his window and everything went black.
Dee woke up to the spray of rain across his face and the wind howling in his ears. The whole side of his kitchen had been torn open, exposed to the sky, and he could n't feel anything below his neck. A wave of rain hit him, and he choked, drowning on an inch of water. He managed to flop his head to the side, heaving up rainwater, and saw that against all odds his phone lay right beside his head, still alight and unbroken.
`` You little pissant,'' Cassandra's voice hissed. `` You really think I did n't see this coming?''
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[ WP ] After being hunted to extinction , the last Orc has been found at the edge of the world ...
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The temple stood empty, the stones falling away into the bottomless chasm. The hunting dogs barks sounded behind me, pushing me forward into this last chance, this last haven. The blood from there last attempt at ending me showed them the way, but at the end of the world, there was little I could do about it.
The heavy set wooden door stood before me, the last thing between me and extinction. It would be a lonely life, an empty burden. But I was willing to bear it. If I could appease just a fraction of the souls that scream for vengeance, I am willing to bear it.
As the wooden temple doors closed behind me, and the empty stone hallway lay before me, I heard the sound of the dogs clawing at the door. Pushing myself forward, I traversed the hallway as fast as my wounded body would allow me to. Crawling through the dark, I made it to the core of the temple. A smile tugged on my lips, revealing my sharp teeth.
In the center of the temple lay an orb. For most adventures, it was simply the core of the temple. But for us orcs, in this specific temple, at the end of the world, with the void just a step away, it was a seat of power.
Just as I place my hand on the orb, my pursers barge into the room. And as light fills the room, a simple smile is all I give them.
Now, to watch the world burn.
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[ WP ] You briefly go out in the snow and come back inside . When you go out again , your footprints from before lead in a different direction .
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β Remember? β
...
β Dad, remember? β
The old man stirs, mutters some sound. Cranes his gray-haired head this way and that, taking in the room again. His eyes settle on me. He smiles. Lilly, he says. Yes, I reply, your daughter. β My daughter, β he repeats. I tell him about the snow again; I don β t know why.
His eyes start to glaze a bit, little hazy crystals frosting them over with fog. And I know he β s gone. I know he β s checked out for another spell. Could be a few seconds, an hour, a day.
But this time it β s quick. He blinks and sits up straight again in the dingy green hospital chair.
β Eh? β he says, his expression searching.
β I was telling you about the snow, Dad. β
He shuts his eyes and nods quickly, still trying to convince me he hasn β t lost any time. I take a short breath and resume the story, rewind it a bit. I tell him about how he was coming back from the barn that day in November. Just before Thanksgiving. How the snow was half a foot high or so, high enough and powdery so it left sharp footprints behind you. I tell him about how he started yelling after he came back to the house -- I was twelve, shuffling down the hallway with a toothbrush hanging out of my mouth when he went crashing into the wall and leveled his 12-gauge Remington Express at me.
β You were tracking snow and mud everywhere, β I tell him. β Still had your boots on from feeding the pigs. β
He β s looking at me now, or at least in my direction. I think he β s following. I go on, about how Mom started screaming and some family portraits fell off the old spinet in the corner. Nobody got shot though.
β You were just yelling and yelling, β I say, β carrying on about the footprints. β What footprints? β we were asking, and you took us over to the back door and showed us the tracks leading up from the barn. And you said they weren β t yours, said you didn β t come that way. You remember? β
Dad nods and smiles placatingly. I press on: β You were so sure they weren β t yours you thought somebody snuck into the house. You got your shotgun and you wouldn β t quit tearing around until you checked through every room and closet and crawlspace, and Mom didn β t know what to do but follow you and make sure we weren β t in the line of fire. β
I laugh a little at the thought of it, and then I can β t turn away from him. It was all too sad, watching this great lumberjack of a man run in circles, chasing his own shadow. Trying to find the intruder endangering his family, when it was just his own footprints. I reach over and put my little hand on his. He β s warm, just like always. Still so healthy, so strong. I look at the hands that could build again, the back that could pull, the arms that could lift and carry, and protect, and I can β t help cursing this sickness, cursing our rotten luck, or God, or the whatever-it-was we might have done before all this.
β That was when we knew, Dad, β I whisper to him. I can β t get the words out right. β The footprints in the snow. That β s why we had to bring you here. β
The image of his face is swimming in my watery eyes, but I can β t look away. And I ask him the question, I say the word I β ve learned to treasure, to hate, to hope stupidly for. As if some day he β ll just say β Yep β and get up and we β ll go back home, back to the old farm, and he β ll put us to work fixing fences and mucking out horse stalls and sweeping the cobwebs out of the corners of our old life. I β ve already told him these stories so many times, but each time is new again for him. Maybe, ultimately, I β m just as forgetful. Just as naive. Because I still ask him:
β Remember Dad? β
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[ WP ] No one expected it . Every one else believed their own theories about it . But one day , you find the one ancient piece of archaeological evidence that proves definitively that ...
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`` One hundred thirty-five, one hundred-thirty six'' Damn, I'm about halfway. I check the Wikipedia page again ( ca n't believe I get reception out here ). 300 cubits, and a cubit is your elbow to your middle finger.
& nbsp;
I reach a seam.
& nbsp;
There's just enough gap to be able to see inside. I shake my phone three times to turn on the flashlight and then beam it through the slats.
& nbsp;
Nothing but bones everywhere. Tusks, horns, skulls, ribcages, canines, eye sockets, femurs. There's no fuckingway I'm going in there.
& nbsp;
I star this on Google maps and then make my way carefully down the rocks.
& nbsp;
What the fuck did I just find?
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[ WP ] Write a story about a family losing a loved oneβ¦I want my heart to burstβ¦
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The sterile smell of medicine and death seemed to choke me. It was a truly rancid smell, and there were tears in my eyes. I tried to convince myself that the smell is making me cry. A grown man should n't cry, especially not infront of his family. But I could n't stop the tears from flowing.
`` Daddy.. are you okay?'' Asked my daughter, Lucy, nervously. She reached out her hand to grab mine, but my ex stopped her. Sheila sadly shook her head. `` Lets leave them alone sweetie. Daddy will be fine.'' Sheila took Lucy and left.
I stared at the body on the bed with lifeless eyes. My hand, involuntairly, reached out and stroked his beautiful blond hair. It was unnatural to see him so still, so quiet. His chest rose with each laboured breath he took. I laid my head down beside his, closed my eyes, and tried to run away. Run away from this horrible moment and be free from this burden.
The door opened, waking me from my reverie. `` Mr. Alrec. I'm sorry to interrupt you but you have to make a decision.'' Said the doctor.
I put my business man face on and turned to the doctor. I gave him a curt nod and a tight smile. `` Do it.''
The doctor nodded sadly in return. `` Ill give you two a moment.'' He exited the room, and only when I was sure no one could hear me, I let go. Heart breaking sobs wracked my body, leaving me shuddering for air. I pounded at the walls, pulled my hair, and cursed into the air. I laid on the floor, tears pooling around me, as my heart threatened to break.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
`` Mommy... why is daddy so sad?'' Asked Lucy with open eyes. Sheila took her hand and rubbed it. `` Honey, we ca n't imagine the pain your father is going through. Cody's been with him his whole life. They did everything together.''
Lucy frowned, clearly confused. `` But Cody was just a dog mommy.''
Sheila smiled sadly. `` He wasnt just a dog to your father. He was his best friend. His partner. His brother.''
Lucy laid her head on Sheila's lap with a sigh. `` Life is hard, is n't it mommy?''
Sheila absentmindly stroked her black curls. `` It really is sweetie. It really is.''
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[ WP ] Every morning when you awaken , your dreams ( and nightmares ) have become your new reality .
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As I rolled out of bed, I could already feel Jennifer grabbing my junk, accompanied by her friend Courtney. Amber was walking in naked with the lunch-tray filled with cake. `` It's time for a bad boy to get his breakfast!'' she exclaimed.
`` Oh, so it's the sex dream this morning, alright, well let's have at it,'' I shrugged, and we engaged in intercourse for a good hour, before I grew tired of the foursome and had to wash up and get ready for work. Of course, there were no clothes in the house, except for the most embarrassing article of clothing in the known universe: my uncle's speedo left to me in his will. That clearly makes sense. After enough of this, I've learned that wearing the speedo and taking the humiliation is the only inevitable choice, or else Sasquatch comes to my house and starts trying to beat me into submission with a ping-pong paddle.
So, I slapped the speedo around my thighs and ignored the slight dampness of the crotch lining, to go about my day of being mocked and laughed at. As I exited the front door though, I felt myself already falling and screaming my head off, as I surely plummeted to what would inevitably be my death but like on Wednesday, the flying Mech-warrior with the face of George Forman and the personality of my father saved me from hitting the ground.
`` Do your homework,'' it told me, before firing off some missiles at a zeppelin overhead and darting off to host a chat-show with Barbara Streisand. I looked around and realized I was n't going to work today, because I was on the beach, and if that was true, it also meant that this was the killer Walrus dream, where thousands of over-sized Walruses would ascend from the ocean to seemingly attempt to kill me.
I was so sick of running from the Walruses though, and I realized that I had only really *assumed* that they had my death on their mind, so today I decided to take a stand and see what the hell they wanted. It turns out that they actually wanted to give me a gold metal for `` best foursome in history,'' and share several whiskey drinks with me. When we were all good and plastered, I knew that it was time to call it a day and go take a unicorn back to the cloud-house. Maybe I could still get some work done from home.
I woozily pulled out my mobile horse-shoe and dialed the rotary attachment until Godzilla responded and dispatched a unicorn for me. The old lady piloting it asked me questions about my personal life, but they were way too inappropriate so I tried to deflect as much as I could until it turned out that she was the new host of cash-cab. I had to play about twenty rounds, and I was going strong until they asked me a question about Polynesia, where apparently the answer was Poki.
I got kicked out on Westminster Avenue, which I knew was about two blocks away from my dungeon-home, so I started walking toward the large jungle cutting through 6th Avenue and searched for my wilderness abode. When I finally found the Igloo, there were five apocalyptic horsemen waiting for me, ready to tuck me into bed and read me a bed-time story.
I looked forward to the inevitable sleep that would follow, where I would get to wear a business suit, sip coffee and sit in front of a computer for approximately 8 hours. It would be a welcome reprieve.
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[ WP ] Anatidaephobia : The fear that somewhere , somehow , a duck is watching you . You are that duck , watching them . Always .
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He goes to the wardrobe. I position myself to watch. He tries on white polo, my favorite. I rub the webs of my feet against branch. He finds large tear under white polo β s armpit. I begin to touch myself. He sees hole is shaped like beak. I salivate. Dismayed, he looks to the window. I continue. With cold fingers cupped over squinted eyes, he seeks me in vein. The bark under my belly warms; I feel ants β sweet tickle but dare not stir.
He discards white polo in outdoor trash can on first floor, locks sliding glass door upon reentry. I watch him cower on couch, television running unwatched, an oratory distraction from torturous premonitions. I see his fear. I smell him. I finish.
I mark place of my triumph with twig in shape of human elbow. My knees quiver. I go cross-eyed, as has become habit. I leave thick puddle of wet excrement around elbow-shaped twig. I waddle home, seeing double. From farthest possible vantage point, I watch him fall into dejected slumber, head dangling off couch like sleeve of torn polo.
I will kill him by Thanksgiving. I will not resist urge to play with food.
Tuesday morning. Work week. He has presentation. I watch him from parking lot. Bags under eyes. Suede shoes. Normally my favorite. Unappetizing in the crisp autumn air. Sterile, I climb tree # 3. Midway through presentation I am spotted. He freezes. Uncontrollable gasps for breath. Aquafina offered by doting coworker. Violent refusal. Stammering, pointing, gesticulating. Eyes turn to me. I welcome the attention. Swoop past the window. Glare at him. Only him. Blood leaves cheeks. Eyes bulge. Paranoia is pungent weapon. I satisfy myself with the memory of torment. Progress ahead of schedule. Empty feeling in tummy. Confusing.
Travel to house on Friday. Car in drive. Work week disturbed for sixth time. Final time? Normal men broken by this point. Special circumstance. Inkling of regret in chest. Dispelled with reminder of crime. Killed Micky. Eaten for celebration. Old tradition. Aggravates sentencing. Fine turkey. Deserved honorable death. Victimized.
I will deliver judgment likewise.
He stands at mirror. Eyes empty. Screen door ajar. Autumn leaves left by wind form trail from my feet to porch. Omen. Direction from God. Sinking feeling returns to chest. Wrong to kill? Tingling sensation below belly. Exciting to kill. Desire for copulation. Fuel for my lust.
I move into house.
Find position for grand finale. Doorway to lavatory. Visible in mirror. In moments it ends. Final pangs drive through heart like cold metal stake. Fear used against him. Justice for turkey. He does not move from toilet. Hidden behind inner door. Strip of light undisturbed by shadows. Asleep in lavatory?
I waddle closer. Door ajar β screen door similarly. Pattern. Deliberate. Tingles. Biting frustration. Urges swell in throat. Suppressed, I look onto scene. Horrible. Subject drowned in toilet water. Hunched face first. Pathetic. Stole kill. Note left on floor. Picture of duck I once knew. Scribbles in human calligraphy. Illegible. I find comfortable position in corner. With thoughts of white polo, I begin on myself. I will not finish for some time.
Sweet relish. Twangs of guilt all but dissipate in a storm of ecstasy. Fetch elbow-shaped twig. Leave on toilet seat. Deposit puddle of excrement on picture of duck I once knew.
Begin anew next work week.
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[ WP ] There is actually a good reason the US keeps increasing defense spending . They are actually fighting an interplanetary war for the fate of humanity . And they are losing .
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Normally, the average U.S. American would believe that the president would be doing most of his paper work and issues in the White House, but that's only half-true. The real issues of the United States are handled miles underground the White House, where secret chambers full of high priority men and women lie down and fix issues. Barack Obama's there right now, sitting on a chair whilst biting his lip nervously.
`` George Bush said it would be easy...'' Barack Obama commented in his mind, glancing at the control panels and war technology that surrounds him.
Truth be told, the fight began a decade and a half ago, just before the end of Bill Clinton's presidency. An alien race a century silently landed on Earth to strike a deal with the U.S. The U.S. received a powerful economic and military boost, allowing it to become the'great nation' title it proudly held for so long. But in the other hand, the U.S. was to give large supplies of resources that were of high value in the alien's economy back home. It began with a simple drop location of supplies in secret, but then turned to using entire spaceships filled with goodies once the 60s came about. It was a good run... until 2001 that is.
`` President sir, we believe that the alien armada is threatening to launch several orbital bombardments in at least 8 locations in the U.S.'' An executive officer said, trembling while he read the report off. The president trembled too as he listened, his strategical ideas slowly becoming practical to even a child.
`` Can we intercept these like the last one?''
`` N-no... it's impossible to do so without alerting the populace, and they would suspect foul play of some sort.''
`` Hmm...''
The president was staring directly at a camera that was inside a small satellite that acted as a simple TV satellite, but was instead used to track the alien's army. The alien armada was cloaked to everyone except the satellite, as the armada as well tried to keep the battle as stealthy as possible before the planet bands together and stomps their small fleet.
However, the satellite picked up a blue light coming from the side of what would look like the mother ship. The light quickly began to expand in size and ferocity.
Barack Obama's eyes grew wide as he realized how massive this attack is as several other nearby ships charged their own uncontrollable balls of energy ( haha, balls ). However, he quickly put them into a slit. He sighed, knowing there's only once course of action.
`` Intercept it.''
`` But sir, we'll be running the risk of-''
`` I am not about to lose another innocent American citizen's life for such a frivolous war.''
`` How could you say that? They have technology beyond our limits! Power to destroy-''
`` You're an idiot, do you know that?''
Barack Obama gestured the officer over and pointed at the screen, showing him the alien armada.
`` There's only *3* ships. 3. After we intercept this all we have to do is fire a few missiles which'll either make them flee or explode the lot of them.''
But still, while Barack explained this information the officer stared in utter disbelief. He slightly bent over and held his forehead as if he was having a fever. But in reality, everything he knew for the past 8 years has been a lie. All of this talk about a losing interplanetary war was just a mere bluff by a rag-tag team of aliens. And it took the planet 114 years to get an actual full look on the ships.
Barack Obama turned around and patted the officer on the back with reassurance.
`` It's ok Edward.''
But while doing so, Barack fished out a small device with an assortment of buttons from his pocket. He clicked the red button with his free hand, while digital text displaying a message about fired nukes appeared.
`` The bastards will be dead in no time.''
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[ IP ] American Marines in Belleau Wood , 1918 .
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When breaking an enemy line, one often forgets the mannerisms that are afforded to gentlemen.
I was born in a well-to-do family. My family line was soaked in blood, but my grandfather took it upon himself to rid the family of such violent and barbaric occupations. He was an intelligence officer that commanded influence equal to a general. He was often the aide of many generals and at the height of his career, prominent politicians.
That was not to be for my father and my brothers. What they lacked in intelligence, wit and cunning they made up with brute strength, violence and the very barbarism that my grand father avoided.
My meager hand at combat was short lived, mostly in drills as I broke my stride and wounded myself far too many times with the wooden knife. However my mind and tactical prowess did not go un-noticed. A brave Lieutenant took me under his wing as an orderly, but mentored me, challenging me to take up a position of importance.
Due to my feeble physical condition, I vowed to help in whatever manner I could. With the help of various avoidances, I made suggestion after suggestion, strategic move after strategic move to my superiors as an orderly. Perhaps, the only one that inspired me was that my brothers were simply devils to me when I was younger.
When the battle had reached a stalemate in the woods, I simply instructed my superiors, use these men, they can only be described as terrible devils, as badly tempered as dogs such that no one can control them.
Near the end of June, I was helping count the PoWs when a German private stared me blank in the face and shouted in German, `` Devil Dog!''
Apparently, he told the MP that he had seen my face elsewhere in hand to hand combat.
My brother's brawn with my intelligence? That would certainly make a devil dog cry.
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[ WP ] The initials `` J.B. '' are legendary in espionage - James Bond , Jason Bourne , Jack Bauer . When they 've all failed , you are sent to recruit the next candidate : Jack Black .
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`` Jack Black?'' I yelled out. `` You're shitting me?''
`` You forget, Ritchie,'' Coppola said. `` He's the best we got at the moment.''
`` Who says?''
`` Come on, Ritchie, think about it.'' Across his large walnut desk, Coppola lit a Hamlet cigar and puffed on it. `` Bond's luck ran out that day he ran out in front of a bus in Kensington without looking.''
I leaned back in my chair and took a consolatory sip of my scotch. `` Best agent we ever had,'' I reflected, moodily. James Bond had survived the initial hit from the No 11 double decker. He'd got to his feet, shaken, yes, but not stirred into action quickly enough to avoid the oncoming black cab. And all this despite the cabbie's armshaking roar to get the fuck off the road. Bond of course on his first day off in years had been really hammering the vodka-martinis down the Hansom Cab and had been pissed off his head by noon.
`` We still have Bourne, do n't we?'' I said, my spirits lightening a little.
Coppola breathed out a despairing plume of smoke. `` Jason Bourne's been AWOL for months.''
`` What?''
`` We think it's because he knows we know he's been fiddling his expenses.''
`` But he's been doing that for years,'' I protested. `` Claiming gas for a crappy old Austin Mini when he's been driving around in an Audi Sport V8. That's common knowledge.''
`` Well now he's gotten a little shy about it,'' Coppola said. `` Or else he's fallen in love again. Either way he's missing, presumed drunk.''
I stared at Coppola incredulously while he refilled my glass from a bottle of twelve year old Dalmore on the desk. He poured himself a generous tumbler, then sat back and downed it in one go.
Unknown to millions, not least the CIA and M15, this man had been responsible for all the US-UK secret agenty stuff for over thirty years. And he had the balls and the drink problem to prove it. The fact I admired him deeply for it did n't even begin to express my hero worship of this man. I desperately had wanted to belong to his elite taskforce of field agents for years, but my initials were G.R. so I had ended up in desk operations instead. I'd never really gotten over the shitty luck of my birth-naming and blamed my parents ceaselessly for it.
`` You know the rules of this agency,'' Coppola continued. `` If it ai n't J.B., the guy ai n't worth-''
`` 1p?''
`` Dick, Richie. The guy ai n't worth dick.''
Now it was my turn to drain my glass. I offered it for replenishment and Coppola, the old agency dog, obliged.
`` But Jack Black,'' I said. `` That guy's nothing but a clown.''
`` He has a good head of hair. We can train him up, β Coppola said. β Don β t forget despite having had his gall bladder removed, he β s still the best fuckin β Kung Fu Panda around. β
β True, but- β
β No, buts- β
I suddenly felt a fucking light bulb light up above my head. β Whatizname! β
β Who? β
β The liqueur was getting to me. My mental faculties had certainly been stronger. Then it came to me.
β Bore. β
β Bore? β Coppola raised an eyebrow in an almost Roger Moore way. β Oh you mean Bauer. Jack Bauer. β
β Yeah, β I almost shrieked. β Jack fuckin β Bauer. He β s perfect for this mission? β
β Fuck Bauer, β Coppola said. β I gave him twenty-fours to get back to me and did I hear from him? β Coppola drained his glass and slammed it on the desk. β The fuck I did. β
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[ WP ] Our first interstellar ship exits the solar system , only to be confronted by a border-guard ( more inside )
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The cottage I grew up in was built between mountain and rock, but the stars were always friendlier to me. I could sit all night watching their clear, unpolluted voyages across the skies. Interstellar guardians patrolling the cosmos and calling to those who would adventure towards these tiny specks of flame millions of miles from home.
This was n't my home in the mountains but I found it just as peaceful. When I slept I could disable all the LEDs on the dash, leaving me alone with the giants and dwarfs, resting in only their light. Here it was always a night under the stars. I was on a one-man, one-way trip towards the edge of the dark unknown but I was anything but a lonely man.
`` Houston. Douglas here. Video log for day 4,381. Continuing at target speed. Shuttle showing no signs of malfunction or degradation. No new bodies since DF-132 on day 4,150. Out.''
I went through the procedure of sending the missive to Earth as I had done each day since I left the planet, coordinates included. The place must have changed a bit. They might have built a faster ship. Maybe in a day or two some other solo spaceman will float by, wave at me through the screen and continue past. I hoped not. I guess I would be famous now, too. Either as a hero or a fool. The whole world could be watching each of my video diaries each day, waiting eagerly for them to arrive. Would n't make for much interesting TV. Same time, nobody could be seeing them now. Did n't matter to me.
I ditched the lights, stretched out in the pilots seat and threw my hands behind my head. Slowly my eyes adjusted to the blackness of space, and once again I could make out each and every one of my interstellar companions. Big, small, bright, dim, red, white. When you really sat there for a few minutes, they come out. Start to trust you, like frightened animals. I shut my eyes and said goodnight.
A light had come on. I blinked. It had n't been lit since I was grounded on Earth. The ship was dead in space. Not moving anywhere, after staying the same speed for twelve years. There was quiet, as always but for my breathing the recycled oxygen. I hit the power for the display and the bridge was light again. My instruments were the same but for the one tiny light. I looked outside.
The stars had shifted. They were not the same as when I had fallen to sleep. They were arranged unlike anything I had seen in my voyage but there was a glimmer of recognition about them I could n't place. My friends had changed clothes on me, disguised themselves while I rested. I squinted at this new sky. Then the silence was broken.
`` Human.''
There was nothing on board which could have made the sound. No speakers. No radios. I never needed them. My diaries never played back.
`` Human. Speak.'' The voice was high pitched and electronic.
`` Hello.''
`` You are human. Is this correct?''
The voice remained flat when it asked the question. I could not tell where it was coming from. I nodded.
`` Thank you.''
The thing had seen me nod. I swung the seat around but there was nothing behind me.
`` Did you stop me?''
`` Yes, Human. We are also responsible for your relocation.''
`` How far have I been moved?''
`` You have been turned back the way you came. There were locations which we would not allow you to see.''
The familiarity of the stars now made sense. I had never seen these systems from this side.
`` Who am I speaking too?
The voice answered rapidly to every question. `` A guard.''
`` Of what?''
`` A civilization and its worlds.''
I had observed no visible planets for years. `` How far from these worlds are we? I have seen none.''
`` Close. You have seen them from afar.''
I nodded once more. The voice continued.
`` You are to be left to die, Human. There is transmission equipment on board your vessel. Our location must not be compromised.''
`` Ok.''
`` Your vessel will be disabled. Goodbye, Human.''
I sat in the silence for several seconds before the lights in the bridge once more turned dark. I would breath out the oxygen in a few hours with the power out. Out the screen were the stars I had not seen for a very long time, left behind by the front-facing spacecraft. I flipped the map I had in my head, naming the largest I could see out loud.
`` TC-135. White. TD-3094. Red. DE-321. White. DW-091. Blue.''
I could have named them anything. I found them. I was the only human they had ever known, and now they were to watch me die.
`` Hello?''
`` I am here, Human.''
`` Do you live on the stars?''
Finally the voice paused.
`` Yes.''
`` What are they like?''
`` They are home.''
`` Thank you.''
My ship floated among the warm blackness of space, being lit by the distant light of my fiery giants. Eventually it became hard to breath. It did n't matter. I was sitting at the top of man's greatest rocky mountain, basking in the gifts of the greatest climb we had ever made. The lights were off, I was with my friends.
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[ WP ] You are trying to politely ward off a very anxious Jehovah 's Witness that keeps insisting that God is coming . He/she finally looks down the street , and says , `` seriously He just turned the corner ! '' You look and see a glowing white Cadillac with dark tinted windows .
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It was 8am. Closing my front door shut I reached into my pocket for my keys, when a short slender blonde woman approached me.
`` Excuse me?''
`` Morning miss! Can I help you?'' I asked, locking my door and heading to my car which I had parked at the curb.
`` The Lord has arrived. He has come to judge you.''
Dear lord, I thought. `` I do n't have time for this. I have to go.'' I reached my car. As I opened the drivers side door.
I hear her scream.
`` He just turned the corner! You will be judged for your sins!''
I turned towards her, the car door ajar, with me behind it.
`` Look lady you should bother somebody else with your bullshit. I do n't have time for th-''. Everything went black. I could feel the pavement of the sidewalk on my face.
I felt like I was floating away. Except I was going down. I did n't see any light. I felt this hot warmth all over. Where was the light? There was supposed to be a light, right?
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[ WP ] Last Song you Listened To
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The air itself groaned. The clanking and crashing noises were deafening. Only after I put my hands over my ears did I realize where the noise was coming from. The cement walls around me were closing. I look back and realize that the door behind me is locked. The walls were drawing closer and closer, reaching to drag me into the afterlife. I run forward as fast as I can. The walls close in. My feet are almost tripping over themselves in the haste. The walls close in. I think I can see the exit. The walls close in. I can see the exit.
The walls get so tight that they begin rubbing against me shoulders as I ran. I knew that if I stayed in this position, my shoulders would be broken. I began to shuffle forward sideways. The exit is mere feet in front of me. I'm so close. So are the walls.
'Too close,' I think to myself as the walls immobilize me and continue squeezing.
**Too Close by Alex Clare. **
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[ WP ] Write in the POV of the nicest guy at a party , except he is internally repulsed by everyone he 's talking to
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`` Rick, we're SO glad you could make it tonight. Ah, perfect you brought a dish! LINDA! Linda sweetie will you put this on the table with the rest of them? Rick, come in I do n't want you standing there all night!''
That was Todd, what a delightful piece off shit he was tonight. Usually he would already be talking about himself at this point, but the Valium must've taken his thought process other places. Parties usually were n't my thing, but lately I've been feeling a little lonely.
Todd exclaims to the party, as if they ca n't fucking hear his awful voice anyway `` Look who showed up tonight!!'' Great, my fucking queue. I look around the apartment, it seemed different this time. Modern, with tan undertones everywhere, the crowd i was looking at looked like a sea of white jizz against the decor. `` Hey guys!! I'm happy to be here and see everyone tonight.'' It took me less than a millisecond to tune out the mundane ass-hat replies they had for me. I was here for one damn reason: to have fun.
An hour passes, drinks are going and the food table looks like a human was flipped on their back and gutted. I brought some meatballs but I munched on veggies the whole night. Oh fuck I'm getting real tired of th-'' Hey!! Chance, doing wonderful as I can see. Oh my, is that a Gucci scarf you have on??'' Fucking Chance. `` Yes it is, my you have an eye. How are you darling??'' About halfway from seeing if I can survive this plummet to the ground if I throw my body out of the window. `` I'm beyond perfect tonight. Really lovely party.'' Chance says, `` Hurry darling, everyone's clearing to the rec room, you do n't want to miss it.'' I now notice the living room was empty, and Chance leads me to the faithful double doors, grabbing both handles like a pretentious cunt she is, and swinging them wide open.
It did n't take me long to get hard, but keeping it up for these FUCKING mongoloids is a beast in itself. `` Oh darling do n't stop pounding me from beh-'' Chance tries to finish saying as I shove her face into a silk pillow. Fucking shutup. No one here I hated more than chance. I look around the rich, utterly boring, fucking their brains out. That would be rich, I might actually crack a real smile, seeing Todd fuck so hard his brain fell out.
`` Rick, hey rick you want in on this!!?'' Damon yells across the room as he sprays canned whip cream over his testicles with 3 faceless Mongoloids. Calling out across the room is a lot, coming from his emphysema having ass, fucker ca n't even hold his breath long enough to rinse his hair under the shower. `` I'm alright Damon!'' Oh right, I was balls deep into Chance still. Shit her head is in the pillow still. Definitely not breathing, my prayers are answered.
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[ IP ] What story comes to mind when you see this image ?
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Her feet were sore and blistered, her head heavy, her dress torn and dirty from the journey. But she had made it. She had found the edge of cliff, and just in time. Twilight was upon her.
She took the coin from her pocket. It was small, but heavy for its size, a tiny disk of gold that, if you held it at arms length above your head on a sunny day, looked like a little second sun itself. On its surface were two crossed bundles of wheat, and a little'100' beneath them.
She stared at it in her palm for a bit, as the sun sank beneath the cloudy horizon in the distance. When twilight had finished falling, she tossed it into the clouds and closed her eyes.
She could n't hear the Angel spiral up from the depths. But she could feel the breeze.
*'' You dropped this. `` *
She opened her eyes. The snakelike thing had extended one of its slender arms; the coin rested in its clawed palm.
`` You can keep it.''
*'' This is a month's worth of bread. This is life itself, old woman. `` *
`` Which is why I offer it. Will you hear me, now?''
*'' All right. Why have you called me? `` *
`` It's over. I want to end it. I want to live again.''
*'' You live now. `` *
`` I *exist*, but that's not the same. It was good, it was fun, for the first few years. But people noticed. And so I had to leave, and find a new home. And I was happy there, for a few years, but it happened again. And again, and again. I make friends, I make a home, I love, and then I have to drop it all and run away. That's not life.''
*'' You desire a companion, then? Someone who could come with you? `` *
`` Now? No. It does n't work like that.''
*'' Meaning? `` *
`` I have aged. On the inside, I mean. The things that mattered to me when I asked for this seem so trivial now. Beauty, wealth, energy. They're nice enough, I guess, but they have their time, and then you get sick of them. My body does n't match my mind, and that makes people uncomfortable. I ca n't make new friends. So there is no one left to come with me.''
*'' What about your place of birth? `` *
`` Dead. Or they did n't recognize me. I ca n't blame them.''
*'' This is still not the only option. There must be one of your kind who will understand. The world is a big place. Bigger than you think. `` *
`` I could n't do that. I could n't wish this upon anyone. It would ruin them.''
*'' Neither of you would be alone ever again. `` *
`` That's not right. We'd just be alone together, forever. Because you lose yourself, you know, after a while. It hurts less and less each time.''
The Angel had no response. It peered down at her, with its massive, porcelain face.
*'' You creatures are so strange. You are not simple at all, really. `` *
`` We're confused. We do n't know what we want until we're too weak to take it.''
*'' It is done. Goodbye, Abigail. `` *
The wind whipped around her, and the Angel was gone. Her joints ached. Her limbs felt fragile. She felt tired not just in spirit now, but in body. The sensation had a comforting correctness to it.
The old woman slowly stumbled down the path, back the way she came.
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[ WP ] You wake up and everyone except you is deaf .
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Hello. It is currently 3AM.
The most ideal time to scavenge my next day's meal. I turned on my Bluetooth speakers slung over my shoulders and began to blast some Rise Against.
Music had become a contraband since the incident over ten years ago and whole collections of once considered musical geniuses were burned and disposed of. I saved a few copies of several piano concertos by my favorite composers. Copies, but undoubtedly one of the few left in the world.
Besides, **they** could n't hear anyways.
*A hero of war. Yeeeeah, that's what I'll be... *
I hummed along as I briskly ran through the alleyway. There were shards of glass everywhere and my boots made a loud **crunch** every step, but I knew nothing would catch me.
Or rather, they did n't know.
But at this point, it was routine.
My name is Andrew Huntington, and this is probably the last diary entry I'll be able to write.
I am so very sick of living as what I am, but let me tell you a story. This is perhaps my only autobiography and I am realizing that the last memoir of my life is on a napkin. God, that sounds pathetic.
I was born in 1992 in Chicago. I was raised in the northern suburbs with a loving family and a wonderful environment. I was raised at an early age to play the piano, and I had simply loved it. I had a natural talent for the instrument and went out to my first competition at the age of nine.
I played a small sonata by Mozart and the required piece which was a ghastly fugue by Bach. I hated the piece, but God now I wish I could hear it once last time.
I was thirteen when the Deafening occurred. They call it the `` Aural Purge'' politically, since I guess people did n't want to think that they were being deafened.
Wars broke out on whoever was responsible. Political leaders were tried and executed until when I was sixteen, I was ousted as the culprit of this great incident. People were generally sympathetic towards my side, but once they realized that I was essentially the only one with hearing, they turned against me. Symphony and concert halls were demolished. Visual representation became the new way of life. There were signs everywhere that seemed rather silly to me, but was necessary for **them**.
People say that music is a culture of humans that will never die, that the sounds of nature are a blessing by the very hand of God, but all of that disappeared along with their hearing.
Sounds are contraband and I have been hunted down ever since.
People fear what they do not understand.
But what they will never understand is the pain I hear every day. A continuous drone of moaning and pain from the streets, from the places I sneak by. **They** think that they are happy, but the sound they make...
*It's horrifying. *
Though you who find this might never understand what this might all mean, thought you may never know what a Bach fugue sounds like, know this -
I do n't understand why my life will end in such a place like this. I never understood why'sounds' became bad.
But you of the future will never know what you have lost.
Fuck you.
Signing off, Andrew Huntington.
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[ WP ] The gods play games with humans , like Civilisation and Chess . One day , one of the gods discovers a new game : Cards Against Humanity
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`` Your turn'' said Zeus to poseidon
Poseidon already winning the game with his newly founded religion of `` Christianity'' after creating a unit called Jesus that could do everything he could, walk on water and create things out of water, like whine.
`` I found this in game in Ares basement yesterday, it's called card against humanity, I figured we could play it and directly involve it into the game?'' Poseidon asked
Both agreed that this could turn the tabled and Zeus started, the card on the table was
> _________ became president and overthrew the world governments
Zeus had the ace card, an evil character they both invented when drunk on red whine, ares was an evil fella and Zeus guessed he threw that card in, without any doubts they both played their cards
`` Haha! Two tone Malone `` Poseidon yells out in laughter, thinking he absolutely won this, `` my men of reddit will love this!'' He shouted
Zeus with a small grin puts his card, shimmering with evil,
`` Cool, but look at this'' he then pounded his card on the table, both froze as what evil had been done
> Donald Trump has become president
Soon the game shifted, as both looked at their globe at the center of the table, Mexico slowly became a police state, and Canada a new state, Poseidon decided he had enough.
`` You won this one you asshole, let's wait for destruction and start again''
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[ WP ] A cure for aging is discovered , and everyone past the age of 25 stops aging instantly . The final generation of elderly is fated to their advanced age forever .
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People stared just a bit too long at him everywhere he went. The few elderly who remained from his generation only made up 0.5 % of the population, but most people in the city had at least seen one before. It was n't enough for them to get used to it, though. It had bothered him for the first few years that he had gotten the stares. But he had realized what difference it made to his life: none. He would still visit the library every day and eat at his favorite diner, John's Pizza Grill, on his way back to his apartment.
John's was usually quiet in the late afternoon when he tended to visit, so it was n't a surprise that the only person in sight was the owner's son, Adam. The grill was a simple affair, tacky tables and chairs with a small TV in the corner that always had the news playing in the background. The food it served was top-notch, though, and he appreciated the peaceful atmosphere.
`` Do you want the usual?'' Adam asked, and he nodded. No stares here; Adam had served him many times before, and he was a good kid.
He sat at the table closest to the front. Less distance to walk to get the food once it arrived, and he was close enough to hear the news while he waited. In the meantime, he checked his email on his iPod. Apple was n't nearly as prominent as it used to be, now that all the kids were using the latest auditory cortex implants to get their mail read to them in their heads or even implanted assistant AIs running on neuro stem cells to sort out the spam for them. But there were still a few old fogies like him who preferred tactile feedback, and it was enough to keep the company afloat.
Adam called his name, and he got his food. He was halfway through the chicken burger when he noticed that Adam was next to him and was saying something.
`` Hey, do you mind if I ask you something?'' Adam said hesitantly.
His mouth was still stuffed with chicken, but he took a hand off of the burger to point at the seat opposite to him. Adam sat down, and he swallowed and put the burger down.
`` What did you want to talk about?'' He asked. He'd talked to Adam before, of course, but it was just small talk. They'd never had a real conversation before. But it was n't like there were any other customers there, and he could use the company.
`` Well, it's just that my girlfriend has grandma. Well, a great-great-grandma, really, and she was old, like you.'' Adam fumbled with the words at the end. He looked awfully embarrassed. Should n't have bothered, really, his skin was too thick to take offense that easily. `` Anyway, I just wanted to know, does it hurt?''
Most people assumed that it did hurt, he knew. That was half the reason he got the stares; he was a living reminder of the days back when humans suffered from real pain, before the implants were there to dull it after it stopped providing useful feedback. Of course, it was too risky to insert those implants into anyone his age.
`` No, it does n't. It did at first, when the Eden project was still new. But most of the causes were cured a few years after that. Did you know that people could get terrible joint pain just from using their hands?'' He cracked his knuckles. Adam stared. `` It was called arthritis. And we might not be able to get full implants like you young people, but we still have drug capsules in our veins. That takes care of the rest of it.''
`` But, what's it like being old?'' Adam asked.
Now he was puzzled. `` What do you mean? Do n't you have parents? I thought everyone was waiting until eighty to have kids these days.''
Adam tilted his head, looking equally confused, but then his eyes lit up. `` Oh, no, I mean actually old. Like, over four hundred.''
He smiled. `` Well, I would n't want to ruin the surprise.'' Adam frowned, and he laughed. `` Well, I will tell you that it's not as bad as you're thinking. Young people always think it will be terrible. Even I used to think that way. I even thought I would die, and yet I'm still here.''
Adam nodded, accepting it, and just sat quietly and watched him while he finished his burger. He nearly choked on the last bite when he heard something entirely unexpected.
`` Breaking news,'' said the voice from the TV. `` The NIH has just announced that a new drug to reverse aging has been approved. Now the first generation to receive the cure can be young again. The NIH expects promising results in assisting the reintegration of the so-called `` Ancients'' into mainstream society...''
He turned back to face Adam, whose eyes were unfocused, the telltale sign of someone viewing something via the implant link to their visual cortex.
`` Talk about good timing.'' Adam said a few seconds later, his eyes snapping back to meet his gaze. `` I guess it does n't matter after all.''
`` I do n't know about that,'' he said, sipping his drink.
`` What, you're not going to use it? Would n't that make things harder?''
He thought about it some more, but he realized that his mind had already been made up, maybe even before he'd considered the question. It would be easier. He'd be able to fit into society again, and no one would be able to tell the difference between him and someone who was `` only'' one hundred years old. No more stares. He could even get those fancy implants.
He shrugged. `` Maybe. But I'm used to this body. And I have all the time in the world to change my mind if I need to.''
Adam smiled. `` That's true. Well, you're always welcome here anyway.''
`` Thank you, Adam.''
When he left the diner, he walked a little faster, as though he'd been carrying a weight around for three hundred years and was finally free.
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[ IP ] Traffic
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Schedule
Sadie sat behind the wheel of her old Chevy, a sad excuse for a vehicle she picked up for under a grand at rundown old car shop in the country. She loved it out there, the open roads, the clean smell, the rolling hill, and the infinite horizon. She thought about leaving for sometimes. Dropping everything and driving out there with all she could carry, just her, the Chevy, and the open road.
Honk
Sadie knew what that signal meant. It was the routine sound that let her know it was her time to move up another few feet. Traffic always bottlenecked on this road. Ever since that joke of a mayor set forth his laughable plan he called Safer Streets. The plan made seven years ago to enlarge the streets and make more roads. An irony in itself, since the project started dozens of people had been injured, some crippled, Safer Streets indeed.
She peered out the window to the sea of colours that the cars painted the road, it was kind of pretty. She looked at the construction going on a few lanes over the noise she had grown accustomed to, the sight she had not. The trucks and machinery lined the side streets, producing an ugly and noisy spectacle. The mayor had promised the roads done within the year, she called bull. When she first heard the news that they would be fixing the roads and decreasing the transit time she was overjoyed. If you told her all those years ago that the commute time would increase, she would laugh you off. Now she β s lucky to get to work in under two hours.
Suddenly the sound off all the traffic and construction was unbearable to her. She cranked the window up and turned the volume up on the radio, a colourful piece of hardware that would come straight out of a ninety β s kids dream.
β Turmoil continues in the Middle East as the IS advances along Iraq, in other news Ebola has killed an estimated four-thousand people in Africa, a report from the CDC claims. What does this mean for America? That β s coming up later, but first a message from our sponsors. β Sadie clicked the radio off, she would rather bare through the mindless hum of traffic and construction than hear what else is fucked up with the east. At least she was safe in her Chevy.
...
Sam rolled the windows and tapped his cigarette out the window, he took another draw the tossed the butt onto the pavement, he peered into the rear view mirror to the car behind him. A girl sat in the front seat of a car that looked older than he was. It was a Chevy, one of the older ones with the blue logo instead of gold. She had black hair and a pretty face. Sam watched as she reached down to turn something off, a radio probably. If the circumstances were different he might have asked her out. He almost felt bad for her.
Almost.
He looked at the endless flood of cars in front of him, the infinite sea behind him, and the two lanes to either side of him. There couldn β t be a more perfect spot than this.
...
Sadie pulled up a few more feet, a few more feet to her job, and a few more feet to making it by another day. She wondered why she bothered. She was sinking in her student debt, working in an underpaid job that she did n't even go to school for. Sometimes she felt like she was just going to explode.
She turned on the radio again, maybe there would be some better stuff on now. β Now to traffic with Jake Mulley. β A news lady said. β Thanks Cindy, yes it seems that there is a little congestion on the sixteen east. Ever since Mayor Chambly β s Safer Streets plan was put into action that road has seen a little time impact. β β Little β, Sadie scoffed. β It also seems that police are trying to access the road, but seem to have trouble getting into the traffic, NewsCopter1 reports. β Sadie turned the radio up and looked around, she couldn β t hear any sirens, thought that was probably because of the noise. She adjusted her mirror and sure enough the cities β finest had their lights flashing a few miles back. β This is Tom Markova reporting from NewsCopter1 the police are trying to access the road, we are still shy of the details as to why the police want to get onto the road. There are no visible crashes or obstruction visible up here Jake. We β ll report back later with more details. β Sadie turned the radio low, it was probably nothing.
Probably.
...
Sam smashed the wheel. β Fuck! β He screamed. He wanted it to be quiet. It had to be quiet. Now the entire police force was on him. He looked into the mirror, the cops were out of their cars now, advancing on foot. They were toting their guns. They probably weren β t afraid to use them considering the payload he was packing. Someone talked, someone always talks.
Sam thought back to when he was a kid, when life was so much simpler. He played in the fields and ran in the grass. He loved it out in the country. He lived with his mother and father. They had a little ranch in the middle of nowhere. They grew their crops and raised their animals and no one bothered them. Not until they came. The government could n't survive without a few thousand dollars from a family living in the middle of nowhere. When they came knocking at the door and his father refused them, they shot him. Then they took him and dropped him into a house with a bunch of people he didn β t know. They said he was better off their. Bullshit. So Sam lived their life and played their game and made them happy. He had a nice education and learned their world. But he never forgot.
More importantly, he never forgave.
Sam looked in the mirror again the police were closer now. Checking faces, they knew what he looked like, that much was clear. It was now or never.
He stepped out of the car and took his jacket off, revealing the bomb that was strapped to his chest.
...
Sadie looked around her chair at the police approaching, they would be
at her car next. She turned back around and gasped. The driver in front of her was out of his car and taking his jacket off. Underneath was what comes out of a movie, he had a black vest on. With sticks of white plastered all around it.
What the hell was going on?
He had bushy brown hair, and a thick beard, he looked like an average guy. Everything except for his eyes, they were sunken and shadowed with bags to match. It looked as if he hadn β t slept in weeks.
He walked around to the back of his van and opened the door. There were all sorts of explosives in there, Sadie reckoned that the explosion would be tremendous.
The cops were there now, thank god. β Step away from the car! Get the fuck away! β One was yelling. He turned around and looked at them. His deep eyes staring into them. He reached into his pocket.
...
Alex was not ready for this shit. He was expecting some petty crimes, not this. He stepped up behind the Lieutenant. There was probably a ton of C4 in there. Probably more, where the hell did he get this shit? Alex wondered.
β I can make the shot sir! β Alex said to the Lieutenant, a sinewy man who took the term β as old as you feel β literally.
β Then shoot, Private! β The Lieutenant screamed. Alex lined up his aim,
he had the best shot at the station. He couldn β t miss.
He couldn β t miss.
He took aim at the man and fired. The bullet pierced his skull and left him dead before he hit the ground. Alex was relieved, that could had gone a lot worse.
...
Sadie saw it all unfold before her eyes, the cops, the man, the gun, the splatter. The look of relief when they saw him crumble to the ground.
She felt safe again, safe in her Chevy, nothing could touch her, nothing could hurt her. She felt safe until she saw the blinking light in the back of the van.
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[ WP ] Your vision fades in . You are surrounded by people looking at you . After a moment someone comes up to you and ask , `` Are you the Narrator ? ''
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`` Are you the Narrator?'' I heard. It was coming from a familiar face, but only familiar in my imagination.
`` What?'' I said.
`` Are you the Narrator?'' he commanded, fear and hate in his teary eyes. We were in a dark alley, moonlight reflecting off the kid's beads of sweat. I knew this place, I knew this scene.
`` Yes,'' I said plainly, the excitement starting to boil within. The boy had sheer horror and disbelief in his eyes. To this I only added, `` the prophecies were true.''
The boy stumbled back, mouth gaping open to mine, a wide grin. But I was met with an unexpected blow to my cheeks.
`` No,'' the boy muttered, `` no, no, no.'' I stood up tall in front of him.
`` I gave you your abilities, Ryan, and this is how you treat me?'' I said, flattered by the boy's horror. He was no longer the God I let him be. I continued, `` and it was in this instant, the horrified Ryan could only stare paralyzed as he was disappearing, vapourizing into thin air.''
Ryan could only gaze at the last bits of himself.
Omnipotence. I loved it. But I had thought this out long enough for me to create Ryan's world. What's the point of absolute power if you already ruled the whole world? What's the point of cheating in exams if you're already getting 100?
I did what I wanted Ryan to. He should n't have hit me, though, he should've realized even though he was practically a God, I was the God's Creator.
I blended in with the people, in my tuxedos and charm. I blended into the city, with my Lamborghini and private jets. I loved the life by a writer, way better than the life of a writer. If anything bad was happening, I could simply rewrite reality.
Until a great discomfort welled up within me one day. I could not put it into words, but it was the feeling of great loss. I should n't have these undesirable emotions.
People screamed as they saw me on the street. I longed to stop and greet them, but not today. The feeling was growing, and I just wanted to get away from all of this.
The people screamed my name, hogging by my car windows. Damn it. `` Not today, okay?'' I honked for them to step right away, but they did n't. Instead whines and pleads surrounded my car, and they would n't go away.
`` He was greatly frustrated. But he had a plan,'' I said. `` With a low, hurried voice he muttered,'the people were suddenly back to the roadsides, cheering behind roadblocks, leaving their hero free to go.''
I waited, but there was nothing. Must've been a plot hole. I said again, `` the people were suddenly ushered back to the roadsides by strict police, and they compiled, cheering behind roadblocks, leaving their hero free to go.'' The plot holes were appearing more and more frequently, I did n't feel that omnipotent anymore.
There we go. I revved my engine up, waving at my fans, but everything stilled when I heard something collide with my car. It was a puppy. What the hell have I done?
It laid in a pool of blood. This should n't be happening. The people gasped, and when I thought they were going to forgive me, scowled and yelled, driven by an anger that appeared out of nowhere. People are so sensitive these days.
`` The people had suddenly changed their minds and forgave their fellow hero,'' I said. Nothing happened. Damn it. `` The hero flashed his fans an irresistible smile, begging for forgi-''
My head smacked into the window as the car rocked violently sideways. Two dozen men were trying to topple my car. What the hell? The people had their eyes not only full of disappointment, now it was pure, obvious hatred.
There was no time to ask why, I smelled gasoline a moment before my fans, not fans - the mob was setting my vehicle ablaze. I stumbled out the door in shock, only moments ago they were cheering for me, now they drowned me in a flood of loatheful vulgarity.
I felt my hand being pulled when a swinging bat connected with my back. I cried out in pain, slowly screaming the question of what they were doing when I saw it. The road behind my car was filled with people, mangled and twisted, bloodied and dead.
What...?
My fist connected with the batsman and I ran, elbowing and smacking those in my way. Behind, hundreds were screaming their hateful roars, throwing whatever they had.
This is stupid. I did n't write this crazy amateur shit.
My foot was caught and I heard the loud crack when my skull smacked into the cobblestone. I kicked the stupid retarded kid who dared catch up to me.
A hospital was nearing upfront. I could lose the mob in there, but of course I tried cheating it. `` And suddenly, the mob was tired and lost interest in the ridiculous chase.''
I glanced back, but the mob was picking up speed. My feet burned and blood was trickling into my eye from my forehead, my back aching hard, but the chase was n't over yet. I went left, right, right again through the countless wards and rooms and stormed into one, catching my breath.
This was not right. I tried the wishing again, but nothing was working. I gasped and wheezed, but there was something even more horrifying. A group of nurses were attending to a young man over the deafening quarrel of the mob and guards outside.
The young man was waking up, his eyes fluttering into focus. The mob saw me through the windows and hammered on the locked doors, which could remain locked no longer. But on the young man's file read a name same as mine: Ryan.
Before knives landed on my back, fear and hate in my teary eyes, I could not help but ask his wide grin, `` Are you the Narrator?''
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[ WP ] After the moment you die , comes the thought .
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That feeling again, I remember it from the last time. Blood? Bleeding. I'm bleeding are n't I? Wait... no. I ca n't yet. There's still a few left. My god, so bright. I ca n't see a thing.
It's just white.
What's that sound? It's familiar and so calm. Water... the ocean. I'm by the ocean again. Those birds are chirping, god I hate birds. What in the world am I wearing? So clean and nice, I ca n't afford anything like this. Where am I? How did I get on this beach?
Wait today was something important. Today I have something to do. I ca n't just stand here. I have to...
`` *Errol. *''
Who said that?
`` *Errol. *''
That voice... I swear I know it. Yes that's it. I know her. She's why I'm here. Today is a special day. If I can just remember what exactly...
`` *Errol! There you are. *''
She's coming to me, is that her in the white dress. She looks lovely but... I ca n't quite make out her face. I ca n't recall her name else I'd call to her. That does n't matter I ca n't see her face I need to get closer. I ca n't see her... I...
Where did she go? Where did everything go. I cant see anything.
It's just black.
With a breathe I'm back to the dirt. The blood from my now last mortal wound still staining my shirt and the ground below me. I died again? That easily?
Get up you idiot, you still have more to do. You're going to let a couple of highwaymen cut you down like that? Well not that it matters, they can cut me down a thousand times and I'll still get back up. That's the whole point of being a Deadman.
I'd rather live each time for as long as I can than go through that one more time. That wretched beach and those squawking birds. I ca n't bare to face her again. I ca n't bare to try to see her face; or to try to think of her name. I ca n't suffer through leaving her on our wedding day one more time.
So I'll take each life I'm given... until I can remember what happened to you.
What happened to us.
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[ WP ] Hundreds of years after a nuclear apocalypse civilisation has reevolved to resemble medieval Europe
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`` All right, I'll give you a deal. You give me that shiny pendant on your neck, you've got yourself a pint.''
His gruff demeanor was n't helping this barter. Beard down to his shoulders, hair in shambles and a lazy eye. I'm not sure that he would have been any better with radiation, but he sure did n't need it to be unsightly.
`` Look, the standard rate is three a piece. No more, no less. That's what I'm saying.''
I placed the die on the countertop. All I wanted was a pint of ale. It was odd, using die as a form of currency. That was one thing that people could find for some reason, especially around these parts. `` Per Piece,'' is what we called them. And I still had to negotiate with these people... if you could call them that.
`` Nope, do n't work here. The standard in the outer area is five per piece. That pendant is worth a pretty two, so cough it up, or cough some more pieces.''
I scrounged my pockets. The coarse cotton that was manufactured around these parts was particularly heavy, and it had been raining that day. Scratching everywhere, I managed to find another piece.
`` Look man, it's wet outside, there's no one here, there no customers, I'm saying four per piece. That, or you steal my money, and I come back with the Guards.''
His lazy eye finally come around, making the effort to look down into my soul. `` Aye, four it is. No trouble with the Guards is a fine day to me.''
He poured the pint. The tankard was metal, but I did n't care. It was a sign of cleanliness, as hard as it was to believe. Pre-radiation era, we used glasses, but with the Reformation, using newly formed stainless steel mugs was the preferred option. Places that found old mugs on the ground or in other areas would often be contaminated, or de-radiated improperly.
I began sipping away at the foam. Bubbling on my upper lip, the stale beer began numbing my senses from the rough cotton.
I suppose life could be worse.
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[ WP ] Every person can only say 100 words in their lifetime . After which they will die . Write all of the dialogue for one persons life .
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'Sophia Proza RΓ³ΕΌyczka' [ -- - ] The click of the recorder, then silence. The buttons on the recorder, originally red, had been worn to a dull grey. As a child, she loved the sound of her name, played from her mother's recorder. The lilting softness of her words, the thick, velveteen accent that reminded her of the plush toys that littered the floor of her room. At 14, she recorded her own name. The first three words, preserved for eternity in a dull grey box.
'What's happening?' [ Polish ]. These words were lost forever to the night. She never received a reply.
'I am lost' [ English ]. No one spared a moment to look at the paper held out by a young woman, small and alone. Finally, after hours of waiting, she had to speak. Heads turned, and finally, some helped her find her way'home'.
'I love you.' The click of the recorder in the background again.
'I love you' [ Polish ]. Click.
'Are you OK?'.
'It's beautiful'.
'Hello, Kira Proza Watson'. Click.
'My kochanie.' Click.
'Goodbye, my kochanie'
'I'll miss you, darling.'
'It hurts'
'Where am I'
'My kochanie. You're here!'
'I love you.'
'It hurts'
'I'll miss both of you.'
'Goodnight.' She shifted in her bed, and fell asleep facing the window. She never woke up again. 48 words left. 48 opportunities she never took, saving words for a time that never came.
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[ WP ] A rapture like event takes place on earth . All religious believers are vaporized . Who has been left is the non religious . The arrival of a god like alien informs them of their circumstance . It tells them that their `` heaven '' is life on earth . They are all then gifted with eternal life .
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Many couples have different philosophies. Be it political, religious, or their idea of perfection, relationships have grown independent from similar beliefs. I never thought anything of it. So what if she was born a Christian and would die happily with her beliefs?
I was born Christian. My family was not strictly orthodox about going to church every Sunday, however for a long time I did believe that there had to be a being responsible for all of this beauty. Later on in life, I decided that there could not be a true `` God'' as stated in the bible, as that answer was too easy. I was always fascinated with the way that so many people answered their inexplicable questions with religion. The impossible questions, that is.
`` Why are we here?'' and `` What happens when we die?'' are the questions that interested me for most of my life. I even decided to dedicate my life towards looking deep into the past in an attempt to find any minuscule of truth supporting religion. I found nothing.
So, from an early point in my life, 32, I had deemed that there was virtually no evidence behind this so-called β God β figure that appeared in so many different religions. But even a pure atheist could not deny miracles. Miracles that cured diseases, brought the dead back to life, and turned the disobedient into sandstone.
Eventually I came to the ultimatum that there had to be some form of higher power than humans, but that it was not an all-seeing, all-knowing, ultra powerful being that brought this universe into being. For the first time in my life I thought what I believed to be true.
That β s when I met her. Light brown eyes, tan face, light brown hair. The most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and her name was the sweetest piece of language to ever grace my lips. She was the only woman to truly make my heart skip a beat. Her voice soothed my brain like a silky caramel, her words flowing and her English superior to those around her. I asked her out to dinner, and the rest was history.
Until the day the sky opened up and God himself descended upon the Earth. The extraterrestrial was the size of a large continent, floating above the world. Dark plumes of cloud-like substances engulfed his lower torso, if you could call it that. His upper body was the embodiment of an Achilles. The irony was that this is what a godlike figure would look like. His upper body was enormous, almost like a genie, but more of a gymnast. His entire body was lean and chiseled, the full bulk of his form coming from the dark purple haze surrounding him. His face was... a shadow. It felt as if I was trying to look at something in the peripheral of your vision. Impossible to completely focus in on.
His voice boomed, and everything else in the world ceased to make a sound. β I am the one who you humans refer to as β God β. Those who are of the theological beliefs are of the utmost unimportance in the universe. Your species had a human scientist at one point who came up with the theory of evolution. Now, I will show humanity the ultimate act of evolution. β
He vanished. Into thin air. Almost like a movie effect, he had simply dissipated in a cloud of smoke. What happened next in the world was surprisingly calm. The scientists at the time who were not religious had determined that all of the β deaths β were caused by something unknown. The causes were unknown because it was not possible to perform an autopsy.
I remember her face the most. The way her lips curved slightly at the edges, making her look mysterious. Her cheeks were plump and had dimples, which I remember mostly as smiling. Her eyes were a lighter shade of brown. Not necessarily to the point of being generic, but the cute shade. Her light brown hair flowed endlessly down her back, except for when it was in a bun. Her neck was thin and delicate, which always reminded me how fragile she truly was on the inside.
The way she had warmed my heart had been rivaled by no other person. I had dated before, in school, but no one could compare to the way she made me feel. We had our fights, like couples do, but what made us really unbreakable was the fact that we could always forgive each other.
The day of the anti-rapture was the worst day of my life. She was in my arms when she left. We had just gotten off of work on a Thursday evening. We had met up at home and were watching the latest episode of Vikings when a large thunderous roar shook the structure of our house. My wife and I simultaneously stood up and sprinted to the porch, where we witnessed the sky being lit up in a purple hazeβ¦
She was gone. No words. No farewell. No nothing. She had no say in it either. The way she looked at me after the message of the extraterrestrial displayed a face of pure horror. She had somehow come to the realization of what was about to happen, and was moving towards me as quickly as she could. Almost in a falling action, she vanished. One second she was on her way into my waiting arms, the next I was standing alone on the old wood panels.
Scientists were advancing technology at an extraordinary rate. Without the limitation of civil rights, drugs, vaccines, and new methods of surgery were developed almost overnight. Stem cell research was conducted and completed inside of a few months β time. But I had no desire for this technology.
I had no desire for material goods, possessions, or technologies. I only wanted one thing. I wanted my one and only love. My wife of 6 years who had been the only woman I ever thought of during that period. The future mother of my children was gone, because a being that decided to play God was a relentless and cruel piece of shit. I searched my soul deep. I found things that were simply not there before. Many would turn to revenge in this situation, but I found no solace in the thought of revenge. Revenge would not bring her back. The thoughts of what could have been -- no, what would have been, haunted me.
This proclaimed β Heaven on Earth β was no Heaven. How could it be Heaven if life had no meaning? It was worse when the fact that our β eternal life β was discovered. A man had tried to kill himself because his whole family was vaporized on that day. Almost like a bad dream, he could not do it. His body simply refused to take the bullet. Well, that idea was down the drain. I had originally planned it, there being no reason for me to live. What good is eternal life with no one to share it with?
So I sit here, writing the story of my wife, Casey. It still haunts me why I could never see the good in a being centered around human morals. I wonder what would have been different had I been vaporized during the anti-rapture. I am writing in hopes that the ones who vanished were not truly gone, just misplaced. I hope to find you one day Casey. I hope to see your face and breath in the scent of your skin.
No. I have to find you. I know I will find you. Space travel is the next to be developed further, and I know dimensional travel will come after. Eternal life means infinite time, which means infinite possibilities. That means I have to find you eventually. I β m going to find a way to get to you and get you back. Hopefully I can find God along the way, my angel.
In dire need of hope,
Jonathen
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[ CW ] Grab the nearest book , go to page 73 line 4
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A Game of Thrones, pg. 73, line 4, start of new sentence:
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Bran knew all the stories. Ever since he'd first been placed on the shelves of the supermarket, there were always whispers of what happened in the end. Of course, he could n't believe it. After all, who would do something like that? He'd been milled in a small farm in Idaho, where he was seperated out from the others and squashed down by machines.
He considered himself pretty worldly. He'd managed to get a window spot in the truck to his destination, and stared out of the small hole in the cargo container, watching as wheat playing turned into business coffee cups, carried by the large walker things.
That was the center of the whole myth. The walkers would come, grab you, and then you'd get *eaten*. Of course, Bran did n't believe any of the stupid stories. He got placed behind several others like him, and he made a few friends, mostly Mr. A. Jack, and Cap'n Crunch. They had a bit of a hoity-toity attitude, since they were sugared, especially Cap'n, but Bran did n't mind. It was someone new to talk to, apart from the ruder guys on the truck.
So he watched as the others in front of him went off with the walkers, and slowly got moved forward, trying to ignore the tales that Cap'n and Jack told him.
Eventually the day came. One walker came up, it's long tentacle-like protrusions running across the faces of everyone, eventually stopping on him. And he got pulled out. Seeing the ground below him, he shook slightly, feeling like he was going to open. The walker ignored that, dropping him in the metal cage with some other guys, from other parts of the store.
Striking up a conversation, he talked with the veggie next to him, who said his name was Kale.
`` So, Kale, do you know what happens? To us, in the end?'' Bran asked.
Kale thought about it. `` I was torn up from the ground and put in some wood box a while back. Do n't know much more. You might want to ask that guy, but he might have some beef with you.''
We both stared at the black container, wrapped up around some red material. Beef stayed quiet, not moving.
`` Well, I guess we'll find out.'' Bran said, preparing himself for the future before him.
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( WP ) You are in Heaven . Below you is Hell , where you see your ancestors . They call out your name . What unfolds in the conversation between you and them ?
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I never thought about how boring heaven could be, and the monthly flyover of hell never seemed right. It's like gloating. I hated some of those fucks from highschool, but I would n't wish hell on them. The worst is when I see family, some times in a pit of viscous maggots up tho their neck where they have to dunk their heads under every few minutes or one of the demonic boatmen would smash their face. I was horrified when I saw mom in some brutal rape dungeon, luckily, nothing had started yet.
I know they must be in hell for good reason, but it strikes me as a bit fucked up that god would make me witness all of this on some flyover mission. Then again, maybe God wants them to be able to see us so that their time in hell is n't so bad. Like they can vicariously know that some of their descendents made it and that gives them hope so hell wo n't be so bad.
I see grandpa. His legs are pinned to the floor by what looks like a giant man eating snail. He reaches towards me with tears in his eyes. I touch his fingertips and he whispers `` the cloud is the worst part of all of this.''
What the hell do you think he meant by that? `` I love you too grandpa, bye!'' Heaven keeps flying onward and the window in the cloud floor move away so we can no longer touch and I wave goodbye. He desperately shouts `` It just gets worse after time on the ground, son!''
That was weird.
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[ WP ] A massive alien spacecraft lands in Northern Africa . Inside is an inexhaustible supply of food . 30 years later ...
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`` Hello, America. I'm Joan Reynolds and this is WorldTalk. Today we have special guest Dr. David Grays, head of macroeconomics and Yale, here to discuss his controversial new book, *The Detriment of Charity*, which documents and discusses the thirty years since the landing of the *Altruist* and its effects on world economies. Dr. Grays, how are you?''
`` Lovely, Ms. Reynolds. Always a pleasure.''
`` Please, call me Joan. Now, your book, which is in stores now, has caused quite a stir. Can I read you some highlights of what critics are saying?''
`` That would be a treat.''
``'*Detriment* exceeds the coldness found in most economic texts... Grays is a reptilian, incapable of experiencing human emotion.' Another reads,'Grays is flawed in applying such a starkly capitalistic and cynical lens on the endeavors of the Altrusians... he ignores the incalculable good they have done to fit his fascistic narrative.' Dr. Grays, how do you respond to such harsh allegations.''
`` Well, I can hardly argue with being called reptilian. My numbers, however, are only expressing facts. The'good' done the the *Altruist* is very much calculable, and it does not outweigh the global economic cost it has caused.''
`` What cost is that?''
`` Well, Joan, allow me to explain. Africa, and the world economy as a whole, did not suffer from a lack of food in the first years of the twenty-first century. Quite the contrary, enormous stockpiles of corn were being sold below-profit, bolstered by taxpayer dollars. Africa was n't poor because its farmers had nothing to sell, it was poor because farmers were being undercut by plantation owners overseas. All *Altruist* did was inflate the issue. Similar to the Mexican economy during the passing of NAFTA, local farmers could n't sell their product when a cheaper alternative existed, and the North African agricultural economy collapsed, and with it the fledgling industry that existed in the area. You ca n't solve a complex economic problem by flooding the market with supply.''
`` You give a compelling argument, Dr. Grays, but it obviously has its fair share of critics. On the phone from Sweden is Dr. Leo Kraus, former economic aid to the White House and the head of the U.N. committee on Altrusian affairs. Dr. Kraus?''
`` Hello, Joan. David, how are you?''
`` Leo? Ha, it has been *far* too long!''
`` Getting to the point, David, your argument is not as open-and-shut as you make it appear. You neglect the long-term effects that the Altrusians' gift will have on an entire generation of peoples, lifted out of poverty and starvation. How can you estimate the human suffering that will be eased by the doctors, teachers, and political leaders of the future who no longer struggle to find food on a daily basis?''
`` Lifted out of starvation, and kept in poverty that is. Slums sprawl around *Altruist* for thirty miles in any direction. Doctors are spread too thin to treat even the most basic ailments. Neighborhoods that had free, public education three decades ago now have problems with controlling packs of wild animals and overflowing septic tanks. You ca n't argue that the North African economy is on the way to health or wealth without completely abandoning the available data.''
`` Grays, there is more to this than dollar bills and percentages. Education and freedom from want will have lasting, inestimable effects on the regions economy.''
`` They were feeding us that same line thirty years ago, Leo. What you may be forgetting from Macro-Econ 101 is that Keynesian Economics does n't work. In communist countries, after government bailouts, anywhere you see massive resources pumped, you shortly see systems buckle under stress and implode.''
`` Are you suggesting, Dr. Grays, that the children of Africa would be better off in perpetual starvation and poverty?''
`` Do n't put words in my mouth, Leo. What I'm suggesting is that *Altruist* is keeping Africa impoverished, and those effects are spread through the agricultural economies of the Middle East and Mediterranean now. Look, I've been accused of being cold, but forgive me if I do n't think'Gee, ai n't it great?' when I see sick, uneducated, and dying, albeit well-fed, children, wandering the streets of a slum with no hope or reason for leaving.''
`` Thank you, gentlemen, but I'm afraid we'll have to take a quick break. When we return, we'll examine the lives of farmers, industrial workers, and doctors who have been directly influenced by the *Altruist* in the three decades since its arrival.''
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[ CW ] You 're delivering your final words on your death bed to your loving spouse and only child . As you struggle to breathe , you may only speak using one-syllable words .
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I had lived a long life. I know that now. My mother told me my vitals spiked right before I lost consciousness. Of course, I do not remember this at all and I definitely do not remember slipping into a coma for three and a half months.
Over the last two years, through both cancer and a traumatic car accident I have been on death's door a total of two times. I remember seeing videos online of kids dying and waking up with stories of the white light. That was not the case for me.
`` Do not worry, he did not see Satan, his lair or any other hellish realm,'' my mother would tell her friends.
I know I will leave this world with a dimming light, a highlight reel of my life that ESPN's editors would be jealous of and a future of eternal darkness. I could be sad as so many are when they hear my story. It's so dark even the tabloids wo n't publish my story of climbing the cliff of death to reach the plains of life.
I am ready now. I saw the darkness. I hated it, denied it, accepted it and now I'll embrace it.
`` Mom -''
`` Do not struggle son, I know.''
`` I ca n't...''
`` Breath,'' she finished for me. She added, `` I know. Do not worry son, without darkness there can not be light. Go now, go and when I meet you we will find the light.''
`` I lied. I saw Hell. It is more than just dark; there is no God, there are flames and dark at the same time.''
*I want to say more, but that's the truth. There are no words I can add to that. I slip off to the fire that burns the air in the worst night one could live. *
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[ WP ] While attempting to create autonomous war machines , a drone/tank is accidentally equipped with the AI of a puppy .
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`` Right,'' said the man in the white robes as he finished programming the robot. Project FeXSpider, or The Spider as everybody in the lab referred to it, was near completion. The machine's name was appropriate to its appearance; it had a slim, disk-shaped body, and eight metal legs with magnetic properties. It also had a red visor that circumvented its body for *full 360 degrees vision*, Dr. Arcimides recalled how Leonard said the phrase as if he had struck gold, and *a state-of-the-art grappling hook. * It was n't a grappling hook though, Baston knew this, it was in fact an omni-magnetic nano-fulsi which attached itself to any surface, but all Leonard did was nod, smile and say, `` So a grappling hook?'' Dr. Arcimides dismissed the thought of Leonard, greatness was at his doorstep. Final testing was all that needed to be done. Dr. Baston Arcimides typed away, alone in the lab, the computer screen giving his face a blue tint. He smiled as he uploaded the final program, and with the Enter button held down, Project FexSpider came to life.
First, there was a sound, Baston recognized it, it was the boot sound. Then, the visor illuminated everything it faced, in full 360 degrees vision, mind you. And with a second noise that only a machine could make, it gave Dr. Arcimides the final confirmation. The Spider was on, and awaiting commands. Baston was still looking at it, lost in his machine. Then with a quick realization, he began inputting the codes for the first routine. After a good typing session, he held down Enter and turned to observe The Spider. The machine came to life, but its movement cycle was not like anything the scientist remembered. Instead of hovering up and down slightly, rotating its disk left and right, it was swinging its body forward and then back. *Odd*, but nonetheless a small bug. The second part of the sequence started. The Spider idled, and Dr. Arcimides watched in anticipation. However, unlike Baston's expected result, the machine began running in a circle and making a noise that quite resembled a bark. A look of confusion and disappointment plagued the scientists's face. He turned to his computer and reviewed the code, line by line. The machine in the background raised 2 legs and marked its territory by the hardware table. Dr. Arcimides found the problem, and it was n't his code, but rather the chip. *That was Leonard's department*, thought Baston. Furious, he took out his phone and dialled a number. The line rang, and it was the only sound in the lab other than the barking machine. A man picked up, groaning.
`` Baston?''
`` Leonard.''
`` Hey, uh, its 3:00 in the morning, man.'' Leonard said in a groggy voice.
`` Yeah, its about the project, it ca n't wait.'' Baston said with no trace of emotion.
`` Huh?'' Leonard sounded confused as he searched for his glasses and turned on the lamp.
`` You know, our project.''
`` Oh, of course, yes,'' Leonard said in a flash of clarity, `` I'm sorry Baston, I'm on a lot of those. You know, projects. Sometimes its hard to keep track of them all.''
`` I can bet.'' Baston agreed.
`` So why are you calling me?'' Leonard asked.
`` Do you happen to be working on any projects in relation to canines?''
`` Like dogs?'' Leonard asked again.
Baston felt something at his feet, The Spider clinged to him. `` Yes, dogs.''
`` Well, one of the departments wanted me to make this toy...'' Leonard said as he looked through his mind. Leonard came to a realization.
`` Wait,'' said Leonard, `` did-''
Baston cut him off. `` Yes, you exchanged the behaviour chip for The Spider and whatever your puppy project was.''
`` Oh no.''
`` Yep,'' said Baston, sounding now more tired and annoyed than frustrated, `` So can you get down here and fix this mis-''
This time Leonard cut *him* off.
`` Baston, the Puppy'N'Heart project was green-lighted a month ago, the chip is already in a million toys. And that's not even the worst part! Function three is part of the command board!''
Baston was worried now.
`` But,'' Baston interjected, `` function three needs special chemicals, none of which are in your dog toy.''
`` Those chemicals are?'' asked Leonard, his voice shaking.
`` Carbon Monoxide, Iron PyroSulfate, and Xenon dioxide.'' said Baston, with traces of smugness. There was no way these
chemicals would be in the stupid puppy robot. Unless...
`` Oh shit,'' Leonard said.
`` How long do we have?'' asked Baston.
`` The toys were supposed to be available at 12:00'' said Leonard, unable to find his voice.
`` Today, at noon?'' Baston asked, they still had time.
`` 3 hours ago,'' Leonard said.
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[ IP ] Blackout - Recharging
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They did n't roar anymore, the beauty of the open road was still there but it was somehow diminished.
I saw her standing in the rain one night, she did n't seem to care. The rain ran down her synth skin set to ride mode. Her bike, parked up against the charging station. I had seen these slowly replace the fuel stations that I grew up with, the electric bike she rode replace the petrol bikes I knew. In stark contrast to the bike and synth skin she was smoking an old fashion cigarette.
I saw all this from the other side of the station, dressed in my old leathers. She looked at me or perhaps at my bike. I was riding my old BMW, her plastic and polycarb opposite my rubber and steel. Time did n't matter we were in a private universe, sealed in by the rain. The rain ran off her synth skin like water off oil, her hair was snow white. Her face was a symmetry of shadow lit only by the glow of her cigarette.
The red light on her bike ticked to green just as my refuel was complete, My bike had been retrofitted to run on cleaner hydrogen. She put out her cigarette and disconnected her bike. My bike started with a roar that to her must have seemed rather anachronistic. She closed her recharge port, swung her leg over the bike.
Past and Present
Timeless and Finite
Electric and Gas
Polycarb and Steel
As we rode off into that rainy night I dipped my helmet and she did the same, we rode off into the rain decades apart we were as close as family.
*******
Sorry for the late reply im not in the country right now, poor network conditions, hope you read it and enjoy it. I ride and this was an awesome prompt Thank You
*Edit ( changed `` ride'' to `` ride mode'' )
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[ WP ] Write a poem describing your crush .
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Alright, well, fuck rhyming:
She does n't wear yoga pants or bland, expensive Uggs.
Her blonde hair is short. She ties it some way, though stray hairs fall in front of her eyes. She furrows her brow as she scrutinizes a book. She's beautifully focused. You know, she's kind of like an adverb. You ca n't always notice how beautiful she is, but when her eyes meet yours, and you note the rest of her while she passes you, you appreciate her. You do n't need to be a pervert to imagine her on top of you. Let's face it. You want to see the curves that she hides. You want to rest your hands on her waist. That's the end of it.
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[ WP ] Two interstellar soldiers , one an elite veteran , the other a recently enlisted medic , become stranded on the enemy home world .
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`` You did what?'' Commander Oates sat gawking at the young medic.
The Medic, Hahl, a brash young fool, rolled his eyes and leaned in closer.
`` I stole a ship - from the locals - they'll never know!''
Oates propped herself up further on her rock so she could get a better look at her lunatic companion.
`` The Makari will definitely notice if you stole one of their ships. How do you think we got so fucked during the Gestingthorpe Offensive?''
The medic pursed his lips at this woman.
This had been his chance to show himself as a true hero against the Makari, and all she could do was worry about *protocol*, and, `` their lives''.
Typical.
`` Look, I just wanted to get us off this rock, I thought you, of all people
would be happy.'' Said Hahl, scowling and folding his arms across his chest.
Oates glared at him.
`` If I wanted to killed by a megalomaniac,'' she seethed, `` I would have stayed on Earth.''
Oates winced as she pulled her broken arm in front of her face.
She punched a few keys and waited for the BEEP.
`` Commander Oates and Medic Hahl, requesting immediate assistance. Our convoy crash-landed on a routine scouting survery on the Makari homeworld. Please respond.''
Silence from her armor's transceiver.
`` Fucking thing is broken.'' she said, punching the ground with her good fist.
Oates took several deep breaths.
`` Did they see you?'' She asked after several silent minutes.
`` What?'' Asked the Medic.
`` The Makari - did they see your dumbass?''
Hahl screwed his face into concentration.
`` I do n't *think'' so.''
Oates huffed in irritation.
The thought of her dying here, alone apart from the medic with the death-wish, forced her to stand up.
`` Where is it, then? Where's this ship you stole?''
The Medic beamed and lead her from their small wooded clearing to the very edge of the forest.
There it stood, gleaming in the bright light of the planet's binary stars.
She had to admit she was impressed with the Medic.
She had expected a hover-craft or something without the capabilities of getting out of the planet's gravity well.
`` Not bad,'' She whispered as she turned to look at the Medic.
Hahl was n't there.
Where he stood was a Makari Acolyte, holding Hahl's holo-projector.
`` It's uncanny,'' spoke the Makari softly, `` how easily your species is decieved.''
`` What have yo done with Hahl?'' Asked the Commander.
`` She's gone.'' Smiled the Makari with three of it's four mouths.
`` He.'' Corrected Oates.
`` Of course, yes,'' said the Makari, `` I can never remember your genders. Not that it matters.''
Commander Oates faltered and stepped back, her back against a tree.
She made to grab for the gun at her side, but remembered that they had used the last powercell to keep them warm in the harsh Makari night, two days prior.
`` Do not fret, human,'' chided the Makari, `` You and your Medic will be back together again soon enough.''
The Makari stepped toward her.
`` Your deaths will mark a new era in the War our peoples fight.''
The Makari pulled an odd-looking saber from a sheath at its back and pointed it at the Commander.
`` You have the choice now, then,'' spoke the Makari, `` Meet your end with my blade or walk toward the frozen lands north of here and die honorably.''
`` I'd have your blade, you vermin.''
Smirking, however it is that Makari smirk, it stepped forward and with a few quick slashes removed the armored flight suit from Oate's body.
She was in a basic neuro-fiber skin-tight suit underneath all of her protective gear.
The Makari collected her things and tossed them into the entrance hatch of the ship Hahl had stolen.
She caught a glimpse of the medic's corpse, covered in blood and now in the remains of her flight suit.
The Makari stepped into the cockpit and pressed a few quick keys.
Oates watching through the main window, waited with bated breath as the Makari returned and stood once more in front of her.
The small ship took off almost as soon as he exited the vessel and they both watched as it flew a few thousand feet into the air before angling its trajectory down and kareened into a small near-by settlement.
`` What have you done?'' She breathed.
`` Ensured Makari victory.''
`` How?'' She asked.
`` No. You do not get that pleasure.''
The Makari stepped forward and turned her on the spot, pointing her north.
`` Continue in that direction,'' spoke the Makari, `` until you reach your life's end.''
Shaking, with nothing left to do, she swung her good elbow out to make contact with the Makari's forehead.
Stunned, the Makari let go of his weapon, giving Oates the leverage she needed.
She scraped up the knife which had fallen to the ground and with a quick motion rammed the blade through the alien's throat.
The Makari smiled as it died, its hand slipping away from the hilt protuding from her stomach.
Oates was losing blood but she stood on the spot and turned north.
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[ WP ] You ask your date , `` Did it hurt when you fell out of heaven ? '' . She looks at you with a confused look . `` I never fell out of heaven , who told you that I was your angel ? '' . It turns out she is your guardian angel .
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`` Did it hurt when you fell out of heaven?'' I cringed almost instantly as the words slipped out of my alcohol-muddled mouth. Fuck! The date had been going so well, at least until the waiter brought me the wine. I did't even know why I was there. I had n't had a date in almost 5 years.
`` Uh, I never fell from heaven. Who told you I was your angel...'' Aubrey trailed off. She flushed a bright red. `` Oh no. Oh shikes! I ca n't believe I messed it up now, after all this time!'' She put her head in her hands. I kept sitting, looking with a dumbfounded expression on my face as the beautiful woman in front of me began to weep. I felt incredibly awkward, and whenever I feel awkward, I drink. I gulped what was left of my glass, then poured another. As the next round hit me, my brain decided to start talking.
`` So, what's an angel doing dating a guy like me?'' I asked, semi-jokingly. Aubrey looked up, tears streaking her makeup. She sniffled. `` Guess the cats out of the bag now. I'm not a regular angel, Danny. I'm your angel.''
`` My angel how?'' I was beginning to think Robbie went to an asylum to find this chick. `` Did I do something special? Did God decide to get me laid?''
`` Danny, I'm your guardian angel.''
`` Why the hell-'' Aubrey stared daggers at me. `` -heck do I need a guardian angel for? What are you going to protect a high school janitor from?''
`` Yourself, Danny.''
`` What's that supposed to mean?''
`` Your alcoholism, Danny. I'm here t-'' Rage bubbled up inside me. I stood, knocking my chair flying.
`` What the fuck is this? A sick joke? An intervention? Did Robbie put you up to this? Ooh, I swear when I get my hands on his scrawny fucking neck-''
`` Danny!'' She put a hand on my arm. I threw her off. Aubrey fell to the ground.
`` Shut the fuck up, bitch! You do n't know shit! Do n't ever fucking touch me again!'' I turned, fumbling for my car keys. I felt her hand touch the sides of my head and-
I was sitting on my porch. Bottles were everywhere. I could n't move, I could only look around. I saw a figure walk over to my car. When he opened the door, I saw it was myself. Tears were streaming down my face as I chugged a bottle of whiskey.
`` Remember this?'' Aubrey was suddenly sitting next to me. `` Eight years ago. Three weeks after Julie died.''
Julie.
I saw her in my mind. Flowing chestnut hair, eyes that sparkled with mischief. Her voice, smooth a silk. Her body, the way it moved against my own. I remembered her excitement when she showed me the pregnancy test.
I remembered the truck that went through a red light and took my beloved Julie.
My past self was in the car, trying to crank it.
`` You were trying to catch the train. You wanted to end it all.'' Aubrey said.
`` Why did n't you let me?'' I said, holding back tears.
`` It was not His plan.'' She replied.
We were in my house. I saw myself, again, seated in front of my TV. Static hissed as I raised the revolver to my head.
`` Five years ago.'' Aubrey said.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Every bullet was a dud.
We were on the subway platform. I was standing, my toes on the edge, waiting for the subway to come so I could jump.
`` Three years ago.''
Someone pushed me out if the way of a heavy suitcase that had rolled away from it's owner.
We were back in my house. I was standing on a chair, a noose around my neck.
`` One year ago.''
The rope snapped as I kicked the chair away.
We were in the parking lot of the diner.
`` But... why?'' I said. `` Why save me?''
`` Danny, God has chosen you for the things you will do. He has crafted this elaborate stage play, and He alone knows how it ends.'' Aubrey looked away, then looked back. `` I have a message.''
`` From who?'' I knew who it was even as I said it.
`` Julie.'' Aubrey took a deep breath. ``'Fight the good fight, my Danny boy. We'll be together again, someday.''' Then Aubrey kissed me, but I knew it was Julie's lips, not my guardian angel's.
The next week a madman started shooting at my high school. I managed to distract him long enough to get the kids out of danger. As he put the gun to my head, I heard Julie's voice call out to me.
I'm coming, babe.
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[ WP ] You work at HR . It 's your job to interview prospective henchmen on behalf of your supervillain boss
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`` Hey there. Hey. How you doing?''
Bubba took the interviewer's proferred hand in a gargantuan mitt and shook it limply. His suit, an XXXL custom-tailored to fit his frame, was still a size or two too small, and the superfluously-padded shoulders leapt skyward when he extended his arms.
`` I'm having a wonderful morning, thanks,'' said Bubba. `` How about you?''
`` Oh, fine, fine. Busy day! Lots of interviews. When there's a recession our applications go up five hundred percent.''
`` I can imagine,'' said Bubba, who'd been laid off several months ago, and whose dire financial straits had recently reduced him to drinking an off-brand liquid food product called Boylent. Whereas Soylent ( the quote Good Stuff unquote ) was a grayish beverage that tasted like Play-Doh, Boylent had a queasy green tint, and tasted like the ground crickets that were its primary ingredient. A few weeks of that had been enough for Bubba to abandon all scruples and apply to any and every position he could find.
`` Well, time's a wasting, as they say, so let's go ahead and get into it, shall we? Wonderful. Bubba, why do you want to switch from a promising career of --''
The interviewer consulted his notes, pushing his glasses up on his nose with a knobby finger.
`` -- veterinary assistant -- wow, that's not one I see very often! Tell me about that!''
Bubba shifted in his tiny chair, which groaned in protest.
`` I like animals,'' he admitted.
`` You like animals! Fantastic! Well, that's just fantastic. You know, Dr. Spleen likes animals, too!''
`` Does he?''
`` Why, yes! He has a full aquarium, you know, in his secret base. Sharks of all kinds. A giant squid. Oh, and a pit of lions, kind of a biblical thing, you know? He just threw a spy down there last week... the way I heard it, the man was slated for a simple firing squad, but then Dr. Spleen found out that his name was Daniel... Daniel Craig, I think it was... anyway it was just too perfect, so. Off to the lions with him! Ha ha.''
`` Ha ha ha,'' said Bubba, sticking a sausage-like finger in his collar and tugging.
`` Likes... animals,'' said the interviewer, scratching away on his pad.
`` I am a hard worker,'' said Bubba, `` and Dr. Spleen is my favorite supervillain, so I would be honored to, like, work under his magnificence --''
`` Let me just stop you right there, Bubba. What was that I heard
you say? Did I hear you say'Supervillain?' Because I know that a
fine applicant such as yourself, which such fantastic
qualifications, would never have made such an error as to call Dr.
Spleen, whose credentials as a Super*hero* can hardly be cast into doubt --''
`` Right, of course, sorry, a slip of the tongue --''
`` Wonderful, just wonderful. Well, Bubba, I'll tell you what, I like the cut of your jib, if you get my meaning, the breadth of your sails, the girth of your poop deck -- but enough with the maritime comparisons, here --''
The interviewer stood, his chair scooting back with a screech, and Bubba, wincing, stood as well. They shook hands.
`` Tell you what, I do n't have any further questions, do you have any questions for me? Great. Look, sit tight, we'll give you a call in a couple of days.''
`` Thanks, sir, I appreciate the chance.''
`` Sure you do, big guy. Alright. Off with you, then. And would you mind sending the next chap in? The one with the chrome-plated teeth? Thanks. Thanks much, bud. You'll be hearing from us!''
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[ WP ] A world in which spells are created like code .
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Changelog for Lead2Gold.spl:
3/14/1435: Initial commit. Analyzing elemental structure, identifying lead atoms. No transmutation yet.
3/22/1435: First transmutation attempt, using AlchemyLib 2.0. Really glad there was an off-the-shelf solution!
3/23/1435: Second transmutation attempt. Extra sanity checks to try and avoid blowing up the alchemy apparatus again.
3/29/1435: It turns out AlchemyLib has a long-standing bug that it ca n't transform heavy metals like lead. It's classified as `` Wo n't fix,'' the developers say it was built for gaseous transmutations and they'd need a complete rewrite to handle general materials. Would be nice if they'd actually *documented* their spell instead of letting me find out when my transmutation circle explodes!
4/3/1435: Handwritten metallic transmutation. Hope this works.
4/4/1435: This version should squash that damn energy release bug once and for all.
4/5/1435: GOD DAMN IT WHY DOES THE TRANSMUTATION CIRCLE KEEP EXPLODING?
4/8/1435: Hardcoded the transmutation logic. It'll only work on the exact block of lead we're using in the test case, but the client wants a demo now. I'll go back and work out the general case later.
4/12/1435: More hardcoding. I've made a `` database'' of transmutation patterns, maybe I can generalize from there?
4/15/1435: Putting in some illusions to make the transformation look cooler. They keep wanting to kill the project and reassign me to work on Fireball.
...
6/16/1436: What *idiot* wrote this? The transmutation is some unholy kludge of alchemy and atomic manipulation, with half the instructions hardcoded and the other half full of bugs, with a database in there for no reason. There's some so-called `` defensive code'' that's interfering with any attempts to do the transmutation properly, but when I comment it out the transmutation circle fucking *explodes*. Oh, and it has a gaping security hole - the inner circle is completely un-warded, so any idiot with a piece of chalk can hijack your alchemy apparatus.
Screw it, I'm throwing the whole thing out and rewriting from scratch. I hear AlchemyLib 3.0 is good for this sort of thing...
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[ WP ] A first person story of someome writing their suicide note but throughout their memoirs and recap of their struggles they find all the reasons that they actually want to live .
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~~*I assume you're reading this in hopes to figure out why I actually did this, or maybe looking for answers, asking,'What did I do wrong?'. *~~
`` No,'' I mutter under my breath, `` I do n't like that. Maybe I'll use it later.''
~~*To whom it may concern. *~~
`` Nope. No-ope'' I whisper, crossing it out, then ripping a new page out of the notebook.
*I honestly do n't know how to start this, it seems. This will probably come as a shock to you, but hopefully it can help you find solace. *
*I do n't expect you to miss me, this is just proof as to why I should die. I do not want a funeral, with the people I call'friends' and those who I have been told are'family' bathed in black. Nobody should suffer on my accord. The only thing I ask is that I be cremated. Spread my ashes, or bury them far away so nobody will remember me. It's better that way. *
I blink, my eyes peeling away from the page. `` Good,'' I mumble, `` Being honest is good.''
*I guess I can start from the beginning. * I write down, the scratches on paper being the only sound in my room.
*When I got accepted into University, I felt so happy. I was finally going to do what I wanted, finally. I remember how difficult it was to get in, how confused I was when I was applying. My first day was the most exciting day of my life, when I finally got to see my dorm and meet my roommate. He was great, and helped me through that first year like nobody else. *
I lift my pen, my mind going back to the late night studying and constant cram sessions. We used to stay up for hours laughing, and I could n't believe how lucky I had been, getting him. I feel my lips curl at the memory, the first genuine smile in what seems like months, maybe years. Shaking my head, I allow my eyes to gaze to the bottle beside me, reminding me why I'm here.
*Do you know what it's like to walk in on your best friend lying dead on the floor? The way his body slumped against the porcelain, his skin a deathly blue. The white tiles almost matched his skin colour. You keep expecting a breathe, for them to move or... I share your pain, your shock, in finding me. He took a stomach full of pills, the same ones I'm about to take. It's a tribute to him, in a way. A'thank you for everything'. I miss him a lot, his smile and laugh, his jokes. Go see a therapist, if you're reading this. It eats your from the inside if you do n't. At least I have the decency to leave a note. *
`` Maybe that's what you need, heh?'' I say to myself jokingly, my gaze lingering.
*After that, I do n't really know where my life lead. Sure, I could get any girl I wanted, but I did n't want that. I never wanted that. I barely pushed through my second year of university. I mean, yeah, it was only a Creative Writing major, but there's only so many ways you can speak about death. I'm in my fourth year now, and they do n't take that shit anymore. *
`` And there's only so many times you can watch the Professer hand you back an A.'' I tell myself, wanting somebody to be beside me to share all of this with.
*I was dating this girl, you know. She was absolutely beautiful, and brilliant. Fucking brilliant. We dated for fourteen months. You'd think, after fourteen months, I'd feel something more than friendship. I know she did, but I just played a role. Her kisses were perfect, her body even more so. I miss her, you know. *
I push my eyes away from the paper and stare at the page. `` Is this really what I want somebody to read? You really did have the time of your life with her, remember? The way you fit each other perfectly, even when you broke up.''
Some days she'd just lay her head on my shoulder for hours, all cuddled in with me and watching television. Nothing sexual, just... Normal. Happy.
*Maybe I'm insane for hating it, I mean, my parents said I am. The ones who raise you, the ones who are supposed to love you no matter what. What happened to them? *
*What happened to me? *
*I guess now is the time to reflect, is n't it, before I ca n't reflect any more. I broke up with her, and found myself lost, I guess. I could n't move on from anything. My roommate, my ex. His body against the sink, her body against mine. Piece by piece, I started to fall apart. I thought I knew my life plan, albeit a thin one. I mean, who the hell gets a job in creative writing or journalism. The lucky ones. I have never been lucky. *
I finish the sentence and pull back, realising what I just wrote, repeating the phrase to myself over and over. `` I have never been lucky.'' I feel my body turn to the bed behind me, and stare at the figure in it, the blankets rising and falling with his breathing.
`` I have never been lucky.'' I whisper at the body, feeling the words fall meaningless out of my mouth. I look back down at the scribbled, untidy paper in front of me. Closing my eyes, I steady my pen, not knowing whether to continue or not. My fingers let go of the pen, the sound of it dropping almost painful to my ears. I open my eyes quickly, and in a frantic spurt of energy, crumple up the letter. Ripping it, shredding it, and crushing it in my hands.
I pick up my notebook, and pick up the pen, carefully, avoiding any extra sounds, suppressing the want to scream in frustration.
*Do you know the feeling of being in love, but not wanting to be in love? I'll hurt him. I'll hurt me. I do n't want to do this, and I do n't want to live this anymore. Nobody seems to understand, but then again, how many people do I tell? I lost my family, and my friends, all for him, and is my life any worse in the long run? No. It's better. I've lost everything, but I've gained something and I'm still fucking worse. *
*Killing myself is n't the answer, I suppose. I do n't know if I can leave him alone, just like my roommate left me. No. I ca n't live like this either. I love him, I really do, but I still feel so wrong, so gross and unnatural. I do n't know who I'm talking to anymore, who I'm telling. Maybe no one, maybe someone. I do n't know. I just do n't know. *
`` Fuck.''
***
www.thearcherswriting.wordpress.com
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[ EU ] Before Bruce Wayne 's death , he created an artificial intelligence in a robotic Bat-Suit to protect Gotham in his absence . Eighty years later , the AI has turned against Gotham . A team of gifted teenagers take on the robot while branding the costumes and themes of Batman 's former enemies .
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It leapt into the air, wings as dark as night, eyes as red as the depths of hell.
`` You do n't know what you are!'' I yelled, as a scurried into another side street. It followed close behind.
As I turned the corner into a familiar dark alleyway, I turned to face the mechanical dark knight. He leapt down from the rooftops to meet me on the ground.
`` Do you know where we are?'' I asked it, making a last attempt to reach its damaged circuits.
`` We are at Crime Alley, Eric Nigma... The place where my parents were murdered in cold blood.''
`` They were never your parents, Bat! You are not Batman!'' I shouted, grasping at the air. `` You let those people on the bridge die! You're not supposed to let them die!''
`` I did not kill,'' it responded.
`` But you let them die,'' I repeated, almost hopelessly.
I pulled out my staff from under my long trenchcoat. My gloved hands wrapped around its golden hue.
`` I'm going to have to put you down, old friend.''
`` Riddler, you are not my enemy,'' it responded. `` But if we have to fight, you will become just that.''
It leapt towards me in a blur of black, but I quickly dodged to my left rolling into a pile of trash cans. I pressed the button on the staff, shooting out three projectiles in the Bat's general direction. It blocked them with ease. I charged the behemoth and struck it full on with my staff, but it barely budged. A swift kick had me flying back into the pile of trash.
He lumbered towards me, picked me up by the collar and looked me dead into my eyes. `` You are under arrest for threats against the public, and attempted assault.''
I looked into the machines eyes through my broken glasses, blood dripping from my nose.
`` I knew Batman when I was a child. You fight like him. You look like him. Hell, you even smell like him,'' I said, `` but you just ca n't think like him.''
With that, I attached the device to the chest of the Bat, directly on the legendary Bat symbol, sending thousands of volts down into his mechanical frame.
`` Now!'' I yelled, doing a backflip away from the immobilized machine.
From one corner of the alley came a stream of ice, while from the opposite corner came throwing stars and smoke bombs. From the shadows, vines of brightest green wrapped itself around the machine, leaving it kneeling on the ground. A short man in a tuxedo appeared from the shadows, next to a giant creature with leathery skin and pale eyes. On the rooftops, there was a woman in a tight black outfit standing next to a thin man with a burlap mask.
`` End it!'' Came cries from all directions.
I tried one final attempt to save this marvel of technology. `` Who are you?'' I asked.
It struggled for a few seconds and then looked up at me. `` I am Batman.''
Delusional, I thought, as a pulled the golden sword from the staff. `` What does the tin man lack?'' I asked.
`` A heart,'' I said, plunging the sword into the bat emblem.
As cheers and whoops surrounded the alley, a figure floated down from Gotham's night sky. He landed next to me, as the Bat laid, unmoving, on the ground before me.
I turned to face Superman, the grey in his hair now much more prevalent than the black. `` You could have ended this in seconds, you know,'' I said.
`` Yes,'' he replied, `` but this was the last legacy of my greatest friend.''
`` It failed this city,'' I replied. `` Fled from its citizens in their times of need. It valued its own life, over those under its charge; its delusions over its responsibilities.''
`` Sounds almost human, does n't it?'' Came Superman's response, his eyes still fixated on the heap of circuits in front of him. `` You have proven your ability and allegiance to the League. We will be watching, but we leave Gotham in the hands of the Rogue Collective.''
As I nodded and turned to walk away, Superman reached out and touched my shoulder. `` Eric... do n't judge all people by his standard,'' he said, quietly. `` He was the best of us.''
With that, the man of steel took off into the night sky.
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[ WP ] You work at a maximum security prison . This prison is so secure , inmates ca n't even escape by dying - and those with multiple life sentences have been here a while .
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It's so quiet tonight, quieter than last night and the night before. These late shifts are n't usually this dead, and they're only getting quieter.
It's always been hard to stay awake during the graveyard shift; there at least used to be *some* activity, something that would keep my attention, but it seems that every night I spend here it's harder to stay awake.
Are all the lights even working? I can only see my reflection out of the guard booth. I do n't understand why it's so dim.
Do n't get me wrong, I like this job alright, I can usually finish all my homework during these shifts, but now that I'm out of school I just ca n't seem to find anything to pass the time. I would read a book, but you try reading a book at three-o'clock in the morning without passing out. When I first started here I enjoyed it. That was before this darkness. But otherwise, it's a decent job with decent pay; and of course there is the benefit of immortality while on the clock.
However you feel about prohibiting lifelong offenders from aging or dying, or about the cost that taxpayers have to take on to support everlasting imprisonment; you have to admit that temporary immortality is a fantastic job perk. My friend warned me about this though, he was the one who referred me to the position, he said that, `` It's great at first, you'll have a ton of free time to yourself, but being so close to that *thing*, well man, it ca n't be good.''
He said I should get some quick cash and find something else. But the way I figure it, every eight hour shift is n't just a paycheck; I'm literally saving *time*. That's eight hours of aging I do n't have to worry about later. It's nice to get a relief from the monotony of mortality a few times a week; but I'll be damned if I can make out a face four feet in front of me.
My shift supervisor told me that more and more people are attempting to camp outside the prison walls, that I should be so lucky to be so close to *it*. I suppose he's right, but he is n't stuck in this booth all night, and I doubt they'd even compensate for any lingering effects from this gig, not with the whole immortality thing.
I did see *it* roaming the upper cell block my first week.
They said that it has free reign across the prison, that it just does n't leave the outer walls. That was a surprise to me, I thought it just hung around a few cells. My friend, he said that before he left, it once spent an entire shift right outside the guard booth. He was done after that, that's when he asked if I wanted the position. That has n't happened to me, I've only seen it the one time, and with the way my vision is is going, I'd probably bump into it before I saw it.
My shift supervisor told me that this *thing* sat in on a board room meeting. He said that it passed through the walls of the conference room like they were n't even there. It lurched over the CALPIA suits as they decided how they were going to deal with this *thing*. That must have been awkward.
I do n't even know what can they really do about it. They already capitalized on it's arrival, proclaiming that it must've been God's will to provide indefinite incarceration to the damned of Los Angeles. Man, the evangelical conservatives jumped all over that. They said that it was His plan all along to provide an ultimate punishment for these offenders by creating a purgatory here on Earth.
You know what I think? I do n't think it's from Heaven or Hell. When I saw it that one time, I did n't feel pious, just sorta gave me the willies. I think it's more like some sorta inter-dimensional being, something off the X-Files, but who really knows?
I hope it at least stays around until the end of summer, I'm enjoying the job benefits, and I'm sure this whole darkness thing will pass. I doubt it's anything major, like the end of the world or something, it's too quiet for that.
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[ WP ] Desperate alcoholic encounters a barkeep who requests permanent transfers of one of his memories per drink .
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The place was nothing special, if attractive to a more niche crowd. Just a lot of darker fellows with paler faces and who made fewer bucks a day than I did In an hour.
It sat on the corner of 5th & Grant in the quiet hustle of downtown Springfield, just sort of out of the way. However, it was in just the right spot on a day like today.
Wife gone. Kids gone. Account cleaned out, and a strange pair of men's trousers that I cant remember ever seeing before.
The Note was cryptic, and rude. It did make fairly clear however, that i would soon be swimming in the single pond after nine years of matrimony. In a matter of hours, my two-fingers of scotch had turned a blissful escape.
When i wandered in, i was n't too concerned with where I was going, or how I was going to get home, but mostly, with getting out of my own head, much like what I thought drugs wold be like if I'd ever had the balls to try them.
A lazy wooden sign, and a dark, smokey bar. That's all i was concerned about at the time, just a quiet place to go and lick my wounds with liquor soaked breath. The place was a speakeasy, fairly common in this part of the country, but sort of out of the way for this side of town, filled with mostly dance clubs, narrow alleys, and loose women. Still, it fit rather well, as if it had been a part of the city for a long, lonely time.
Sitting at the bar were few others, mostly younger men, who like I mentioned earlier, were young, and probably some form of sub-class hipster.
I alone was plain, in a room filled with other strangeness.
The barkeep was a young man, with a closely kept beard, and sharp eyes, who wore a low cap, and never seemed to say more than three words unless he was taking an order, and even then, never more than three at once. His apron had a tag on the bottom of it, which from the make of it, was more of a calling card than an actual tag, was the brief script *J. Law*
Eventually, Mr. Law made his way to my end of the bar and in a gruff, but not unpleasant voice asked `` Drink? Food?'' in a brusque, but friendly manner. He looked me in the eyes, a deep grey, they were, not unlike a cloud, pregnant with an oncoming storm. Seemed much too old for the late twenties of his handsome features.
`` Something..er..Stiff'' I ask, slightly unprepared for his abrupt pace, but he must have understood, because he reached and plucked from the shelf, a bottle of the mid-range firewater. Pouring a glass full, he glance from under the bill of his cap at me, and I felt as if I was being appraised. `` Three-fifty.'' He said, sliding the tumbler full of amber liquid towards me. I unfold my wallet to hand him the appointed amount of cash.
As our hands meet, they brush slightly, and a furious burning sensation flashes down my arm. I make to jerk away, but the barkeep clasps my hand in a grip like a vise, and I ca n't break the connection, no matter how much i squirm.
`` Your money is no good here.''
`` Hey....buddy, all I want is a drink, all right?'' I gasp, but he does not waiver, looking at me with eyes like thunderheads `` How much are you willing to pay for that drink?''
`` Whatever I've got....'' he released me abruptly, ``... just...'' I rub my wrist. ``... all I want is a drink.''
`` Alright.'' Mr. Law gently sets the bottle on the bar. `` You decide,'' he points at the glass in front of me, `` Every glass is a day,'' and he points to the bottle, `` Every swig, is a year.''
Confused, I just let my jaw hang slack, because this was sheer nonsense, to let me just *have* a bottle of whiskey, and tell me its voodoo?
`` I do n't get it.'' I finally managed to articulate.
`` Last time I say it,'' the tender says, `` Glasses are days forgotten, and a swig is a year gone.'' he glared pointedly at this point, heavy eyebrows pulling together, `` You decide how much they are worth.'' And with that, he was gone.
*It's a prank, * is my first thought, but surprisingly, the second was, *What if its real? *
After today?
If its fake, I still get my drink.
If its real, I get my freedom.
I pick up the bottle.
Cheers.
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[ WP ] Your thoughts during a commute to work . May 8 , 2115 .
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There was a body floating in the glowing purple water of the vertical coffin-sized fishtank. Streams of bubbles erupted from the bottom, crawled across the corpse, and shot into vacuum hoses and exhaust vents. A chemical dropper dripped a turquoise solution into the tank at infrequent intervals. Slowly, the turquoise liquid gravitated into the nostrils of the corpse and disappeared.
A dusty LCD display hung from cables outside the tank. It flickered blue, green, and then grayscale.
*May 8, 2115* the display read. *... cure discovered*
The bubbles in the tank grew bigger and faster. The chemical dropper released a long stream of turquoise. The bubbles crashed loudly against the tank. The purple liquid turned turquoise.
The body stirred. Its mouth opened. Its eyes opened.
Terrified and drowning, the man thrashed wildly.
CRASH
The glass coffin shattered. Turquoise liquid swept shards of glass across the laboratory floor.
The man coughed uncontrollably, squatting down for warmth. He gained his breath. He wiped the bright droplets from his eyes.
β Where am I? β he croaked.
The LCD display, covered in liquid, flickered yellow and then shorted out. A row of glass coffins stretched out before him. Glass shards glinted across the room, underneath humming fluorescent bulbs. A large generator groaned in the corner next to a set of double doors.
And then the alarm sounded. A blaring klaxon that forced the man to his knees, hands pressed against his ears, eyes shut tightly.
The double doors flung open. Figures wearing biohazard suits rushed in, a hospital gurney in tow. They grappled with the bewildered man, picking him up and pressing him down to the gurney.
β What β s going on? β the man cried.
They strapped him in, cutting off his circulation. He felt a needle stab into his shoulder. And then weightless, carefree oblivion.
He didn β t know how much time had passed when he awoke. He was in a different room. A hospital. His chest hurt.
A doctor wearing blue scrubs leaned over him.
β You β re awake, β the doctor said flatly.
The man β s eyes flicked around the room. There were no corners -- everything was rounded. The floor curved up into the walls and the walls arched over into the ceiling. Luminous geometric patterns played across the walls like a screensaver.
β Where am I? β the man asked.
β The other side, β the doctor said. He beamed. β We finally found the cure. β
β The cure? β the man asked.
β Pulmonary cancer, β the doctor said.
Memories overwhelmed the man. His first cigarette, the one his grandfather had given him when he was six. It had been awful. A disgusting taste followed by uncontrollable coughing. His grandfather had been trying to help him. Prevent him from making the same mistake.
But as a teenager he β d fallen in love with a girl who smoked. In college he was at a pack a day. Two packs at the consulting gig. And then his diagnosis. His prognosis. One month.
β You cured me? β the man said, a huge grin covering his face, β You really cured me? β
β Yes we did, β the doctor said proudly. He paused. β Welcome to the future, β he said, in an uncomfortable voice. He nodded awkwardly and shuffled out of the double doors.
A man wearing a sleek silver sportcoat entered. He smoked a cigar. Two women followed him, pushing a desk-on-wheels through the double doors.
β Welcome to the future John, β the man in the sportcoat boomed, β I β m your Overseer. Let β s get to work! β
The women wheeled the desk in front of John β s bed. They twisted knobs on the desk β s legs and adjusted the height to be higher than the bed. A computer perched precariously on the desk, tilting slightly with the height adjustment.
β What β s going on? β John said, β I β m recovering from surgery. β He sank down into his pillow.
β That you are! β the Overseer said, β And you remember our deal John? You remember who paid for that surgery? Who paid for your body to be preserved until the cure for cancer was discovered? β
John opened and closed his mouth. He didn β t remember. He didn β t remember at all. What was going on?
The desk squeaked as the women aligned it with John β s bed and wheeled it into position above his lap.
β I β ve got data entry for you, β the Overseer said. He dropped an enormous file onto the desk. He took another puff of his cigar.
β What? β John said, β I haven β t done data entry since I was twenty. β
β You do whatever I tell you John, β the Overseer said, β We cured your cancer. You really don β t remember the deal? β
John shook his head.
The women looped a handcuff around John β s wrist. It clacked shut. The other end was attached to the desk.
The Overseer looked at him stonily.
β You sold yourself into slavery. β
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[ WP ] A man shaves his head and finds it covered in symbols he did n't put there .
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He did it on a dare. Someone on the internet told him to, promised him some karma if he showed them the result. His long dreads fell away, breaking off from his head, and plummeting down, like HALO divers dropping from a plane. As each tangled mess hit the floor, one after another, he felt the cool air on his scalp for the first time in years. He felt bare, naked, but he was n't done yet. he needed to shave what was left down, to reveal his pale, glossy dome.
Turning to the mirror, razor in hand, he saw the faint outline of a... of something, amongst what was left of his now short cropped hair. Small curves, not blotches, no defined lump or bump, as if someone had gone over his scalp with a marker not 5 minutes ago. A marker that could move through hair as if it lacked the'h''. He drew the razor up inquisitively, parting the remainder of his hair from his skull, the small severed strands drifting down as if dust in dawn light. What appeared under that vanishing prickly veil was not natural. Intentional lines, drawn upon his skull, small U bends, curved into straight lines, terminated by another tangent line which then proceeded to curl upward, before being bisected by a straight. Suddenly a circular blob of marking, a circle with a circular filling. The line kept going, but now it curved around, down the other side. Another circle with a circle inside. It must have been an eye. Both of them - a squiggle in between. It must be a face. He kept shaving. There was more to uncover. The line continued, parallel to itself, down what must be the body. A fork in between itself.
No, not a fork.
An arm.
The line suddenly stopped. Another line had broke into it, curving around to where he had started. But that was n't all. He knew what this was. He had seen it everywhere, but never on his head.
Why would it be on his head?
What could it mean?
He nervously laughed. He knew people had asked that question before. He knew there was n't an answer. He knew it was ironic that he had asked, but it had seemed more appropriate than ever now. Deep down he knew it was an answer he would never receive. But he may receive something. Perhaps if he played it just right... Perhaps he could [ make a story out of it... ] ( http: //1.bp.blogspot.com/_kEuiU0w6VFM/SuTU5UPZuII/AAAAAAAAAX4/IjCPW0MXaBo/s1600-h/ut-dickbutt.jpg )
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[ WP ] You 're the advisor to the Pharoahs who first convinced them that they should definitely build giant pyramids .
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Abu sir was a man of faith. He had blind faith in his ability to rise through cunning and sold his patriotism like a faith-healer sold Osiris; with complete devotion. His dedication to himself had seen him rise to become the pharaoh's military advisor. There he found favor, especially since the king was only 8 years old. Unlike other pharaoh's, Djoser was content with Abu sir's stories of war. The previous pharaoh frequently asked for live demonstrations.
Now they walked through the market place with the hot afternoon sun on their foreheads. Pharaoh Djoser had requested to see the town the way a commoner would, and so Abu sir and his delegation marched onward carrying Djoser shoulder high on his throne.
As they walked on the pharaoh spoke. `` Abu Sir, what happened to Jalakani?''
`` Oh he is around. In fact, his home is not far ahead.''
`` Take me to him,'' said Djoser.
the group made a turn, and were at the treasurer's home in a short time.
Abu Sir knocked on the door waiting for the man he considered part of the few rational ones in the kingdom.
Wanas opened the door, and smiles faded faster than a man who saw his mother in law in place of his wife.
`` What are you doing here?'' Abu Sir demanded of the philosopher.
`` Oh, just taking care of a friend's home as he goes visiting. Your highness!'' he said bowing down. `` In need of some philosophizing today?''
`` I am fine thank you.'' Djoser said shifting in his seat.
`` Are you sure?''
`` Certainly.'' Djoser had more than once listened to the wise sayings of the philosophers, some he considered very clever such as, `` Great pharaohs began as great boys.'' However, on other occasions Djoser would mention things such as, `` Most of the messes of history are because pharaohs can not be satisfied with a nice chicken and a good loaf of bread.''
Abu Sir had also heard some of his other proverbs such as `` I never joined the army for patriotic reasons,'' and `` force always attracts men of low morality.'' Thankfully they only had one philosopher, unlike the Greeks who seemed to have an epidemic. Even Anwas was from the Hitties. Philosophizing was not the Egyptian way.
`` It's okay,'' the pharaoh said turning his delegation.
`` As you go your highness, one saying. Free of charge.''
`` What is it?''
`` Remember, whether you're a king or a slave we will all end in the same grave.'' Anwas then started to laugh.
The group marched on. Abu Sir got an idea. He approached the pharaoh. `` You know your highness, we could show him that a pharaoh, and a slave do not go to the same grave.''
Djoser turned to him, `` What are you suggesting?''
`` What if we build a monument, one that stretched to the sky. A resting place fit for a god.''
`` Go on.''
`` When you die your highness, all your servants follow you to tend to you in the after life, and even Anwas will see a Pharaoh does not die like a commoner.''
`` That sounds splendid, I can see it now, my cooks my guards...''
`` Your guards would have to guard it your highness. Such a monument would only attract you know the kind....''
`` But a philosopher, you'd definitely need one, to keep you sharp, wise sayings.''
`` I see, but surely such a monument would take a lot of resources. Where would I get such?''
`` Well the Hitties have proved unable to rule themselves, why not let me convince them that working to build this is for their glory? I can get them to do it for free.''
`` Free?''
`` Of course, for some reason, when people see my spear and my platoon they often give us things for free.''
`` Is this magic?''
`` Military magic oh great one.''
***
/r/pagefighter
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[ WP ] The last spaceship to ever launch from Earth is boarded .
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But as usual I am four hours away from making the flight. My wife and kids are already boarded and are wondering where the hell I am.
Government officials had made sure all the civillians on this planet were up in the New Solar System. All that will remain on earth will be all the prisoners and those who failed the planet tests, I of course did not have to take it bieng an elite member of M.O.N.W.D. This is better known as MISSIONS OF NEW WORLD DISCOVERIES. But here i was facing the most important mission of my life, and i was missing it. I guess my wife would remarry in time and my kids would call a different man DAD, and i would die with some of the most viscious and criminaly insane minds in the entire world. Yet I was not upset or frantic as one might think, I was calm and thinking more about my new reality. You see if I had to take the planet tests they would of seen me as I really am. I am a cold blooded killer. So you see I fit right in with all my new friends, I think I am going to have a real wild time just bieng me.
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[ WP ] When the hero is called a monster , that is what he becomes
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Hero. The fuck did that mean? He had done what he had needed to do, and that was it. Anyone would of done it if they were unlucky enough to be in that situation. He had just been unlucky and good enough at what he did that they called him a hero and gave him medals.
But having a `` hero'' gave people some hope. Some pride. There were no heros, we made them up, but he could understand that. People did n't want to hear what he thought, he felt, they wanted to here what they thought their made up hero felt. He did n't like but he could understand it.
What he could n't understand was what he came back to. The real world did n't call him a hero, they called him a monster.in slang he could n't understand. Spit on him. He was barely half a decade older than them but might as well have been an alien from the past for all he understood his country now. The values he held closest, the ones that lead him far away from home with out complaint to fight for THEM, were sins.
So he withdrew. Tried to find his own place. He was off the beaten path, but he would figure out how to fit into this strange society somehow. Then the rumors started.'Stay away from him,' they whispered.'He's too quiet, spends too much time by himself. Mind probably warped by what he did. Dangerous that one.'
He did n't want to fight anymore. He wanted a wife to come home to, a job where he could be useful, that's all. So he decided to leave his home town. Hell, at times the Army felt more like a home than that place.
And that's what brought him here. To this foggy road in Washington, to the cop looking over his ID and smiling cruelly as he looked up.
`` Rambo, John Jay, yeah?''
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[ WP ] You find out that the interpretations or Hell and Heaven are the opposite of what people think . Tell me a story on how you found this out .
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[ Excerpt from a novel in the works ]
He pulled me into an alley and pressed me up against the wall, looking over my shoulder and around the corner to make sure we had lost our pursuit.
β What β what are they!? β I gasped.
He stepped back and looked into my eyes taking a deep breath as if to settle his nerves. β Angels. β
Before I could even respond he yanked me down the alleyway in a vice-like grip.
β Angels? β I gasped stumbling along behind. β But, then why are we running. β
Realization hit me like a ton of bricks.
β Wait. Are you β β
β Yes. β He didn β t even slow as my feet froze to the ground, he simply continued pulling me along. My feet skidding along and I finally had to get the moving again or trip over them.
I thought about screaming, and he almost intuitively cut me off.
β Don β t think about screaming. You __don β t__ want them to find you. β
β Me!? Me? They β re after you! You β re a - a β β
β Demon? β He finished for me and I felt the familiar irritation that he could already read me so well.
β Yeah, Devil Spawn. β
He turned and faced me grabbing my other hand. Feeling handcuffed I thought about trying to wriggle free but he was to strong, and β why had he saved me before.
β Why do you think they call demon β s fallen angels? β
β Cause you betrayed God and were banished to the Hell as punishment. β
β Where is Heaven? β he asked me.
β I don β t know, β I answered.
β Where do people always point when they speak of heaven? β
β Up. β I replied.
β And Hell? β
β Down. β
β And where is earth supposed to be? β
β In the middle. β
β Right, the crossroads. If you wanted to get to heaven from hell, where would you go? β
My mouth dropped.
β Or the other direction? β
β Wait, so you β re a demon searching for redemption? β
β Something like that. β He let go of my hands, turned and started down the alley.
I hesitated a moment before following. β And Angels? β
β I don β t really know why, but yeah. Maybe they β re not looking to get to Hell, but they sure aren β t happy with
heaven. They enjoy playing with people β s lives a bit too much. Maybe that's why they're still around. And they β ve taken a special interest in you. β
β But β but β but, β I stuttered.
β The word you β re looking for is why. And I know someone who might have an idea. β
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[ WP ] Whenever you take a shower , you always press a random number of shower tiles , imagining that you 'll activate a secret code and gain access to some secret lair . Today , you press the tiles in the correct order .
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There's something cruel about waking up after a night of tossing and turning, you personify the part of you that's keeping you awake and groan every time you look at the clock. Last night it was the part of you that could n't stop worrying about your speech. That worry snowballed into self-deprecation, *'Really?! 19 years old and you're still scared of talking in public? It's a fucking 101 class?'*
You convinced yourself the speech was stupid, *'Apple v. Google, one's open source and one keeps its projects behind closed doors, the next four talking points are just variations of that, and real original with the subject-matter,'* you imagined the first fumbled word, the next, the warm flush of your face, burring your eyes in your notecards, the first beads of sweat against your hairline like a windshield as it just starts to rain, and how uncomfortable you'd make your classmates as mere spectators.
You stare at the ceiling of your dorm room and imagine if you could simply detach from yourself, just put yourself on autopilot and give the stupid speech. *'You have to think positive thoughts, tell yourself you're going to do great and you WILL! It's all in your head, silly!'* Thanks, Mom... or Tony Robbins or whoever the fuck says that shit. That advice always pissed you off. What if you came home and your house was burned down? Should you just *'think positive thoughts!'* It's stupid advice.
*'Well, have you given it an honest chance? Have you really tried? If you have n't, then you ca n't say otherwise'* Your roommate's sound asleep, it's early, his bluetooth speaker on his desk, the one they always brought into the shower. It was weird, sure, but still... it's probably better than showering in silence. Fuck it, you're taking the speaker. And double fuck it, you're going to be a weirdo and force yourself into delusional positivity.
You grab your towel and shower caddie and head into the bathroom, * β Chin up, shoulders back, pretend you just did cocaine, you β re Jordan Belfort β * come on, you couldn β t possibly believe that, * β What β d you just say pussy? Shut the fuck up, you β re the shit, or go back to sleep, β * you take a full breath the the bottom of your stomach and synch your phone with the speaker. What song? Something badassβ¦Phil Collins, In the Air, fuck yea, volume at 75 % * β Don β t be a bitch β * fine, 80 %.
You turn the shower to hot * β Excuse me? β * you β re right, cold, something the goddam Vikings bathed in without a shiver. You close your eyes and assume a power stance, fearless, like Neo standing in the rain when he defeats Agent Smith, this speech is your bitch, the Coliseum is on their feet, * β Are you not ENTERTAINED!? β * Wow, this might actually be working. * β Oh, lordβ¦Oh, lord.. β * you sing into the shower head, fuck here it comes, the tiles in front of you are the drum set and your fingers hover patiently above them, get ready, here it is:
BADUM - BADUM - BADUM - BADUM - DUM - DUM - DON
The bathroom lights turn off and the tiled wall turns bright white and you cover your eyes with your forearm. You β re holding a microphone, and there β s a crowd of cheering fans below, wait this isn β t real you think, the crowd rises above you and turns hostile, they beam down at you with scrunched eyebrows and red eyes, * β Way to go, pussy. You β re going to ruin the concert for everyone? Did you seriously forget the words? β * Just believe it, tell yourself you β ve got thisβ¦you stare back at the crowd and their eyebrows relax, the ground beneath you rises, their faces regain excitement, the band β s still playing, you β re thirty feet above them now, they β re screaming, you grab the microphone and lean back towards the shower head and reach for the bottom of your lungs with all you β ve got:
β AND I CAN HEAR IT COMING IN THE AIR TONIGHT, OH LORD!!! β
The crowd loses it, everyone jumps with their hands in the air, * β Holy shit that β s what I β m talking about, hit β em again, louder, stronger! β *
β WELL I β VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOOOOMENTβ¦FOR MY WHOLE LIIIIIFE!!! OH LORD!!!!!! β
The music stops and you return to the tile shower, β Dude, whoever β s in the shower, shut the fuck up, it β s 7am. β
β My bad, that β s my bad, β *'You β re ready.'*
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[ WP ] I 'm feeling a bit morbid today . Paint me a world where death is regarded as trivial as buying a gallon of milk .
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**2174-09-07, Zone 12 ( formerly England ), the Protectorate**
I was deployed to Zone 12 last week, just after the security forces had finished quelling the rebellion in Kent. I ca n't believe this pathetic country built history's largest Empire, the uprising had barely lasted a month against the forces of the world state. Apparently a century of keeping humanity safe from it's own extinction is n't good enough for these people, they want the *freedom* to mismanage their economies, the *freedom* to wage endless war against their brothers and the *freedom* to shirk their duty to the rest of mankind! I've never had the misfortune to visit a more selfish nation of filth and degenerates.
The people of Zone 12 refer to my arm of the Protectorate as the `` Angels of Death''. It just goes to show what a degenerate nation this is, do n't they know how many centuries of blood the hands of religion are soaked in? I was there when our bulldozers ground the Sistine Chapel to dust, bringing an end to two millennia of zealous tyranny. I was even fortunate enough to see the demolition of Khufu's Pyramid, seeing that monument to slavery erased forever was truly a great moment in the history of human progress. I'm a proud agent of that progress, I serve in the Pacification Office which reports directly to President Harrow himself. Just like his, my life's work is to uphold the Protectorate in every corner of the globe, because only though the Protectorate's guidance can humanity survive on the planet it ruined.
It's my unfortunate duty to employ violence to prevent greater violence, to kill the individual cells before they develop into a cancer which threatens the whole body. I neutralised the first such cell before I'd even received my full orders, as I proceeded to the local branch of the Office I came across a street trader who was not only selling fresh vegetables he'd grown illegally ( like the sustenance the Protectorate provides is n't good enough for him! ), he was selling them by the pound! Back in the days of the Unification War refusing to use metric units carried a death sentence and I was glad to honour this tradition, even if it was n't officially approved. When I finally reached the Office and met the local Commissioner I immediately began to implement my orders.
Even for a man of my experience, my new duties were gargantuan. Apparently, so many ungrateful rebels could be found in the local population the Protectorate was going to treat the entire county as though it had rebelled. I was provided with a map where about one in ten occupied dwellings were marked with a neat red cross and told to transmit this to every member of my team. We were then to take custody of every inhabitant of fighting age in these dwellings ( I dare not call them houses, many were little better than camps ) and execute them. We would not be inhumane, we were specifically ordered to leave a single parent or older sibling to take care of young children. We were even told to allow the families to decide who got to remain themselves, an unnecessary kindness to such an uncivilised nation!
It took little longer than a week to carry out the penalty of decimation ordered by the President. Many of the rebels refused to see the error of their ways even at the end, standing fast in their treason against their very species. Others tried to repent of their crimes, crying and screaming until our bolt-guns of the same design used to put down cattle before the days of synthetic meat silenced them forever. I felt no regret as they perished, their deaths would contribute to our long-term survival. My only remorse was for a black Labrador I found after its owners, a house of three men and three women of university age were liquidated. I hope it found a more worthy owner!
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[ WP ] Pro : You 've discovered you respawn any time you die . Con : You discovered this after the apocalypse .
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Another empty shop.
Well, not quite empty. If you counted a few mouldy loaves of bread long inedible and some dodgy water.
For me though, I'd say it's empty.
The next one though, I wish it could have been empty. A paranoid scavenger, someone who could have been just like me, except they decided I was a threat, and pulled out their gun faster.
Dying sucks arse. I get all the pain and suffering, but no release. I gradually float off until I feel nothing any more, then just wake up somewhere else. I'm just as hungry as I was when I died, thats as tired, but no gunshot wounds though. That's how I reckon that someone, somehow is fucking with me. It's just too perfect, you know? As if someone decided it all.
Not that it matters besides keeping my mind occupied when I'm bored. I've got nothing to live for but eating, otherwise it starts to get uncomfortable and eventually hurt. Hunger is an awful thing. I'm not sure if it could kill me, first if all I'd torture myself getting there, mans second of all, had much as I might bitch about it, I kind of want to stay alive.
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[ WP ] β Listen , strange women lying in ponds and handing out swords is no basis for a system of government ! '' Well the year is 2016 A.D and this system of government still persists . Today is Sword Drawing Day . The candidates of each political party wait near the pond to see who will get the sword .
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As the candidates lined up to begin the process, the air was thick with excitement. The entire crowd was on edge, as this most interesting race in history drew to a close.
To the far right stood Donald Trump, looking far too confident for someone who had been insulting women for the past 6 months and now relied on one woman's vote to become president.
To Donald's left, near the middle of the pack, was Gary Johnson. He had his back turned to the lake and was speaking furiously with a campaign manager. Some members of the crowd could swear they heard him asking if this was *really* how they voted. The campaign manager seemed shocked that he did n't even know, at this point in his life, how government functioned.
To his left stood a woman. Three girls in the crowd with blue hair, lensless glasses, and anime t-shirts chanted `` Jill!'' and she appeared to respond to it, but no one else was quite sure who she was.
And furthest to the left, though not as far left as Trump was right, was Hillary Clinton. She, too, seemed confidant, and sported a knowing smirk.
As the time for the drawing drew near, the crowd began to grow restless. Everyone, nationwide, prepared to see who would be selected.
On television sets across the nation, a countdown had begun. As the clock's numbers dipped ever lower, everyone was silenced.
3... Parents were shushing their children
2... Parents were desperately telling their children to `` hush now, sweetie, this is important''
1... Parents had resorted to physically clamping down their children's lips, insisting `` we'll get you animal crackers later, shut up now though''
0... At this point, several parents were beginning to question if it counted as a sin to throw your child into another room if the were being really, *really* annoying
And then... Nothing.
No one came up from the lake.
Everyone started wondering if the clocks were wrong or if everyone had managed to miscount the days until Sword Drawing Day, but, no, everything seemed to be in order... There was just no one in the lake.
Ripples of concern broke through the crowd, everyone wondering what happens if no one gets the sword, when Hilary took a confident step forward.
Once again, the crowd grew silent. Suddenly, everything made sense.
The fact that her jokes seemed to come directly from the mouth of someone's great-great-great grandmother. Her inability to function as a human being.
She *was* old enough to be their great-great-great grandmother. And she certainly *wasn't* entirely human.
`` I am the lady of the lake,'' she said, with more power than she had ever managed during her campaign. Her skin was beginning to look green and her hair turned to algae, but no one really noticed the difference. `` This year,'' she continued, `` I will not be giving out the sword. I will be keeping it and ruling myself.''
Trump, through this event, was mostly just attempting to throw mud at Clinton, whilst simultaneously trying to convince his audience that, despite every piece of evidence to the contrary, Clinton was lying.
Johnson had missed the entire thing, and was now asking his campaign manager if he was *super* sure that peanut butter was n't butter mixed with peanuts.
Stein seemed unimpressed, and her three fans continued chanting, completely unaware that that actually did nothing to change the outcome of the race.
At his home in Vermont, Bernie Sanders snapped a pen in half. He would sure have something to say about the political system *now*, and there was no way it was fair for him to have to compete with the literal Lady of the Lake. He began furiously typing a letter, explaining just how rigged the system was.
Jeb Bush was n't watching the news. He was content in knowing that, no matter who the president was, it would n't be him.
Fox newscasters, for the first time, actually joined the opinions everyone had from the beginning and decided maybe this *wasn't* the best way to vote, especially now that it did n't benefit them.
CNN seemed to be pretending they had been saying this since the very beginning, even though just last week they were quoted as saying that `` that's almost as silly as saying Hilary Clinton is *the* Lady of the Lake. Of course she's not. That would mean she has lied, which is something no democrat has ever done.''
And somewhere, 6 feet under ground, laughing in his grave, was Dennis. Finally, he had been proven right.
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[ WP ] You are the leader of a small group of zombie apocalypse survivors in the States . One day , a bunch of Brits show up , claiming that they destroyed all of the zombies in the British Isles and are here to take back America .
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I will tell you a story about what
happened this summer when I went on vacation with my parents and their best friends.
It was not the first time that we were going on vacation together, we did it almost every year. This
year we went to a place near Venice in Italy for 2 weeks. My parents their best friends are Alex and his wife Diane, who have been married for 16 years now. Alex looks a bit like a geek. He is 44 years old, has black hair and glasses on. His wife Diane has been my crush for a lot of years now, she is what you would call a cougar. She has long brown hair, blue eyes and a really good body, especially for a 42 year old woman.
My parents and I were meeting them at the airport on a Monday morning. We were waiting for themat the gate that our plane was leaving from, when I saw them coming towards us from a distance. `` Hey look, there they are,'' my mom said, while pointing at them. They were coming closer, damn, Diane looked even better then I remembered. She was wearing light blue jeans which were ripped a bit, black heels and a white t-shirt with a print on it. They were greeting my parents first, then Alex shook my hand and then Diane came up to me. She placed her right hand on my hip and I also placed my right hand on her hip, while we greeted each other with two kisses on the cheeks. `` How are you Jake?'' She asked me, while giving me a little hug. `` I'm great. I'm really excited for going on
holiday. How are you?' I asked her. `` Yeah, I'm really excited too, it's going to be fun again!' Diane
replied. My parents were also talking with Alex, when we were told that we could board the plane.
On the plane I was sitting next to Alex and my father while my mom was sitting somewhere else with
Diane. When we arrived at our destination, it was already evening so we looked around a little,
made up our beds and went almost directly to sleep.
We were sleeping in a little house with a pool in the backyard. I was sleeping in a room upstairs,
Alex and Diane were sleeping in the room next to mine and my parents were sleeping in a room
downstairs.
Day 2
When I woke up around 8 AM and walked downstairs, I could see that the table was already settled.
My dad and Alex already went to get some bread and some other groceries.
`` Good morning Jake,'' my mother said as I walked down the stairs.
`` Morning,'' I mumbled.
`` Hi,'' Diane said, who came from outside. I was stunned for a moment, she was only wearing her
red bikini and her long brown hair was hanging over her right shoulder.
`` Hi,'' I stumbled. I felt my penis getting semi hard in my swimming pants, so I quickly sat down at the
table to hide it. When my father and Alex came back, we ate breakfast together and talked about
how everybody has been and what changed and stuff like that.
After we had breakfast and cleaned it up, we went to explore the surroundings a bit and we went
shopping. When we came back it was around 5 PM and around 30 minutes later my mother and
Diane were cooking a meal together.
Diane had a white summer dress on and I could not take my eyes of her during dinner. A few times she looked back in my eyes and then I could see her beautiful blue eyes. Usually I look away when someone looks back but one time we looked in each other β s eyes for a few seconds and I could feel
butterfly's in my stomach. She was everything that I wanted on that moment. Alter the dinner, me and Diane decided to do the dishes. I was washing the dishes and she was drying them.
`` Maybe we will finish faster if we first wash the dishes together or if you wash the dishes and I dry them?'' I asked Diane. I asked this because she had to wait for the dishes because she dried the dishes way faster than I washed them.
`` It does n't matter, you're doing fine. But I can help you with it,'' Diane said and she took a cup and started to wash it. A few times our hands touched in the water, even a small thing like touching her hand made me crazy. When we were done with washing and drying the dishes together, Diane took a glass and filled it with water. She drank the water at once. `` A little thirsty?'' I asked her. `` Yeah it's because of the heat. Do you want some?'' She asked me, while filling her glass again.
`` Yeah sure, wait I'll get some ice cubes,'' I said and I started to walk to the freezer.
I was looking into the freezer when Diane called my name. `` Yes?'' I said and I turned around.
Splash!, Diane just threw the cold water all over me, she laughed and ran outside. I was shocked
for a moment but started to run after her. I ran outside and saw that my parents and Alex sitting at the table playing cards, they were laughing a bit when they saw me all wet. I was running about two meters behind Diane. She was turning right at the pool and I was coming closer. We were both laughing. She probably realized that it was not really smart to walk near the pool, so she started to run away from it. I was coming closer and grabbed her right hand. `` Now I've got you!'' I yelled and I laughed. I now lifted her legs up and started to walk to the pool. I saw that my parents and Alex were all laughing too.
`` No, not the pool!'' Diane screamed and she tried to get away but it did not work. I now was
standing at the pool and said: `` Do you want some water too?'' `` No thanks, haha,'' she said. I put her feet back on the ground after she said that and said: `` Okay, I'll spare you for this time.'' I could see that she felt relieved. `` Or not,'' I said and I grabbed her by the hips and jumped in the pool with her. We were both still laughing a lot and she swam closer to me and placed her hand on the top of my head and pushed my head under water. When I came up, she wanted to swim away again. Alex and my parents were still smiling at us but started to play cards again. I swam after her, dove underwater and grabbed one of her legs. She started to kick a little to get out but I started to pull her leg further underwater and got up again. We were both splashing water on each other now and she dove underwater this time. She came up right in front of me and I could feel her **** touching my chest. She had her arms around my waist and I could feel her vagina touching my erection. This was so hot and I wondered if she felt my hard ****. We looked each other in the eyes and our lips were almost touching. She smiled at me and took me underwater again. After goofing around a bit more, we decided to make peace. That evening I took a shower and Diane took one after me. We all played a few games together that night and went to bed around 11 PM.
Day 3
The next morning I was laying on a tanning bed in the backyard near the pool. My parents were
sitting outside too. `` Me and your mother are going to do some grocery shopping, is there anything that you want?'' My father asked me. `` Uhm, well maybe some sunbathing cream. I forgot mine,'' I
replied.
Diane just came outside when I said that, she looked amazing as always. She was wearing blue
jean shorts with a red bikini top, red flip-flops and she was wearing her hair in a ponytail. `` Good
morning all,'' she said with her sweet and soft voice. We all greeted her and my mother asked if she needed anything from the grocery store, but she did not need anything. `` Then we will get you some sunbathing cream, Jake. You can take ours in the mean while or else you might get burned,'' my mother said to me, worried as always. `` You can take my sunbathing cream too, it is standing on the dinner table. Wait, I will get it for you,'' Diane said and she walked inside. My parents said goodbye to me and walked inside after Diane.
`` Here you go,'' Diane said when she came back. `` Thanks,'' I replied. `` You want me to rub you in
with it?'' She asked me. I was really surprised by this and this felt kind of like a dream. `` Would be great,'' I said, trying to keep it cool. `` Alex just woke up. He is going to take a shower,'' Diane said to me. It sounded like she was telling me that Alex would not disturb us for a while and that she was giving me a hint with it, but thought to myself that I was probably just imagining things.
She shook the bottle and squeezed some cream out of it, then she started to rub in my belly,
something that I could do myself but I did not mind of course. `` You've been really working out have n't you? You really got a great body,'' Diane said while gently going up with her hand to my chest and my arms. I did not know what to say to that so I stumbled: `` Thanks, I have been going to the gym a lot,'' I felt pretty nervous and did not really know what to do with the flirting, was it just some innocent flirting or did she really want me to do anything? I could feel my penis was growing. She was gently rubbing my biceps and then told me to go lay on my belly, so that she could rub in my back. So I did and she lifted her right leg over me. She was now sitting on my *** and she started to rub in my back. `` You're really good in this, you should become a masseuse,'' I said to her with a smile on my face. `` Haha, thank you Jake. If I got guys like you on the table I would probably do it,'' she said. Wow, she was now flirting with me even more obvious. I could not believe that this was happening and I started to feel a little shy. It felt amazing and my hard **** was pressing against the tanning bed. `` Well, I would definitely be your best customer if you were a masseuse,'' I replied.
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[ WP ] `` I come in peace . I did not bring artillary . But I am pleading with you with tears in my eyes . If you fuck with me , I will kill you all . ''
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`` I come in peace. I did not bring artillery. But I am pleading with you with tears in my eyes. If you fuck with me, I will kill you all.''
***What could a mere human do to the likes of us? ***
`` I hope for both our sakes you never find out, bub.''
***You amuse me whelp... But I shall not head your empty threats. You have nothing. No Weapons. No Plans. No Back-up. ***
They made me watch as they blew up my home. Earth was no more. I turned to them.
`` Tell me. Have you heard of a creature from Earth called a Wolverine? Very difficult to kill. Kinda like me. See, Humans as a whole are terrifying...'' My claws unsheathe with an audible *schink* `` and me... I'm not even that anymore. An Ex-man if you will. And now? Now I have nothing left to lose.''
By now my face is contorted in a mad grin.
`` It's kinda funny. My home was always thought of as weak. Well, to the the rest of the universe... Canada sends her regards, bub.''
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[ WP ] You 've come to save the princess , but she 's not guarded by a dragon - She 's guarded by a very aggressive goose .
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He could n't get the sound out of his head. That horrible, horrible sound. That audible fortelling of certain death and dismemberment. So many bones. There were *SO* many.
It haunted him. He'd seen dragons. Killed them. Stolen their bones and scales for armor when he was done. But this. This was a new horror.
`` Honk!''
And the faint pitter-patter of webbed feet. Like the sound of leather straps gently slapping against a saddle. How could something so familiar become so terrifying so quickly?
He had thought it was some kind of joke at first. A few knights had returned from the castle with tales. Apparently they did n't all die in their attempt, which he supposed was good news. But the ones that survived were bloody and had been partly blinded, had their armor dented or shredded with gashes, and somehow looked like they had been through the combination of a great battle and a pillow fight: they were covered head to toe with feathers stuck in the patches of blood drying on their bodies and armor.
He heard their stories of the great prize hidden in the castle. Gold. Heaps of gold nuggets. A beautiful princess in a high tower. But the castle walls were not the only obstacle. Two legs. Two wings. Half the size of a man. A small but demonic fowl, the equally-high heaps of bones testifying to its power.
So here he was, a fool as much as a master of weapons and monsters. Trapped by old habits long-reinforced. He had run as fast as his legs would carry him. Past the piles of gold eggs and bones. Up the long staircase to the high tower. Barricade. Always a good strategy to get some time to think of something better, and he may as well see the rumored princess for himself.
He saw the foul fowl hopping its way slowly up the stairs far behind, making that horrible `` Honk! ``, slapping its little feet, and swishing its lethal wings. He drank that sight in briefly as he slammed the door behind him. What greeted him was altogether comforting. The princess was indeed beautiful. Her prison was actually a rather nice room for such a gloomy castle. She greeted him with the optimism of any long-held prisoner hoping for her release, and a rather promising kiss on the cheek. `` My champion!'' she said.
All. Too. Brief.
It could fly like a dragon, yes, but unlike a dragon it fit through the window. It stood there on the sill, taunting him. `` Honk!'' was the last thing he heard.
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[ WP ] You receive a package in the mail containing a futuristic yet old looking watch . When you put it on , you are instantly flung 100 years into the future where you are a well known time traveling hero who is wanted for murder .
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Michael ran down the alley way between the two large white towers. He was soaked, shivering, and scared. Had he lost the men chasing him? Looking up and down the alley he did n't see any thing other than the milky white plastic towers and the gleam of LED lights on the wet pavement.
He took the scalpel out of his pocket and slit entry way into the thick plastic that was the buildings skin. Inside it was hot and humid. Towering soy bean plants wrapped grew to the ceiling. Suddenly he heard foot steps from the alley-way. He ducked behind some sort of machine with different colored pipes protruding in all directions.
He heard a mans voice, `` Hold up. Some one cut the plastic here.''
Micheal peaked over the machine to see two men pressing through the labial slit. They wore dark suits and thick black sun glasses. They moved like jaguars.
`` Think he's in here? Are you even sure its him he looked to young compared to the file'', asked the black man.
`` Yea he's in here. You are right, he did look younger but the DNA scanner never lies. Quiet'', said the shorter white man.
Micheal curled up into a ball, trying not to breath, trembling and on the verge of tears. He was only a veterinary student! He could hear them stalking around, getting closer. Their shadows loomed on the wall as they got closer to him. They had found him and they would kill him any second now.
Then their was two bursts of bright blue light. The men screamed and fell to the floor with resounding thuds.
`` Michael are you in here!'' cried a woman's voice. `` I'm here to help you. If you are here hurry up the stunner does n't take long to wear off.
Micheal stood up and saw the woman. She looked to be in her early forties, wearing a pants suit that even he could tell was expensive. Her long black hair was wet and stuck to the sides of her face but her suit seamed perfectly dry.
`` Come on, we have to go'', she said. He did n't move just looked at the silver gun in her hand.
`` We do n't have time for this Michael'', she tucked the gun under her jacket. `` Lets go!''
`` Who are you? Where am I? ``, he asked.
`` I tell you when its safer. Am I going to have to drag you out of here?''
One of the men on the floor grunted. The woman glared impatiently.
`` Fine, okay'', Micheal followed her out of the flap and down the alley way. Outside the alley way was a large open area. The woman pressed a button on what he assumed was a phone and a beetle shaped car buzzed from the darkness.
`` Get in.'' she said opening one of the doors and sliding in herself. He followed and with a whir the car pulled out.
They sat in the car for a moment, it drove it's self Micheal learned, and just stared. She kept looking at his arm.
`` I guess you want some explanation'', she said.
Micheal nodded, shivering.
The woman flicked on the heater, warm air filled the car. `` My name is Rita. You know me. Or at least you will know me. You saved my life.''
`` I do n't know you, I do n't even know where I am.'' Micheal said.
`` You're still outside Atlanta, it's just the year 2115.'' The car bounced a bit as it pulled onto a road from the dirt path it had been driving down.
`` How? ``, asked Michael.
`` I'm not sure. I'm not sure you are sure. Listen this may be hard to understand. The watch let you time travel here.''
Michael looked at the watch, it was still on his wrist but had stopped working after the flash that brought him here. `` Did you send me the watch?''
She shook her head. `` No you gave it to yourself. How old are you?''
`` Twenty three.''
`` You, in your own future, age 32, time traveled here four years ago. You killed several crime bosses and are a wanted criminal, at least according to the government. You gave your self the watch, though even the you I knew had just gotten his from an older version of his self.''
`` They want me for a crime I did n't even commit yet?''
`` From their perspective of the timeline you already did it.''
`` Why are you helping me?''
`` Like I said you saved me, the crime bosses hurt a lot of people and I was going to be one of them. But the government still views killing, unless its them doing it, as a crime. Here,'' she said taking a small tube from the glovebox, `` You left your self this, its keyed to only open to your DNA.''
Micheal took the tube, it was small and black. As soon as he touched it the red light at the top blinked to green. He twisted it and the cap came off. Inside was a piece of paper, he tapped the container until it slipped out and read it.
`` What's it say? ``, Sue asked.
`` It's in my hand writing...''
`` What's it say?''
`` It says, to trust myself that I have to kill the president...''
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[ WP ] Instead of the weak , Humanity has collectively decided to start culling anybody deemed `` Strong '' .
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The Special Olympics are brought to you in part by McDonald's Grocery and Marlboro Pharmaceuticals.
Today we'll bring to you Call of Duty games. Of course, we'd be remiss if we did n't talk about yesterday's upset in the air hockey competition. Russian competitor Ulga Petrovich scored on herself a record 4 times. That was an ugly match to watch.
The action today is going to be non-stop. We recommend you all order some cheeseburgers for delivery soon, because once the action gets started you're not going to want to get out of your recliner.
Let's cut to a quick commercial break and we'll be back with more action!
Are you feeling energetic? Ca n't stop bouncing around and fidgeting? You may be suffering from acute Actionitis. Please call your doctor and see if a prescription of extra-strength Zolotis is right for you.
........
( I imagine that the best way to remove the strong is just to encourage laziness. Fatty foods, discourage activity, etc. This would probably best be done through the media, rather than a government agency. )
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[ WS ] Cast of characters
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**Name: ** Unit 26, `` Gary''
**Age: ** Linty, but not quite frayed
**Gender: ** Unclear, uses female pronouns to describe self in third person yet uses male only designated facilities. Possibly confused.
**Vocation: ** Junior Yeoman Engineer, 3rd Grade. Not cleared for firearms. Not cleared for inflammables. Not cleared for hazmat.
**Physical Description: ** Kind of like a floating soggy hairball, but not as nice.
**Personality Quirks: ** ~~Compulsive liar, especially in situations in which Gary might improve a person's estimation of itself. Does not understand currency. Useful only in seemingly useless tasks, useless in most situations.~~ Highly motivated self starter. Wide array of interesting talents. Rock star. Intergalactic private detective. Retired diplomat. Genuinely curious in all combustibles. Starting salary: six paper clips and a bent fork.
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[ WP ] A man decides to commit suicide , upon entering the afterlife he is immediately presented with a vision of of everything that he would have been and done had he lived .
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Han awoke from his sleep, sweat pouring down his body and soaking the sheets. `` It did n't work.'' He murmured quietly.
`` Oh yes it did.'' replied a cool voice. Han wildly looked around the room, and saw a hooded figure sitting in a chair. `` It worked really well, I'd say.''
Han's voice was shaky when he spoke. `` Who..who are you?''
The figure chuckled. `` Good question. To answer that, well, let me show you.'' The figure rose from the chair with a groan, and took off the hood.
Han inhaled sharply. The man was in his mid fifties. The crinkles around his eyes indicated he smiled a lot in his life. His jaw was rugged and surprisingly muscular. He had short hair the colour of silver, and big bushy eyebrows. But the most prominent aspect on his face, the one that made Han shocked, were his eyes. He had blue eyes that used to be sharp and beautiful, now they were dull and boring.
Han whispered. `` Those are my eyes.''
The man smiled sadly. `` Yes Han, these are your eyes. Well, technically, they're ours. I guess you could call me Old Han.''
Han laughed, but it had no humour in it. `` Haha very funny. I want to know how you got into my house.''
Old Han looked indignant. `` Sweet Jesus, this is not a joke Han. And by the way, this is my house. Look around.''
Han reluctantly did as he said. The walls were covered with photographs and paintings. They all had Old Han in them, along with a beautiful woman and 2 small children. `` What is this? What the hell is going on?''
`` Exactly that Han. Hell. You're in Hell.'' Old Han said sadly.
Han stared at him blankly. `` The pills worked?''
`` Yes.''
`` I'm dead?''
`` Yes.''
Tears were streaming down Han's face before he realized it. `` No, no, no! I do n't want to be dead. I wan na live. Please send me back. Do something!'' Han yelled.
Old Han shook his head. `` I ca n't do that Han. They sent me here to punish you. To show you the life that would've been, that should have been. Come with me.''
Old Han walked to the door, opened it, and stepped through it. After drying his tears, Han followed after him. The first thing he noticed was the smell. A delicious smell, one that Han could recognize immediately.
`` Is that meatloaf? I love meatloaf.'' Han whispered.
`` I know that. I'm you.''
`` Oh right.''
Old Han sighed. `` I did n't bring you out to let you slobber on my floor. Look down the stairs.''
Han complied, and his eyes widened at what he saw. The woman and children in the pictures were all crowded around a table. They seemed to be waiting for something, although the food was ready. One of the children, a little girl with blond pigtails, looked up at Han and smiled. `` Daddy! Come down we're starving!'' The woman smiled at the girl. `` Lucy, leave your father alone. He's doing work. We can wait a little bit, right Ethan?'' The other child, a boy with identical blond hair, stopped his fork mid-air. A piece of meatloaf was stuck on the end. `` R..right..''
For the second time that day, Han cried. `` This.. this would've been my life? If I did n't kill myself?''
Old Han nodded his head solemnly. `` Yes Han. And now, it's time for you to go.''
Han's voice broke as he violently shook his head. `` No. No i'm not going. I'm staying here with you and your family. I'll never bother you. Please. PLEASE!'' Han violently leaped at Old Han, and ran right through him. The walls around him slowly broke down, fading away to mist. A piece of the ceiling collapsed onto Old Han's family. `` NOOO!'' Han shrieked. `` MY FAMILY!''
Old Han miserably stared at Han. `` They did n't tell me it would be this painful. Goodbye Han.''
Han shrieked and cried and roared as everything around him crumbled and disappeared.
Han was all alone.
-happy cakeday
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[ WP ] Write a Dr.Seuss style story about an incredibly dark and serious issue
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The scuffling sounds of the shoes right behind her
Stood out as a terrible, awful reminder
Of the talks and the pleas and the foreboding warnings
Of what happened to girls out alone in the mornings
She hurried her step and she clutched her coat tight
But closer still came those steps in the night
Footsteps then breathing, the sounds seem to double
And our sad lonely hero knew she was in trouble.
She shouted but there was no help to be found
She cried as she stumbled and fell to the ground
Her hands reached above her to fight off this wrong
Hoping this nightmare would n't last long.
`` Here let me help you!'' The stranger reached down
With a smile and a wink he plucked her from the ground.
`` I saw you leave!'' His voice; warm and kind.
He pulled out her purse `` but you left this behind.''
`` I'd hate for some thief to make off with this prize!''
`` Thank you.'' She whispered, with tears in her eyes.
With a nod he turned'round, never saying goodbye.
Wondering what in the world had made that girl cry...
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[ WP ] everybody in the world wakes up with a different superpower each , but everybody think they 're the only person this has happened to .
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`` Andrew! Mom says get your ass out of bed!'' my sister shouted from the doorway of my room. `` Yeah yeah yeah'' I muttered to myself. I sat up in bed, and threw the covers aside, revealing I was only in my boxers. Yep, I sleep mostly naked, deal with it. I was about to stand up, when I heard it.
`` Mmm damn, if only he was n't my brother. Dear God I'm sick for thinking that.'' from my sis.
`` Okay, just what in the fuck.'' I demanded. She quickly snapped to attention. `` What? I'm just making sure you get your lazy ass up and ready for school.'' she responded. `` I heard what you said, and that's sick dude. What the hell.'' She went white as a sheet. `` I do n't know what the hell you're talking about, now get ready, I'm not waiting on you!'' and she bolted from my doorway. Strange, oh well, must be her new way of messing with me today. Twisted, sure, and I would n't have thought her capable of such a prank, but what the hell, I'll deal with it later.
When I entered the kitchen, everyone was already eating. `` hurry up already, kiddo.'' my father demanded. He picked up his glass of orange juice and sipped from it, and when he set it back down, it was frozen solid. `` goddamnit not again, I must control this or they'll find out.'' I heard him say, but his mouth was full of pancake, he could n't have said it. Okay, so I'm hearing and seeing things. Great. I'll deal with that later. No wonder my sis did n't understand my accusation earlier.
I finished my food quickly, and got up to get ready, but something... felt off. `` Are n't you a bit underdressed there?'' my mother asked. `` odd, I coulda sworn he had a shirt, sitting to the table'' my father commented. Shirt? I looked down. Oh God what. Shirtless. That woulda been embarrassing as hell. I quickly got a new shirt, but not before catching my sister saying `` damnit no no no, not again, not him, noooo'', but I ignored it. For all I knew, it was in my head again.
I got on the bus for school, and quickly picked up everyone talking, even though only a few were moving their mouths. They were all mulling over having superpowers now. Everybody thought if anyone else found out, they'd treat them like a total freak, and be jealous, since nobody else has them. Huh, so I'm imagining people freaking out about superpowers, interesting.
It was getting to be a bit much however, and starting to give me a headache. But when I got to school, it was the worst. Everybody's thoughts were on this subject. Holy shit did I have a one track mind or what, even when going insane.
I rushed to a men's bathroom, which was a women's bathroom, but someone was an asshole and covered up the WO letters, and needed to clear my head. But what I saw, oh God what I saw, I can never unsee. Erica, a girl I've been going out with for about a month, making out with someone, and very passionately at that. I was stunned, and backed up into the door. That was when they noticed my presence, and the other person turned around -- it was her. Erica. Making out with Erica. There... was two of her? Twins? Oh God that's sick. No, wait, she was an only child, but... this... what...
Suddenly, her skin stretched out and absorbed the other her. I fainted.
I awoke in one of the stalls, with three Erica's staring at me. `` Are you ok?'' one asked. `` Why were you in the women's bathroom?'' another asked. `` I can explain this.'' the third one stated.
`` I'll be fine, some ass changed the sign, hiding some letters on it, and it's okay, I understand completely'' I told her. And suddenly they merged into one. `` oh thank god, he knows what superpowers look like. but how did he know I was bisexual, and wanted to see what making out with myself was like? Well whatever.'' she said, but again, her lips did n't move. She just stood there for a moment. `` You're thinking about being bisexual, and superpowers, are you?'' I asked, realizing perhaps I'm not seeing things. I'm a big muscular guy, and she's rather small, and not that strong. She could n't have possibly moved me into this stall unless there was multiple ones. Like my sis, she went white as a sheet. `` How... what... you're in my head?'' she asked.
`` Well, I do n't mind you making out with you, strange as that is, it's not like you're cheating or anything, since they're both you after all. But it would have been nice if you'd have called me, told me about this. I'd have understood. Well, I'd have thought you were joking at first, but with a demonstration, I'd have understood.'' I told her. It all made sense now, the whole world had a bunch of powers, and I was the only one who knew it, because mine was to interface with the minds of others. `` I think I can read minds. Sorry, I ca n't control it yet.'' I added, when I saw her blushing badly.
`` if you can read minds, can you also write to them? like, control them?'' she blurted out. And suddenly her mind was racing with ideas of how we could use our powers. `` I'm... not sure? Never tried. I'm not the type to try and control someone, or make them do what I want, why?'' I asked. `` promise not to freak out?'' she asked. `` at what?'' I counterquestioned, confused now. She grabbed my arm and tugged, pulling me out of the stall. `` Now... just keep an open mind here, and try to keep calm.'' she told me, and suddenly her skin started to stretch, she was splitting. But that was when I felt it, my skin was doing the same! Suddenly, there was another me, and another her! `` What the hell!'' both of me asked in unison. Suddenly the Erica's turned to each other, and played rock paper scissors with one another until one lost. The one that lost spoke up. `` this is how I keep from multiple me's doing what you just did. When I copy myself, anything I'm holding, or that's on me, gets copied with me. That's why none of the me's are naked.'' she explained to the me's. `` Okay, so why copy me?'' both of me asked in unison. `` stop that'' `` no, you stop that'' `` no, you stop that'' `` quit it'' `` do n't make me kick my ass'' I kept telling me, as he would speak the exact same words back at the exact same time. I was pissing me off fast. `` stop!'' erica pleaded `` do the rock paper scissors thing''. So I did. I won. `` okay, so I copied you, so one of you can get to class late as it is, and another one can be here with me. I wanted to see if you could help me control my power, and maybe I can help you control yours'' she offered. Well, this seemed good.
`` you, go, class, you, stay.'' The duplicate me and duplicate Erica left for class. `` okay, now, do you see those two there in the hall?'' she asked me, pointing at Sandra and Alyssa. `` yes? they're both thinking about their powers, worried about them showing.'' I answered. `` good, now, lets see if you can make them start making out with each other.'' Erica suggested. I stared at her, completely shocked. She seemed so innocent, so reserved before this. `` oh come on, if you're gon na read my thoughts anyway, I might as well just say what I'm thinking around you, so can you? try it.'' she said. And so, I closed my eyes and concentrated on them, picturing in my mind them throwing their arms around each other and passionately making out.
When I opened my eyes, I saw that
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[ WP ] Nerd goes back in time to king Arthurs Court with a watchable copy of the Star wars trilogy
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Poor Jeremy he did n't realise travelling backwards through into ancient Britain to the round table would land him in such trouble. True he has n't researched his language history terribly well, he assumed his passing knowledge of old English and Latin would help, he had no idea about Celtic, nor that the guards only knew the words he was saying sounded like those Saxon dogs across the sea. Speaking in Latin did n't help either, he was terrible at it and the older men the room bristled too, what was that about? He did n't even get to show star wars to King Arthur, they destroyed his tablet and burnt the remains before tying him underside from a tree limb. This holiday was a nightmare, he should have just gone to Minnesota Slagfalls instead, he should have forked out the money for a distress beacon, he should have gotten time travel insurance, Jeremy should thought about his plan for five minutes more than he did. The sun rose in the east bleeding colour into the mist on the ground before burning it away, a single man walked out of the building where King Arthur and his court were beginning the day. The man poked young unconscious Jeremy with a cudgel rousing him. Jeremy was red in the face, drooling and shaking violently from cold, he coughed and spluttered trying to plead for his life while the man just watched him. `` see this is why you think about what you're doing before you do it, do my clothes look historically right? This here is a herringbone weave on my sleeve, that's not been invented yet, ya tit'' the man cut Jeremy down and dragged him into a stable putting him against a horse. `` look just because you know a bit of old language and know some names does n't mean you'd ready to do this kind of trip, you got ta immerse yourself in the culture first, start slow and build up to the top otherwise they get a bit annoyed and send a bloke like me to brain you'' the man pulled out a leather flask and poured the contents over Jeremy's face `` lucky for you i was around or you'd be properly fucked my old china plate, i mean who goes back into time without a beacon? Even i carry one and I'm bleedin historian, i still get in trouble now and then, shit son you do n't even have a guide book'' the man took out a silver bullet shaped object out the base of his cudgel and pushed it through Jeremy's swollen lips `` right well I've greased you for transport and the becon is set to emergency you'll be zapped straight to hospital and they'll patch you up it's covered in your travel insurance'' Jeremy eyes widened at the prospect `` now do n't tell me you do n't have the insurance? Right well just be sure to say public hospital when you land, they'll take you there, not as good but it'll do'' the man stood up and left Jeremy a few seconds before he was taken back and a horse flipped inside out.
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[ IP ] Urban Life
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A city never sleeps.
Rina confirmed this old saying herself when she first stepped into the sprawling metropolis. She grew up in the rich fields and pastures of the countryside and only knew what she knew of city life from her shows and movies. From her young point of view then, the city had everything and everyone. It was where the rich and the beautiful came to reside. Where technology advanced and markets thrived. Love was around every corner and dashing urban princes charmed maidens away on their expensive metal stallions. Dreams were achieved and goals were obtained. She was completely awestruck with what a city had to offer.
In contrast to the sparkling glimmering of the city lights, Rina's windows only offered the same plains and the same scattered trees. Apart from the McDonald's in the nearby town, there was not much for a young teenage girl like her. Her parents were farmers and their parents were farmers as well. Farming was her family's livelihood and she was expected to carry on the tradition with her older brother. However, her simple life and its current parameters could not hold back her dreams. She yearned for more. She wanted to be a star. To become like those perfect beings that she idolised from her media consummation. That was what she was meant to be. She could feel it in her bones. The red strings of fate were pulling her away to greater things and she would be a fool if she resisted.
From the very moment that her father began to teach her, Rina's love for guitar playing has never waned. She started out simple. Learning chords and scales to reading sheet music, she worked day in and day out perfecting her craft. She officially inherited her father guitar at the age of 12 when he reckoned that it would be better hands with hers. Her brother brought Rina her first capo for her 13th birthday. Her brother had always appreciate her music, more so than even her father. He would ask for her to play and sing to him after a hard day of work as often as possible. And she would happily oblige.
It was her brother that encouraged her to perform in front of an audience and it was also him who landed Rina her first live performance. He was her biggest supporter and readily spoiled her with whatever request she needed. A drive to the town square for a performance? He already started the ignition. String broke? He β s already calling the music shop to have a new one ready for when he arrives. She wanted to move to the city once she graduated to pursue a music career? He has already settled the qualms with her parents and got them to agree for him to inherit the farm alone so she could leave with nothing holding her back. Her last hug with him felt like an eternity ago. She still recalls seeing her brother's waving figure disappeared into the horizon as the the bus drove away from her old life and into her new one.
There she stood. Patter. Patter. The raindrops pelted gently against her umbrella, slid down and pattered once more upon the pavement. The air was cold, but the glows of neon lights and the chattering of the masses enveloped her fully like a warm blanket. The moos' of dairy cows and the greens of rural shrubbery that she once knew was replaced by the honking of cars and and the reflective glass of towering skyscrapers. A young couple, trying to escape the rain, raced by, laughing and hollering. A elderly man checks his watch under the shelter of a overhanging roof. A child, holding his mother's hand, skipped and splashed with his delighted giggles. This was the city. Her dreams awaited her deep within.
A city truly never sleep. And until she reaches where she needed to be, neither will she.
___
Hi, this is my first attempt at any creative writing since high school. I know it's not up to par with what's usually on here but any criticism is appreciated. Do n't worry, I have thick skin.
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[ IP ] The Witch Hunt Begins
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Forewarning: not only is this my first wp, I am also on mobile and have n't slept in far too long... But whatever
It started out as rumors. Whisperings from nearby villages. There was a group of figures, gliding silently through the moonlight once every full moon.
`` Demons.'' Someone intoned, words hushed behind hands. `` Nay, it's spirits, come to punish us for our sins''
A harsh chuckle came from old man Barrabus, the town drunk. His gray hair and beard matted against his tattered clothes, a red strip covering the empty sockets no-one ever quite looked directly at. `` it's neither of these, my dear townsmen, that you must worry about.'' He swung his head around, seeing nothing but waiting until all eyes were on him, before he smiled an awful smile, full of black rot and yellow stumps, his slimy pink tongue darting around the decayed bits of what were once teeth, and uttered the word that everyone feared.
`` Witches''
Mother fainted. As father carried her home, I asked him, `` father, why do people fear witches above demons and ghosts, above the wolves in the woods or the bears in the mountains?''
`` Because, Marie, they are mortal. Demons you can exorcise. Spirits you can banish. Wolves and bears are but animals, easily hunted and killed. But witches are women, and naught else. They believe they commune with nature, with some old, forgotten gods. They have lost the path to the one true God, and are forever damned because of it.''
But that would not satisfy my curiosity. At fifteen, nothing short of experience, of evidence, of tangible proof would suffice. I had witnessed an exorcism. My father, the shepherd of the town, performed them when the need arose, and that was once a fortnight. I even saw a shade of the dead once, although it did not seem to notice me. But these witches intrigued me. I resolved to follow the shadowy figures, and began preparing immediately. A black cloak, with a hood that fell low over my face, and a sharp dagger safely tucked in the folds, a pair of well- worn boots, and my wits were all I could even think to bring. On the night of the full moon, I crept out, past the town square, past the church, and slipped soundlessly through the night into the forest.
It was n't long before I found them. There were twelve women, dressed almost exactly like me, in hoods to hide their faces. I moved slowly and deliberately, making no sound, as I did not yet want my presence to them known. I had n't gone a yard when they all turned to stare at me, in perfect unison.
`` Welcome'' said one of the figures. `` we knew our call would be heard.''
Behind her, the others choroused: `` we prayed to our masters, and our masters listened.''
The speaker moved, faster than I could react, and before I could blink, she had me pinned against a tree, my own dagger at my throat.
`` Now, my dear sister of the dark, I leave you with a choice. Join us, drink of the cup, and share in our power, or die, here and now, and never be seen again.''
My heart beating all too fast, a managed to gasp `` i want to live''
I saw a flash of perfect teeth as the dagger was removed from my jugular.
`` Excellent. Sister Elvira!''
Another one of the hooded figures produced a golden chalice from the folds of her robe, and held it out for the leader. Before the leader received it however, she took the dagger, MY dagger, and sliced open her palm, hissing in pain as her lifeblood flowed into the cup. She then traded cup for dagger, and each sister repeated the ritual, making various whimpers and moans as the sharp knife cut into their skin like soft cheese. Finally, the dagger and cup were presented to me.
I took the knife in a trembling hand, stifling a cry of pain as my dagger bit into my palm. When I had squeezed more than a few drops into the cup, the dagger was gently taken and replaced with the cup. The leader made a motion only interpreted as'drink up'. I did as I was told.
Power. Power like nothing I'd ever felt coursed through my veins. Voices. Voices of the other members, thoughts rushing through my head. Pain. Never in my life had I felt this much pain. As it slowly began to recede, I felt a smile creep across my face. For we were 13, and now we were unstoppable. We knew the witch hunt would begin.
Let them come.
Edit: words. Sue me. I'm tired.
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[ WP ] You notice your shadow acting of its own accord .
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The darkness seemed to follow me as I walked down the decrepit stairs. Every step seemed to produce a booming echo. A drop of water dropped down the empty middle of the spiral staircase every few seconds or so as I made my way down. I would often look back up at the ceiling to see the source of the water only to be reminded that it was far too dark to see the ceiling.
I hugged the walls tight. There was a stone fire pit at the bottom of the staircase - all I had to do was set it aflame. Humans were n't meant to live in the dark, clearly. We are creatures of the light. I began to smell the foul stench that was characteristic to the basement's moldy tendencies. *Almost there*, I told myself.
I realized that I was at the bottom of the spiral staircase once my right foot expected to descend onto another step but found solid ground instead. I let out a sigh of relief. I put my hands on the walls and felt my way to the crevace that held the lighting stones. I picked them up, ensured that I was near the fire pit with my foot, and crouched down to begin lighting the fire.
The sound of my footsteps was nothing compared to the sound of steel on flint as I hit the two together in hopes of a spark. A spark flew out on my third try, but it did not catch the twigs in the fire pit. After 2 more tries, the spark finally hit the twigs proper as I closed my eyes and let myself smile slightly. Interesting how the darkness in the back of one's eyelids can be more comforting than any amount of light.
I began to hear a sequence of hissing noises, and the slight warmth I had felt had gone away. I let myself reopen my eyes, though it made little difference. All was dark.
*The water drops*, I reminded myself. They must have nailed the small fire right where it started. The water droplets were small and insignificant - they should make no difference once a proper fire takes hold of the pit. I rubbed the flint and steel together once more, this time closer to the edge of the fire pit, listening to where the water drops were falling. It seems that there were some leaves there, as a flame caught hold quite quickly, and began illuminating the surrounding area.
I focused on the flame to make sure that the water drops would leave it be. As I focused on the growing flame, I thought I noticed something strange on the wall. Some unexpected movement. I looked across the flame towards the wall and saw only my shadow. Attributing whatever I had seen to a lack of sleep, I locked my gaze back to the flame. I thought about what I had just seen. Something seemed off. I massaged my left eyebrow in thought until I made the realization. I stopped breathing. *If the fire is in front of me, should n't my shadow be behind me? *
I quickly looked back up and saw a stone wall pained only with projections of the fire pit. I turned around, and much to my surprise, my shadow raised its arms and dropped its shadowy flint and steel though I had my arms at my sides, still holding on to the lighting stones.
`` Shit, you've caught me,'' a voice said.
I dropped the lighting stones and opened my eyes wide, looking around as if looking for another entity in the room.
`` Well, what is it, what do you want?'' the voice said again.
`` Are you-''
`` Yes, I'm your shadow. What of it? Whadya want?''
I turned my eyes to the side in disbelief.
`` I do n't have all night, you know. You gon na make me sit here and stare? You caught me. Hi. What do you want?''
`` I- I mean, I did n't mean to, er, catch you. I just needed to turn the flame on.''
`` Why would you do that? Are n't you humans supposed to be asleep at this time of night?''
`` It is my duty to ensure that all firepits remain lit in case someone were to need to walk about the castle,'' I found myself reciting an explanation I had said many times before.
If a shadow could open its eyes wide and give you an angry stare, this one certainly would have. I only heard a long, deep sigh. *How could a shadow breathe? * I found myself wondering, though the issue of the shadow's speech seemed to escape my curiosity.
`` You will die now.'' The shadow's voice said had gotten considerably lower. It spoke slowly, and with authority.
The shadow picked up its shadowy steel off of the ground. I found myself mimicking its actions. I suddenly lost all control over myself.
`` How does it feel?'' the shadow asked, full well knowing the answer.
The shadow raised its arm and knocked the steel into its head. It was my weakness that saved me. I was found at the bottom of the staircase the next day, knocked out. The fire had been put out - it seemed that whatever hole in the ceiling had been letting the water in had increased in size significantly. I had been laying in a pool of cold, dirty rainwater.
I had hoped that it was all a bad dream.
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[ WP ] Sometime in the future , murder is legal . Why ?
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Human life is a sacred and special thing that needs to be protected and nurtured. Or at least it had been, once - then Full Revival Insurance became common place. An echo of the ancient telephone booth repopulated the streets, both figuratively and literally. Upon your death you would step out of the nearest Revival Booth as healthy as ever, but with a few less credits to your name - unless of course someone else is determined to have caused your death, be it by accident or murder, in which case they would be charged for your revival as well as penalty fees.
Murder as a charge was abolished as Death was no longer permanent, and sizable financial burdens were put in place for those who committed it instead. It was soon discovered that debt collectors, being free from certain statutes that the Police were under, were very capable at finding culprits.
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[ WP ] That idea for a story that you 've been thinking about for a while now . Write that .
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She knew the rain was freezing cold and that her muscles had to be aching, but the fear coursing through her veins made everything almost numb. She was still aware of the fierce grip of Ma's hand and of the pounding of their bare feet over the jagged rocks and piercing sticks that covered their unknown path. They had been running for so long, but they could n't stop. If she wanted to live she had to hold on and run; run as fast as she could and keep running.
As Ma pulled her into the frigid waters of the river, she still heard the ferocious barks and howls of the bloodhounds ruthlessly chasing them down; chasing them to death. They would chase them until they died or until they could be taken back to the death that Ma finally gotten the courage to leave. Her fear of water was nothing compared to the fear they were trying to escape, so she gasped for air and held on even tighter as Ma kept pulling.
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[ WP ] You 're the bartender at a medieval pub , and some very adventurous people just walked in ...
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There β s eight of them. EIGHT. And it β s not like they β re not traveling together, either! They all pranced in here in their little laced boots and feathered hats like they owned the damn place! The whole point of an adventuring party is that you β re supposed to cover each other β s weaknesses, not create some kind of teenage boy band!! They won β t last five minutes out in the wild, that β s for damn sure, unless the bears feel like hearing songs today!
Oh Jesus, here they come. Lem me guess, they β re going to ask for the β Jolly Cooperation Special with added dashes of Friendship β?? Good god, are these the toughest guys the city has to offer now? No wonder most of my patrons nowadays only come around once.
Oh, waitβ¦ HAH!!! One of those green good-for-nothings just knocked over the Black Baron β s axe! Ohh, he β s not going to be happy about this one, I can tell right now. Last time someone did that, I had to spend half a day β s income resetting the foundation on this place! But, he paid for it, so I β ll let it slide. My returning customers do tend to be the most respectful of this place. Guess it β s cause my ale keeps β em happy, hehe!
Ohohoho, he β s getting up and those poor bastards haven β t even noticed. They β ll be lucky to keep their heads on their shoulders at this point. Won β t be strumming out tunes if you don β t have a mouth to sing with, eh? I just hope the ol β Baron cleans up his mess this timeβ¦ Well, who am I kidding? He never does.
Alright, he β s swinging! Annnnnnnd the axe goes upβ¦β¦ and the axe goes do --?!
What in blazes?? The Baron, he, heβ¦ did he just get knocked out?! How the hell did that dressed-up goon react so damn quickly?? And what the hell are those damn harps made out of?? The Baron β s helmet is made of some seriously hard stuff, but that bloody instrument didn β t even get bent! Hell, the strings are still attached, and by the way he β s strumming it now, it β s even still in pretty damn good tune!! And his companions didn β t even budge an inch, either! Who are these kids??
Well, they β ve got my attention now, along with all the rest of my patrons. I don β t think anyone β s going to mess with them, though, and for good reason. Now that they β re up close to me, I can tell that they β ve definitely seen some nasty things. Their faces are youthful enough, but their eyesβ¦ that β s a cold glare that I haven β t seen since the days of my ex-wife, tell ya what.
One of β em just asked for the hardest thing I β ve got. Well, I really don β t want to disappoint here, so I β ll give them some of my ol β Hellspawn Gin. These kids have got some fire in β em, but I β ve still got a lesson or two of my own to teach, hehe!
He β s downed the whole thing in one go!!! These kids might be brave, but they sure do seem stupid now, haha! Never down a whole mug in one go until you know what β s behind it, boy! He β s looking at me now, probably ready to beg for mercy!!
β I thought I asked you for the hardest thing you had here. See the Baron over there? He and his minions had been causing trouble for my party for some time now, but we got information that he frequented this place often. And now, he β s dead. His neck β s snapped cleanly in two, a surgical break. And that was done by the weakest member of my party. Now, tell me. Do you really want me to do to you, what my friend here did to the Baron? And unlike him, I won β t hold back. β
Theβthe Baron β s dead?! Oh, Lord... Looks like I β m gon na be down half a day β s income againβ¦
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[ WP ] After leaving Earth years ago , humans decide to come back to Earth because of the dwindling food source . Bacteria has already evolved to create mutant humans on Earth , while the others were gone .
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`` Maybe reasoning with them is the best solution Commander, afterall I highly doubt you want to use excessive force. These mutants are completely foreign to us in behavior.'' - Scientist
`` So what was the point of bringing you along anyway? I thought you knew a lot about these mutants?'' -Commander
*Landing gear initiated. Fuel reserves at 60 %. *
`` I know about the mutation itself. Im here to keep you alive and healthy! The last thing we need is you bringing this bacteria back to the station.'' - Scientist
`` Sir! I've set her down just outside the park limits. Scanners show few life readings in the area. Ill do a perimeter check to be sure.'' - Lieutenant
**Lieutenant steps out of the bay door and closes it behind**
*sigh* `` I TOLD you Yosemite would be too remote an area! How are we supposed to communicate if they are n't even he-'' - Commander
**ALERT** *Scanners indicate multiple signatures moving towards current position. Hostile formations detected*
`` Set the ship for emergency debarkation protocol. If you hear me stop firing....leave.'' -Commander
Thanks for reading. This is my first post here.
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[ WP ] You are an inanimate object . Describe a time when you felt most terrified .
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It's that time of the week again. Taco fucking Tuesday. I hear little Jimmy's footsteps as they clomp across the hard wood floors. Not only that, I can hear the gurgling, oh the hideous, maniacal gurgling of Jimmy's weak digestive tract.
You'd think that he'd have learned by now that a big glass of chocolate milk and 5 Taco Bell tacos with Volcano Sauce do not mix well. But little Jimmy is n't the spiciest pepper in the plantation if you catch my drift.
The door flung open and Jimmy's face appeared like that scene in the Shining. The noises coming from his stomach were doing the Harlem Shake now, I could hear them. Jimmy waddled to the throne and opened up the floodgates. All of the other bathroom toiletries marveled at the sight as Jimmy conducted a new orchestral masterpiece through flatulence and splashes alone.
The musical piece was over however, and Jimmy turned his chubby, little face to me and gave me that look.
What look you may ask? Just picture a struggling adventurer, wandering for days in the desert. He is low on water and food and is simply trying to stay alive. But suddenly, an oasis appears! And in it are the finest of drinks and the most scrumptious of dishes. Our adventurer turns to the oasis and gives a look of awe. That is the look I am talking about.
Without remorse, he grabs hold of me and spins me around like I'm on some hellish Tilt-a-Whirl. `` You do n't need that much,'' I exclaim, `` I'm two-ply''!
Little Jimmy does n't listen however because he is a stubborn little bitch. Then comes the rip, and then the fold, and then the entry. Satisfied, little Jimmy tosses me down into the depths of the porcelain throne and pulls the lever. The last thing I see before being flushed out of sight is the image of Jimmy's ass as he waddles out of the bathroom.
**Fuck Taco Tuesday. **
TL-DR: I have a shitty job.
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[ WP ] Finishes with `` May I start over ? ''
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Emptiness.. the feeling replaces the marrow of my bones. Linked with the weight of the universe in my muscles.
My mind is adrift in an ocean so vast. I do n't know if I'm 400 feet under water, or floating atop the waves.
Time is meaningless now, as the dance begins. The seduction of the movements, the hair a tangled mess in her face, I ca n't help but fall in love with how beautiful her movement is, how much she is in this moment. There is nothing but her and this dance, as I am losing my body. I no longer know if I am staring at her with eyes, or with my very being.
She walks over to me, breathing heavily, and whispers
`` Did you want to do more?''
I think on my life.. and my mind shows the frost of the air as the quiet words come out. Did I really say them?
`` May I start over?''
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[ WP ] `` So ... me and him ? '' `` Yes . ''
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`` So... me and him?''
`` Yes.''
That was the only answer I needed. I walked up to my target, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned, and let out a gasp as he saw my face.
I quickly slid the knife between his ribs, slicing open his lung, making unable to breathe. I held a hand over his mouth, and set him hunched over on the bench nearby.
I hated looking at their eyes, seeing myself reflected in them. It reminded me of what a monster I had become.
I walked back to the old man. He picked up his suitcase, and we walked together down the road. As we walked, an ambulance passed us, but we just kept walking.
`` So... me and him?''
`` Yes.''
That was the only answer he needed. The man stood and walked over to me, and tapped me on the shoulder. I turned, and gasped in surprise as I saw my own face. I felt the knife sliding between my ribs, and life slipping away.
`` So... me and him?
`` Yes.''
That was the only answer the young man needed. I watched as it played out, as it had twice before. The shoulder tap, the shock, the death, the bench. I picked up my briefcase as me and the young man began to walk away. I could hear the ambulance coming, knowing it would n't change a thing.
It was just me and him.
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