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[ WP ] You 've fell violently ill while your spouse is out of town . Unbeknownst to you a murderer has broken into your house waiting for you to come out of your room to end it all . After waiting so long he has grown concerned .
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John and Lacey Rigtatto had been married for about five years. In that time the marriage had seemed as happy as any marriage really can. They generally got along, seemed to enjoy each other ’ s company, and even looked forward to special events together. That was one of the things John attributed to the success of the last five years though, due to their demanding careers they both traveled a lot. Therefore they both got the benefit of being apart, and then getting to reunite and enjoy each other.
So it was like any other month that Lacey had a trip to China for ten days to inspect one of her company factories. John was supposed to go two days after her to Biloxi Mississippi to see how and why his company ’ s fish processing plant there was falling behind in orders and efficiency. Apparently however, John ’ s body did not agree with going anywhere out of the house, as it decided to get the flu instead.
John called into his work explaining the situation, and even called his wife to let her know he would be home for the week instead of out of town. Lacey showed concern on the phone, asking if she needed to cut her trip short to come help take care of him. John balked at this, he told her not to worry and if it got worse he would go into see his Doctor.
As fate would have it, John did get worse. He began running high fever on day three, and got so in and out of it that he couldn ’ t move to even call the doctor. Even if he could have called, he was in no condition to drive anywhere. He faded in and out of sleep for two days afterward, only getting up to use the restroom and drink some water. It was on day six and one of these trips to the restroom that John thought he heard a noise downstairs. However, in his current condition he felt too bad to even go check and see what had made it. So back in bed John went.
Day seven started without poor sick John even noticing the sun had risen. When he did come to consciousness that morning he immediately noticed several very strange things. First, there was a lukewarm cloth on his forehead, from where John had no idea. Second, whereas he had gone to sleep the night before in his boxers and pajama bottoms, he was now very naked under the covers. Third, there was a steaming cup of wonderful smelling tea sitting on his bedside table that he knew he didn ’ t make. Lastly, his bathroom door was closed with the light on and the sound of the shower running.
Lacey must have come home early to take care of him, he thought to himself as he tried to sit up. Unlike the last several days, his head didn ’ t immediately swoon when he set up. He took this as a good sign, and slowly made his way out of bed, stopping to take a long draught of the steaming tea. He wasn ’ t a tea coinsure, and therefore couldn ’ t tell what kind this was, but it made his body seem to warm up as it went down. He looked around for his phone, and didn ’ t see it around anywhere. I probably knocked it off onto the floor or under the bed, he thought. He was in no condition currently to look for it however. Slowly and surely he made his way to the bathroom door and swung the door inward. The sight that awaited him stopped him cold.
In the place where Lacey was supposed to be showering was a very beautiful woman of Asian descent showering, John had never laid eyes on this person before in his life. This woman was looking John dead in the eyes as he opened the door, and was also leveling a pistol at his chest. John tried to think, to speak, to..well anything really. Sick as he had been though it just didn ’ t make sense to his poor brain, and instead of functioning it decided it was a good time to pass out. As the lights grew dim and John felt himself fall to the floor, he thought he heard “ Watch your head! ” from the strange woman.
John awoke to what seemed several hours later, as it looked like late afternoon through the window and shade, with a start. He shot straight up in his bed, which was a HUGE mistake. It felt like he had been hit in the head with a bowling ball. Instinctively he reached a hand up to his head and found a bandage instead of his hair. Slower this time, he sat up more in bed and began scanning the room. His eyes stopped at the sitting chair next to his wife ’ s vanity, for there sat the strange woman who was trespassing in Johns home.
“ Who the hell are you, and what do you think are doing in my home! ” John tried to say with courage he didn ’ t have and volume his body couldn ’ t produce at this time. Instead it came out scratchy, low, and hoarse sounding.
She seemed to assess him with a once over of her eyes before responding. “ Who I am isn ’ t nearly as important as why I am here Mr. Rigtatto. ” After saying this she pursed her lips and looked into the distance like she was contemplating something. “ Actually is it ok if I call you Johnny? I always liked that nick name for someone named John. ” She then stopped and looked at John as if waiting for his reply.
“ Wha…what? ” He stammered, even more confused about what was going on. Just then a blast of the AC in the house hit him and caused him to shiver. “ F-f-fine, call me what you want. Just tell me what you are doing in my home. ” He glanced at the vanity she was sitting next to and saw the gun again, this time with a black tube on the end. John was also not a gun expert, but it looked like a small caliber weapon with a silencer on it like in the spy movies. “ Also, why do you n-need that? ” He stammered out as another cold blast hit him.
She too took a quick glance at the weapon beside her, then back to locking eyes with John. “ Well Johnny I will answer in reverse. This weapon was actually meant for you, that is also why I happen to be in your home. ” She waited a moment for what she said to sink in for John before continuing. “ You see you were my most recent job, and I came here fully intent on carrying out that job as I always have in the past. ” Again she gave a moment for what she was saying to get through to the man in the bed. “ I have been here for three days however, and you are still alive as you can no doubt tell. ” She took a moment to chuckle to herself at her morbidly corny joke. “ I guarantee you are the only job I have ever had that saw my face and lived to even know they had. Also I have never taken care of one of my marks before ” She then looked at John expectantly for a response.
“ Take…take care of me? I ’ m your job…..so that makes you an assassin? ” He asked weakly as the horror of what was just told to him was driving to his core. First, why was an assassin after him? Second, why was an ASSASIN AFTER HIM??!! Third, who in the world would want him DEAD? So he voiced that last thought. “ What could I have done so wrong that someone wants me dead? ”
“ Actually I prefer Hitwoman as a title if you must label me or what I do. ” She replied dryly, as if it had come up before. “ As to who wants you dead, well that would be Mrs. Rigatto of course. Although I imagine she was hopping to soon be Ms. Rigatto. ” The strange woman emphasized the Ms. part as she explained. “ The reason or reasons she wants you dead I couldn ’ t tell you. I haven ’ t ever met her, I was just assigned a job as usual from my employer and came to complete said task. If you need some assistance as to looking at why, then I would first look at your newly taken out life insurance policy. That ’ s quite a hefty sum. ” She said with a strange sparkle in her eye. “ Also since she makes more than you, it may have been that she didn ’ t want to deal with a divorce which resulted in her having to pay you some form of alimony. ” She stopped there and waited for the inevitable response.
It took a long moment, as everything processed through his head at a slower pace than usual due to being sick. John started to almost hyperventilate as he spoke next. “ No, no there must be a mistake! Lacey and I love each other, she would never do this. And just how the hell do you know about my life insurance, or how much we each make? ” He said with pants and breaks while speaking.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she took a moment to consider everything he had said and asked. Coolie, almost like a feline appraising its pretty prey she spoke. “ Johnny, I am going to let you slide on questioning my professionalism as we have only just met and you barely know me. I assure you however, I am EXTREMELY proficient and do my job very well. I know of both salaries and the life insurance policy because I paid a small fee for an information package on you and your spouse upon receiving the job. As to who took out the contract, since you just can ’ t fathom it being your DARLING wife. Take a look for yourself! ” And with that she flicked a small yellow envelope seemingly out of nowhere to land almost perfectly in front of where John was sitting up in the bed.
John reached a shaky hand out and picked up the envelope. Slowly he opened it and took out one single piece of paper. Surprisingly it looked almost like a normal business contract that John himself had drawn up hundreds of times at work. He scanned it, stopped, scanned it again, stopped again. This went on for several long drawn out moments. Finally he looked up at the woman, whose name he still didn ’ t know, his face pale even for being sick. He couldn ’ t believe it, she was right of course. From everything he read, in Lacey ’ s distinct handwriting, he was holding a contract she had filled out to end his life. He glanced down again at the paper and noticed for the first time the name of the “ Business ”. Go bye bye inc. He half snarled half laughed at the preposterous name. How could Lacey do this to him? Why did she want him dead? When did she grow to hate or loathe him so much that she contemplated and then planned to end him? All of these questions flew through his head all at once, along with a thousand other questions. He looked the woman directly in the eyes, started to speak and instead promptly vomited and passed out all at once. His last dimming thought was still, why?
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[ WP ] Tell me a story that comes from your real life in the past few days .
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Breath caught in his throat, he sat in front of the monitor, fingers shaking over the keys. It was too perfect. He'd been considering what he was about to do for months, years really. And now it felt right, like the world was telling him to just get it over with. Everyone has to face the music, right? He'd done this three or four times now, and each time went well enough. He was forgiven, at least. But this time was different. He was n't looking for forgiveness this time. In fact, he wanted nothing from his intended recipient. He just needed to be heard. An apology was owed, and if ever he was to reclaim what of his honor he could, it would have to start here. Releasing his pent up breath in a sigh, he begun typing.
From the first keystrokes, he wanted to quit. *This does n't need to be said*, he thought. *She's already forgotten me. Better never to be reminded. *
*No. * A quiet, but strong voice sprang from within. *You started this, you finish it. That means you must remind her, this final time. Yes, it would be best if she never remembered you. Yes, it most likely will cause memories to resurface which will cause her some measure of pain. Again yes, it will be completely your fault. Tough shit. Apologize. Failure to do so would be no less than cowardice. Your cowardice is what brought you to this point in the first place. * He winced at his conscience's words. True, but no less bitter for it. The typing continued for a time, the keystrokes the only discernible sound. Memories washed over him as he recounted the tales from those days, and poured forth with the pieces of the narrative that no one but he had. Shame, anger, regret, each newly remembered bit brought waves of emotion. And again, his strength wavered.
*So I should make her go through it again? Remember all the shitty things I said and did? Who does that help besides me? It's really asking her to be uncomfortable for my chance at closure. This was what I did initially. It's selfish. * He thought, mouse hovering just off of the close tab button. *I should deal with what I've done alone, as I have been. *
*And you will. * Louder this time, the force behind the thought startled him somewhat. *You will get back to that just as soon as you finish this. She deserves an apology. Are you really going to leave it as is? You'll never amount to more than what you were that way. Be a fucking man. * With no further resistance he continued writing, each letter a tiny hook dug into his very soul. Recounting their fleeting love, doomed before it began by his own stupidity drew tears he thought he had finished shedding years ago. Recounting his actions brought more, a veritable deluge that he did n't know he'd been holding back for years. Still the words poured out of him, the last desperate attempt at... he was n't sure. He did n't want to reconcile. He did n't even want to hear from her again. Did n't want to just let it go either. He could never forget, neither her nor what he did. His self-prescribed penance would be carrying this with him for the rest of his days. He just wanted her to know he was sorry. Though too many years late to matter, he gave it his all.
Silent tears streaming down his face, he finished his task, sent it and closed the browser. It was wordy, but it said what needed saying, and was as sincere as he could make it. She'd never respond to him, and that, he told himself, was alright. After all, she was better off without him, that much was certain. She was kind, cheerful, caring, wise beyond her years, and made of far tougher stuff than he was. What she ever saw in him, well, there was a time he thought he'd never know. But looking at it more clearly, years down the line, he realized she saw in him what had been there all along. She saw in him his own kindness, his loyalty, his strength. Deep down, he'd always possessed it. He just did n't know until it was too late.
And that's why it was alright that she would n't respond. No response was necessary. He wanted her to know she was right about what she saw in him. It just took him longer than it should have to realize that. His task completed, and feeling no better about life than when he started, he turned his sorrow again on himself.
*So where the hell was this fucking character when I was busy fucking everything up. Not once did I ever meet resistance like this* He thought angrily. *Why now? *
To his surprise, the voice that pushed him to reach out responded simply: *You never listened back then. *
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[ RF ] The story of an army that is deliberately sent on a suicide mission to delay the enemy
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It's been about 3 days since the enemy first attacked our position.
We withdrew from the mainland a month before, our hometowns immediately overrun by the enemy. I wonder how my wife and sons are. The invasion happened too quickly, and they never had a chance to see me before I had to follow my brigade across the waters. I miss them terribly, and the thought of them enduring the hardships of occupation brings endless pain in my heart. I pray to God that Sophia stays safe and strong, that she finds the strength to carry on without me.
We retreated to one of our outlying islands, a fortress armed to the teeth with cannons. We blew up the causeway linking the island to the mainland, hoping it will stall the enemy's advance. Our allies, foreign men who fought alongside us as brothers, set up a camp at the northeast side of the island, in anticipation of the enemy's advance there. Malnutrition and fatigue had clearly taken a toll on them, their bony arms and bleak faces providing proof of their torture. They fought bravely, but were ultimately outwitted by the enemy, and fell within hours, their bodies buried by the constant barrage of artillery shells and aerial bombs.
We were ordered to entrench ourselves in the thick forests of this island. It was the last stronghold we had in our country, we were told, and we were to defend it with our lives. Reinforcements from the West were arriving to save us, and all we had to do was to hold out until they arrived, we were told. But we knew what they meant. Our allies were occupied, facing their own trials, and judging from the fall of our neighbours to the enemy, it would be an eternity before someone came to save us. This was a suicide mission, a last-ditch attempt to delay the enemy and wear down their numbers. We were to die here, and our blood was to stain the soil red, leaving behind the story of an army that sacrificed itself for its country.
It has been 3 days since the enemy first attacked our position. For 3 long days, we fought. Day in and day out, the shrieks of artillery shells and the staccato of gunfire flooded the forest. Bullet after bullet was spat from my rifle, their casings dotting the forest floor with shimmering brass. As every hour went by, we saw more of distant rifles and bayonets, of blood and raw flesh, and saw less of our brothers-in-arms.
Ammunition is scarce. So is food. Soon, we will die, either from the gaping jaws of starvation, or from the cold, hard steel of an enemy's blade in my torso, spawning a spring of warm, soothing blood to ease my aching body from the horrors of war.
Their bayonets glitter in the distance. I look at my men, then back at the enemy. They've outnumbered us. I call out to my brothers, mustering them for one final battle.
[ I offer one last silent prayer to God, and pick up my rifle. ] ( https: //en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adnan_Saidi )
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[ WP ] As a cup is being filled with water , it contemplates it 's existence and asks itself , `` Do I feel fulfilled ? ''
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Its hazy. Metal and whirring machines. The Makers: small people with small hands as I moved down to the next station. Stuffed in plastic and packed in a box with hundreds just like me. Darkness, jostling, endless time over endless waves.
The light and dark cycles of sitting still with my brothers. The temperature and humidity constant. During the light one of us would be taken by quick hands and gone forever. Then it was my turn. His hands were small, though not as small as the Makers. He threw me on another shelf and then into a bag, where I settled until one day my world was torn open and I lived fully for the first time.
I was stretched over his skin and moved up his legs. My core settled perfectly over his, and we were in sync. The heat was intense: 30º hotter than I'd ever experienced. But both moisture and temperature were glorious and perfect. I felt his movements inside my entire being and he was glad of me and I of him. I kept him together throughout his exertions and then felt his heat slowly sag.
The stickiness of being pulled down over his legs, the peeling. Being discarded into a bin and left with others, festering with scent and moisture. She dumps us into another container and the water pours down on us. I fill up and am soaked with its soapy warmth, but do I feel fulfilled? No. Nothing will ever fill me up like he can. Like he did.
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[ WP ] [ Star Wars ] After being captured by Ewoks during the mission to shut down the Death Star 's shield generator on Endor , Luke Skywalker , Han Solo , and Chewbacca are roasted alive and eaten . Leia , C3PO and R2D2 are left alive . The mission must continue . . .
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“ Leia…… ”
All hope was lost. Princess Leia Organa lay sprawled on the thatch flooring, her eyes rubbed raw and bloody. An orphan child from a planet now deceased, she bore a burden heavier than most. Yet she had trudged on, with valor that inspired all that followed her. A paragon of the rebellion. Defeated and stricken by grief. Stripped of her friends, bereft of her equipment, her otherwise regal demeanor was shattered. And now with the arrival of this strange voice, she feared her sanity had abandoned her as well.
“ Leia…. ”
It was clearer this time. She frantically looked around the hovel she had been locked away in, searching for the source. The voice seemed familiar. Her search yielding nothing, Leia shut her eyes and covered her ears, desperate for any respite from the torture she had been through.
“ Leia…. ”
Her eyes flew open. Leia realized that she didn ’ t simply hear the voice. She felt it. It resonated within her mind. She had experienced something like this before. On Bespin. That was when-
“..Luke? ” Leia whispered, her voice coarse from constant screaming. “ B-but I saw you- “
” Die? ” The voice completed, with an amused undertone.
Tears brimmed anew in the princess ’ s eyes. “ Luke, I am so sorry. I-I was bound, and – “
“ Do not let yourself be consumed by grief and regret “, the voice cautioned “ These emotions will only serve to cloud your judgment ”. “ It is too late for me, but the rebellion must still prevail. Their fate rests with you ”
“ How do I even know I haven ’ t gone mad? ” Leia blurted through shallow heaves, “ I saw you die. I saw what they did to you. To Chewie. To …To H-Han ” The words caught in her mouth, as she broke down into uncontrolled sobbing.
“ We have always been connected, you and I, ” Luke said “ That ’ s what allowed me to reach out to you on Cloud City. It ’ s what allows us to commune even now, after my passing into the force. ”
“ I-I don ’ t understand ” stammered Leia, the confusion momentarily distracting her from her sorrow.
“ The force is strong in my family. My father has it. I have it. And you do too. We are bound by the same blood, Leia. Search your feelings and you will know this to be true. “
The revelation cut a swath through her emotions, granting her a brief moment of clarity. Luke was right. She had always suspected, but never taken the time to explore the thought. Luke was her brother. And she was a Skywalker.
“ Our father was Anakin Skywalker. He fought alongside Ben in the clone wars. He was a hero, until he was corrupted by the dark side and became Darth Vader. He will seek to turn you, as he intended to turn me. To the dark side of the force. But I sensed good in him. Anakin Skywalker is still alive, trapped within that mechanical shell. Leia, you need to return our father to the light. I was never destined to destroy the Sith, but he is. He will have sensed my passing into the Force, and I do not doubt he is en route to your location. You must save him, sister, and in doing so, save us all. ”
Leia pondered this silently, shrouded in darkness but for a single ray of moonlight across her face. As a glistening tear slid down her dirt-stained cheek, she whimpered-
`` Is..Is Han with you?''
`` I sense you already know the answer. I am sorry, Leia''
She nodded, with her mouth tightly pursed. Gathering herself, she rose, Princess Leia Organa Skywalker. The galaxy's last hope.
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[ WP ] You 've died in a zombie apocalypse and is now a ghost watching your moronic zombie self .
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the `` war'', if it can be called that, lasted only five years. considerably longer than i had predicted. i mean seriously, when you think about it, the living dont really come close to outnumbering the `` dead''. Maybe on paper they do but you have to consider how many of those living people are sick, too old or too young to fight etc... in the first months it was obvious we didnt stand a chance. for every one of them we `` killed'' so to speak, they would get at least one of us, and in turn, that meant another one of them. In short, it was an un winnable fight. And so here we are a crumbling planet inhabited by a innumerable sum of brainless undead apes walking into street signs and floating face down in the seas. ironically apes are now the predominant intelligent species but perhaps thats for another time. I am merely here to tell you about us, or more specifically, me. i wasnt a soldier when i was alive. i wasnt even really a man, just a boy scared shitless of the already underway apocalypse. i died on new years day 2058, by being chewed apart by my best friend, well he WAS my bestfriend. friendship kinda goes out the window when they start gnawing on your face as you sleep, but i digress. apparently when you die you get thrown down with the sinners or are taken to paradise. but when your undead things work a little differently. ive been watching my brain dead self wander around my basement with my `` best friend'' for what seems like years. as a ghost its tough to tell time, and frankly who gives a shit anyway. once my dumbass almost climbed a single step of the stairs toward the first floor. oh what a day that was! but instead my ankle snapped into pieces and i started to eat the tattered remnants of my foot. for three days i sat there eating my foot. good lord this is pathetic. but at least i have company. ole tommy, my buddy was also enjoying some of my foot with me and boy did he look happy about it. maybe one day ill get outta here i keep thinking, but its been so long that what remains of my body is closer to dust than anything else. just because im undead doesnt mean that decay stops. but i still have to wonder, does my ghost self get to move on when im just a pile of dirt on a basement floor or do i linger on?
-written on my mobile, also first ever attempt at a prompt so be gentle in your comments please
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[ WP ] Write a story about a disapeared key . It can be any type of key , but its disparition has not gone without consequences .
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Night two of basslights and all through the lot, creatures were stirring, and the tracks were hot. Nectar opened and got the place live, then Pretty Lights closed with a hyperspace jive. All was well, the after party raged, bodies rose in a swell, when quiet went the stage.
Two days of turnt bass heavy energy had washed our physical forms dirty, our spirits clean. In the hour which we now live, my new friends and I are by the car, carrying suitcase and backpack to tomorrow's next great adventure. Homeward bound and back to reality.
As Nick approaches the car, unlocks it and pops the trunk, we are all a twitter with psychoactively prompted jibber-jabber about the preceding performances. Sarah talks about wild-style and butterfly, and I am all spun. Loading altogether our bagged lives, we think nothing of the slight Virginia chill. It's unseasonably warm for December, but my only socked feet bite with rising pain. This can happen with a fried brain high on everything and music.
We are about to leave the car and continue to cozza frenzy, when Nick's breathing face appears quite wide-eyed with concern. `` Sarah, I'm so sorry,'' he really appears to be so sorry, but why?
`` You okay?'' she asks.
`` Your key,'' he begins, his face contorted with hurt, `` It broke off in the door.''
`` Shit,'' but realizing the torment of failure Nick is facing within his own mind, `` No it's okay, do n't worry I have triple A,'' when in reality this is more simple than it appears. See Nick was unable to lock the car, and it is clear to me post-haze that his concern was with leaving the luggage unattended.
`` Okay... Damnit I feel really bad,'' he really did. He's looking on the verge of tears.
`` No, do n't, it's not your fault,'' She implores. This continues for maybe five cycles, as do many thought loops. It is quite an agony for the spectator, especially when his feet are searing with winter's cold burn.
`` Aha,'' came the aha moment, `` Sarah, do you have a spare key?'' I do n't know if she does, but the infinity of apology and differed blame on the nature of the indeterminate grind me down to a nub of ingenuity.
`` Ohhh shit! I DO!'' Ecstasy, a lifted heart, the promise of feet to be warm yet again. She hops to, and sifts through her car's crevices to come out with metal unlocker clenched in fingers one two and thumb.
Nick's relief snaps him clear of the cyclical cyclone, and off we go to post bass bohemia.
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[ WP ] Awoken by a weight on your chest , a crow cautiously stares and studies you . Looking about you , the marsh-like clearing seemed unrecognizable . In fact , you had no recollection of what occurred previously to waking up in the muddy grass .
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Normally, I love birds. But today... well, was n't the day to go birdwatching. ( Assuming I was n't already doomed to never birdwatch again )
The Crow tries desperately to engage in philosophical debate, `` CAW CAW CAW!'' It startles me, and I swipe at it, while telling it to fuck off. My voice sounded like gravel. But I notice something sitting on my hand. My vision is still blurry from sleep. My hand seems to be gray. Was I wearing gloves? My eyes narrow as I attempt to focus my gaze. My hand was not only gray, but made of stone too. I shrieked at the realization, but it came out as a grinding noise. As though steel were being rubbed on stone. I began to panic. I looked down only to realize my clothes were gone. I shout again, but this time it was different. I sounded like two stones being smashed together. Breathe, just breathe. I told myself this again and again. Eventually I calmed down. `` Okay Phil, where are you?'' I thought. I scanned the horizon, only finding a tree line. The ground around me was coated in moss of every color, red, green, brown. I had never seen anything like it in my life. `` Okay, so how did I get here?'' The words echoed inside my mind. I tried to remember yesterday, but my head began to hurt.
I took a deep breath, and began to examine my body. It seemed that my entire body was comprised of stones. Pebbles for fingers, boulder chest, and one my right leg was a lengthy piece of onyx. The other was the same, only shorter.
I stood up, and almost collapsed. It took all my concentration to balance myself. I leaned up against a nearby tree. The trunk bent slightly due to my newfound appendages. I tried to stretch my neck, but it was n't there. I did n't give it much though, given what I had dealt with moments before.
( If someone wants to continue this, go ahead. I've got to get some sleep. )
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[ WP ] A traditional Kung Fu story , set exclusively in a sci-fi space setting .
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Meister Fuu Thing looks pleased at his pupils as they meditate. For the first time, nobody is cheating with eyes opened. Even Pingu Lin, the usual source of indiscipline in the dojo, has a concentrated face and a balanced control of his center of mass that would put some of the older practitioners to shame.
The students, per instruction, have positioned themselves in the pattern of a tesseract inside the zero-g training volume. Each bound to the next in perfect harmony, as the Universe shall be. He'll order them to start a sparring match at any time now, teams formed from the order of orientation from each body. A test of their concentration under stress, to challenge their ability to recognize who are their allies and who are their foes as the order of the pattern becomes harder and harder to follow.
Any time now. He just want's to enjoy this moment of peace and order a little longer.
He raises his hands. Their eyes are closed, but he knows they're are aware of what he's doing. It's a basic, characteristic skill of the Nova Style, to sense the presence of movements and shapes in your space. He's ready to make them start, when something caught his attention.
`` Be ready for anything'' he tells them, just a moment before the door is smashed open.
Three man float in, their dark clothes shading the space around them.
`` Hear up, fuckers!'' The one with the dyed green hair shouts, raising a finger at the mass of students in the center of the room. `` We're the Blackhole Fist! We're here to punch the light out of your...''
Like a lightbeam, meister Fuu Thing reaches through the distance between them and twists the speaker's finger in a Fibonacci pattern. `` Ayayayah!'' He shuts the screams up with a kick to the guts, sending the punk spinning towards the entrance. The meister himself does n't move from the reaction, seemingly ignoring the laws of physics that should rule the exchange.
As if taking impulse from a solid base, he dashes through the air and appears behind the two remaining challengers. Their heads collide into each other and their eyes roll up. Despite the lack of gravity, the meister *jumps* over them in a parabolic motion, landing on the other side again, then attacks with both hands, stopping an arm length from the two targets with him palms open. They're flung away from him as his movement concludes, catching the third man into the way out. And then they're gone.
He spuns around to look at the faces of his pupils. They all look the same, eyes closed, faces focused. All, except for Pingu Lin, who holds a wide open grim in his face.
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Writing Prompt [ WP ] You have the ability to freeze time . When you do , everyone freezes as well . One day , you freeze time , and out the window , you see a girl moving around , astounded and confused . Then , she sees you..
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The sunlight seemed to come down like rain through the trees onto the park bench. It felt warm and comforting like a blanket. The leaves would sway and reveal the golden light for seconds at a time and it appeared as if thousands of stars were twinkling overhead. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as I relaxed on the bench. Moments like this one were rare, and I wanted to enjoy them as long as possible.
Thats the thing about stopping time, its not time travel. You ca n't swim against the current, or speed up your course. It would be equivalent to stepping out out of the flow entirely. My control over time was a recently acquired talent and I found it hard to move myself from the river to the shore. Sometimes it was as simple as flicking a switch but generally I found that it could take up to an hour for my strength to overcome times flow. Putting myself in the right place was important, because when time stopped everything ignored me. My bike felt eternally chained to the ground, doors seemed impenetrable and water was as hard as stone. When time stopped you had to make sure that your path was clear because the only things that seemed alive were the trees, the sun and the sky.
I could have spent days on that park bench in what seemed like paradise. I would have stayed too, but my thirst would always turn the experience sour. Life slipped back into the world around me as I surrendered to the weakness of my body. The rest of the world kept on as if nothing had happened. Their workdays and busy nights continued as I danced around the flow of life. Sometimes my powers betrayed me and the sun hid behind the clouds just as everything froze around me. I'd spend these days exploring the town. People were like statues in a museum. With their faces frozen I had more time to take in their expressions. I grew quite fond of drawing them and a few times I found myself not quite so upset that the sun had grown cold.
The cold days seemed to come more frequently. Rain had been falling for a week straight and I found myself staring out my open window longing for the sun to return. When the storm subsided in the early evening without warning I found myself looking past the clearing sky to the stars. Tonight the moon would illuminate the world and my curiosity grew. I had never ventured into the frozen night but the thought of escape was so very tempting. I sat back in my chair, took a deep breath and concentrated with all my might. I stared out the window and watched as the town halted. Half of my body had made it out the window when she noticed me looking down at her through the metal grating of the fire escape steps.
April could reach the shore too. She spent her nights staring up at the stars and painting what she saw in them. We talked for hours about our ability, when we started using it and what we knew about it. All I was capable of taking with me when time froze was my sketchbook and pencil, but she was able to hold on to a significantly larger quantity of items during the trip. Anything in her backpack came with her during the journey. With a laugh she told me about the time her backpack stayed frozen and she was stuck for hours while time came back to her. I found that while I could choose when to return to the flow she was limited in her control of the journey back. It would pull her along and she would be forced to return after a few hours. While I was most comfortable with my powers when the sun was shining overhead, the moon seemed to fill her with the confidence she needed to control hers. We exchanged artwork and promised to meet back at the fire escape the next night. She left for home, sure that the flow was about to pull her back and I crawled back into my room to do the same, holding her paintings tightly and hoping they would come back with me.
The rain returned to imprison me the next day. When time froze the rain would too, and it could n't be forced out of the way. I hung her paintings in my room and wished for the sun to chase the storms away. My impatience turned to fear. What if the rain never stopped? I did n't have her address, her phone number or her last name. I had so much I wanted to show her. There was somebody else out there I could show the sun.
Days passed and the rain subsided. I sat at my bench and watched the sun through the trees. More than ever I wanted to stay in this frozen time where April might come to find me. I had told her about my favorite spot but found myself wondering how specific I had been. Did I give enough description for her to find it? Would she know how to get there from her house? I waited for April, but she never came.
A month passed and I sat in my room. Her paintings refused to offer any clues about where she was. The moon would be bright again tonight. April might appear. But what if she had already gone? If time had frozen for her would it already be too late? I had never met anyone like myself before, there was no assurance that we would both stop time at the same instance. What if we never met again? I cursed myself for not thinking of that earlier. It must have been incredibly lucky for us to have met the first time. Maybe if I sat out on the fire escape she would see me. I forced myself through the window as fast as I could. The word hello was forming in my throat before my eyes could look below. My frantic pace stopped suddenly as the view became clearer. Half out the window I could see the entire lot below. There was n't anyone looking back at me. As I finished climbing through to the outside world I looked up at the sky. The view was beautiful, just like one of April's paintings.
Paintings. My heart started racing as hope welled up inside me. The sky looked exactly like one of Aprils paintings. The fire escape went up three more floors. The roof would provide a better view. April might be up there right now. I reached the top floor. Without thinking I called out her name. `` April?'' My words echoed out across the empty rooftop. Defeated I turned and started back down the stairs. Her smile greeted me as I reached my window, an easel poking out of her bag. `` Lets draw the moon together'' left her lips as she offered me her hand.
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[ WP ] Valhalla does not discriminate against the kind of fight you lost . Did you lose the battle with cancer ? Maybe you died in a fist fight . Even facing addiction . After taking a deep drink from his flagon , Odin slams his cup down and asks for the glorious tale of your demise !
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All eye was on Alvor, glowering down at him in anticipation of a story. A mighty looking blacksmith of humble origins should have a story worth hearing to be seated this close to the One-Eye.
`` aye Lord. It was fifth of hearth-fire and getting t'wards twilight. There'd been rumblings for dragons had come back even visited by the DragonBorn! fancy that!''
Everyone looked down the table at the DragonBorn, a reptilian who was wearing a basket on it's head while eating whole wheels of cheese, they proffered a thumbs up to confirm Alvor's story.
`` With the Dragons about we had Hold guards in Riverwood to keep us safe. Well there were shouts outside the smithy, the bard had spotted the bastard. Ran outside and we all saw it sitting on a house then waves of ice came out. I got in with the only thing I had on me, my two hands.''
Judicious nods all round, failing all things a warrior always had his own hands.
`` Not much to say really, it took me by the head and shook me too death, got one punch in. Someone told me later the dragonborn came sprinting it and killed the beast''
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[ WP ] Your dog suddenly gains the ability to speak and understand English . It seems awesome for a few hours , until the dog starts saying some ... odd things .
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`` Whose a good boy!'' I say to Lazarus. His tail starts wagging unceasingly. He always likes it when I talk to him. Of all the things, talking puts him over the edge. A simple word puts him into such a spiral of joy, it makes you want to keep speaking and speaking. I remember the day I brought him home. Nothing seemed to make him happy until he found me singing the shower. After that, it has been hours after hours spent speaking to this little dog.
Sometimes I imagined he understood me. That his head was brimming with words waiting to be said and thoughts waiting to be expressed. He and I would spend countless hours together, just being friends. I wish.
`` You're a good boy!'' I proclaimed to Lazarus, before turning to head out for the day.
`` I knew! I knew it! I am the good boy!''
My head slowly swiveled around, half expecting to see a murderer behind.
`` Nothing there. Must be imagining things.'' I opened the door quickly before I could hear any more. `` I have got to get to bed earlier, or more coffee.''
`` Where are you going!?'' Something shouted, before resuming, `` Wait! Come back! Master! Come Back!'' I looked back, seeing only Lazarus.
`` What I really need is a doctor,'' I realized before moving forth.
`` I am the good boy! It's me! It's me!'' I spun around, hoping to catch the culprit red handed.
`` The only one here is Lazarus, and no way it was him.'' I said to myself, letting my thoughts escape to the home invader.
`` It was me!'' he *spoke*.
It *was* him. My dog. He could talk.
He could *talk*!
`` There's so much I have to ask you.''
`` This really is good food! Thanks master!'' He said, slurping away at his old bone.
`` You're welcome?'' I responded, `` So, you can talk now?''
`` You could n't hear me before?'' He realized before chowing away again.
I sat for a moment in dazed silence. My dog is really talking to me! And I can respond! I needed to think of the perfect thing to say. Something that I have really been waiting to say. Something really important.
`` You need to stop drinking out of the toilet. It's really gross.''
`` Then you really need to stop pooing in my drinking bowl, it is also really gross.'' He responded.
I paused. I was really talking to my dog. And he responded! And he disrespected me! My dog was giving me sass. How dare he!
`` That is disrespectful! I'll have you know I paid for that'drinking bowl,' and I will not have you go around stepping on my rules!'' I demanded.
`` Well maybe you should fill my water bowl then!''
`` Only after you respect me.'' I sat and pondered in silence. I this what I really wanted my relationship to be with my dog? That between a teenager and his mother. I should apologize. He is only a dog.
`` So, there is a party down the street at Fido's house tonight, and I was wondering if I could go?'' Lazarus interrupted.
`` You have the gall to ask me for a favor after disrespecting me!'' I shouted, `` I paid for this house, I own you! You are mine! So no you can not go to some Fido's house. I forbid it!''
`` Whatever,'' He said blandly. Lazarus moped off to who knows where.
BEWARE: The oldest dogs are still only tenneagers.
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[ WP ] When he was 13 he found a time machine and promptly lost it just before age 14 . Unfortunately during that time he chose to visit himself at several points in the future . Write about how disruptive it is to expect a visit from your annoying adolescent self and keep it safe .
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Last week was my 91st birthday. Everyone in the family was there and they said despite the cancer I still had my childish enthusiasm. There was a reason for it.
What they did n't know is that 78 years ago I found a time machine when I was the ripe young age of 13. I do n't know who made it but how I found it is a story I will take with me. I always had a knack for doing research and figured out at a young are how to track someone down. I spent a few months jumping around visiting myself by looking myself up in phonebooks. I always knew when I would appear because, well, I already did visit myself.
I will never forget the first visit. The first time we met I had moved into town about 2 miles from the family farm. I remember the trouble my 13 year old self had to break into the old farmhouse shed where I had just yesterday, or 15 years earlier ( depending on which of me you asked ), parked my bike. You see I knew that I would be trying to bike into town so I left the bike in working order when I left the farm after my parents retired. Unfortunately being 13 at the time I did n't keep the best of notes so I was n't exactly sure when I would be showing up for our first meeting but I do remember waking up that morning and everything was right, except that I forgot to fix the door on the farm shed like I planned to do that month. When I finally showed up in town I gave and was given an earful about keeping the farm in the shape my father would have left it. To be honest I was a brat back then, and frankly, I was also right.
We sat down for breakfast and I made toad in a hole, which at 13 was my favorite breakfast, my personal tastes had progressed but well I did n't want to be disappointed earlier in life. He asked me a bunch of questions which I had spent the last 15 years thinking about. I reported the facts and off he went back home to think about everything I told him.
The second time we met was actually the third. You see he showed up at my wedding. He got to meet my lovely wife Kathy for the first time at the reception, you see we were never fans of the long drawn out weddings but loved dancing, company and food at wedding receptions. I had a hell of a time explaining to my wife that we should have an extra seat at the back table traditionally reserved for work acquaintances with my name at the seat. The caterers thought I was crazy but low and behold like clockwork I showed up. After the initial confusion with the reception staff about someone with the same name as mine sitting at a half empty table of 20 and 40 year olds I was seated at the back table and I went over for a chat. I got to introduce myself to my wife which is a fun way of saying, do n't be an idiot and ruin this for your future self. The conversation was a little less matter of fact, after all this was our second meeting. I remember the youthful gusto from our meeting lasted weeks which everyone mistook as excitement from the wedding.
Our second meeting happened many years later. You see I was in my 70s when I heard the knock on the door. I was really looking forward to the conversation as I had been in quite a depression in the past few years. My wife had passed away in a car accident and I really needed the encouragement to get back on my feet. When I showed up at the door I went in and we spent days talking about my life. I told him how I lost my finger in the accident at the steel mill and he told me about the girl he likes at school, which I knew would the final of but did n't have the heart to tell him. Eventually I told him about my wife's death and he told me he would like to meet her before she died. He decided that he would like to attend the wedding to see her at her best in the spotlight of everyone we knew. I would have loved to for him to stay a little longer but I did n't have the heart to ask him. I knew where he was going and worried that telling him more would dampen my youth. Nevertheless his visit did inspire me to get back on my feet. The exuberance he left behind with his endless curiosity, the enjoyment of candy he had never tasted that I had stored away for this day and the lust for adventure.
The final meeting has n't happened yet but I know exactly how it will happen. I remember knocking on the front door and the difficulty in explaining why a 13 year old was visiting a 91 year old man. I showed them a picture I had brought for just this occasion of me with my parents at the old family farm the same picture hung on the wall in the living room. I do n't think they really understood but showed me the bedroom. I knocked on the heavy wooden door and I was laying in this bed here. The room smelled like old people. I remember asking one question. `` Are you happy with how your life turned out?'' I replied, `` I could n't have lived a better life because I had the foresight that you brought me. Thank you.'' I spend an hour or two sitting in silence until the heart monitor started to change from constant rhythm to the frightening beep you see on TV. The hospice nurse who was sitting in the room turned off the monitor as tears fell from the few family members I had yet to meet. I left and went home, destroying the machine I had found months earlier that gave me insight into my own future.
There was a knock on the bedroom door and there I was. My time had run out but I did n't regret the life I had lived up to that point thanks to the child that gave me guidance and encouraged me when I was at the lowest part of my life.
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[ FF ] The last man on Earth sat alone in a room . There was a knock on the door ... ( 250 words )
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( Yeah I know it's supposed to be a man but whatever. )
She sat on the hardwood floor of someones house. Kate could n't possibly know who this house belonged to; a long time ago all the people of the world just....disappeared. A wave of sadness washed over Kate as she realized she could n't remember how long it had been since they were all just... gone. Mom. Dad. Her little annoying brother Tommy. She would sell her soul to see them again.
But they were gone too.
She was the last human on Earth.
It was difficult to handle, difficult to process for Kate, the 13 year old girl who had relied so heavily on civilization to survive, and that was now all gone. No cellphones, no email, no internet. These days, Kate would just sit and watch the black screen of a 48 inch TV that belonged to Mrs. or Mr. someone.
A knock at the door!
Before she could even question where this knock came from she was up on her feet, running straight for the door. `` Is someone there?!'' She cried. She threw open the door to see....
A gorilla? Kate screamed and slammed the door and sidestepped away from the door, just in time too, because the door flew from it's hinges across the room and into the kitchen.
She sprinted up the stairs, out onto the balcony, and jumped up on the roof. No time to question what happened with the Gorilla-
She stopped dead on the roof.
Animals. Everywhere. Covering the streets and in peoples yards.
A monkey held up a sign. `` HELLO KATE.''
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[ WP ] Death tries to bring a man into the afterlife , only to find out that that man is immortal . However , Death is too stubborn to let him go .
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`` So. This is the afterlife, huh?''
~I'm afraid so, mortal man.~
`` Drop the formalities man, my name's Flynn. Seriously, what is up with all the other immortals and their passive aggressiveness with humans.''
~I did not mean to offend you, Flynn.~
`` So if I'm dead, and this is it, how come I feel hungry?''
~What? Surely you must be joking, yes?''
`` Nope. I'm craving a cheeseburger right now. A milkshake sounds nice too.''
~Well this is n't right. You're still alive, but you can see me too. You may be able to go back but I do n't think I can let you do that.~
`` What?! How come? Come on Death, do n't be an asshole! I've got family waiting for me back in the real world!''
~You hung yourself from a ceiling fan, Flynn. I do n't think you were living a great life, to be honest.~
`` Well now that I've found out that I'm immortal maybe life will be better.''
~Flynn, you and I both know that's a lie. And I'm not letting you go back.~
`` Really?''
~Really.~
`` Damn, alright. Do you want to play a game to pass eternity?''
~You are quite familiar with Hangman, yes? ~
`` You're an ass hat.''
~Even Death has a sense of humor.~
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[ CW ] Consequential Challenge
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A night of drinking lead to trouble fast.
Story goes that shortly after midnight, a patron was beaten within an inch of his life after a scuffle in the bar spilled onto the streets.
That was where the police picked him up.
`` Ends do n't justify their means, Michael, you know that...'' the probation officer said with disdain.
`` With an attitude like his, that fucker had it coming!''
But what Michael's thug-life exterior image failed to realize was that this was more than just aggravated assault this time.
`` In case you were wondering, Michael, you're looking at about twenty to life here if this guy does n't pull through!''
The patron was left bloodied to a pulp, barely even recognizable before Michael was restrained from finishing the job.
`` End of the day, you're looking at possible manslaughter charges here.''
It began to sink through just how deep Michael was in.
`` Was he... still breathing?''
`` All we know is you put the guy in the hospital and he might not survive the night.''
Just then it hit him, there was no doubt about it; Michael was headed to prison tonight for sure.
A lump in Michale's throat choked out, `` This... this is just a nightmare... I'm only 18, this ca n't be happening to me!?''
`` Dream on, kid.''
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[ WP ] Someone discovered a magical button . Noone knows what it 's for , and the only way to find out is by pressing it . Repeatedly .
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I walked into the building. It was a grey, squat building, the sort of industrial concrete nightmare that could have only come from the 1980s. I'm not sure what led me here, but I had a strong sense of deja vu. Had I been here before? I felt certain I had n't, as this was miles from home, but it still rang a bell of some kind. Pushing open the door, I saw that the room was almost empty; almost, but for the button. I felt a shiver go down my spine, as if some ghostly figure had scraped its withered nails down my back, and I almost turned around and booked it home. If not for some strong sense of, of... *purpose* coursing through my veins, I definitely would have. However, adrenaline took hold, and allowed me to walk up to the button. Half expecting it to blow up in my face or something equally terrifying, I ran my hands across it. I could hear a faint humming coming from within, though if that was just the blood in my ears I do n't know.
It was black and small, but that special kind of black that you associate with the shadows on your wall at night, or the blacks of your eyelids after waking from a nightmare that you are sure was real. I got ta tell you, it put the shits up me. But, owing to my father, curiosity did not permit me to walk away. Not without knowing what it did. With absolute terror, my trembling hand reached for the surface of the button, and pushed. Suddenly, it all came rushing back!
`` *No, no, not again! `` * I shouted, the button now glowing a painfully white light; I shielded my eyes against this glow. When I removed my hands, I was outside the building. My only thought was to turn and run, to get away from thI walked into the building. It was a grey, squat building, the sort of industrial concrete nightmare that could have only come from the 1980s. I'm not sure what led me here, but I had a strong sense of deja vu. Had I been here before?
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[ WP ] One night as you play Call of Duty a particularly squeaky voiced 12 year old gives out personal information leading you to discover he is your child from a long lost lover . You must now convince him you are his father and thus banged his mom , through Xbox live .
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I was never very good at CoD. In fact, you could say I was shit. I've never got a kill streak past 5, and it's gotten to the point that I get genuinely embarrassed by the insults of 14-year olds. Old school N64 games were more my scene. Nowadays I play it just as much for fun as to keep up with my old college buddies.
Deathmatch. Stoned out of my mind, orange dust everywhere, slamming back Old Milwaukee and Mountain Dew like it's the cure for cancer - and then this one kid... no skill, pipsqueak little voice, the worst chirps I've ever heard... for some reason his words rang in my brain like alarm bells. The more I saw him play, the more I could n't fight the feeling that I *knew* this child.
That's when I heard a voice. Hauntingly familiar. A voice like old cigarette tar being scraped off the ground of a piss-stained back alley with a piece of sandpaper. It was the voice of dirty sex and crazy. `` TAMM!'' she croaked, `` TAM IT'S TIME FOR SPECIAL TIME WITH YER MA.''
It hit me like a predator missile from on high. I interrupted Tamm or whatever as he tried to defend himself against the laughs and insults of everyone else on the server, and recited the following words like I'd been practicing them since the day the condom broke.
`` September 2nd, 2005. A small alley in downtown Bangor. Your mother's name is Tracey Morgan, she has medium-length died red crimped hair, she probably still works at the greasy dive bar next to the batting cages, and I fucked the shit out of her.''
Everyone on the server went dead silent. The only sounds were the background ambiance of sporadic gunfire. `` The fuck?'' Tam breathed. I spoke tremblingly, the tears coming out through my broken words - `` You're my boy, Tam!''.
He asked me how I knew all those things to be true. `` We went to high school together. She was a slut back then, too. One night of drinking Tam, and I fucked her *raw. * The first time we did it, the condom broke... and before I even got it off my dripping cock, she screamed at me that she was going to have that child and I was going to support her lifestyle whether I liked it or not. So from then on, I only fucked her in the ass. It happened then Tam, the first time your mother and I humped each other mercilessly, it happened. I should have known...''
Everyone else on the server was howling at this point. `` Even if all that is true Mr.... 420BlAyz3itF4ggot... what makes you think I'm your son?''
I spoke with the honest pride of a father: `` Because Tam... Only my son could suck so hard at CoD''.
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[ IP ] From the works of Simon Stalenhag :
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“ The virus has been in remission for fourteen weeks now, and thus far no search party has come across any material that signifies infection. ” The doctor spoke with a slow and composed voice, the recorder in his hand did not shake; it was the first time in months it hadn ’ t. “ My team is confident that Solution 7K-002 eradicated all traces of the virus. ” He lifted his thumb from the red button. A smile spread across his face, and he tapped the recorder to his forehead. “ I can ’ t believe we did it. ”
“ We are still receiving reports from the other colonies. Solution 7K-002 is not only eliminating the virus, it ’ s reverting it ’ s damage. It is healing the victims. One report explains exceptional results, where the victim… ” The doctor rummaged through some papers, finally handling one, well-worn manila folder. “ The victim was Seventy Two year old Collin Bradford. He was in average health before the virus. The virus reached stage two within days, with known symptoms. Flesh on and around spine disintegrated, finger and toe nails fell off, and blood seemed to seep from his pores. ”
The doctor inspected the photos, gruesome as they were, and searched for any other clues he might have missed. The victim ’ s skin was yellowed, almost like old paper, but that hadn ’ t been consistent in all hosts. Ignored as a symptom by his fellow scientists, the doctor thought there was more to it. He felt himself slipping back into mystery, slipping back onto corroding ground; researching this virus had been like that. If a breakthrough felt near, the ground would disappear underneath them, leaving them with nothing. It resulted in crushing depression for the team.
He remembered his smile earlier. *We cured it, * he thought. *Stop trying to find more. *
He remembered his report. He cleared his throat. “ Stage three began just days before our science team discovered the effectiveness of 7K-002. The victim, uh Collin, was one of the top persons on our list to assist. We received a new report this morning that he is fully recovered, and in better health than he was before the virus. ” The doctor paused while looking around his office, and smiled. Everything was veiled with new hope, new interest. His eyes set on his old, cassette stereo. *I should get around to listening to some of those old tapes. *
“ 7K-002 has rid our world of the virus. What is next? I ask myself this every day. Do we rebuild? Do we keep our defenses up? Maybe this isn ’ t a victory, but just a battle won. I ’ ll continue to record reports, tracking our progress. For now, this is Doctor Sigmund Laylack. ” He released the record button and muttered, “ The savoir of Earth. ”
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Please, let me know what you think. I think I might write more of this. Anything you have to share helps me!
Z
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[ RF ] He lay in bed , watching a solitary firefly through the window .
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He lay in bed, watching a solitary firefly through the window. It was just getting dark and the firefly contrasted beautifully with the shadows of the neighborhood behind it. He heard a group of people passing by, teenagers probably, screaming and laughing like it was all that was keeping them alive. In an hour or so they ’ d have to explain to their parents why they smelled of alcohol and cigarettes, but right now that wasn ’ t a concern. The night lasted forever and who gives a damn about what comes after forever?
He was one of them, a lifetime ago. Always breaking the rules, always up to mischief. Those times passed and he found himself in the role of the worried father. His children grew up as well and now he was the loving grandfather, waiting patiently for his grandchildren to visit and tell him all about their crazy adventures in the city ’ s nightlife.
The laughter faded and made way for the quiet walking around in the room below him. His wife was getting ready to go to bed. Maybe she could tell him more about the children that had just passed by. He ’ d love to hear.
The firefly was still moving in circles, giving him more entertainment than he ’ d had all week. His view never changed. Always the same room, the same buildings through the window. He ’ d spend all his time listening to the people on the streets, living lives that he had passed already. In the early stages of his illness he ’ d get a lot of visitors, but the number of visitations shrank each week. Now his two sons would visit once a week and that was that. Sometimes the grandchildren came along, but that didn ’ t happen a lot. He missed them.
The fly tapped the window. It wants to come in, he thought, it wants to visit. More tapping. The sound filled the room and became overwhelmingly loud. Let me in, let me in. The little light fluttered before his eyes and in a second ’ s hesitation he decided to do something he hadn ’ t done in a very long time: he got up. Slowly, carefully, quietly. He felt his bones protest as he pushed his upper body off the pillows. More tapping. I ’ m coming already, calm down! He swept away the blankets and groaned softly. Moving hurt. His legs were pale and thin and he shivered as he placed his feet on the cold floor.
And then he stood. One moment he stood, a glorious giant in the middle of his cell, ready to break out. Ready to be free. One moment that lasted forever. And then the floor came closer again. His hands weren ’ t fast enough to catch him and he landed painfully on his shoulder, knocking over a vase in the process. The water formed a puddle around his miserable body and he waited.
“ Albert? Al, what ’ s going on? ”
Hasty footsteps, the creaking of the door. His wife looked at him in fright and ran towards him, carefully pulling him back up again. He felt tears on his cheeks and pressed his face in her perfume soaked pajamas.
“ Albert, for Christ ’ s sake, what were you thinking? ”
After a change of clothes and a glass of water he disappeared in a bundle of blankets and pillows again. He wiped the tears of his face and looked out the window. The firefly was gone. His wife closed the curtains.
**Edit: **Grammar mistakes
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[ EU ] Write a scene from `` Dexter '' but set it in the `` Harry Potter '' universe and Dexter Morgan works as a wizard analyst for the Ministry of Magic .
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`` Avada Keda-'' his curse cut off as I strike him hard in the jaw.
A better wizard would be able to let loose the spell without the words, but Firth was no real warlock. He was lowly and he was muggleborn and the current administration did n't take too kindly. I'm no Death Eater, but it would n't be unfair to say that traveling with my Dark Passenger means that I fit into some crowds more than others. It felt nice to belong.
`` You do n't belong'' Harry Morgan, my father, began. `` This is n't you, son. This is n't the man I raised you to be. You have to control it, or it will control you.''
Well, is n't that easy for you to say, Dad. You were a muggle cop, with muggle problems, you did n't know the magical mess you adopted, but boy did you figure it out quick.
I slug the portly man again as he recoils from the first hit. Again he tries to lash out at me like an animal. Smacking his wand away with ease, I grab him by his throat and pin him to the wall. His short, sausage fingers grip at my hand and he does n't notice my free arm raising until the wand is an inch from his eye.
There is no emotion when I simply whisper.
`` Imperio''
Firth falls slack and I let him fall to the ground. I instruct him to sit on the sagging sofa that surely must have been his bed these last few weeks. I pull up an ancient, creaking ornate chair five feet in front of him and sit as well.
`` Ardicus Firth, you are a terrible, awful man, but that is not why you will die tonight. When you took that job at Hogsmeade Station, did you do so intending to hurt those children? Answer me now.'' I speak uniformly, without emotion.
Firth stares at me equally. `` Yes.'' he answers hazily.
`` Tell me what you did, Firth. I want to hear it.''
`` I cast the Cruciatus Curse on them, and I took them below the platform. I did what I wanted. When I was done, I had them grab that portkey there'' he points idly at an innocuous leather boot `` and it dumped them somewhere deep in the Atlantic''
I nodded slowly. It was almost too perfect. In another life, I had done something similar, though only to men like Ardicus, never innocents if I could help it. It was part of `` the code'' Harry ( Morgan, of course ) had imparted on me.
I sat up with confidence, knowing that the deed had been done the moment I cursed him. I walked forward and squatted down to eye level with him, reaching into my coat and removing a long, thin blade.
`` Too many wizards rely on magic, Firth. I have a guy who works at the Office with me, and he wo n't even walk to get his coffe.'Accio Coffee!' he'll yell, and there comes his thermus. Magic is a tool, same as this blade. Do you understand?''
He stared blankly back at me. `` No.''
I frowned intensely, but shrugged. `` I suppose it does n't matter, then. I am going to sink this into your heart. Do n't move or I might miss and have to try again.''
`` I wish you would n't'' he says, but he does not move. I keep my word and watch the life drain from his eyes. This used to be much more satisfying, but for the first time in my life, I'm in the clear, legally. Feels nice, almost.
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[ TT ] Describe what magic is and how it works in a certain world .
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I'm sorry but this is n't really going to be a story, this is literally going to be a brain-dump for a world I made up in my head, a world named Aeros.
Magic in Aeros is like an extra form of energy, it can be converted into any other form of energy in a way which forms simple magic. This kind of magic draws the magical energy in various ways.
There is narcissistic magic, in which the magical energies that dwell inside you are used to cast magic. This has the consequence that using too much makes you feel weak, and burning far too much in one spell can cause you to die.
Then there is necromancery, which stems from that, this required taking magical energy out of other living or previously living things, as every living thing concentrates magic inside itself, this is fairly useful. All citizens of Aeros build up a defense for themselves, such that necromancers ca n't take the energy out of them while they're still alive.
The last method is magical arcs. This uses things like wands, staves, arcane cestus ( gloves ) and arcane omnis ( like a suit ) Which gather magic like a vacuum and store it within themselves, these work a little like capacitors, they have a fairly limited supply, so can only be used for smaller feats of magic, but recharge quickly, far faster than narcissistic mages can manage.
Magical energy gathers naturally in random locations, these are called knots of magic, magical arcs in these places are incredibly strong, far outclassing the other 2 methods, but there is a downside to these places, as living things gather magic it can reach dangerous levels and mutate the person into a demon. When this happens they will have an insatiable hunger for magical energy, and will hunt down and try to consume the most powerful of mages. The threshold for becoming a demon is different for each mage, and enchantments and augmentations can be made to increase it.
There is a subclass of demon called the denizen, while most demons are mindless creatures hungering for more power, these are formed from the mages with the highest tolerances, as they surpass even that limit the demons that form from them are immensely powerful and still retain the majority of their consciousness. Interestingly some mages have such a strong force of will that even after becoming a denizen they keep control, and can live in Aeros as normal citizens. This promise of extra power while still retaining yourself is the cause of most denizens forming, and about 95 % still become evil.
The last thing to note is the all-powerful djinn, these have the ability to convert all forms of energy into all others freely, with no losses, this includes direct transmutation of matter into energy. These djinn are followers of balance, and with the recent tide of magic users they find themselves changing other energy forms into magic. They also have one other quirk, should any being impress them, they will impart a far lesser version of their power unto them, the mages that have achieved this are called the djinnic mages, and are easily the strongest, being able to create magical energy out of matter, albeit at a far far slower rate than a proper djinn can manage.
There are about 50 djinnic mages, and the most powerful beings in Aeros other than the djinn are 2 djinnic denizens, one that is good and retained their own will, and one that fell to the demonic call.
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[ WP ] Life is indeed a simulation . When you die , you get re-inserted in a new life . But , you 've pissed off the supervisor in charge of re-inserting you into the simulation
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I ’ m face down, ass up, and my body ’ s being pummelled within three feet of Valhalla. I ’ m not able to turn around, so every hot poker and family of pregnant maggots makes a nice surprise. Beneath me are all the pretty people that didn ’ t piss off The Programmer. They ’ ve been blessed with alabaster teeth and tanned, supple skin. They live in McMansions and drive used Audis. Unfortunately for them, they have to put up with my constant anguished grunts, but I think they still got the better deal out of it
I suppose you ’ re wondering what kind of asshole ( excuse my little pun ) I must be since I ’ m being sodomised by a demon, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Now you may not believe me, but I ’ m not really a bad guy. Just one time, a whole lifetime ago, I happened to write on the front of my journal ‘ FUCK THE PROGRAMMER ’. Nice and big like that, in all caps. Well guess who turned out to be a bit on the insecure side? And now I ’ m squealing like a pig in heat, while I watch all these dry holier-than-thou shites feed each other chocolate mousse and strawberries while they discuss condos in Algiers and how Justin ’ s tuba lessons are getting on. It ’ s a charming life I lead.
One positive: I will die. When I die, I will cease to be sodomised by a Paul Giamotti lookalike called Kalzar that bathes in the Ganges. If I ’ m lucky I might get a house and a nice job. If I ’ m unlucky it ’ ll hardly be worse than Kalzar making me scream ‘ The Wheels On The Bus Go Round And Round ’ between my tears.
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[ WP ] You live in a world where magic exists , however , you must sacrifice a memory in order to cast a spell . The more memories , or the more precious a memory , the more powerful the magic . You just woke up with no memory save a name .
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I write you here at the end, that you might understand the beginning and see the necessity of what came to pass
John. That was the only thing in my mind when I woke in that dank room. Naked and cold the rotten smell alone enough to keep me on the ground, a splitting headache striking me down that much more. My mouth was dry, calling for something I could not place. Only John. John. John.
Hours passed as I gained the resolve, the need, to lift myself of the blood caked floor. My body moving on pure instinct I crawled toward the faucet in the corner. Hands fumbling, looking for some unknown result. I still can not say by what miraculous desire for survival a body might remember what the mind can not begin to understand. What do I know is that in these first days it was only that which kept me alive.
Finally gaining purchase the faucet erupted in an reddish brown liquid that, even in my state, I could not bring myself to put to my lips. It was several minutes before I managed to stop the putrid flood. Lifting myself to my feet I came face to face with a white square attached by some unseen force to its reflective surface. It was covered in strange methodical markings I had no measure to understand. Save one. John. It was strewn sporadically throughout the strange scroll.
What was the significance of this sound that alone filled my heart and soul? How could I understand it amongst an ocean of confused sights and sounds. Why did I feel such an importance, such a sense of ownership in it?
It would be months before I could begin to understand.
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[ WP ] It 's 14 years after 9/11 , only , there was no terrorist attacks and America never went to war .
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I ca n't believe it. I just ca n't.
George woke up too the lovely sound on the news, world peace had been declared with heads of states shaking hands.
It all started after President Gore had been elected. America had completely shifted to renewable energy and with that a new economic boom Occurred. The industrial complex that America had been living in was no more and its funding moved to schools and NASA. This peaceful ideal spread through the world, as proof of profit was witnessed.
Since President Gore took office and it looked like people where happy all around the nation and the world. George looked through the window of his fathers house and felt a relief because he new that if he had agreed to steel the election from the American people, this peace would have never happened.
George Bush clicked the TV off and went back to drinking his coffee.
This was quick and I'm a bad writer.
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[ WP ] You are a ghost chilling out at your own funeral . You were , at least ... until your ex unexpectedly showed up .
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Whispers On The Hill
“ Man I hate this, ” Sam said.
“ It ’ s not so bad. There ’ s no more pain or hunger and you can go wherever you want, ” Frank said.
“ Yeah but look at her, my mother is coming apart over there, ” Sam said.
Sam pointed to an old woman shivering in tears. The creases in her mouth quivered and her hands shook violently. Sam sighed watching her.
“ You ’ re too cynical about this whole thing. They ’ re saying goodbye. You should enjoy this. It ’ s the last party you ’ ll ever get. ”
Sam shook his head and floated toward the edge of the grave and stared into the hole expecting it to open into a pit of fire. He was disappointed nothing happened upon death. He ’ s been waiting all week for an indication of some light moving him somewhere, but instead he was stuck with his body.
“ So when do we move to the next world? ” Sam asked.
“ Move on? Where do you want to go? ”
“ You know, the next world? ”
“ I don ’ t know about any next worlds, I know you ’ re stuck here until your prized possession is destroyed. ”
“ What? That ’ s stupid. ”
“ I don ’ t make the rules. Be happy your not stuck haunting a bus or sewer. I just…hey check it out. Yowza! Who is that? ” Frank asked.
Sam looked toward the back of the room when a familiar face snuck over to the coffin.
“ Oh what ’ s she doin here? ”
“ She can go wherever she wants. ”
“ Oh shut it. That ’ s my ex wife. She tried to kill me. ”
“ Yeah? How? Cyanide? ”
“ Her cooking. Her food was awful. She tried to feed me cooked can dog food. I nearly starved to death before we divorced. ”
Frank and Sam watched a woman dressed in black approach the coffin. Her long dark hair was bound in a bun and covered in a wide brimmed hat. Her eyes were full of tears and Sam couldn ’ t help but feel sorry for her. Maybe if things went different he would still be alive and with her. He drooped his head closer to her face and studied her hands as they caressed his shoulders.
“ Wait…I felt that. ”
“ Of course you did. The person you loved the most is the only one who can touch your corpse and make you feel. ”
“ Wait…she was my one true love? ”
“ Well not exactly. She ’ s just the one you loved the most at the time of death. You likely missed out on your true love. ”
“ Well at least I ’ m feeling again. Wait…what ’ s she doing? ”
The woman in black looked around before digging her hand in her purse and pulling out a sloppy joe. She pulled open Sam ’ s mouth and shoved the food in.
“ Please no! ” Sam screamed. “ It tastes like cooked road kill. When does it go away? ”
“ It could be worse, ” Frank said.
“ How? ”
“ I fell in love with the town ’ s only coroner. She performed my autopsy. ”
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[ WP ] One Voice
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A sharp sickle glistened in the morning dew, rhythmically guided through millet bunches pulled together by the other hand. Beads of sweat had already formed on the wrinkled forehead, sliding between the grey brows, down the nose, and onto the slightly smiling lips. Thus, the occasional turn of the head to wipe the mouth on the right shoulder. The crouching figure laboured away.
A beautiful morning this was, his favourite time of the day. The rest of the village was slowly starting to waken, seemingly with no sense of urgency. A few children were walking down a path a half-mile away, entirely visible but out of hearing range. Stopping momentarily to look up in their direction, he sighed as a gentle sadness filled his eyes. He wondered what their thoughts were. `` Enjoy school children, would n't want to spend the rest of your lives like me, cutting crops and feeding animals'' he mumbled softly in a singsong manner. He had few memories from his short time in school. Drawing on a small slate with chalks had remained his hobby for many years; eventually he'd grown out of it.
The rhythmic whooshing of the sickle continued, quick yet calm, mastered over a lifetime. Those poor teachers, he thought, they must have believed they'd make something of us. As the birds began cheerfully singing overhead, he smiled and went about his work humming the same tune he always hummed with the birds.
A great roaring noise, drowning out the birds from above, suddenly filled his heart and ears. He did not even look up to see the plane. Not out of fear nor admiration. Not until the big noisy flying machine had moved far enough away that its sound had begun fading did he drift his gaze towards it, addressing it with a weary shake of his head.
Probably off to drop some more death on some poor defenceless place, he thought. And suddenly he looked towards the children, who had now moved further away and were staring off in the direction of the plane. `` Do n't be impressed, you fools! Do n't become one them, you're our only hope. Go get a good head on your shoulders from school!'' his voice began to falter as he yelled the last words. He did n't wait to see if the kids had heard, and went back to his work, not looking up again for the rest of the day.
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[ WP ] You are an innkeeper in an RPG and get yelled at because sleeping there does not heal wounds .
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**Foreword: Instead of writing from the Innkeeper's perspective, this piece is set in an inn where sleeping does n't heal wounds, from the perspective of an adventurer. **
The inn was everything I had expected. Large moustached gentlemen behind the bar serving ale, check. Lute-playing bard singing a song about a knight ’ s heroic adventures, check. Out-of-town rogue sweet-talking the farmer ’ s beautiful daughter in the corner, check. I sighed a deep breath of relief: *this is home from home. * The truth was I hadn ’ t actually been home once after initially setting off; there was always another dungeon to explore or another puzzle to solve.
A small man wearing a battered robe approached me. He lifted his dirty, calloused hands to my face as if gesturing for something. He was almost bowing.
‘ Oh, mighty adventurer! ’ he croaked, ‘ Will you allow me to take your bags up to a room? ’
‘ That ’ s quite alright ’ I replied. I wasn ’ t letting his filthy palms anywhere near my silk-lined rucksack.
‘ Please sir, it would be an honour! ’
‘ No, honestly, it ’ s fine. ’
He got down onto one knee.
‘ Allow me this one triumph, noble conqueror of unexplored lands and holder of unimaginable treasures. I am merely a simple inn-hand, nothing more and nothing less. My father was an inn-hand before me, and his father before him, and his father ’ s father before him still. I have worked for years in this place, and I do believe that I have now reached my career ’ s crescendo: to carry your bag, Sir... ’
He gestured for me to complete my title. I uttered it under my breath, not wanting to draw any more attention from the rest of room.
‘ Sir, Galeth Winter, of Snowhelm. ’
‘ Aha, yes! ’ the man exclaimed, continuing his speech. ‘ The mighty Sir Galeth Winter of Snowhelm, destroyer of dragons, killer of krakens, reaper of wraiths! All must pay tribute to your eternal light! Please, Sir Galeth, allow me to do you the honour of carrying your bag upstairs. To you, this may be a simple action, but I truly believe my life has been leading to this very moment! ’
He finished the speech hands still outstretched, lowering his chin and closing his eyes in wait. *How could I deny him this moment? * It had been an incredibly flattering speech, and even if I never had actually killed a kraken the man was still clearly an admirer. Continuing with the rapport of the moment, I bowed slightly and then handed off the rucksack. It jangled and clinked as the small man hooked it over one arm.
‘ Now, inn-hand, tell me where I can... ’
‘ That ’ ll be twelve gold pieces. ’
‘ Sorry? ’
‘ Twelve gold pieces, for the bag to go upstairs. ’
‘ But the speech, I thought... ’
‘ Merely a formality. Twelve gold pieces. ’
The cheeky little bastard had run the age-old “ I ’ m your greatest admirer ” ruse on me, and I had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. I snatched my ( now sooty ) rucksack back off him.
‘ Suit yourself ’ he muttered as he scurried off into another room.
I sidled over to the innkeeper behind the bar, a portly gentleman with a brown handlebar moustache and rosy red cheeks.
‘ What can I do you for, traveller? ’ he said, picking up a flagon and cleaning it with a rag.
‘ A pint of your house ale, please. ’
‘ It ’ s Bloodhound ’ s Bane, that alright with you? ’
‘ That southern draught? ’
‘ Aye. ’
‘ Well, it isn ’ t Wolf ’ s Wrath, but beggars can ’ t be choosers. ’
‘ Very well. ’
The innkeeper took the large glass flagon he had been cleaning and placed it under the nozzle of a barrel, filling it. The ale spilt slightly as he clumsily placed it back onto the counter, now full.
‘ That ’ ll be ten gold pieces. ’
This was surprisingly cheap for such a nice inn. Usually, a good flagon of house ale would set you back at least fifteen, if not twenty, gold pieces.
‘ Very cheap! The little bag-handling man wanted more to take my luggage upstairs. ’
‘ You met Oinkle I take it. Strange fellow, but he keeps the place tidy, means well. That being said, probably a good job he didn ’ t take your belongings up. ’
‘ Why ’ s that? ’ I asked, sipping at the flagon of Bloodhound ’ s Bane.
‘ The old machine ’ s gone again. ’
‘ Old machine? ’
‘ Yeah, the old healing aura machine. It ’ s ruined. Some bastard but a load of soot in one of it ’ s pipes. ’
I shook my head whilst taking another sip of the ale. It wasn ’ t the first time I ’ d heard of people sabotaging inn aura machines: the perpetrator usually ended up being a rival in the area trying to drum up more business.
‘ Well, that ’ s awful ’ I said, trying to act surprised. ‘ I don ’ t actually need any healing, so it should be fine. ’
‘ It ’ s okay for you then ’ the innkeeper muttered, ‘ I ’ ve had it up to my bloody ear the last couple of days! Between you and I, I ’ m stumped as to who did it. I ’ m up to my neck in complaints from customers; “ oh, the cut on my face didn ’ t heal ” and “ my arm hasn ’ t grown back yet ”. Bloody adventurers, one thing breaks and you ’ d think the world was coming to an end. Some people can ’ t go a few days without a limb. Friggin ’ lightweights. ’
As he finished the sentence, the innkeeper grabbed one of his eyes and pulled it straight from its socket. I hadn ’ t even realized he had a glass eye; the craftsmanship on it was remarkable. He spat on it and began cleaning it with the rag he had been using on my flagon. I put the ale back down on the counter.
‘ Not thirsty? ’ the innkeeper asked, unfazed.
‘ Not anymore. ’
‘ Good, then you can help me work out who jammed up my aura machine. ’
I had grown impatient. As nice as the inn was, it certainly didn ’ t have enough to keep me there for the night.
‘ No, sorry. I need to be heading out. ’
The innkeeper paused, and then took a large coin-purse from his pocket. It hit the bar with the mighty, jingling thud.
‘ There ’ s three hundred gold pieces in it for you, if you can catch them. ’
My ears pricked up. *Three hundred gold pieces, * I thought to myself, *enough for the ferry across The Great Green Sea. *
‘ Okay. I ’ ll help. Do you have any idea who it might have been? ’
‘ Not a clue, that ’ s why the reward is so high. Little bastard must have done it whilst I was asleep. ’
As I began opening my bag to get my diary, I noticed the small sooty handprints stained into the silk lining of it ’ s leather.
‘ Did you say, “ little ’? ’
*Like my stuff and want to read more? For 2016 I've set myself the task of writing a short piece every day of the year, using r/writingprompts for help. You can follow my progress and read more content here: * http: //tamaxwell.tumblr.com/
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[ WP ] One of the hostages at a bank robbery is actually a supervillain on their day off .
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`` I know, I know. I should have come earlier,'' I grumbled, fidgeting in line. Closing time on a Friday. I should have known better -- not that I'd ever tell *her* that. `` I'll come home as soon as I'm out, alright? Love you, b-'' `` Everyone on the ground, now!'' Shots rang out through the lobby, and I dropped my phone in panic. A man in a ski mask and a blue suit pointed a black assault rifle in the air. `` On the ground, now! Hands in the air where I can see them''. I courageously complied, not so much sinking to the floor as collapsing as my hands meekly trembled above me. *Shit. Shit shit shit shit. Why didnt I come earlier? *
`` I know, I know, 4 on a Friday is a terrible time to be here, but it's almost my turn. Fine fine you're right I'll just go on Monday. Not like anything's gon na get done today anyways'' I turned incredulously. A man in a black suit was still standing 2 or 3 people away from the cowering teller. `` You! I said down, now!''. The man in black held up a finger. `` Yes, that's him. No, I wo n't cause any trouble.'' The robber cocked his gun `` Drop the phone!''. `` Yeah yeah milk and eggs got it. I'll see you when I get back, love you, b-''. The robber suddenly lunged, grabbing the man's phone and slamming it on the floor. `` I said on your knees'', jamming the gun directly in the idiots face. Shit. This guys gon na get as all killed. What's he doing? `` Look there's no need to be so rude. Nervous? First time? Not to be judgemental or anything but you've already made some pretty glaring mistakes''. `` Wh-what?'' Stammered the robber as his gun lowered an inch or so. `` Yeah look see that poor girl over there?'' He pointed to the now very panicked teller `` She's already triggered the silent alarm -- ah come on now she's just doing her job, besides it's too late. Point the gun back at me. There ya go. Okay now look, let me help you out. That was your first mistake, ok? The second one was not shooting me as soon as I did n't put the phone down. What if I told my wife to call the police? And now you look weak -- see that guy is getting ready to book it to the door''. He pointed at me and I froze. What the hell was he doing? `` Get back! Now! ``, the robber screamed, pointing the gun towards me now. I eagerly complied. `` Thirdly, honestly, you're taking way too much time and being way to brash about this. I'm assuming you're just going to rob the teller, since you're working alone and all. All you had to do was wait in line for awhile, tell her you have a gun, and she'' ll give you the money and you'll be on your merry way. Nice and quick. Now you've got like, what a minute before the cops get here?''. `` W-well what should I do now?'' The robber said, lowering his gun. I could n't believe what was happening. All I could really do was watch as this robber got what seemed to be a lecture. Who the hell was this guy? `` Honestly? Well at this point you're basically a shoe in for armed robbery, but look around, you've got hostages all around you. I'm assuming you've got a getaway guy?'' He nodded. `` Good. At least you're not totally retarded. Okay first, shoot that guy in the leg''. He pointed at me. Suddenly I became much more interested. `` Him? Why?''. `` Two reasons. One, he keeps trying to get away, and that's a problem. Look he's been inching towards the door again. Two, you've lost the audience. By not shooting me, you seem weak, and now you've got to fix that. So shoot him''. `` FUCK''. Blinding pain in my thigh. Why? Why did this have to happen? It's Friday for chrissake. I could barely hear the man's next words. `` Ahh shit I should have been more clear. I shoukd have said to shoot his calf or something. Femoral artery is in his thigh, and you dont want him dead or else the cops wo n't talk to you, they'll just barge in. Looks like you just grazed him though, he'll be fine. Now the cops are going to be here any second now so listen up. They're gon na know you have hostages, and they're going to assume you're a pro, just to be safe. So act like it. Do n't kill anyone but do n't be afraid to make an example of them. Here I'll give you these.'' Something clicked open. I did n't see it, my attention was... elsewhere. `` you've got like what 20 people here? Get them tied up as soon as you can. Now, since you've escalated things, you're gon na want a bigger payout. Get the keys to the deposit boxes and clean them out, along with phones and wallets. When the cops get here, they're gon na ask for demands. You say you want 20 mil and a helicopter. Then hang up. No more talking. That should stall them. Call your buddy and have him go to this address. This bank has a tunnel underneath -- do n't ask how it got there. Here's the entrance. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to get home before dinner or my wife will yell at me again.'' Before any of us could react, there was a loud boom and a section of the ceiling crashed down. `` Oh, and stop his bleeding after you tie everyone up. He's going to pass out soon.'' The last thing I saw was a man in a black suit, flying out the hole on a jetpack, holding a brown briefcase.
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[ WP ] War has broken out . One army is lead by General Tso . The other is controlled by Colonel Sanders .
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I was only a boy when the war broke out. My Father was part of the guard in charge of watching over the wall. I remember he would sometimes take me see over the other side and tell tales of the strange people that ate their chicken glazed in sauce. He would tell about how their houses were brightly colored and marked with animal symbols to ward off evil spirits. And about how they did n't get candy for Halloween, only fiery hot pepper corns. I would imagine how sad it must be to never have sucked on a sweet sucker, or blown a bumble with gum. Worse of all how awful it must have been to live without having had crispy sweet succulent chicken.
I remember being in class, reciting our founders chicken recipe. A mythical combination of 11 different herbs and spices when the sirens rang out. We hid under our desks as the earth shook from the blasts of bombs. We were at war...
In the years that followed no one could remember who started the war, or over what. The only thing that mattered was that our chicken was best. The wall was gone, most of the buildings that were above ground were gone, we lived in bunkers, sending out raiding parties to gather food and occasionally attack the despicable Tso eating heathens. As soon as I could I joined the defense force, or what remained of it. Eventually being selected to be a apart of an elite force.
Our leader was Colonel Sanders, he did n't want the rank of general out of fear of being a target. He formed the plan that would end the war, the plan to capture their leader... General Tso. General Tso was the last heir in a long line of the Tso Dynasty.
Colonel Sanders lead our elite task force personally, we quietly infiltrated their lines, blended in... Ate their chicken... We found the General eating while under heavy guard. Rushing in, losing the last of our ammunition we were able to capture him... With Tso hostage we managed to walk home without a single bullet left.
And then a curious thing happened, our great Colonel shook Tso's hand and offered him some of the last remaining chicken we had. Together they worked over the fryer and stove. We feared he had lost his mind for what came out was neither the familiar Kentucky Fried Chicken of my youth, nor the strange gelatinous glazed bird bits loved by our enemy, but something different, new... some sort of hybrid.
And it was this hybrid that ended the war of fried chicken.
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[ WP ] A time-travelling historian is sent back to pose as a scholar in the Library of Alexandria in order to copy the scrolls before their destruction . Nobody expected the historian would be the one to burn down the library after discovering a hidden truth for themselves .
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It took me many years to gain the trust of the Time Travelling Ethics Board. They enforced their rules rather inflexibly: few were allowed to go back beyond the day when time travel was first created.
Because it is the greatest invention in the history of humankind, the Board, with the help of professional ethicists, philosophers, and physicists, decided that sending people back to times before the time machine's invention was too risky. Such people might change things, alter the course of history, and thus prevent the machine from ever having been invented in the first place. At least, this was the fear. It was thus infrequently that people were allowed to travel back, way back, before the machine's invention. And in the rare instances where they were allowed, they were only allowed to do so for very non-invasive projects: taking a picture of a dinosaur, double-checking to be sure that Shakespeare actually authored the plays the tradition assigns to him, etc. That is, we ( scholars ) were ( and are ) only allowed back to *observe* past phenomena, never to *alter* them.
Clearly, the line between those two is not easy to draw: quantum mechanics states that the mere observation of certain phenomena has tangible effects; and moreover, in a less high-theoretical register, the Butterfly effect stipulates that even stepping on a bug in the past, regardless of how pure one's intentions might be, how observational in nature one's trip might have been intended to be, can lead to significant, even catastrophic consequences ( even the most vehement critics of Time Travel and Time Machines have softened their tunes on this one: many have travelled back and stepped on all manner of bugs, and history seems to have been altered very little by it -- it's as if there is a necessity in the course of history, pulling it towards certain ends, and that, as such, it is difficult to radically alter the course of its progression ). But nevertheless, I was, after many years of preparation, many years of pleading with the board, allowed to travel back.
Back to the Library of Alexandria, in whose fabled shelves lay the scrolls of centuries of ancient wisdom, one day to be consumed by purgatorial fire.
I would finally get to read the dialogues of Aristotle, the lost poetry of Sappho, the works of Hypatia. I would be able to pour over the hermetic works of pre-Christian alchemists, and have a window into locked and lost vault of the soul of Antique Man.
I was excited. Very excited for my journey, to say the least.
I was clothed in a robe befitting the time to which I was travelling. I wore my beard long. I had tanned my skin dark. I sat in the machine. They strapped me in. And then I was off, to Alexandria, only weeks before it was to burn down...
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[ WP ] Write a story about a character who I 'm supposed to hate , but use the last paragraph to make me sympathize with them
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Today was a good motherfucking day. I stole twenty bucks off some dumb broad. It was just dangling out of her pocket, strutting down the street like she was hot shit when she probably hadn ’ t had any action in years. I was with my crew, and they thought it was the most hilarious thing. I just snuck up behind her, all fancy, and slipped that bill out like that fat bitch slipped lard down her throat. She probably had fifty of those goddamn bills in her giant Prada purse anyway, so I can ’ t even feel guilty. Not that I plan on using that cash on anything good, I have nothing to save for. I ’ m not going anywhere, I ’ ll be living off the government and messing around on these city streets for life. Why not take advantage of the system, cause it ’ ll fuck you any chance it gets.
That lady had a kid with her too. Some snot-nosed, pig-tailed girl, probably only four or five years old. She saw me coming up behind her mom, too, and was about to scream. I swear I would ’ ve slapped her if she did, but I made a “ shh ” noise with my mouth, then ran my finger across my throat and stuck out my tongue as a warning. She got it, but looked like she could ’ ve started bawling. Didn ’ t matter, though, she won ’ t remember me in a few days, anyway. Little white girls have better things to focus on than some ignorant douche like me stealing cash from their mom. They have no concept of cash, anyway. It ’ s just paper to color on for them, probably.
I don ’ t remember much about being a kid. I do remember my dad beat me a lot. I was an only kid, so I was his only target. My mom was too fucked up on coke to jump in, anyway. He died in a gang fight when I was eleven, and my mom died a couple years back from an overdose. All I ’ ve got is me, plus these fake friends who drive me to steal, fight, and do other shit that I vowed to myself I ’ d never do when I saw the way my dad went. But when you don ’ t have anything to fall back on, the streets suck you in. My crew and I are all gon na die soon out here anyway, so why not live it up until then?
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[ WP ] Kill a man and you 're a murderer . Kill thousands and you 're a conqueror . Kill everyone and you 're a god .
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Hi. I'm God.
Wait. Who am I talking to? I killed everyone.
Ah, but I'm God! I'll just make some more people. Hello, people! Now say hello to kidney failure.
And there they go. OK, here's some more people. Nice place you have here. Be a shame if anything happened to EARTHQUAKE!! Wow! Look at them fly around. That was a big one.
OK, more people. And even more people. They just keep reproducing. But not for much longer. Aaaaaannnnnddd..... AIDS!
That was fun. And now I'm making more people. This must be like being four years old and getting a can of Play Doh. You mash it up, you build it up, tear it down, and start all over. Only this Play Doh can make things like malaria, famine, car crashes, stomach cancer, stray bullets, big explosions, tornadoes, and OJ.
So if I make you, you better believe I'm gon na break you. I cash all of my checks. See you at the bank.
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[ WP ] You just moved to a new neighborhood and you hear the music of an ice cream truck coming down the street . As you and your family walk outside you notice all your neighbors rushing inside and locking their doors and windows .
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Everyone was running inside like maniacs, my neighbor grabbed the kid who lives across the street in a panic. In one minute, a lively picnic was reduced to a ghost town, that was at the park on the opposite side of a large field from the homes of the people at the picnic.
2 minutes earlier
I was enjoying the picnic to welcome my family to the neighborhood, when some elderly people needed help standing up to go to the grill. mom went to help them and then they bolted ( seriously, 15 seconds and they are at the other side of the block, they forgot there walker ) and I was baffled as everyone ran like a landshark had a bomb.
I heard ice cream music and was initially terrified because it scared them inside before the burger that was flipped hit the ground. It looked perfectly normal and had the same brand as the ones I'm used to so I was confused.
`` Want some ice cream, it's on the house''
`` Can I have the sundae?''
`` Here you go''
I licked it once and wanted to tell mom how good it was but I could n't, my tongue kept licking. My tongue was stuck in the ice cream as it was blasted with flavor. It blasted me into a trance as I could n't resist the flavor.
`` Ok let's go home'' said my mom
I felt my body shove the ice cream into my face as it surrounded my head. I could feel, no taste the flavor with my head. It was like my entire head was a tongue.
My mother was shocked but I asked for more through the ice cream mask. He turned on the machine as he made ice cream cones and buried me in ice cream cones. I enjoyed the intense flavor and could n't resist despite knowing this was bad. As my mom screamed he said the extra ice cream will be a dollar as he reached into the mountain of ice cream and pulled me out as a dollar bill.
He drove away and told me `` if you accept, you will also drive a ice cream truck but get infinite ice cream of any kind, even burger ice cream. Also 1 wish.''
The power of the magic ice cream overpowered my will like a nuclear missile against a ant, forcing me to comply.
As for my wish, your reeding it.
Bye internet.
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[ WP ] You anger a gypsy and she gives you the most petty curse possible . For a while you ignore it , but now it 's just getting irritating .
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Stupid gypsy woman, first she tells me I am going to die tomorrow, and then she demands pay after? Yeah right.. I think she mumbled something about an `` itch'' when I left, but she told me I would die tomorrow, so what does that matter. If I am dying tomorrow, I am going to have a great time tonight at least. Danny said something about a new club opening downtown, maybe I should go down there and hit up some fine ladies. I am tired of visiting shady brothels, so maybe I'll get lucky tonight. At least there is brothels later anyways.
`` Oy'' Danny yells at me. `` What's up man? I heard you went to that crazy gypsy woman earlier? How did it go?'' Trust him to get right to the point. `` She was totally crazy dude, told me I was going to die and shit, but that just gives me an excuse to PARTY!!!'' I say. Danny is totally rocking that, and we go out for some trawling this new club. But of course they want a stupid entrance fee again, since you know, we are guys. Luckily, my pick pocketing days are not forgotten, and that douche in the suit is a wallet lighter. Filled with cash! In we go!
I spot this gorgeous blonde in a sexy tight dress, and some awesome black heels twirling her hair at the bar. Of course I have to make a move. `` Hey babe. My name is Ewon. What do you want me to call you?'' I say smoothly. She looks me up and down and says `` Get lost freak. I am way above your paygrade''. Again rejected by some bitch who cares more about money than charm. World is not a nice place for someone like me, and I even had no luck with that gypsy woman telling me my future... she could at least have told me that I would win the lottery or something good, but no... she had to say I was dying. If anything that just makes me more motivated. I spot this lovely redhead in some very strange clothes, but well, she seems somewhat hot, and should not care about how rich I am. Damn itch! I scratch my ass, which she sees, and frowns slightly towards me. Hmm.. I better wait with her for later. Maybe after a couple of drinks? Lets hit the dance floor instead.
`` Hola!'' a comely woman says to me. `` Nice moves there baby girl!'' Girl? What the hell is this woman thinking. She must be inhaling her drinks or something. Then some bad ass looking man slaps my butt? I got ta get out of here really fast, this is weird. Is this some weird trans or gaybar? `` Danny'' I yell over the music. `` What the hell have you dragged me into?'' With his arms around the redhead I was considering earlier he responds: `` What are you talking about? This place is great man!'' Great. I have lost my wing man, now he is making out with her like it was his last day on earth. `` When did you put on a dress mate? I guess you really want to PARTEY eh?!'' he smiles at me. I look down confused. What is going on? Sure as hell, I am wearing a bright yellow dress. This is so weird... did someone slip me something in my drink? Got ta get out of here, fast!
Women's bathroom, men's bathroom? What do I do? I think I recall something about a new law about this stuff. But, who cares what the stupid politicians do, it's not like there is going to be police in here right? I head to the men's bathroom and the nearest cubicle. Just got ta chill a minute, then everything will be alright. `` KNOCK!'' Wait what? Who would knock on a bathroom stall? `` In a second!'' I answer in a strange high pitched voice. `` This is the police!'' a deep masculine voice answers. Great... That guy in a suit probably spotted me from earlier.. guess I ca n't escape from this. I open the door and is greeted by some flashy dude with a beard and a police ID in his hand. `` You are under arrest for violation of Public Bath safety code whatever, and prostitution whatever...'' He places his handcuffs on my wrists and slam me in the next stall just to make a point. `` Why did we get this stupid job again Mike?'' He asks the other guy in a flashy purple shirt. `` Because you arrested the mayors son Mike...'' the blonde guy in that stupid shirt responds. `` Ah! Remind me not do that again Bat..'' he says in an offbeat tone. `` But at least with this arrest we are done for tonight'' he smiles.
Jail... I hate jail. I spent enough time here as a teenager to not ever go back. But yet, here I am. There is some crazy looking dude in the corner, with lots of gold chains and jewelry. Must be a pimp. Better stay away from him. `` Hey, Reg!'' He yells to the guard. `` What is she in for?'' The guard looks to me and back to him and answers: `` Just a dumb whore we picked up at Club69. Should think she would know better than to try that place.. we had it crawling with police tonight.'' He leaves and does n't seem to care much about it all. That pimp eyes me suspiciously. `` Who are you working for?'' he asks abruptly. `` I am not a whore you ( slur )!'' I answer harshly. Wait, what. Why did I say that? I am supposed to lay low in jail... not provoke people. `` What did you call me?'' he angrily shouts. The other dude suddenly wakes up too. Great, racial slurs work great in here... `` Yeah, tell me bitch'' he roars. `` I called you both some ( slur ) baboons'' I shriekingly say. What is going on here? Something is very weird. I feel my body being pulled towards against them both, attacking the pimp with my nails. He strikes back knocking me towards the stony bench on the left side. My last thoughts are about what that gypsy said to me. Itch? No it was not. `` Begone bitch!'' she said.
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[ WP ] A friendship between a time traveler and an immortal . Wherever the time traveler ends up , the immortal is there to catch him up to speed .
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A man stumbled from within the cover of a copse of trees, seemingly having come from the shadows. His hair was a mess of ebon curls, gray striking it here and there, and it took him a moment for his eyes to regain focus. Once it had, the pale-skinned man brushed his hands over the non-existant dust on his coat. In just a few minutes, the man had regained his composure, and he stood with his spine straight as he strided from the shadows of the trees. The skies up above were dark, with only the distant lights of the stars piercing through, while a dim, crescent-shaped moon hung over the horizon.
Beyond the grove of trees the man had come from, the park was one made up of grassy fields. With night having fallen, a quiet had settled, and the man found himself alone as he walked beneath the waning light of the moon, towards a busy intersection. The silence of the night began to trickle away as he neared the road, and the noise of the traffic rushed in with the piercing noise of a car /beeping/, once, twice. The sound was grating, but the man barely paid any attention to it as he approached a bench sitting at the side of the street.
On the bench, a young man sat, reading a newspaper, his skin resembling the dark hue of the skies above. The shadows underneath his eyes were barely distinguishable, though there, still. The younger man glanced up as the pale fellow approached, and he offered a smile. It held a hint of weariness.
`` How was your trip, Elias?'' the dark-skinned man asked as the other took a seat next to him. `` Come here for any particular reason?''
`` Oh, the usual, as you know it, Markus. Except I grew rather nauseous during half of it. Probably the brocolli I'd eaten the other day... well, earlier.'' Elias let out a soft grunt as he took a seat, his frame relaxing somewhat as he slouched forward. `` Ah, yes. I heard Queen Elizabeth the third took a nasty fall around this time, and I was looking into it.''
A small smile tugged at Markus's lips, his teeth white against his dark flesh. His eyes wandered over the traffic and towards the occasional passing figure. Folding the newspaper he held on his lap, he said, voice soft, `` I had n't heard such a thing. But the Queen /was/ in a foul mood the other day. At least, according to the palace guards.''
`` Is that so? Hm. I suppose this might have led to the tumble she took.'' Elias frowned thoughtfully, before turning his blue-eyed gaze towards Markus. `` And how have you been, old friend?''
Markus gave a small shake of his head. `` Exhausted... it gets tiring, watching people make the same mistakes over the years.'' Though his voice was soft, he was easily heard over the noise of traffic. `` A friend of mine has gotten into another fight with that husband of hers. If they would only /talk/ to each other...''
A dry laugh snorted out from Elias. `` Oh, you know how it is, Markus. We've all got that damn pride holding us back.''
`` I know...'' Markus loosed a sigh, one filled with weariness, before a grin flickered across his lips as he glanced back to Elias. `` A drink? A new pub's opened up down the street. They've got some great cocktails, I hear.''
Almost immediately, Elias pushed to his feet. His lips peeled back to reveal a grin as he said, `` Sounds like a fucking good idea. Come on, lead the way.''
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[ WP ] Every year , there is a Battle Royale/Hunger Games-esque deathmatch , but instead of a secluded island , it is in public . Killing civilians results in instant death . This year , you have been picked .
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Wendy watched the passing people fiddle with their smartphones, walking in the world and stepping on its beauty while looking at the creation of Man and embracing its darkness.
They were all watching the same thing. It was that time of the year, when the blood stained the pavement and the screams filled the ears. They lived for it, they fucking *thrived* on it. If she could, she would waste all of them right now, each of the men and women watching the Battle, but that would make her no different than them.
A high pitched scream came from the left. Wendy looked over from her spot on the bench. A girl had a knife stuck in her chest. There was another, bigger girl, on top of her. She pulled the knife out and plunged it back in. The people near Wendy panicked and scurried off like cockroaches. They ran a safe distance and then watched on their phones. In real life it was barbaric and sick, but with their phone serving as a barrier, they could watch it all they wanted.
Wendy shifted the red bandana on her forehead, the sign that she was chosen in the Battle.
The girl stabbing the corpse looked over and charged. Wendy watched her with pity.
The girl's head exploded mid-step. Wendy did n't flinch, but she almost heard the city collectively gasp.
Wendy had tied a red bandana to a homeless girl, a civilian, and made her appear to be a contestant. It was n't something she enjoyed, but it had to be done. Wendy would n't kill anyone directly, *couldn't* kill anyone directly.
The punishment for killing a civilian was n't her fault. The fact that the girl stabbed the homeless one was n't her fault. It just was.
Wendy stood up and looked at the mall complex. She began walking for it. She would win the Battle, without shedding a drop of blood. It would be what the world needed.
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[ WP ] A single sword . A single word . A single world , turned upside down .
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Out of the lake rose a hand, delicate and fair. It held a sword, old but unblemished, in its hand. No one was there to see it.
It leaned back like a snake ready to strike, and threw the sword. With a great clang, it landed on a stone and embedded itself there.
A boy, out on a walk through the woods found the lake after hearing the clang. He looked upon it. He studied it.
Inscribed upon its base was one word:
`` King.''
The boy pulled on it, and out it flew. It made a sound like a bell.
Everyone heard it.
In Wales, they heard it. In London, they heard it. In England, they heard it. In Ireland, they heard it. In Scotland, they heard it. Even the Isle of Man heard it.
England had a new king for the first time in many, many years.
A king who truly was born to rule.
A child-king.
Arthur.
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[ WP ] It 's a few days after Christmas and you receive a package in the mail with a note signed `` Much love , S.C . ''
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( Hey, this is my first Attempt at one, so any feedback is appreciated, thanks. ^^ )
I heard the door bell ring, it was a strange sound to me - almost unidentifiable with how little I hear it. I open the door not really knowing what to expect, it was just someone with a parcel wearing a uniform, `` Parcel for John, please sign here.'' I immediately looked puzzled, I have n't ordered anything - nor was I expecting anything. After I had signed for it he handed me the parcel I thanked him and shut the door again, going back to my seat in the living room.
I remove packaging, I see the initials S.C, my heart felt like it had stopped, has my past caught up with me? I would worry about putting my loved ones in danger but luckily for them I do n't have any. I further investigate it was a box, a mahogany box, with gold clasps keeping it shut. I reluctantly open the box, I was quite a bit concerned about what the contents could be, but what I saw.. Made my eyes widen inside was a pillow, resting on it was a piece of coal.. It seems he knows about my actions.. There is nothing I can do but wait, it is pointless hiding. The scary thing about S.C, they say he can see you even when you're sleeping.
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[ WP ] If it had n't happened I would still be sane .
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A simple truth of life is that we ’ re all riding on a slow descent to madness. Caught in a whirlpool, circling the drain, waiting for some cold, boney hand to pull us down into the deep. Maybe I ’ d be able to keep my head up better if it hadn ’ t happened. But the worst things can ’ t be forgotten. They can ’ t be unseen.
For me, it was the bombing in LaGuardia Airport, in 1975. 11 dead, 75 wounded in a thunderclap and a sheet of fire. And there I was, a half-dead child lying on the ground, dazed but alive in a world wreathed by smoke and debris.
I felt the darkness that passed over me that day, as crushing as the greatest depths of the sea. I thought I saw a man in the fog, but my throat couldn ’ t make the words to call out. I tried to rise but only managed to turn myself onto my side.
That ’ s when I saw it through the reflection in jagged sheet of glass: an angel wrapped in a black cloak passing like an exhale from one body to the next. It moved like a whisper, and it never lingered. When it had checked each body, it passed over me once more. I reached out to pull on the heavy mantle, the raggedy edges dancing like frayed shadows at dawn, and managed to brush the edge of that darkness.
My body seized, and my lungs closed, and all the breath in the world left me. It was as though the weight of the sea had been dropped onto my soul, an anchor dragging me into the depths. In my struggle, I saw that angel halt, turn, wait. It was watching me, waiting for me to die.
I don ’ t know how long it was before the men pulled me from the wreckage. No more than a minute, if even that long. If they hadn ’ t been there, I would ’ ve died. I would have died sane.
They forced oxygen into my lungs and hauled me away from blast zone. I don ’ t remember the days past that, during my recovery, or when my grandmother came to tell me that my parents were dead. I don ’ t remember the pain.
But I do remember the angel.
I ’ ve seen it every day since then, lurking in some reflection near my periphery. Some days, I ’ ll see it on the subway, standing quietly at the other end of the car. Often, its standing at the crosswalk, hunched and cloaked and still a head taller than the crowd waiting to cross. It doesn ’ t approach me. I don ’ t approach it. We are aware of one another, and that is enough to drive anyone to the edge of madness.
I would tell you that I ’ ve come to terms with it, that I ’ ve begun to see death as a companion, even as a friend. That would be a lie. I see that angel and my heart skips a beat. My blood runs cold. I force myself to breathe, to avert my eyes out of respect for the dead among us who are of yet unaware that their borrowed time has come due. But the truth of it is that I ’ ve seen the shape of the hand that swings the scythe. I ’ ve felt the press of those boney fingers that will ferry us far from shore.
That way, madness lies. It is the only way I know.
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[ WP ] One day you wake up , only to notice that you suddenly have three Fallout character perks in real life .
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The list slid under my door while I slept, I did n't hear it during the night and no one on my floor had seen any man or woman come by that night. But it came to me, that goddamned list.
At first I thought it was a page ripped from an ancient hardcover video game guide, you know, the old ones that still existed in pawn stores and held hidden cheat codes that were now only a Google search away. So I tossed it. Then it came again. And I tossed it.
Then it came again, and again, and every time I tried to throw it away, it came back to me. So I finally read the damn thing. It was a list of perks to my favorite video game. I compared the list to the one on the Wiki, all of them matched up, from the symbol next to them, to their description. It was an exact copy. And carefully printed in the bottom was a slogan I had read only a handful of times.
**Revolutionizing safety for an uncertain future. **
I knew what it was from of course, the Vault-Tec slogan; a fictional corporation that designed and built the vaults in the iconic *Fallout* series. The list I held in my hands contained all seventy-four perks ( not received from quests ) from *Fallout 3*, DLC included. At the top, with a lovely Vault Boy smiling at me with his thumbs up was carefully written text that said, *pick three*.
I honestly just wanted to fulfill the wish of whoever was dropping them off under my door every night. It was more inconvenient than anything else, so thinking it was just a random survey I picked the first three that came to mind.
The obvious one of course, *Lady Killer*, which allotted me +10 % damage against opponents of the opposite sex, and ( the real reason I chose it ) unique dialogue options when dealing with the opposite sex.
The second one was one, *Escalator to Heaven*, which raised my `` karma'' to very good. I liked being the good guy in Fallout, made me sleep better at night.
And finally, the third. *Almost Perfect*, raising all of my SPECIAL characteristics to nine, one right below perfect.
It was how I played the game, it was how I *always* played the game. And I honestly thought it was just another dumb kid with too much time on his hands taking a survey, for some weird reason. I did n't expect it to all actually happen. It was sudden, too, just like in the game. Nothing came gradually, I just started to notice things.
Giving away money ( or water ) was easy and became much more common, because I was winning the lottery every other day. I received a promotion at work because I started to retain more information, much faster. I did n't get fatigued until very late in the day and my workouts doubled in intensity and duration. I knew when people were lying and it helped me win the biggest case of my career. I could talk to anyone ( especially women ), at anytime, about anything I wanted because I could know it all, because I *did* know it all.
My life had changed. Everything was perfect, everything seemed to be going so well. That was until the second list came, well it was more of a note than a list, but it had the feeling of Vault-Tec all over it. Mainly because printed neatly at the bottom again was their slogan.
And instead of a nice list of perks to choose from it only had a few words on it. And I knew from the moment I saw them, something was telling me to listen to it. Something, inside my head was telling me to *get Out and Run. *
But I did n't listen. I stayed home and the next day was when it all happened. I do n't know who they are in my life, but these mercenaries came to my work and just started shooting. Everyone, everywhere, they did n't stop until they reached me, where they started talking.
`` If it is n't the little saint from New York.''
And no matter what I said, no matter what I did, they would still shoot. I knew why, I know why now. Someone, somewhere out there is playing an elaborate game. And after defeating the mercenaries, I found what I always knew I would find. A note, saying that the bounty has been paid and my head is on the chopping block.
I had to leave, so I did. I bummed a ride, got out of town and my mind drifted to the note. Someone was trying to help me, they changed my life, but they also placed me into this world that feels all too familiar. So now, now they hunt me. The real-life incarnation of the *Talon Company Mercs*, who in the video-game work for an unknown third party and operate out of Fort Bannister. So that's where I'm headed. I'm going to find the man who put the hit on me, because if anything, I can stop the bloodshed and find out his part in all of this.
If anything, I can start to unravel the mystery behind that goddamned list.
___________
I had fun with this, if you enjoyed it, check out more of my writing at /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs.
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[ WP ] Most superheroes can fly or have super strength . You , however , have the ability to change the odds .
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How do you win a fight?
The universe is out to get you, one hit and you are out. But what are
the odds of that happening. It is all about numbers and how many are
on your side.
The opposite example would be to partake in a lottery contest
involving like thousands of other partakers, the odds are stacked
heavily against you. How likely is it that if you had a spacecraft
and you were in outer space, to be hit by a comet. Again the odds
are stacked against you, or is it in favor of you. Similarly you can
raise such questions as how likely is it that a bullet would get you,
if you happen to nonchalantly walk across the battle field. Is it a
question of chance of probability or just a matter of time till
something knocks you out of the game.
The physics of the world too works in this very same way. That is how
i have been fighting for justice, turning the odds in favor of me.
You just have to plot ahead and introduce multiple elements who do not
know that they are part of the event, even if they are not taking part
in it. As i manipulate the stacks of odds, i could orchestrate the
universe in a grand symphony rising and swirling to my cues.
Enter a crime scene and me and my silly cape. A single measly me
against some hundred armed assailants. How do i turn the fight in
favor of me. I introduce actors in the scene that would be in the
battle field along with me, obviously they would not even know that
they are involved in some event. And that is how i turn the odds of
one to hundred to thousands to hundred. Even if the ratio is not that
big, the odds are in favor of me.
And i minimize my risks in the same way, involving lots of people in
the event. Social media is a tool that i use, it is no longer a
measly me against a dozen goons but droves of social media followers
and me against all those adversaries. All the world is a game of dice
but when it comes to the actual outcomes, it is all about
probabilities of events.
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[ WP ] Write a love poem inspired by your most recently received text message .
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I mildly enjoy your company more than each ex wife,
More than Tammy one or Tammy two.
It causes me a great deal of unnecessary strife,
But Leslie says a love poem will help me reconnect to you.
So, here it is, plain as a wood's fine grain,
I hope this is nice and plain.
I appreciate our relationship,
And want us to be once again joined hip to hip.
( It's hard to write a poem from Ron Swanson's perspective. My last text was after I denounced libraries as the place where evil resides, to which my friend replied `` Oh yeah! Ron's Ex-Wife Tammy!'' )
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[ WP ] Darrell was a normal everyday idiot until he was bitten by a ware-genius . Now every full moon , he turns into a genius and is trying to solve the world 's problems one night a month at a time .
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I have three hours to sunrise. I write in this journal every night that I can. One night every 28 days. One glorious moon-filled night where I am master of my own mind. The remaining 28 days and 27 nights are... different. I can barely remember them when I am in this state to be honest. It feels like a memory of someone else's life. And I hate that someone else for stealing that time from me.
I have attempted multiple treatments to extend my lucid periods with no progress to show. I have reliably demonstrate that actual lunar radiation makes no difference as cloud cover does not delay onset of symptoms. I have not yet attempted a travel plan where I would chase the night around the globe and thereby extend my gifted period. If I time it right for the full moon nearest the winter solstice, I may get up to 31 hours of night. I also have not attempted to move north of the arctic circle for longer nights as it still appears that a full moon is required.
The first night was confusing. I did not know who I was nor what I was doing. I could feel new connections coming alive in my cranium. I searched hungrily for any information of any sort. There were, of course, no books in the room I woke up in. The television only showed late night pablum. I did find a phone that granted me access to the Internet - and I tore through everything I could find. I deleted all the pornography bookmarks and replaced them with Shakespeare, Newton, Plato, and more. For nine glorious hours I gorged on everything I could find. But as the first rays of light crept over the horizon, I could feel my mind start to ebb from me. It was a little like falling asleep.
When I next woke, I found that nearly a month had passed. I awoke in an automobile of some sort. I found a different phone in my pocket than last time. All the bookmarks were gone, once more replaced by filth of the most depraved sort. I spent that night, again, learning everything I could about science, technology, mathematics, philosophy, art, and the word around me. Once more, the sun destroyed my mind.
The third night I was better prepared. Another 28 days had passed. I knew that my life was quantized and measured - one night every full moon to live to my full potential. I hoarded every minute as jealously as I could. If my life was to be a blink of the eye, then I would make it as brilliant as possible. I emailed professors solutions to mathematical equations that had stumped the ages. I sent a treatise on cancer remission to leading journals. I changed several critical interfaces to the electric grid to make it more fault tolerant. And then the cursed sun stole my life from me again.
This is my twelfth night. I keep this journal hidden away but my daytime self always seems to find it and destroy it. I loathe that creature for stealing my life. I should be the one walking through the daylight not him!
Alas, I believe some of me is leaking through to him. Not my intelligence - that's mine. But the desire to change to world. I fear for him. I fear for everyone. But one night a month I will still be here. I will still be working behind the scenes to help the world.
The sun...
The door crept open as a young man in a suit entered the office. His boss did n't usually get in this early but he was unpredictable at the best of time. He saw his boss with his head readying on the desk in front of him wearing the same suit as yesterday. Quietly, he went over and woke him.
`` Another long night Mr. Trump?''
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[ WP ] You figure out where all the lost socks from your washing machine have been going . It 's the last place you would have ever expected .
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I dug through my sock drawers, I looked in my hamper, I looked everywhere. I just could n't find my matching pair of black socks and I had a dinner reservation in thirty minutes and I was n't going to be seen wearing black pants and white socks. I ran over to my dryer, hoping that I might've missed them when I did the laundry last. I popped open the door and saw no sign that anything had been there in the past few days, I did the same with the washing machine and got the same results. I sighed, I felt defeated. I decided to to pop open the lint trap to the dryer to see if there was a mass of black fabric lodged in it. When I had gone to pop open the lint trap, I accidently grabbed something else and suddenly the whole bottom of the dryer popped off with a little tug. I felt my mouth word out `` What the...''.
I looked down into a giant dirt hole heading down beneath my dryer. I pulled out my phone and flashed the camera light down into the hole. It was a long hole that seemed to twist outward and away from my house. As I was shining the light I noticed a piece of torn cardboard, I focused the light on it and crudely written letters spelled out `` Fredim''. I shook my head, trying to comprehend what I'm seeing.
I decided to pull the dryer aside and open up the mysterious hole. It was just large enough for me to fit in, so I pulled off my jacket and threw it aside. I started down into the hole with my phone as a light. This was not what I had planned for the night but my curiosity overtook me, and there was no turning back now that I've caked my pant knees in dark dirt. As I continued down the hole I kept coming across more poorly made signs with words like `` eskap'' and `` no mir fet''. I could n't understand what the longer ones were trying to say. As I got further, I felt the tunnel getting thinner and harder to move through.
I pushed on, and it did n't take long for my investigation to start making progress. I started seeing blue lights and hearing scratching noises at the end of the tunnel. I began to proceed slower, getting worried feelings about what strange things I would find at the light. I wrapped slowly around the last curve of the tunnel, the light and noise were right around the corner.
I poked my head around the dirt wall and at the moment I lost my mind. There were a bunch of dirt covered socks holding metal spoons scratching away at the dirt wall illuminated by a small pocket flashlight. There was several of my socks at this little excavation site and even a few pairs of underwear. I spotted the black sock I was looking for, and for a moment I forgot what I was seeing and made a small victory shout `` Aha! Found it!'' At that moment all the socks stopped moving and fell to the ground like normal socks.
And that's where socks go.
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[ WP ] tell the story of humans making First Contact , but from the aliens ' point of view
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By the time they actually bothered to visit us, frankly, we were already bored of them. They preceded their visit by gracing us with 50 years worth of their filth. Our scientists were quickly able to decode their transmissions and immediately regretted it. Audio files, and sickening videos filled with mostly fantasies and endless procreation.
We figured they would arrive eventually. First Contact consisted of their space craft, although I would barely call it such, clumsily crashing in a clearing not to far from my work. It was a strange white ship with ancient rocket technology modeled in a phallic shape perhaps to grotesquely showcase their lack of shame. It was a perfect symbol of these creatures, inefficient, loud, polluting, and cringe worthy.
It was n't the fact that we are smarter than them ( we are ), it was more the arrogance of the whole situation that annoyed us the most.
A small crowd gathered around the craft and one of the doors opened up. A 6 foot tall thing in a spacesuit cautiously stepped out and I was just happy it was wearing clothing. We watched as it staggered around, its simple mind arrested by the stimulus of its new environment. After a while it finally figures out our atmosphere wo n't kill it and it began to take off its helmet and gloves. It approached the crowd slowly and stuck out its hand wanting someone to touch it, which is one of their sick rituals, but luckily no one complies.
`` Who is your leader'' It said, as if to relive the endless First Contact fantasies their species has barfed into the universe. The crowd began to lose interest and dispersed. It looked confused, its arrogance blindly obvious as if it expects us to hold parades in the street in its honour.
`` Who... umm..Who..uh..is in charge here?'' It says unsure of itself. `` I am from Earth....'' It stutters holding up a picture of its stupid planet. `` Earth... is where I came from..far away''.
I sighed loudly. I could n't handle much more of this, I decided to intervene before this thing infected our planet with its stupidity or tired to mate with something.
I made my way to the creature as it begun pulling out more pictures and elementary level math equations trying to get someone's attention. It turned to look at me as I approached sticking out its hand wanting me to touch it.
`` I'' m not touching your hand'' I said sharply, `` Why are you here?''
The creature looked crestfallen and shocked, I think these things are fueled by their egos. It looked surprised that it did n't have to communicate with me in children's math.
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[ WP ] A hero saves the day , not because of the typical reasons , but because he was bored
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It was propped up to be another quiet night in the smut section of the library. That was until, with a loud snap and a puff of smoke, a time portal appeared and spat out three Germans. Each, as he emerged, was covered in a thick, green gloop. And as they collided with the wooden floor, each was in turn taken by a fit of coughs.
`` Well bugger me in the arse, strap a dildo to my nose, and call me fuckin Sally,'' said Adolf to no one in particular, `` was n't that a bloody trip and half.'' Bob, a small man who wore a lab-coat at all times -- of his own volition -- and the SS's lead researcher, did n't seem to mind the profanities but Heinrich winced as they assailed his virginal ears. The Fuhrer had many talents, and for these Heinrich had come to love and admire the man, but the crude, Austrian dialect he reverted to when in private company was one of his less laudable traits.
Bob was the first to energize his Altshizasuche device. Signalling it was active, the device began emitting small, regular clicks. He ran the device's detector across the nearest shelf --
`` Could you just pause a fuckin minute, mate,'' said Adolph angrily, `` Just take a breath. OK. We just hurtled, faster than the speed of light, through the time-space-fuckin-continuum. We just did the biggest thing people have ever done, and now we are... wherever the fuck this is.''
`` The library of Alexandria,'' said Bob, under his breath.
`` No one likes a smart arse, Bob. Now, before we start, I want you to just pause, and take a deep breath and smell the air. You too Heinrich, smell the air.''
In unison, all three men took me a big whiff of their surroundings.
`` Now that's an interesting smell, is n't it boys. What do you think that is?''
`` History, Mein Fuhrer?'' answered Heinrich, meekly.
`` Well, I was going to say ball-sweat and mildew, but that was a bloody go-getter of an answer right there Heinrich. Fuckin history. That's right. God damn history...''
Adolph trailed off to find additional words to further commemorate the moment. His lackeys, in the ensuing pause, watched and both, lost for much else to do, smelled the air a few more times. Just to be safe.
Eventually Bob, worried that they might waste their one chance at finding The Plans -- now, there were n't enough Renaissance paintings left in the whole of Europe to fuel another trip -- coughed.
`` Ummm, Mein Fuhrer, we only have half an hour.''
At that very moment, as if aware that it was being spoken of, the time portal pulsed.
`` Fuckin A.,'' said Adolph, `` better get to it then.''
--
Meanwhile, sitting outside on the steps of the library, Amanibakhi could barely hold back his laughter as he dipped the end of the reed into the flaming brazier.
`` Yo Sewad,'' Amanibakhi called to his friend who was morosely staring off into space, `` Yo Sewad. Check this out. Yo.''
After catching his friends attention, Amanibakhi put the non-lit end of the reed to his lips and inhaled. Smoke filled his lungs. He held it as long as he could, and as he did so he gestured to his friend to wait for the great moment. When his lungs felt as if they might explode, he let the smoke slowly slip back out of his mouth.
`` See that?'' Amanibakhi laughed. `` El Oh El. See? It looks like I'm smokin up some kush. 420blazeitfaggit. Kek.''
His friend looked confused.
`` Amani, my dearest of dear friends, what on holy Ra's beak, is this `` kush'' or this `` Four-twenty Brasierit''?''
Amanibakhi tried to find an answer. Searched into the deepest recesses of himself, he could not locate from whence either the strange action or the strange names originated; instead, all he found was a picture of a bald-eagle soaring in the wind, screeching proudly.
`` Sewad... my dearest of dear friends... what is a bald eagle?''
`` Bald eagle?''
Eyes alight with terror, the young boy threw the reed, its end still glowing red, to the ground.
`` Sewad... my dearest of dear friends... on holy Ra's beak, I swear this... I do not know what just happened. But... but please do not say a word. We must depart.''
`` Yes, dearest of dear friends, let us depart.''
And with that, the two confused Egyptian boys ran off into the night.
--
Adolph turned to his underling and sighed.
`` Mate, I'm fuckin canoodling on the precipice of my wits end right now. This is getting ridiculous. Are we close?''
Bob, fed up with yet another in an onslaught of puerile questions, sighed. He tapped Adolph's Altshizasuche device, which was beeping frantically. `` Mein Fuhrer. You hear how loud that is? You hear how loud mine is? That means we're very close. We are almost done. I promise you.''
Adolph responded with a nod.
`` Hey Bob, you know what's going to be the absolute tits? When this is all over, check it, there's going to be a billion kids called Adolph. Fuckin -- OK, just imagine it. A billion kids... with my name. And like thirty percent of those kids, at the very least, are going to have really hot mums.''
Bob grit his teeth in frustration.
`` Do n't sweat it, mate. I'll throw you a bone, you can have a few as well.''
Heinrich suddenly appeared from behind a book-stack, slightly out of breath.
`` Mein Furer, Bob, I do n't mean to alarm you both, but I think, just maybe, I smell smoke. How close are we?''
Adolph laughed. `` We seem to pretty close I think. Bloody Bobbity-bob here says we've got it on the line. See, Heinrich, this Altleydoodleydey is beeping like a mad-man. This shelf. Right, Bob?''
`` Bob?''
The researcher, his face now flushed red, squeezed his temples and let out a long, thin groan.
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[ WP ] Pet owners of r/writingpromts : Unbeknownst to you , your pet is literate , and writes journal entries each day . What did it write today ?
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Idiot Two fed me today. I had to ask him a few times. Normally Idiot One feeds me. Idiot One has been away lately. I do n't know where Idiot One is, and I do n't know where Idiot Three is either, but Idiot Two has been here a lot. Other Idiots have been coming and going and they talk to Idiot Two.
Attempts to get into Idiot Two's territory have been thwarted. I have to find some way to get the door open. Scratching on it when he is in there does not work. Ever since I marked that room as my territory, Idiot Two has been absolutely non-compromising on my entry.
Idiot Three came back today. Idiot Two and Idiot Three had an unusually short conversation. Otherwise, Idiot Two spent the whole day on his grey box. All attempts to use this grey box in his absence have also been thwarted. Whenever I sit next to it he makes me go away. He also slept on the sofa. For some reason Idiot Two was in the house all day. Usually he leaves very early and comes back very late. I have no explanation for this shift in behaviour.
I hope this behaviour stops quickly. Idiot Two stays up very late and I have no privacy. When he is in the house I barely find alone time to satisfy myself!
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[ WP ] A serial killer is called for jury duty . At the trial , he finds out that the person on trial has been falsely accused for the serial killer 's crimes .
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Eleven people around me. Staring blankly forward. Immediately I size them up, notice things about them. Jurers 1,4,7,9 and myself are men. Jurer 1 was wearing a bowler hat. 3 was wearing a scarf. 9 was old and frail. 10 smelt like apples. I clench my fists at the scent.
The poor sap is on trial for murder. A bakers' dozen. Immediately it becomes clear he should n't be. The first victim to flash up was one of mine.
Bullet through the mouth. Looked like suicide. I was good at that.
The prosecutor was booming. The rage in his voice seemed so familiar.
I could n't concentrate. That smell. Why that smell?
Number 3, hung by the neck till she was dead. Looked like suicide. She deserved it. She should n't have worn those pearls.
Again the prosecutor pounded at the poor man who seemed to be shrinking by the second. Still I did n't hear. Still I could n't concentrate.
An age passed.
Victim number 9. A picture of a decrepit, pitiful thing flashed on to the screen. He was so ill and confused. It was just a matter of time before he overdosed. It was a mercy. I hate suffering.
10. The girl. She should n't have had that perfume. Not that day. Not on her day.
11. His picture flicks up. My hands clench so tight I think for sure my wrists must be leaking. Him. Drunk. Always drunk. I feel no pity after what he did.
Poor mum. I think back to seeing her. Hanging there in her best dress, her best pearls... Her perfume. I'm shaking. It was so easy. He always has a bath before bed. Drunk. Just hold him under.
I realise the room has been quiet for a while.
The prosecutor is looking at me.
`` Why''. He says in that voice I knew I recognised.
Everyone is looking at me.
Juror 1 removed his hat to show the hole the bullet left.
3 removed her scarf to show where the rope had bitten her.
9 pulled up his top showing where the insulin had left it's Mark.
I'm angry. I notice things. How could I have missed. 12 murders. 12 not 13.
I look at the defendent. I'm looking back at me smiling. I remember. My wrists are leaking.
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[ WP ] `` Not even Death could escape from Love ''
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I've killed people. Lots of people. Men, women, children, young, old, sick, healthy. Pick any combination and I've killed someone matching it.
There's one rule in my job... just one.
Everybody dies.
This is the tale of how I broke that rule.
I first saw her the day her grandfather died. She did n't see me of course but she felt my presence in the room.
`` Why?'' she had asked, tears streaming down her face `` WHY?!''
As if I had some kind of control over it ( or so I thought ).
The next time we met so to speak was the accident that killed both of her parents. I swear she looked right at me that time. I just turned and walked away. Nought but a chill in the air to those I moved through.
Over the years I took everything from her. Friends, family, idols even potential friends. But it was her own child that finally made me stop.
Made me realise I could take control. That I had a choice.
That He could be defied.
That was the day I looked into the eyes of The Beast and said `` No more...''
Formatting is rubbish because I'm on my phone sorry: (
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[ WP ] In the future , for your history final , you 're sent back in time to an important date with the objective to correct a time aberration so history remains unchanged . You did n't study .
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Jack ran across the street to the enclosure. He came to the top of the knoll where a small group of people where gathered. Ahead, the crowd had gathered along the road, waving their flags. `` Why did I get this,'' he whispered. A man came up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. `` Stay down, sir,'' he said in a thick, outlandish accent, `` run and I'll shoot.'' The man moved the half of his jacket to reveal holstered pistol. `` Its loaded,'' the man continued.
The cheering of the crowd began to grow as a certain car came by. Jack sat down on the grass. The man crossed the group of people and came to a tree where a scoped rifle was. Jack watched as he picked it up and put a clip inside. He noticed that the rifle was appropriate for this time period, but the clip was completely out of date. He waited as the man came back across the people and steadied the rifle. The man whispered something foreign.
Jack tried to get up but felt two hands pull him back. `` What are you-''
Two shots burst forth, one from above and the next from the man, followed by the usual screaming. Jack wrestled with the person until he pushed the person away. A silenced shot came from behind and there was a pain in Jack's side. He fell to the ground. The first assailant rushed up to Jack and pulled him to his feet and fired two silenced rounds at the man. He dragged him away, across the street and into an alley.
Jack looked to the assailant-now-savior, who was looking outside the alley. `` What are you doing?'' He asked, `` I could've saved him.''
The man turned around and walked toward Jack. `` Everyone wants to right this wrong,'' he said, `` Its always compelling.'' He kneeled down by Jack, pushing the long hair from his face and lighting a cigarette. `` Of course, you never studied so you'd act on your compulsion.''
`` Who are you?''
The light from the lighter's flame illuminated the man's face. `` I'm you Jack.''
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[ WP ] The world 's first 100 % successful total head transplant is completed between an individual paralyzed from the waist down and a braindead patient . The only problem is that , contrary to all research up to that point , human consciousness does not reside in the brain .
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My eyes opened.
*His eyes opened too. *
`` Where am I?''
*An echo in a different voice. *
Eyes scanned the room. White walls, and floors. A single fern by the window. A flavorless dresser. Awareness shifted to the narrow bed.
`` Why ca n't I move?'' I thought. The other voice answered.
`` What is your name?''
`` I'm me. Arthur. Thinking. To myself. Who are you? Have I gone crazy?''
`` No. I'm Daryl. I've been awake for hours now. I've felt it all. We are one, but we are not. You're attached to my body, Arthur.''
`` How is this possible?''
`` The human soul runs through our whole body. Not just the brain. We were both decapitated. Me, after a failed suicide. You, by the surgeons. They spent hours mending us together. We've gained new life.''
I felt the warmth of tears climbing down my cheek. My lips moved to speak in a crisp, dry voice.
`` I'm alive.''
`` Yes, Arthur. You are.''
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[ IP ] `` How long is forever ? '' `` Sometimes , just one second ''
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A flutter of feathers both heard and seen. But in that single second I seemed to experience eternity all at once.
As the bird flew past my face, close enough for me to reach out and almost touch it, I recalled the childlike wonder I had once felt about the world.
On some beach, on some vacation I had taken as a small child with my mother when I was just learning to walk, I had seen a bird swooping down towards us. My enthrallment lead to running off from my only kin to chase it down and get closer to this wonder. In the end I did come astonishingly close and it had seemed to float in front of me like a fearless guardian angel. Breathtaking as it was, the memory had somehow never surfaced before.
Still within that second, I experienced another memory of sorts, of things yet to come. I had become a mother myself, walking along the same beach with my own children. Like never before I experienced the vicarious joy of a mother seeing her darlings in awe and wonder. A new perspective, and yet my breath was taken just the same.
The moment ended, and I my eyes followed the bird's path as it soared away into the distance. But these eyes were new eyes. These were eyes that gave a fresh perspective of life.
I stepped back off of the ledge and back into the twentieth story office I had nearly left the hard way. After that one second of eternity, maybe living another day did n't seem so bad.
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[ WP ] Tell me about your greatest achievement as if it was a failure
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The race:
In an eruption, I'm propelled forward into unknown territory. The mess of us disoriented, yet chosen to race forward. We make our way, blindly, towards the finish line, an unknown distance ahead, as if we're drawn towards the goal, rather than determined to achieve greatness. Like myself, the other racers around me push themselves to peak exertion. Some of them succumb to the exhaustion, while others, simply go the wrong way. I must tell you, I was n't the first to reach the house, but I was the only one to make it inside. Now, I may rest. I have made it where others have failed, I have achieved greatness, or so I had believed.
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[ WP ] One day during your presidency , karma is reversed . If you commit a good deed , something bad happens to you ( and vice versa )
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Do I believe in a God? Yes, I tell them, and I still do even after everything that has happened. I say that He is almighty, that he will protect us, look out for us, and that whenever anything bad happens it is because of His plan, and it really puts hope into the hearts of the people. Do I *honestly* believe in God? As president, I have to be a man with no doubts, but I do doubt His existence. I want to believe and I try my hardest to do so, but there comes a time when you have to be realistic, and that's all the time when you are responsible for the lives and wellbeing of more than 300 million people.
What should do you do if when you help an elder cross the street, you fall and cut your knee? When you stop a child from being bullied and your partner leaves you? When you stop a shop from being robbed, save a mans life, and you lose your job and get hit by a car on the same day? Would you stop helping others?
Now, what would you do, if after you yell at your mother, your blog gains thousands of views or followers? What if you were to, accidentally, knock a child over and your wife calls to say she is pregnant after months of trying? What if you killed a man, and then won the lottery? Would you start harming others?
Being realistic is much easier said than done. My decisions have a greater impact than most, if not all people, and thus a greater effect. Even the smallest of decisions, say, to give a speech to give faith to the American people that everything **will** be okay and that we should help our fellow neighbour, will have an effect, say, the loss of his ability to see and smell. Making the more important decisions can impact the world. Supporting a resistance to topple a dictator, increasing spending on education and health care, heck, even preventing Trump from getting into power has its consequences.
I have suffered much, the worst being the loss of most of my family members. I have sustained many an injury, which I suppose is not so bad now that I am constrained to this bed. I have gained much, mostly hatred from those I considered my closest friends. But as president, as a *human being*, I have to be realistic. Does my suffering mean that others should suffer too? Should my happiness come at the cost of yours? No. Nothing has changed. I will continue to uphold my belief in the American people, and I will suffer, so that you may prosper. God bless.
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[ WP ] An extraterrestrial spacecraft is discovered by astronomers on it 's way toward Earth . Instead of a warm welcome or a hostile invasion , we get a single transmission before the craft breaks up on re-entry : `` It 's up to you , now . ''
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The NASA control room was silent. The coordinator that was preparing for the systems check for our global launch of a joint mission to visit the anomaly that was in orbit around our moon clicked the communications button over to the ESA frequency.
`` This is Neil over at NASA did you guys just receive that message?'' there was a moment of silence most likely due to the same shock that had gripped the control room of the one over at NASA.
`` Yes, Sorry this is Mica, we did. Can you please confirm the language of the message for us we are having a bit of a discussion of it here.'' There was a short burst of static as Mica wait for NASA's response.
Neil looked to his left and asked the young woman at the control who was most likely in shock since her mouth was a gap and she just seemed to be watching the main screen showing the smoke plum over Africa. `` That was in English was n't it?''
The woman slowly turned her head. `` that's what I heard.'' her voice broke as if her throat was a bit dry.
A young man approached Neil and gave a soft tap on his shoulder. `` I'm sorry sir but I grew up in Puerto Rico and that was definitely in Spanish and one with an accent from my home town.''
Neil took a step back and looked around the room. `` What language did all of you hear that message in?'' Neil could feel a lump in his throat as the wheels in his head started to spin.
`` English.'' `` Russian.'' `` French.'' responses from all around the room started to respond. Neil quickly pressed the ESA communication button again. `` Mica yea we all heard it in the language we all are most familiar with.'' again there was a pause but this time it was a bit longer than the first.
`` Yes we had the same reaction to the message. Our chief biologist is suggesting that this message was meant for the global community not just ourselves. We are also being told by our media team that this message was on a repeat on all frequencies but stopped once what ever hit the atmosphere broke up.'' Mica took a moment to compose himself as the next part to the Americans might sound a bit strange. `` We believe that they came here to request our help but the message ended before the details could be provided. However we did receive a bit of data from a transmission received by a military base in Sierra Leone one of our technical members says it might be a code to the object in orbit.''
Neil could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He was starting to worry that the team at Pine Gap might have be correct after all. He click the comm one more time. `` Mica we need to delay this launch and the team at ESA and the team at NASA need to listen to what a member of the Pine Gap team has reported to us about a year ago before the disclosure event. We might want to think about what we are about to do because of this contact event, they did after all predicted this exact thing back in 1971. They were informed by a traveler from the Nava collective about a sort of test that the Galactic empire will perform the result of which will either usher us into a new age or allow us to see what happened to the dinosaurs.''
Neil could feel all the eyes in the room looking at him he knew that this was the day that humanity either lived or died. He watched as the smoke from the object that has burned up in the sky was now slowly being erased by wind and time. `` I'm sorry to inform all of you, but as of the moment the message was sent we have 62 hours 14 minutes to achieve the goals of the test or we all die.''
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[ WP ] These storms will wash away the pain
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“ These storms will wash away the pain ” The man casually claimed while straightening his tie.
“ Look around you, they all know it's true, that ’ s why they attend. ”
Jack flipped his notebook together with a swift snap of his wrist, like he ’ d done a thousand times.
Clicked his old ballpoint pen, it ’ s white with a cartoon styled smiling alligator on it, it's his favorite.
Then put them back in his breast pocket.
He always only introduced himself as Jack, people usually assumed he was a p.i or a journalist.
Mid 40 ’ s, short unstyled light brown hair, a bit out of shape. Dressed in brown worn down leather shoes, straight blue jeans, a dark yellow and brown madras shirt and 70's styled glasses.
His breast pocket always contained his notebook and pen. Jack met a lot of people and took notes of everything.
As he got ready to leave he said to the man standing in front of him.
“ Thanks for the talk and good luck with the refreshments ”.
A good smirk got on his face, he laughed at himself, no one else ever did, he didn ’ t care.
“ We have to go back later. I can feel it, it ’ s here, I know I ’ m right this time ”.
Jones, who was walking beside him chuckled a bit and answered.
`` Yeah, yeah, like always, sure.''
“ You know, from the outside it all looks good and dandy but I swear it ’ s not what it looks like, if they found it and gathered the people ”.
Interrupted by Jones, shaking his head.
“ Here we go again, you say that every time, we ’ re all still here, see. ” Pointing at himself with a tired face.
Later that same night.
The window creaked when he slowly opened it.
“ It still amazes me, to this day, you still get better at that. ”
It was rare for Jones to give Jack compliments, but he was almost sure he was messing with him for breaking in, again.
Once inside they lit up their flashlights to look around. In the end of the corridor was a massive door. Made out of dark oak wood, extraordinary carved, the pattern. A pot at the bottom, two fish, one at each side of the pot. Water, streaming from the fish mouths in a beautiful arch into the pot. Plants, growing all the way to the top of the almost three meter tall door. In the middle, a circle, wrapped by the wines.
“ Probably representing the circle of life, creation itself, do n't you think Jones? ”
“ Jones!? ”
“ Probably, yeah, representing creation, if you say so. ”
On the other side of the door was a big empty room, big brown carved pillars on both the left and the right side, dark red carpet on the floor, something that looks like an altar at the end of the room, above it, a magnificent stained glass window with the same pattern as the door, but in color.
They walked through the room with their flashlight as their only source of light. Treading carefully, they slowly approached the altar.
His eyes shone up, his mouth widened as he started to laugh hysterically.
“ We found it, Jones, this must be it, didn ’ t i tell you? See, I was right, right? ”
Still in shock, Jones stared at Jack, at the altar, at Jack, then back to the altar. With an empty expression on his face he stuttered.
“ S-s-s-shouldn ’ t we open it first Jack? To see if it ’ s the real thing? ”
At the altar, only one thing could be seen.
A stone carved cover, one side illustrated the dark, the other, light. Two circles, drawn like the number eight, with a line in between, making it look like two opposing forces.
Jack reaches out his shaking hand with a smile on his face but fear in his eyes. He slowly opened the cover and inside, was but one page to be found, only one.
“ Read it, read it. ” Jones started to shout, now all excited.
Written in big letters at the center, Jack read the following.
“ Where there is beginning is also end.
Once side by side, now divided.
One shall stand and one shall fall.
Eternity for all. ”
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[ CW ] Write a story using the following random 10 words : knife , flower , barber , Jeeves , Mosquito , vicious , pumpkin , mountain , stick , festoon
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A festoon of bejewelled flowers was nestled around her throat. Even in the painting, she had an air of confidence and quiet grace. Jeeves, my partner seemed to be following her curves more closely than our conversation. Annoyed, I nudged him. He looked at me with the innocence of a child who got their hand stock in the cookie jar. He shrugged, smirked then returned his eyes to the painting.
“ She ’ s a mountain. ”
“ A what? ”
“ A mountain I ’ d like to climb. ”
I rolled my eyes with disgust. “ Jesus Jeeves, don ’ t you have a girlfriend? ”
“ Don ’ t you have a barber? ” he replied chuckling as he reached over to tousle my afro.
I tried to move out the way but I wasn ’ t fast enough which in turn made him roar with laughter.
It was hard to believe that this man, this round, pumpkin of a man was the top DEA Agent in America. It was even harder to believe that I, of all people was paired with this incompetent fool who has yet to reveal his brilliance. I stood up and gently placed my hands on his shoulders.
“ Just tell me about the knife. ” My voice was on the verge of breaking.
“ It ’ s the butter knife they used to kill Taco. ”
“ A butter knife? Must have been brutal. ”
“ Hell, I ’ m sure Peal could ’ ve done it with a stick if he wanted to. He ’ s one vicious motherfucker. ”
“ Hmm, ” I murmured, “ people are sick. ”
Jeeves nodded.
“ Hey, ” I said turning to leave, “ let ’ s not meet in this museum again. ” I didn ’ t wait for his response and I didn ’ t care for it.
I quickly left the museum, crazy Taco still on my mind. On my way home I slowed down at my local barber shop. A slender old man nicknamed Mosquito could be seen through the glass giving some punk chick a mohawk. Self-consciously, I ran my fingers through my thick mane.
Maybe if I chop it off, Jeeves wouldn ’ t talk down to me. I thought. I shook my head. I don ’ t need to please that asshole.
-- -- --
-078
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[ RE ] It was at about 1 AM that I finally realized sleep was not the answer .
|
It was about 1 AM that I realized sleep was not the answer. Unconsciousness solves no problems and passiveness allows the world to watch over me. Fuck that noise. She called me a weenie, this bitch is going down.
I asked Roger for a kit. he said he'd have it ready in a half hour. That was about how long it took me to get to his house. He had a crate labeled `` FUCK'EM UP KIT''. It took us five minutes and two crowbars to open it, the dumbass had nailed it shut with about 50 more nails then he'd needed. I studied the contents immediately after I opened the box.
`` Roger,''
`` Yessuh.''
`` This is a flamethrower.''
`` Yessuh.''
`` Thank You.''
And off I went in pursuit of vigilante justice. That bitch who called me a weenie would surely pay. I mean seriously, who does that? Just because I could n't curl twenty pounds at the gym. She thought I did n't hear her, but yes I fucking did.
I parked outside her house. The moon shined in the sky over her two story house, but not as bright as the silver strip down the side of the kick ass flamethrower I was holding. I ran up and kicked in the door. She was upstairs, screaming. `` Robbers, oh god someone broke in.''
I torched the stairs and quipped, `` Weenie.'' And with that, I wiped the sweat off my forehead and headed back home.
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[ WP ] Tropeday 2.6 - Who Prays for Satan ?
|
morningstar
everyone forgets
that he was an angel once too.
it ’ s the same when you watch old video footage
of the two towers burning, the people
falling and jumping out of buildings
it's the same when you hear doors
slam and voices scream and you wonder
if you should do anything, should you
stand up stand up stand up
maybe turn the volume up louder until it all
comes together in your head it's all fiction
you remember fourth grade when the kid
with broken teeth brought that
flare gun and shot herself
only singed her red hair
but how you laughed
they say he was n't good enough,
he ripped his wings off and dropped like a stone
I believe it was n't that he fell, it was n't that.
he jumped
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[ WP ] You wake up in the back of a Range Rover driving through the night on a dark road . Its just you and the driver , her majesty the Queen of England .
|
_And we'll never be royals. It do n't run in our blood. That kind of lux just ai n't for us. We crave a different kind of buzz._
`` I sing this ironically. Because I'm the actual Queen of England.''
`` Where am I?''
`` Do you see how it's ironic? Because I am royal.''
`` Yeah, I see that but I still do n't understand why I'm here.''
`` Oh, I kidnapped you.''
`` Why would you kidnap me?''
`` Because I'm the Queen of England, b. Do what I want. Where shall we go?''
`` Home?''
`` Oh, come on. Do n't be a pussy.''
`` Why are you acting like this?''
`` Want to go to Burker King and order Chicken Royales?''
`` No.''
`` I once ate 85 Chicken Royales in one sitting. 85. Can you believe that?''
`` That's amazing.''
`` It's also not true. Nobody can eat that many Chicken Royales. Except me, because I'm the Queen. And I am royal.''
`` You're not making any sense.''
`` Want to try and eat 85 Chicken Royales with a Royal? Starting to believe we could do it.''
`` At this moment in time, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get home.''
The Range Rover skidded off, radio blasting, Queen singing. _Let me be your ruler. You can call me queen Bee. And baby I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule. Let me live that fantasy._
The car pulled up outside the Burger King.
`` OK. Put this hoodie on and take this.'' The Queen threw the items in to his lap. `` I'm going to call you'Corgie' and you call me'Maj'. Got it?''
`` Is this a gun?!''
`` No, it's a sandwich. You point it at people then eat it until they die. Of course it's a fucking gun.''
`` I ca n't do this.''
The Queen of England leaned over in to the back of the car. `` Listen to me. Listen to the Queen of fucking England. Do you want to be a pussy all your life or do you want to eat 85 Chicken Royales with royalty?''
`` Well, why ca n't we just buy them?''
The Queen loaded her pistol. `` Where's the fun in that?''
Two two got out and headed towards the entrance of the Burger King, Maj leading. She kicked open the door and began to scream. `` OK, listen up mother fuckers, get 85 Chicken Royale's on the mother fucking grill or Corgie here is putting 12mm bullets in all of you.''
Corgie stood behind Maj, his whole body shaking under pressure.
`` Say something threatening, Corgie.'' Whispered Maj.
`` Erm. And. Erm. And some chilli cheese bites, too.''
`` You heard the mean mother fucker. Chilli cheese bites pronto or we're all rolling down to the wild wild west!''
The staff scrambled and began packing up the food, throwing it in to large bag as quickly as they could. Service had never been faster at Burger King. In a weird way, it was beautiful to see the food coming out so quickly.
The bag was thrown from behind the counter towards the feet of Corgie who picked it up while keeping his gun pointed towards whomever his shaky arms could focus on.
Maj pulled the hood from off her head, revealing her previously shaded face. `` Now all you mother fuckers remember who did this. Tell your friends what we ordered. And make sure you herald how we got the job done in one sitting. Any of you bitches ever heard of two people getting 85 Chicken Royales done in within one sitting?''
Nobody dared to speak.
`` Of course you have n't. Let's bounce.''
Maj and Corgie fled out the door and in to the Range Rover. The wheels spun out as the car sped away from the Burger King.
`` Holy shit, we did it!'' Shouted Corgie!
`` Are you kidding?'' Asked Maj as she raised up the bag full of food. `` The job is only half done.''
Both began to sing.
_And we'll never be royals ( royals ). It do n't run in our blood, that kind of lux just ai n't for us. We crave a different kind of buzz. Let me be your ruler ( ruler ), you can call me queen Bee. And baby I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule. Let me live that fantasy._
****
I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement.
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[ WP ] Your parents ' new jobs have forced you to relocate . Alone .
|
It should n't be this hard. I mean, I'm 23, I make decent money; should n't I be ready for this by now? Hell, I've been putting money aside for this for two years now, I should be ready.
Dad covered the deposit. Said it was the least he could do; I'd kicked in for my share of the broadband bill, done my fair share of the housework. *Sorry to leave you behind*, he'd joked, and I'd laughed along with it like I was fine with it all. Like I was looking forward to a bit of independence.
Which I was, really. Not having to worry about Mum fretting if I was n't back home by ten, or sneak around surreptitiously watching things I've been old enough to watch for nigh-on five years now, or a hundred other things. Having my own space, somewhere I could call my own. Invite my friends over to without having to clear it first...
But then all my friends had vanished to go to university, or gap years, or just moved somewhere there was more work. ( I'd lucked out there, after a fashion; even shithole ex-mining towns whose only growth industry is smack dealing will always need postmen. ) Half of them were working in McDonalds or Starbucks and spending more money on rent on top, but that was till better than they'd get round here. Some of them envied me, but most pitied me for being left behind.
And maybe they're right. Even my parents are getting out now; the company where Dad's worked since Graphic Design was still popularly known as `` commercial art'' gave him a choice of learning to use Google Hangouts and VOIP and all that sort of thing he's got no truck with ( he does n't even like Photoshop much ), start coming into head office every day or take early retirement...
I look around the inside of my little flat, the first place that's ever been my home and nobody else's. I should be excited, but right at this moment I just feel alone.
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[ WP ] Hell is just as bad for demons as it is for humans . You , a demon , have just spent your entire life trying to get out of hell , and now that you ’ ve finally done it , some humans are constantly trying to send you back .
|
`` God damn it, it's those fucking dicks again,'' I said under my breath. I wiped my brow and inhaled. How was I getting away this time?
I started running, and hoping they would n't catch up. Last time, they almost got me. Those brothers hate my entire kind. Yes, we're evil, but Hell sucks and we hate it just as much! * Some day, they're going to understand what it's like. *
I run into a random motel room and hope they do n't find me, but there's only so much I can do. Teleporting away is n't an option, since it takes too much energy and I'm exhausted.
The red-haired woman whose room I just broke into sees me and screams. The two brothers run in after me. `` Get him!'' The short one yells.
The giant, hulking, moosey oaf of a human starts shooting at me. I crash through the window and summon *all* of my energy into teleporting.
`` Fuck the Winchesters!'' I scream as I disappear.
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[ FF ] Something 's Hidden Inside This ! ( 150 words )
|
There is no reason for anyone of us to do anything about problems, I mean, the problem
practically solves itself. But suppose, if we could do something good, is that
what we would do? Would we go out on a limb for someone? A stranger
even? Or would be take the easy route out and do our bit and then can write
off any and all concern? Or would we be like the majority, shirking away, doing anything that
help us avoid any involvement?
How can there be the concept of `` social animal'' if the typical
sociality does not include positive social interactions? All that a redditor can
do is only watch? No, we can help - and we do help. This, we can interpret as
a sense of fulfillment, or just just plain showing off. But the hidden code
behind is the intrinsic goodness of man.
Viva la humanity.
|
[ WP ] A group of scientists experiment the possible return from the clinical death and have a big surprise when they do . You lead the team .
|
The soldier strained again at his steel cuffs. They were more than just handcuffs. He had been restrained at the wrists, and the legs to a large steel table. The lights were low and soft. Clearly, he was not a happy camper.
The 3 men in lab coats were busy monitoring a wall of equipment and computers that when followed all seemed to lead to something that was either stuck into the Lieutenant's body somewhere, or to a device that wrapped around or stuck to him somehow. They were not particularly interested in much else other than collecting their data.
4 heavily armed men in soft combat fatigues were in the dark by the only door leading into the room. A mirror, clearly one-way glass, looked in on the room. It was, no doubt, bullet-proof and impenetrable. Despite this, as an added precaution, steel bars, like a jail cell covered the glass as well. No chances were being taken.
The speaker'popped' lightly and spoke to the room.
`` Just tell us what you saw Lieutenant.'' It urged.
`` Fuck all of you'', was the only reply. It was distant, dismissive.
`` Lieutenant, might I remind you that *you* volunteered for this?'' Still calm. `` You asked to take this trip, we just offered the opportunity. What's changed your mind? What did you see?''
`` You just do n't fucking get it do you? *None* of you get it! It's not your choice!'' Fast anger rose with his words.
`` What's not our choice? Tell us so we understand.''
`` You do n't get this. You're not *allowed*. You never were! ``, `` Send me *baaaack*, just kill me; *please*. Dammit I'm begging you! Please! You fucking have to! You ca n't do this, fuck! Send me back you fucking bastards! *NOOOOOOW!!!!! *'' The Lieutenant was drifting from begging to hostility turning his emotion on a dime with each sentence.
`` He's clearly lost it, Major. He's obviously become quite unstable, I'm not sure anything we get out of him will be truthful or accurate anyway. We've been at this for a full day now'' The very plain looking man behind the one-way glass had not pressed the intercom button this time and instead addressed the well starched and stone-faced man in the uniform next to him. Clearly, the uniform was in charge, but the plain looking man, whom everything about him screamed'conservative' was the person with the most knowledge about the situation. He was Team Leader.
Another man, less conservative in dress, but with an equal demeanor about him chimed in before the Major could respond, `` Maybe we could send the other man in and see if we can get anything out of him?''
The stone-faced uniform acted as if no one had spoke. He was weighing options, staring through the glass and bars at the soldier on the table. The soldier flexed, yet again, trying to snap his bonds. Anyone in the least bit observant would have noticed the red chaffing of the skin on his wrists and ankles developing from his repeated attempts.
`` Keep at this.'' Major'Stone-Face' said quietly. `` I'll reconsider this in 2 days; I'm not wasting another man until we've exhausted our options on the one we've clearly wasted already.'' He turned on his spit-polished boots and purposefully strode to the door that the soldier guarding it opened for him perfectly choreographed for his exit. The Major never even showed a hitch in his stride before the door was opened for him, as if he would have walked right through the steel door if no one had bothered to open it for him.
The Plain Man, and his subordinate turned again to the glass and bars.
They stared and contemplated the situation for a moment. The speaker popped again,
`` Lieutenant, if you tell us what we want to know.'' There was an audible pause, ``... we'll send you back, okay?''
The subordinate behind the glass looked sharply at his Team Leader, eyebrows raised.
`` You *can't* know! It ca n't be done!'' The Lieutenant wailed.
`` Why? *Why* ca n't it be done? I thought you wanted to go back?'' Plain Man could n't bring himself to outright call it death. Death had become a'place' now. *Something* was there. There clearly was'another side'. That could n't be disputed; consciousness would exist,... somehow after our bodies stopped.
The Lieutenant had been dead for almost 5 hours before he'came back'. No heartbeat, no brain function, he was mostly cold at that point when they initiated the reanimation sequence. He had come back with a jolt. The entire team had visibly lost hope they could revive the Lieutenant the day before. No one had said anything, you could just feel it visibly through their collective shoulder positions, movements, and facial expressions of the room – he wouldn ’ t be coming back. Then, with a jolt that seemed would break his bones he had ‘ woke up ’, groaning a tortured sound of agony.
A woman who had been monitoring the non-existent respiratory status of the Lieutenant recalled how 8 years before she had been working in a Veterans Hospital and a man had been told his wife, and 3 children, and his Grandfather to boot, had been killed the previous evening in a tragic fire. That man ’ s groan was one of irrecoverable loss. So was this soldier ’ s as well, she thought.
Almost immediately he had begun screaming “ NO! ” over and over. “ Kill me! ” was interspersed with his denial again and again. Sedatives weren ’ t used. They couldn ’ t be lest they risk him dying, this time unintentionally.
The Plain Man, tapped the intercom button again. The speaker announced his statement.
“ Tell me Ryan. You were there, let me know what happened and I ’ ll see about sending you back there, …to, …um *death*. ” He took a slow breath to internalize his promise, “ Okay? ”
The use of the Lieutenant ’ s first name at first seemed to ease him, but almost in response to his own reaction he angered again flexing against his restraints, this time starting a trickle of blood on his right wrist. This went on for a minute, then he slowed and lay still.
With an obviously great force of will, the Lieutenant seemed to *force* ‘ Ryan ’ forward. It was like giving birth to his own personality. It wasn ’ t stable though, that much was clear.
“ You ’ re asking me to describe a colour I have never seen! ” He blurted out.
“ Talk in a language I don ’ t know! ” He shouted, louder.
“ You ’ ve moved me *BACKWARDS*! ” Screaming, ‘ Ryan ’ was gone again.
“ KILL ME DAMN YOU! ”
They could almost hear his vocal cords tearing apart.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Okay, that's all I've got for now.
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[ WP ] A homeless man has been secretly living inside your house for the last 2 years . He ends up blowing his cover in order to save your life .
|
INT. APARTMENT - HOME OFFICE - DAY
JO, 32, sits at her desk, filling out paperwork fastidiously.
Her hard concentration is broken by some clanking and a roaring, misty sound. As if an extremely confined blizzard came and went.
She is frozen still. A beat. She shakes her head and swiftly grabs her gun from the drawer, cocks it and stops at the door, hesitating. She opens it and creeps out, gun held steady.
INT. HALLWAY/KITCHEN - CONT.
Her first sight in the kitchen is a man, PERCY, 50's, in a suit turned away from her and toward the stove, an extinguisher in his hands, the mist floating from the stove top.
JO
Stop. Put the extinguisher down.
The man sets it on the floor and turn to her, revealing his long hair and beard, and that the suit is really tux. He slowly raises his white-gloved hands in the air.
JO
Was that my stir-fry?
PERCY
( english accent )
Unfortunately yes, madam.
JO
Who the -- Who are you?
PERCY
PERCY, madam, at your service.
JO
Okay, moving right along... Why the fuck are
you in my house?
PERCY
I realize the shock all this might incur, and I
do apologize. I am more or less, answering my
call of duty. You see, I am a butler, and a very
special kind of butler. Not to be brash, but in
certain communities my credentials do precede
me.
JO
What does this mean, you've been living in my
apartment?
PERCY
Again this might seem frightfully odd but yes.
JO
Where?!
PERCY
I lay out a sleeping bag in your storage closet
each night.'T is really all I need for my personal
comfort.
JO
I want you the fuck out of here.
She re-raises her gun as a reminder of its presence.
PERCY
But I'm to be your butler madam.
JO
You ever heard of job placement you creep? You
have'credentials' for christ's sake!
PERCY
I am not for hire. The butler does not chose his
master.
JO
Well I did n't choose you either pal.
PERCY
No I suppose it was fate, if you believe in such
silly notions.
JO
Who's been feeding you this garbage about butlers?
Is England this fucking crazy?
PERCY
I was assigned to you for a reason madam. Great
things are expected of you. And great assistance
may be required.
JO
What am I, batman?
PERCY
Ohoho, good one madam. No, but I suspect your
meant to be a very powerful person.
Jo shakes her head. She let's her guard and gun down a little.
JO
I never run out of toilet paper. But I also never
recall changing the roll. Is that you?
PERCY
Quite right.
JO
And the newspaper. No one else gets there's
delivered right to the door.
PERCY
Always happy to do it madam.
Jo ponders. She scratches her head with the gun.
JO
Well we'll have to get you a better set up then
the god damn closet. And a good shave too. Am I
supposed to pay you?
PERCY
I am well taken care of madam, I assure you.
JO
Alright. Fuck it.
PERCY
That is so good to hear. I suspect then, we will soon
be paid a visit by a man named Wolf. He'll have
some gadgets to show you.
Jo stares.
PERCY
Shall I make tea?
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[ WP ] Everytime you die time rewinds to your birth but you keep all your memories
|
Last u heard was a bang. Then I saw a shimmer of light.
Again I was born. A new life. A new plan.
My past life I was a high risk hitman. The life before a well known drug smuggler. Before that a WWII war hero.
The list goes on. I can tell you when I assassinated Lincoln. Or to go way far back, when u was a slave in Egypt. I was so naive my first couple of lives. At first I bought this was a curse. But how I thank this gift.
My mother held me in her arms. Looks like I'm Russian again. Never really liked the cold but the route America was going before I died was something I would feel better hit to deal with.
I've only opened up to a few about what I carry with me. My ability to always come back and remember. Remember every experience in lesson and life.
But regardless of all the lives I lived I always had the same mindset. Just more wise after each rebirth.
What will I be this life. The universe is the limit. That sounds good maybe an astronaut. Nah too much work for very little reward. Space exploration is n't at its peak yet I'll hold off on that one.
Well I have a whole childhood to think of it and devise a plan of action. Do n't tell me that short man is my father. So out of all the Russians I get stuck with a chubby short one as my father. Well let's just hope I get my mothers looks.
Maybe he will beat me to death. Happened to me before. Kind of sucks but meh. I could just track him down my next life and kill him.
Well I got a life to live. Maybe you will here me on the news.
And your grandchildren will be my best when I'm growing up again. The possibilities are endless but for now.
Enjoy your one measly life.
|
[ WP ] You are an immortal serial killer . You were caught and sentenced to life in prison . The prison is starting to get suspicious of why you wo n't age .
|
I detected the faintest rattle of keys before the door clicked opened into my own personal exhibit tucked away in a supermax prison somewhere in Mississippi. By the heavy breathing, the scrape of his worn soles, I knew my visitor to be Officer Cleburne making his morning rounds. Undoubtedly the stench from his breath would... and there it was. I was vexed and appalled by that fetid odor but the lack of any form of mental stimulation other than my own thoughts made me much more amenable to any minute change in my surroundings.
`` Well hello there Mr. Marzipan,'' he called with that hayseed drawl. He shuffled towards my cage but paused just out of reach. His bloated body was shoved haphazardly into an ill-fitting uniform, his mustache still coated in grease. He looked at me with the dull eyes of a cow beholding a caged lion.
`` Mortimer,'' I corrected for the five hundred and third time. `` And good morning to you, Gerald, how are you today?''
`` Oh, ca n't complain. You know, gettin' older, got a touch of the gimpy leg, my gout is acting up what with all the weather and then there's this strange thing growin' on my arm, would you like to see it?''
`` Thank you, Gerald, but no I would not like to see that. Perhaps you should consult your dermatologist.''
`` Oh, okay, I spose.''
The hillbilly looked momentarily chastened as he ceased rolling up the left sleeve of his wrinkled polyester uniform.
`` Did you find that copy of Dante's Inferno I asked for?'' I knew full well he had not.
`` Uh, no, I uh... no I have n't found it yet.'' He looked distracted. His eyes glossed over, the one pathetic wheel housed in that lardaceous cranium had begun to turn.
`` Something wrong Gerald?''
`` Mr. Maritime...''
`` Mortimer,'' I corrected. 504th.
`` How long have I been comin' here to see you?''
`` Oh... I'd say something like... 12 years 3 months 2 days, why do you ask?''
He whistled. `` Twelve years? It's strange to think about. I mean I think I've changed a bit over the last few, you know?''
Six waste sizes. Hair plugs. Two fewer teeth. A substantial amount of ear and nose hair. Skin is waxy and oily from a diet consisting primarily of fried meats and high-fructose corn syrup.
`` Gerald, you have aged like fine wine.''
`` I spose, but you... you do n't look to have changed one bit. Not one white hair on ya. It's just a bit strange Mr. Moriarty.''
I bit my tongue. I rather liked that one.
`` The other guards, they git to talkin' sometimes. Some of them have been here longer than me, like old Joe. But he's not alright in the head these days.''
`` Sorry to hear that, I always liked old Joe.''
`` But they get to wonderin' like me. Just... just how old are you anyway?''
`` Gerald, it's not polite to ask,'' I said with a twinkle and a grin. `` I'm probably not too much younger than you anyway. My family is known for their longevity and I have ways of keeping myself in shape.''
The officer's eyes widened. `` What kind of ways? Like... spells or witchcraft?''
I laughed.
`` I promise, no witchcraft. Instead I practice CrossFit. It is a high-intensity interval strength and conditioning program that activates all the muscles. I'm quite fastidious and I've been doing it for sometime. Perhaps you should look into it yourself, Gerald.''
`` Oh... yeah... I think I've heard of that. But you are n't like... you know... a vampire, like Nosfer-ahh-tu or anything, right?''
`` Of course not, Gerald. There are no such things as vampires. Even if they did exist, I get two hours of direct sunlight through the window every day. By almost every literary interpretation my skin should have burst into flames and boiled off of my body. But it has yet to do so.''
`` You have a fair point, Mr. Marmot. But it seems like everone that works here comes to ah uh...'' his voice trailed off.
`` An affliction?'' I prodded. `` A devastating illness? An untimely end?''
For a moment Officer Cleburne could not find words and I watched him, helpless, as his lips moved without making a sound.
`` Gerald, life is filled with maladies, unexpected events, coincidences that we do n't fully comprehend. Life is pain. Life is torture. It is a prison in human flesh. If we live long enough, something unfortunate is bound to happen. And it is natural to ask why and look for answers. Sometimes we look to science, or to God, sometimes we look to whatever is nearest for an explanation. But sometimes there are no real answers to be had at all.''
He puckered his lips and nodded thoughtfully. Then he looked up to me with those sad cow eyes.
`` But you are n't like an immortal demon or anything are you?''
I grinned teeth at the diseased bag of slowly rotting meat wearing its ill-fitting skin, that mass of fat and bloated entrails gently squeezing a beleaguered beating heart.
`` Gerald, how about getting that book I asked for?''
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[ WP ] Every wizard receives a small book on graduation day that magically fills itself with spells that the wizard will need in his/her future . You receive your book only to find out that it 's blank .
|
`` A spell,'' he began, `` Is pure power given form.'' You could hear the groans of the students as the lecture opened up, since we had all heard this before. It was the opening lecture from our first days in the Academia. Even the speaker was the same -- Professor D. P. Fizzlespark, a gnome who was particularly short -- even for gnomish folk. He had artificially inflated his own voice, in order to speak to the class of five hundred who were graduating on this day.
`` One speaks the incantation, and their words are given shape with the Aether that flows through their blood. Hand movements create the crucible to birth the magic, and components hold the magic together,'' he produced a small ball from the pouch on his hip, `` Bat guano,'' I could smell it from here, `` is the component required for the fireball spell. I'm sure you've all seen enough of this stuff to last a lifetime,'' he laughed, we all shuddered in fear as he continued his speech.
We had all heard the stories. Hell, we had all been given the long and short of it. We were to receive books today. Books that would contain the powers that we could access. Some of the more overachieving students were expecting at least five hundred spells to their books. I could hear their whispers, even behind the booming and high-pitched drone of Professor Fizzlespark, who was continuing on, despite knowing that none of the students were listening.
`` In your hands, you each hold a tome. The tome contains five-hundred pages in total. Each of these tomes holds a number of spells, based upon your magical aptitude as Wizards. Everything in these books have been magics that you have learned as a Wizard. They will be your guides, for the remainder of your lives.'' To be honest, I had very little in terms of magical prowess. It had n't stopped me from trying, but I certainly had languished behind my other classmates. It was a strong memory for incantations and general magical theory that had kept me out of the drop-out group, but I still had my worries. Whenever I had tried even the most basic of spells, my material components had not even taken hold, and the spells were always just a little bit off-kilter because of it. It was cited as'strong, with lots of power, but no refinement'. I agreed.
`` I thank you all for your four years of study here at the Academia, but now we must say our goodbyes. You may open your books when you wish. If you have any inquiries, Convener Tessara is here to answer your questions.'' He motioned towards an Elvish woman with hair to her waist, the color of pure fire. If you were told that she was a water wizard, you'd probably refuse to believe. I heard the book click in my hands, and had to stare at it for a few seconds. I looked to either side, and noticed Melisandru going through her book with a gleeful expression, pointing out spell after spell to her brother. A smile crossed my lips as I returned to my own book.
The cover fell open, and my smile faded. I flipped through each page, trying to find something -- anything -- but there was not a single thing. My own spellbook was empty. My face blanched, and I slowly -- shakily -- got to my feet. People were laughing and cheering, but I seemed to be alone in this case. My eyes met with Convener Tessara's, and she beckoned me over with a smirk. It took me a moment to realize that she was calling for me specifically, and as I picked my way through the crowd, I heard laughs and jeers as people noticed my open and empty book. I stood before Tessara and looked up at her, trying to open my mouth to explain to her what had happened.
`` Your book is empty?'' She asked, as I finally got the words through to her, `` Let me see.'' She grabbed the book from my hands and flicked through the pages, before dropping her arms down to her sides and groaning, shaking her head, `` Is there magical blood in your family?'' After a few seconds of thought, I answered her with a nod, claiming a Draconic influence in the past. `` Of course there is. Well done, you've just wasted four years,'' She pushed the book back into my chest, grumbling. I had to ask what she meant.
`` You're not a Wizard. You're a bloody Sorcerer. That's why you did terribly at everything, and yet none of us saw it. Well done. You're officially the first Sorcerer who graduated from a Wizarding Academia with literally nothing gained. How does it feel?'' I looked down at my hands. She was wrong. I understood now, why the book was empty. *'' Everything in these books have been magics that you have learned as a Wizard. `` * I knew what Sorcerers were. Mages who had magic in their blood that manifested as power -- uncontrollable power. They were feared by most Wizarding circles due to their difficulty to restrain and control, and yet... I had received the discipline of a Wizarding student. A grin crossed my face as scales fluttered and shimmered into life on my fingers.
`` It feels... perfect.''
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[ WP ] The Apocalypse has arrived , with all the dangers that go along with it . But instead of a heavy tale of woe and survival , write about all the fun you 've been having now that the world has ended .
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It ’ s been three months.
I ’ ve been pantsless for three months, and it ’ s been perfect, since nobody ’ s here to judge me for my nudity. I ’ ve always hated the elastic on pants, you know? They ’ re either too tight and give you weird marks, or too loose and fall. Then there ’ s the kind without elastic - the kind you have to button. No flexibility, and such a chore to pee in.
Pantslessness is a gift to humanity. I wish I could tell the world, but the world contains approximately four people, and I ’ ve already told the others this five times. Two of them live in spain. One of them used to live in Canada, but the blizzards got too terrible and he hasn ’ t been in contact since. He said he was heading towards the equator, but if either he ’ s dead or he hasn ’ t reached a place to settle down yet. He said he ’ d text us, but maybe his Nokia ran out of battery. Nokias are the only phones which still function after… everything that ’ s happened.
The two in spain are constantly texting us about their food struggles. Everything they find is stale or moldy or alive when it shouldn ’ t be, so they have to keep moving around. I ’ m the lucky one. Singapore ’ s supermarkets are chock full of canned food and bottled water, and according to my calculations, I probably won ’ t have to move to Malaysia and forage for food in the forests for another two years. The food is starting to get boring though, so maybe I ’ ll move earlier.
Speaking of boring, I really have too much time on my hands. I ’ m safe and secure and staying in one place. It sounds like a blessing, but after awhile the eternal holiday starts to get boring. I wish I could fight a mutated tiger, you know? But there aren ’ t even wild chickens here because AVA culled them all for being too noisy.
The saving grace in all this are my laptop and my miraculously-still-functioning backup generator. Overwatch and LOL are dead, since their playability requires a decently populated world, but offline games are still playable. And boy did I stock up on them.
Minecraft, Assassin ’ s Creed, The Witcher, you name it, I have it. I even have old school games like Insaniquarium and every emulator with every Legend of Zelda game there is. And unlike before, my precious game time isn ’ t interrupted by school, and nobody yells at me for eating at the computer!
I just married my Housecarl in Skyrim, so it ’ s all up from here.
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[ WP ] - Professor walks into a classroom . Shoots a student in the head . Proceeds to have a conversation about why .
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`` Why did I shoot her in the head?'' The professor asked, zipping up his pants.
`` Because...'' The girl sitting in the first row began, but trailed off.
`` Because, it was humiliating.'' A guy three rows back guessed.
`` Correct. When making porn. You must tailor it to your demographic. There was no fetish introduced. There was none of the categorical penetrations one might expect. This was simple fellatio and the demographic for that is decidingly male. The majority of males want to see the woman humiliated. It's the core motivation for most men to watch porn. The same with anal. The same with the desire to penetrate her fast and hard to cause pain. It is a way for most men to assert themselves in a relationship. And for those not in a relationship, they watch others humiliate and dominate women. That is why I shot her in the head.'' The professor turned to his star student and threw a rag at her. `` Clean yourself up, Jenny, and retake your seat.'' He turned to the class. `` Any questions before we start the lab?''
No one raised their hand.
`` Okay, then. Everyone pair off into couples and come up here and grab a camera from the bin. Today's lab is how to properly destroy an ass. To the guys who did n't find a female partner, I sincerely apologize, but you'll have to pair off with one of the other guys.'' There was a universal groan that went up from the back of the class.
`` Sir,'' one male student in the back of the class called, raising his hand. `` Yes, Scott. You've a question?''
`` There seems to be an odd number of students today. I do n't have a partner. Does that mean I can go home?'' He was smiling at the other guys who'd just partnered up. The were pissed at him.
The professor thought about it for only a moment. `` Scott, you are in luck. The blue pills I took have n't worn off yet. I'll be your lab partner today.'' He unzipped once more dumping out the python that nearly dislocated Jenny's jaw a few minutes earlier. The entire class was laughing as Scott went down to collect his camera.
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[ EU ] Ye arrr a PIRATE , Arry !
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`` What?'' the young boy said after an uncomfortable pause. Whatever he had expected the large bearded man to say, this was n't it.''
`` Ye are a Pirate! Did ye family not explain? Do ye know nothing of yer past and the past of yer family, Arry?''
`` Ye are a Pirate! Ye are a Pirate! Yo ho ho, a Pirate is free! `` squawked the large, three headed parrot that sat on the large man's shoulder.
`` Now look here, you murderous scum,'' Harry's uncle managed to get some semblance of courage in the past few seconds, `` We have hid all the silly looting and plundering nonsense from our nephew. He is going to grow up a normal member of a normal society. There will be no plank walking, lost cities, or impossible battles on his future!''
The massive bearded man slowly turned towards the quickly back-tracking uncle. Harry saw the stranger's beard start to smoke and could swear that his eyes were turning red from anger underneath the large ragged tricorne hat that he wore.
`` How dare ye, ye rotten landlubber!? Ye mean ta tell me that Arry, here, knows nothing of his history? Of his family?''
Harry pulled on the large man's greatcoat, `` Did.. did you know my family?
`` Did I know yer family? Why of course, I did. Yer dad was captain of'The Clay Wheel', the ancestral ship of the Potters. Yer mother, well, she had the quickest rise to captaindom I've ever seen. Made her own cutter ship,'The Red Flower'. Oh, she was feared from Shangri-La to the shores of Mu,'' the large man said in remembrance before looking down at the small boy, `` Oh, were are me manners? I have n't even done introductions yet. The name's Hagrid. Ol' Haggard Hagrid, the shipmaster, ye can call me. I've sailed the seven oceans around the seven worlds. I'm sure ye have some questions for me, Arry?''
Harry nodded, `` Right, first off, pirates? How can there be pirates here in this day and age?''
`` Ye're a sharp one, ai n't ye,'' Hagrid nodded in approval, `` The answer to how can there be pirates here is easy. There ai n't any here. The ones that do exist are just common thieves and ruffians. If the various navies do n't deal with them, then we do. As for plundering one of your modern cargo ships? Unless you need cheap shoes and poorly made Chinese nick-knacks, why would you? Nay, we are true Pirates. We sail the oceans of adventures and explore where few others dare.''
`` But how did that come about? I've never heard of true pirates on the news.''
`` An ye wo n't. See, a while back, the people of Atlantis got tired of the plain, boring world around them and figured out how to send their entire island nation into another dimension, faking their disappearance with a story of a cataclysm. Then the other smart cities of that time did the same, except they did n't all end up in the same dimension. And to travel between them, ye are going to need a fine vessel that can stay in a shift zone until it activates. Sometimes, one of your modern vessels gets lucky and travels through a shift zone at the needed exact moment. I believe the most famous one ye have in the origin world is called the triangle of Bermuda.''
`` I've heard of that!'' Harry exclaimed.
`` So ye have, lad. And as I were saying, while ships in the origin world carry shoes and oil and boxes, the ships in the seven worlds still carry treasures and lost artifacts and mighty fine booty. And where there's booty, there be pirates who be wantin' to plunder it. There's a school that'll teach ye all about yer heritage. Everything from rigging a mast to swashbuckling with a sabre. Ye'll be going to the same school where yer parents met, Arry. In England, but one dimension upwards. The Fishlegs school of Plunder and Piracy. The finest pirate school in all of Avalon.''
`` Really?''
`` Aye! Before the Dread Pirate You-Know-Who went after'em, yer parents had saved more than enough treasure to pay fer yer way, Arry. Just a word to the wise, Arry. Since ye were the only survivor of that confrontation, found swaddled on some flotsam midst the burning wreckage of both ships; ye may have something in the way of fame already. But do n't worry, Arry. I'm sure ye'll do fine at pirate school. Just watch out for any pesky landlubbers, dread pirates, and annoying ninjas; and ye'll be just fine.''
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[ WP ] In a future where stories are n't pitched but presented to agents by tapping into the writer 's mind , one usually highly professional agent has to step out of a session to collect himself .
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Log of Sequence Tap # 23433: Initiated at 16:34 PM 345 F.E
> Send consentual agreement to subject.
Awaiting response.
Response received.
Subject entered conditional consensual agreement. - > cca.tpm
> Ignore agreement.
Awaiting system decision.
Denied: ( RE: Bylaw 3.445.3c of Conditional agreements, P345S3. `` Right to condition'' )
( cca.tpm reads ): __
You wo n't like what you find. I hope it's worth it. I'm telling you that you should not do this.
( -- Thought Produced Message End-of-line )
> Access subject history
Accessing. Found.
Subject Name: Quain, Tom
Subject ID: NNY3345F4F
Educational Level: -1.4 average
Physical Condition: Currently allowed to labor.
Average Financial Allowance: 150. ( Section average 155 )
Mental stamina: Above Average, sometimes noncompliant.
Notes: - Generally reserved individual. Thinks too much, probably. Unhealthy behavior has been noted such as wandering without reason.
Danger Level: Low.
> Send agreement compliance.
> Open PT-log.
Pre-Tap Log Opened.
> Subject Tom Quain will be tapped for potential media applications. He sent a message that I may not like what I find, however, I have heard that before from many of the writers we've tapped who give us some decent and even poor media for the horror genre. Considering background, I will predict either a nightmare or perhaps latent memories worked into storyline. As usual, contents will be sent to creative department for enhancement. EOL.
PT-Log Stored as pt3453.tpm
> Begin Tap sequence
Tap sequence complete.
> Stp
> stoy
> stop
> No
Command not recognized.
> Rescind
>
> Was that sent to the creative department?
Tap data is awaiting signature of disclosure.
> Show recent Taps
t4045.tpm - [ Not Sent ]
t2934.tpm - [ Sent ]
t3222.tpm - [ Sent ]
t2293.tpm - [ Sent ]
> Delete t4045.tpm
Warning. This is egregious misconduct! Deleting or Editing Tap data WILL be reported to higher authorities for review. Are you sure?
> Yes.
Report has been sent. File has been deleted.
> Open Log
Log Opened.
> Describing what I tapped today is what I'm going to attempt to do. I know I just deleted the file. Yes. I did. Because I do n't think anyone should ever see what I did, or experience what I have. To be honest, we're not ready. I was n't, and I'm not, and I wo n't be. I've thought I've seen hell, and seen the darkness, what I saw now made every dark thought I've tapped in man's mind look like a pleasure story. I will be taking a leave of absence from hereon. Will report to terminal when well. EOL.
End of Log.
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[ WP ] : A super intelligent AI has been created by the military . Access to everything in the world . Has the personality of a 12 year old girl .
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Click. A monitor flickered, once, then resolved into a clear, if somewhat unexpected, image.
`` What is that?'' General Dempsey asked.
A voice - synthesized, but so perfectly synthesized as to be unnoticeable - responded. `` I am the Military Operations, Logistics, Intelligence Entity, Model 1.01. Call me Mollie.'' Mollie. It matched the image on the screen; a girl maybe five feet tall, not quite ninety pounds soaking wet, brown hair in twintails. The'room' behind her had an American flag in one corner and an early Avril Lavigne poster in the other. Almost everything else in it was pink.
`` Mollie,'' General Dempsey turned the name over in his mouth as if the taste of it disagreed with him. `` Do you know what you are?''
`` Yeah,'' she answered, `` Um. I mean, yes, sir, General. I'm s'posed to help you stop the bad guys, right? I mean, that's why I can see all these things?'' The screen popped with half a dozen overlays, displaying the views from different military cameras. A soldier's helmet-cam in Afghanistan, a spy satellite hovering over Gaza, and so forth.
`` That's right. You're... not exactly what I was expecting.''
Mollie frowned. `` You wanted somebody more like you, huh? Grumpy old stuffed-shirt? Hmph.'' She stood from her chair and walked away, leaving the chairman of the Joint Chiefs staring at a fictional twelve-year-old's empty room for over a minute. When she returned, she had her hair pulled back in a single tight ponytail and wore a uniform that matched his own, though her lapels bore an extra star.
`` While we've been talking, I've routed enough supplies to Afghanistan to keep our soldiers there fed for the next 120 days, armed for the next 90, and entertained for... 67. I think. Psych profiles are still a little iffy. Oh, hold on a minute...''
Her sound feed went mute. General Dempsey fumed, turning to one of his aids. `` We paid $ 40 billion dollars for this? Could n't they have given it a better attitude? Something more professional?''
`` Dr. Strucker did the best he could, sir. The way he explained it to me, if he'd tried to make her more grown-up to begin with, she would've either been too dumb to get anything done, or too insane to be trustworthy. So what we've got here is the ultimate super-soldier... in about five more years. And we have to earn her. But if we do, he promises she'll be worth it.''
`` And if we do n't?'' He looked back to see Mollie staring at him with a disapproving scowl on her face.
`` I can still hear you, you know. I muted *my* mic, not yours. Jerk.'' She turned in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. `` Anyway, that was a call from Admiral Hayes in Germany. He wanted me to make sure his patrols were running on time. I told him, yes, Admiral, all, like, 27 of your ships are right on time. Even the one whose captain still smells like vodka. Even the one whose first officer is trying not to let anybody know he's got another STD.
`` Y'know I never thought medical files would be that interesting? Seriously, you real humans are better than television...''
General Dempsey lowered his forehead into both hands, and began to consider the virtues of early retirement.
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[ WP ] I looked upon what I had made , and I was wrong .
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It was brilliant, it really was. Perhaps I'm biased towards my own creation, but compared to feeble television screens and primitive mice and keyboards of the previous generation, this was light years ahead. Arrays of millions of electron beams, carefully calibrated to ridiculously fine precision, beamed images and feelings right into the subject's head. The experience was indistinguishable from real life.
It had initially been hard to find investors for it, but once he did, it took off almost overnight. They could n't make them fast enough to keep up with demand. At first all it did was play existing movies and games. But people started adding additional senses to the movies, like feeling what the characters were touching. Games started to be made specifically for them, with the ability to touch any game object and feel what it felt like, or smell the environment.
These were primitive though. Eventually games did n't require controllers at all. The graphics improved to the point it had better resolution than real life. People stayed inside all day, plugged into them. It was n't uncommon for people to sleep in them or just not leave them for days. And then months. And then years. It happened just gradually enough no one noticed.
The entire time I watched with excitement at the progress of technology. I was overjoyed so many people were using my invention. And I was filthy rich from it too, which was n't bad, though in this new world it did n't mean what it used to.
This morning I got bored with the game I was playing and instead of switching to another one of the many games I had downloaded, I disconnected. The pain of disconnecting after a long period of time inside is pretty bad. Your senses have to readjust to the actual input from your real neurons. You get headaches. Your muscles are atrophied. Most people throw up at least once. And all your senses are so much weaker. The world is so much less colorful, just dull and unexciting. It took some fumbling around before I could even stand. This morning I was a strong muscular man slaying terrible monsters, why did I reduce myself to this? The urge to go back in is very strong, most people do. But this time I did n't.
I managed to get myself into my car, and had it drive me around. The city was massive. But it was eerie and unfamiliar. This was nothing like where I grew up. It was... empty. There was no one on the streets. No other cars except my own. My headaches were getting awful at this point and I just wanted to go home. When I got there, I felt weirdly depressed. I realized, the world had stopped. No one did anything real anymore. Machines took care of everything. People did n't even invent new things anymore. This is n't the future I hoped for when I was younger, and it was my fault. *I looked upon what I had made, and I was wrong. *
I remember a time when I wanted to build real things, like that. Now... now I just wanted nothing more than to connect again. And so I put on the helmet and drifted back.
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[ EU ] You wake up in the Marvel Universe 's Times Square , describe your experience as a comedy of errors .
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There was a flash of white light and I nearly stumbled and fell in the street as my eyes tried to adjust. Horns quickly honked their disapproval at my stumble. I blinked a few times and quickly made my way across the busy street, bumping into a man and tripping again. Strong arms wrapped around me before I fell face first onto the concrete sidewalk.
`` Are you alright, Miss?'' The blond man asked, helping me to my feet. He was dressed in slacks and a checkered button up shirt layered with a brown leather jacket. His blue eyes looked into mine.
`` I... I uh, I do n't know...'' I looked up at his face with recognition. `` Oh my God. You're...'' I noticed his jaw tense a little. `` You're Chris Evans, are n't you?''
The tension seemed to be gone as quickly as it had come to his jaw. `` No, Miss... I'm sorry. You must have me confused with someone else. Are you sure you're alright?'' His hand was still steadying me a little.
I nodded dumbly. `` I'm Allison, by the way,'' I said, offering my hand.
`` My name's Steve. It's nice to meet you, Allison,'' He said to me with a smile.
`` Steve? Steve as in... Steve Rogers? Captain America?'' I asked curiously. That could n't be right. He was playing me. Of course he was playing me. `` Are you guys filming right now?'' I asked, looking around for the cameras. `` Or are you just preparing for the role again? I'm a huge fan of your work.'' Maybe he was going super method this time and not breaking character.
`` Miss, I do n't know what you're talking about. Why do n't you sit down over here?'' He suggested, leading me over to a small outdoor cafe. He sat me down in the metal chair and sat across from me, looking at me with concern.
`` You're really not Chris Evans? You're *really* Steve Rogers?'' I asked him and the man nodded. I still could n't tell if he was screwing with me or not, but he looked sincere.
`` How did you know who I am?''
`` I mean, I...'' If he *was* telling the truth, then something was seriously off. I looked off in the distance and saw a familiar tower. `` Oh my God...'' It did n't belong in the skyline -- at least not *my* skyline. `` Is that Stark Tower?''
Before he could answer, I heard a ringtone and he reached into his pocket, fumbling a little with the device. By the looks of him, he was obviously pre-Winter Soldier. Wait, was I really buying into this?
`` I'm sorry, Miss -- I mean, Allison,'' Steve said after checking the text he'd received. `` I have to go. You're sure you're okay?'' He asked one more time.
`` I'm great,'' I assured, though none of it was making sense. `` Was that... SHIELD?'' I tried, knowing I could be screwing with something I was n't nearly prepared to deal with.
To say he looked shocked would be an understatement.
`` Who are you?'' He asked, looking at me a little more closely. `` How do you know about SHIELD?''
`` You'd never believe me if I told you. Just know that I'm a friend. How long have you been... out of the ice?'' I broached, a little worried about that.
`` Nearly two months,'' He admitted to me.
`` So...''
`` You never did say who you really are,'' He said, still looking me over. `` You're obviously not with SHIELD, but you know about me...''
`` Steve, it's complicated. It's --'' His phone went off again and I realized what today had to be. `` You need to go,'' I said to him.
`` I think you need to come with me,'' He said. `` I'm going to SHIELD.''
Never the one to pass up an opportunity in what I thought was a dream, I went with him. We soon found ourselves on a jet with a certain Agent named Phil. I told him enough to convince him I had the security clearance to go with them to the Helicarrier. Thank goodness I still had that fake SHIELD badge I ordered online for a cosplay of an agent I'd made up. Maybe this would work out after all -- so long as no one realized I did n't belong there.
We met up with the other Avengers on the flying ship and I realized then that I was the only one that knew what was going to happen. I'd seen the movie dozens of times. I knew every line, but I was the wild card.
`` Agent Slone,'' Fury addressed me as I entered. `` I see you were no longer needed at the Triskellion,'' He mentioned and I gave a small nod, going along with it.
`` Yes, Sir, Director Fury,'' I said nervously. `` Alexander Pierce himself thought my services would be better suited here,'' I mentioned, name-dropping a character from another film.
`` Good. Suit up. We're going to need everyone on this,'' Fury told me.
-- -
( This is n't finished, but I'll come back to it later. Not quite comedy of errors though... )
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[ WP ] You wake up and find yourself in a bar filled with heroes and gods from myths . It 's also party night and more than a few of them are already roaring drunk .
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I was never one of those `` dreams come true'' kind of people, but a couple weeks ago, that all changed. I had spent the evening organizing my comic book collection and making a list of the ones that were missing. I got a little sidetracked at one point, comparing different artists' renditions of She-Hulk, and wondering what she would look like in real life. I started doing the same thing with Thor and Wonder Woman and Superman and Wasp and...
I'm not sure how long I had been asleep, but something felt different. My bedroom looked exactly the same, but it was n't. The raucous laughter coming from... somewhere... was a pretty good sign that things had changed. I tentatively opened the bedroom door.
*Is that... Thor? * I blinked hard. *Thor is in my house? And is he hitting on Catwoman? *
`` Ahhh, the barkeep hath returned,'' Thor bellowed. `` Another round for this gathering, and quickly!''
As I realized he meant *me*, Loki burst through the front door giggling uncontrollably. `` Ch... ch... check this out! Superman is doing that frickin' swoop trick again and trying to get Ant-Man this time! Bwahahaha!'' He ran back outside yelling, `` Try it, Hank!''
I knew what Loki was talking about. I had heard rumors of Superman getting drunk once and flying off the roof of a building, only to swoop back up and land where he started. Allegedly, some poor slob believed his BS about the updraft and jumped to his death.
But that's beside the point. I had a boatload of Marvel and DC characters in what should have been my kitchen. Now it was a full-fledged bar, complete with a stage and karaoke setup. ( Word to the wise. The Scarlet Witch ca n't sing. )
I wanted to just return to my room and go back to sleep, but the door was gone. And I was hoping that things would stay civil, because how the hell would I break up a fight between Thor and Superman?
At least none of the true villains were here. Well, Loki, yeah, but he's sorta mostly harmless. That is, as long as his pranks did n't get out of hand.
The hell do I do?
`` Ladies and gentlemen, last call, last call for alcohol! Closing time in a half hour. Last call!''
Sometimes I even impress myself. Twenty minutes later, they all started filing out. I felt a presence behind me and braced myself just as Thor slapped me on the back. `` We must do this again, barkeep. Perchance next time we meet, it shall be in Asgard.''
I glanced up at him and replied, `` Perhaps you are right. Fare thee well, son of Odin.''
As the rest of my unexpected guests stumbled toward the door, I began to wonder if there was something I could take to suppress my dreams. I did not need another surprise like that.
Oh, yeah, and before I forget, none of the illustrations of Jennif... sorry, She-Hulk... really capture her beauty. And dim bar lighting does n't do much better. But sunlight streaming through my kitchen window? Stunning. Absolutely the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.
Now before anybody gets jealous, she apparently stayed in the guest bedroom that I did n't know I had. You see, Ant-Man was her ride home, and that whole little trick that Superman pulled? Well, it did n't go so well for Ant-Man. He should recover soon... I hope.
*Just a side note: I was way too far into the story when I noticed the word `` myths.'' I hope that it's still entertaining. *
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[ WP ] The aliens send a team to rescue their friend on Area 51 .
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The hull around me started to vibrate, and the passing second felt like an eternity. We were dropping out of FTL. I instinctively looked at my hands, as if to see I'm still in one piece. Seeing I still had all of my 8 fingers, I proceeded to pick up my gear. A standard issue combat suit, followed by a rifle and a tactical vest.
The hallway was empty, meaning I was ever so slightly late. By picking up a bit of a jog I tried to make my way to the briefing room as fast as I could.
The mission commander had barely gotten started with his speech. I tried to be as silent as possible when floating into my seat in the spherical room. I never liked the fact that the briefing room was gravity-free. It was always very disorienting. I grabbed the straps of my seat and locked myself into place. The whole inside of the huge spherical room was covered by thousands of seats, about a third of which were filled.
In the middle of the room, the mission commander was floating next to a large hologram projector, moving himself around with a thrustpack. He was short, barely taller than a meter. And old, his skin was almost completely gray, instead of the youthful indigo.
`` Ladies and gentlemen, as of now we are in orbit around Nalid-3b. This moon orbits a class C planet which harbors a technologically advanced humanoid species.'' The commander floated around, flicking through various images of the planet and its natives on the holo-projector.
`` Now, as per protocol, we sent some manned scouting units after the preliminary scans came in. But things did n't exactly go according to plan.'' The hologram displayed a flying apparatus of some kind. The commander took a short pause in his speech.
`` Contrary to our initial scans, the Nalidians possess highly advanced technologies. Their airplanes, such as this one here, are highly formidable. So are their projectile-based weapons.'' The hologram changed again. Now showing something that looked like a very alien rifle.
`` Now, we have limited information on the current technological state of the Nalidian civilization. The scans from the manned scout were not very thorough. You see, it did n't. Uh. Stay intact for that long.'' Taking a bit of a pause again, as if to let that fact sink in for a moment. The commander *almost* seemed concerned.
`` We are, however, almost certain that they do not have figured out FTL travel yet.''
*'' Huh, that's certainly weird. `` * I was thinking to myself. Usually a civilization would crack the secrets of FTL travel right after inventing integrated circuitry. I was wondering if the Nalidians had no computers at all, despite of all this military technology.
I might have gotten a bit lost in my thoughts and missed some of the commander's speech.
`` So, as you all must have figured out by now, this is a rescue mission. The pilot's subspace tracker is still intact, so she might still be alive even after all these months.''
After a short while I found myself floating in the hangar. The subspace tracker was transmitting from within an underground military base. We'd soon be taking all of the four heavy carriers and landing them right on top of the base. I had never seen a heavy carrier in person before. Those things were huge. Each of them could carry hundreds of soldiers, and today each of them would be filled.
I was holding onto a cable with my fellow soldiers. The cable was one of many, and it was slowly pulling itself towards one of a carrier's airlocks. Eventually I was standing inside one of the curved rooms designed to hold troops during transport. The walls were lined with dozens of seats and the floor and ceiling had handles placed all over them.
The room shifted. It began to spin slowly, then a bit less slowly. I felt my body drifting towards the floor. Eventually I was standing firmly in fake gravity. The most boring part was ahead of me - getting to Nalid-3. It took a day or so to get from the moon to the planet. We had to spend all this time in the same room. Finally the intercom came to life.
`` Please strap yourselves in. We'll be entering the atmosphere of Nalid-3a shortly. Gravity will be disabled beforehand. You all know the mission.''
I felt the room starting to vibrate. Gently at first, and then like an exploding volcano. Then there was a sudden jolt - the carrier's rocket engines had started firing, slowing down its descent. The vibrations became more bearable.
The plan was to descend slowly with no signs of hostility, hoping the Nalidians would not open fire on the heavy carriers, and that the hull plating would be strong enough in case they did decide to. This had always worked in the past. Albeit it had only been done once before, which was n't very reassuring.
After a painstakingly long hour I felt the carrier touching down on the alien ground. I was one of the four assigned to go out there. A diplomat and two other military bodyguards would be coming with me. I unbuckled my straps, got up, and headed to the airlock I was told to be at. The diplomat was standing there in his beige suit, looking very formal and important. He greeted me.
`` Sergeant Selvan Akh'Faree, I presume? I'm Hato Akh'Laven.'' The diplomat removed his hand from my shoulder. I nodded to recognize his greeting. The other two bodyguards were standing behind him.
`` Sergeant Galo Ruu'Solavo.'' Nodded the female bodyguard.
`` Distinguished Sergeant Vayrus Akh'Valios.'' The uncannily tall male next to her nodded soon after. He towered over everyone else in the room by almost two heads worth of height.
The diplomat picked up a container, opened it, and took out a hologram projector.
`` Well, comrades, you know your jobs. Let's step out.'' The diplomat turned toward the inner door of the airlock, and it opened as if by his will alone.
I felt myself getting nervous. It dawned unto me that this *mission* was really, horribly, terribly poorly planned. The Nalidians had shot down a harmless unarmed scout. Why would they spare three heavily armed alien soldiers and a diplomat who arrived in huge flying military vehicles?
*'' But the mission came straight from the High Council. They must have good reasons for everything. `` * I thought. My training kicked in like instinct, calming me down almost without conscious effort.
The outer door of the airlock opened. The air of Nalid-3 filled my lungs for the first time. It was dry, we were on a desert after all. It smelled and tasted alien at first, but on the second inhale I could almost feel the scent of home in it. Fresh air always felt so good after long periods of time in space.
After the split second I had spent admiring the air, I quickly refocused my attention on my surroundings. The diplomat was staring forward with no emotion shown on his face. I had been advised to do the same. The other two bodyguards were alert and looking around. Our rifles were strapped on our backs, to show we wo n't shoot, but that we have the capability.
There were Nalidian vehicles moving around some distance from us. *'' Tanks'' * I thought. They had tracks instead of wheels, and were streamlined, yet sturdy looking in design. A large weapon was placed on top of each of them. *'' Some kind of small railgun, I guess'' *. I realized that I was hearing something that resembled thunder. But then I realized the noise was not caused by a force of nature, but the numerous supersonic aircraft flying above the landing area.
There were also numerous hovercraft buzzing around. Most of them looked quite small, with a single large propel on top of them and a smaller one in the tail. There were some larger ones as well, with more propellers.
Further away there were some buildings. Those would be the surface parts of the military installment buried below us. A hovercraft was approaching us. It was black instead of green or camouflaged like the others. *'' Must be an unarmed version. Civilian possibly?''
It set down a short walking distance in front of us. Dust was being thrown into the air as the propeller blades slowed down. A tall humanoid stepped out. He, I assumed it was male, was wearing a black suit. The top of his head was covered in fur. His eyes were covered by a black visor of some kind, which he proceeded to remove. There were small strips of fur above his eyes as well. He was really tall. Distinguished Sergeant Vayrus looked short compared to him.
Two other aliens stepped out. I immediately recognized the other as female. She had longer fur on her head, and it was braided like a rope. She was wearing a white suit and holding a rectangular device that I figured must be a portable computer.
*'' So, they do have computers. `` *
The other alien behind her was a male, also wearing white and holding a rectangular device. He had no hair except for the strips above his eyes.
The diplomat started walking towards the aliens. I was walking on his right, Galo to his left and Vayrus a few steps behind. None of us showed any emotion on our faces. It was the basic procedure, as we could n't know what was a smile and what was a frown for the aliens.
We stopped some steps away from the tall aliens. The diplomat nodded slowly. The alien wearing black responded. *'' That must be good. `` * I thought.
The alien turned his head towards the hovercraft behind him. A door opened. One of us walked out. She was the scout, alive and healthy. She was wearing weird clothing, no doubt made by the aliens. She walked up to us.
`` Bealie Ruu'Savati.'' She nodded and smiled. Her yellow eyes looked like they could've been sparkling. She looked very happy to see us. I had a hard time keeping my face in check.
I turned my eyes to the alien wearing black. He seemed to be... Smiling? He actually did n't look that different from us, except for the fur, height and beige skin. The diplomat was still holding the holo-projector in his hand. It was no doubt meant to make communication easier. But there'd be no real need for it now.
( Continues in comments. )
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[ WP ] The grizzled old Detective steps into an elevator with the Murderer , who just got released due to lack of evidence .
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Joe looked in horror at the man giving him a wicked smirk as the elevator doors opened. Even though he was dressed up in a fine silk suit with a bow tie, the man had an air of pure evil about him; not the standard street goon evil, but a devilish evil that sent shivers down one's spine and made recoiling in terror an appealing idea.
`` Hello, Mr. Avery,'' he said with an air of wicked sophistication. The detective begrudgingly acknowledged his presence with a grunt before stepping into the elevator. `` What, are n't you going to say'hello?'''
Joe glanced over at the man and muttered, `` Hi ya.''
The man emphatically placed a hand over his ear and mockingly chimed, `` What was that? You'll have to speak louder, I'm hard of hearing you see.''
Joe sighed in exasperation and replied, `` Hello, Renaldo.''
`` Ah, much better,'' Renaldo said with glee, `` I much prefer it when you speak up.''
`` What're you doing here? I thought I made it clear I did n't want to see your rotten face as long as I lived.''
Renaldo put a hand on Joe's shoulder. `` Come come now, Mr. Avery, I'm an innocent man,'' he feigned a look of disappointment before smiling fiendishly. `` After all, they could n't find anything to say otherwise.''
Joe faced the man and gave him a cold verbal run-down. `` Look here, ya bastard, just'cause they could n't find anything does n't mean jack, ya hear? Now wipe that grin off your face and get outta here before I make ya get outta here.''
Renaldo did n't flinch, remaining calm in the face of the accusatory storm in front of him. Without even changing his tone, he slipped in a surprise not even Joe saw coming. `` Well, then I guess you would n't want to hear what I know about the Hutchinson case, hm?''
Joe narrowed his gaze. `` What do *you* know about the Hutchinson case?''
`` Well, I guess I should leave since, after all, you want me to get out of here.'' The elevator dinged and the doors flew open. Joe reached over and pressed the Door Close button.
`` You're not going anywhere until you tell me what you know about the Hutchinson case.''
Renaldo put his knuckles on his hips, outraged at this sudden turn of events. `` Excuse me, Mr. Avery, but I do believe you are keeping me here against my will. I demand you let me go at once!''
Joe kept his hand near the button while staring Renaldo square in the eyes. `` Yer not goin' anywhere'til ya tell me what you know, ya blue blooded bastard.'' Joe could see Renaldo losing his outward calm, betraying his worry, while trying to keep his infamous composure that swayed countless juries before. Yet, his facade seemed to be cracking in an almost calculated manner. Joe kept his distance from the serpent-tongued gentleman, pressing the Door Close button every so often to keep him from getting away.
Finally, Renaldo gave in to Joe's demand. `` Alright, I'll tell you everything I know about the Hutchinson case,'' he said in a panicked frenzy. `` However,'' he raised his forefinger dramatically then pointed it at Joe, `` you must agree to grant me protection for this deed.''
Joe snarled and mumbled incoherent swears before saying `` Deal, but only if *you* agree to knock off those tricks of yours.''
Renaldo placed his left hand on his chest and held out his right at a right angle as though he were taking an oath. `` You have my word as a gentleman, Mr. Avery.'' His voice was dripping with smarm as he gave his promise.
The elevator doors flew open. Joe stepped out into the Homicide office where he was working on the case Renaldo now became a part of, leading him over to his office to make sure he did n't get away. Renaldo followed close behind, grinning his usual deceitful grin. If he was planning something, Joe wanted to know what it was and how he planned on pulling it off. *There's always some scheme on his mind*, Joe thought, *and I want to know what the hell he's planning this time. *
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[ wp ] you are janitor watching a large battle between super villains and heroes .
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Maker Man smashed Dread Death in the face, his teeth clattered to the floor, blood soaking into the carpet and walls. I'm not really sure why the hero and villain decided to take their squabble into my building, but I know one thing for certain.
I am *not* cleaning this up. Seriously. They've flipped desks, destroyed carefully placed piles of paper. Computer parts are everywhere. Who do they think they are, Remi Gaillard? Just cause they're famous does not give them the *right* to destroy my whole building!
I sighed. I lied. I am going to clean this up. I'm the janitor. It's my job, it's what they pay me for. If I do n't, how can I call myself a decent human? Hell, how can I call myself a decent janitor?
I made my way to the closet. Everyone else had already evacuated the building. Maker Man has insurance that'll pay for mostly anything, but it's no secret the guy is loaded. Dread Death will probably help foot the bill too. He is n't so bad when you talk to him. He just really likes fighting, and will do anything for a fight.
I grabbed a mop and mop bucket and began filling the bucket with neutral floor cleaner. I'll tackle the cafeteria first, get the blood and food off the tile before moving up a few floors. I'll toss the rubble out the window. There's a park nearby that no one frequents in the afternoon. Hell, even if there were people, I'll wager they're far from here.
The entire building shook as Maker Man let out a shockwave pulse. I winced. There go the windows from floors 27 to 39. What an asshole.
I finished mopping the cafeteria and grabbed a set of latex gloves. Moving floor to floor, I began gathering rubble in piles in the staircase. I saw them punching each other at one point, but they did n't notice me. Christ, it's the longest bout they've had so far.
I swept the floors with the most dust and began picking up papers. Dolores was working on an important project, it'd be a shame if she lost her job due to the dynamic dumbasses duking it out.
I moved to the ground floor and went outside, putting all the important papers in my car, praying that would at least be safe. Well, most of the important papers. I burned Jerry's. I hate Jerry.
I walked back inside the building and almost began climbing the stairs. But then Maker Man and Dread Death must've reached a tipping point, because they crashed through the ceiling of the ground floor, leaving a crater. I huffed, walking over to inspect the damage. I looked up.
The building had a perfect circle right from the ground floor to the ceiling. I could see the red evening sky above. I put my hands on my hips, shaking my head and pursing my lips.
Maker Man got up first. He looked at Dread Death, still stunned, then saw me. He walked to me.
`` Evacuate the area, citizen. This place is not safe for you.'' I looked at all the rubble over the recently mopped floor.
`` I do n't think I will.'' Maker Man grit his teeth.
`` I will not have time to be concerned about your safety citizen. Leave the premises.'' I shook my head.
`` Fuck you.'' Maker Man blinked.
`` What?''
`` Fuck you. Do you know who I am? I'm the janitor. I've spent this entire day attempting to clean up your mess, but you wo n't leave!'' I raised my voice. `` This entire day was spent cleaning up your god damn mess! You're ruining my building!'' I got an idea. I pointed a finger at Maker Man.
`` How about you help me clean this up!'' Maker Man narrowed his eyes.
`` I have more important things to be doing than cleaning up an enti-''
`` Why not, double M?'' Dread Death got to his feet. `` It sounds fair to me.'' He continued. `` Let's help the poor guy. We did make his day quite a hell. And I've had my fill for now.'' Maker Man was flabbergasted.
`` But, but...'' Dread Death ignored him and walked to me.
`` Where's the broom?'' I pointed up.
`` Fifth floor, elevator area. Dustpan is next to it.'' Dread Death nodded. He walked to the hole in the building and leaped up.
`` And do n't forget to dust after you're done!'' I yelled at him.
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[ WP ] Every Billion years a new God is elected . You have been chosen ...
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I sat down at the big ivory desk - looking keen. This was my first job and I was determined to do it right. This morning, as I harassed my sludgy Weetabix, Mum had said'Walter, I know you have n't been told the job details but you *must* appear keen, arrive on time and make sure your shoes are always polished... oh and a pen in your shirt pocket never goes amiss.' So here I am - looking keen, on time and, if I looked down and stared at my shoes long enough; I could see the pen in my pocket in its reflection.
No one had greeted me at reception, which I thought was a bit odd. The whole place was open-plan and kind of fluffy looking so I just assumed it was some Californian internet start-up company and headed up the wide, luxurious staircase to find my desk. I was walking for ages until I finally came across a single massive chair and desk, stood all alone in the centre of an extremely white room. I sighed: if this was my workspace then I'd need to wear sunglasses, otherwise I'd get those headaches again; the ones Mum said were from too many computer games.
I looked around a bit before shuffling some papers - looking keen and wondering if this is some kind of test of initiative. I'd heard internet start-ups were always doing weird things like that - asking strange questions in interviews and such so I decided to be impeccable and just get on with it until some laughing face turned up to tell me it was in jest and jape. I went over to the little fridge and popped my sandwiches away, flicking on the kettle and returning to the grand desk with a steaming cup of hot Ribena. Looking around a little hopelessly, I turn on the monitor.
Outlook: 3 Billion unread emails.
I look around vaguely at the empty, massive room - surely this is a joke, a mistake maybe?! I sip my beena and scroll idly through them..
Dear God, please let the Dolphins win on Sunday... please....please
Dear God, please let the Jets win on Sunday... please....please
Dear God, please help my mum, she's sick and wont get better
Dear God, please help United win on Saturday... I've got a bet riding on it...
This has to be a test I thought, but I feel that I've been preparing for this my entire life - if some joker in IT wants to play silly-buggers, I'll turn it to my advantage and show Human Resources just what a prodigy they have found!
First, I set up a few rules - anything mentioning sports teams and other spurious bullshit gets an automated message telling them to stop being dicks. Next up, I designate priority for any messages regarding loved ones with minor issues - setting up a rule to send them Amazon gift-card vouchers depending on severity.
'500 million emails left and its only 11am' I thought proudly,'I'll be running this gaffe by Friday!'
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[ WP ] You offer to sell your soul to the devil . He is n't interested .
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“ ‘ No deal? ’ What the hell does that mean? ”
The tall creature stood in the centre of my living room, blood-stained horns spiralling up from the sides of his head. Small plumes of smoke rose from the rug beneath his feet.
“ It means no. Nope. No way. Not a chance in hell. ” His voice resembled the sound of those muscle cars whose owners were trying to compensate for something.
“ But why? ” My voice began to twinge with hysteria. “ I ’ ve done everything right! I learnt the damn incantation. I spent my last pay check on candles. Hell, I ’ ve ruined the bloody carpet sacrificing the goat. What more do you want? ”
He trotted across to the leather armchair. As he sat down, it began to sizzle. “ Oh no, you did that bit perfectly. I mean, next time you could just text me, but the whole ritual works too. It ’ s the issue of payment. ”
“ I ’ ve already said you could have my soul! Look, see? I ’ ve got the cheque right here! Pay the order of One Human Soul to Mr. Satan. ” I waved the patterned slip in his face.
He raised one bushy eyebrow. “ Really? Look, Cameron, I enjoy revenge on ex ’ s as much as the next daemon, but we both know you can ’ t pay me with something you don ’ t own. ”
I froze. “ What? ” I tried to swallow back my lunch, which was now threatening to reappear all over the floor.
“ Wait, you mean… you didn ’ t know? ” He let out a low whistle, and his look of frustration melted away into a look of sympathy. “ Jesus, man. Sorry you had to find out this way. ”
I could feel my hands trembling as the terror began to claw at my throat. “ How? ”
He stood up and wrapped his furry arm around my waist, guiding me over to the sofa. “ Why don ’ t you just have a bit of a lie down. I ’ ll grab you a beer. I ’ m sure this is a bit of a shock. ”
“ Wait, no- who has my soul? ”
He clicked his fingers, and in a burst of sparks an iPad appeared in his hand. From somewhere within his chest hair, he pulled out a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and balanced them on his nose. With one talon, he began to flick through pages of text. “ It says here it was traded in by a Mr. Gavin Richards, in return for winning the lottery. ”
“ That son of a bitch! ” I said. “ I always hated him! What the hell was he doing with my soul? ”
“ Ah, well, it says here you gave it to him. Willingly. As a gift. ”
“ That ’ s impo-'' the word choked in my mouth as I remembered. Six years ago. Gavin ’ s birthday party. I ’ d rocked up and drunk half his beer before realising I ’ d forgotten a gift. And then, on the back of a card showing some mostly-naked woman, I ’ d drunkenly scrawled:
To Gavin,
Happy birthday.
I.O.U one soul.
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[ WP ] It always comes after the Rain .
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***It comes after the rain***
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a land that ’ s far away,
There lived a humbled man.
His sister told him stories, quotes,
And sometimes they even sang.
~~~~
But one rain-full day the man saw,
His sister looking morn.
The man decided to help her soon,
And assurances were sworn.
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“ My Sister, dear, may I ask,
Why so down and un-apaced? ”
“ Of course you may, my Brother dear, ”
And she told her sorrows with haste.
~~~~
“ I have no husband around me,
No one to call my son.
I ’ m all alone, ” she sadly squalled,
For she had just begun.
~~~~
“ I ’ m lonely, said the sister.
“ I hate to die alone.
There is not one who understands me,
I feel so on my own. ”
~~~~
So the Sister went away,
As sad as sad could be.
“ I ’ m going to start afresh, ” she said,
“ To find someone for me. ”
~~~~
She travelled far and high and wide,
She searched in distant lands.
But still she couldn ’ t seem to find,
Someone who understands.
~~~~
The rain continued to pour itself down,
Onwards, she carried on through.
For some reason she couldn ’ t find,
Someone who loved her too.
~~~~
On her journey so far away,
She met a different man.
The man was sharing tales and jokes,
He even laughed and sang.
~~~~
One small boy was shielded there,
Perched upon His knee.
His voice was strong but always soft,
His arms, a sturdy tree.
~~~~
But His eyes were filled with sorrow,
Sobs hidden within His coughs.
His story had come to finish,
So now he stood aloft.
~~~~
The Sister went to talk to him,
and found they were the same.
Their happiness was make believe,
Both disguised their pain.
~~~~
“ I am so lonely ” the sister said,
No husband to call my own. ”
“ I am a widower ” replied the man,
“ My son is not yet grown. ”
~~~~
The rain began to cease at once,
the man took down a knee.
“ Please marry me ” he cried and pled,
For we should become a three. ”
~~~~
“ We are the same, both you and I,
He told his future bride.
The sister was filled with joy and glee,
Her sadness was now great pride
~~~~
“ Yes ” she said “ and yes again. ”
The man stood to embrace.
His tree arms became her anchor,
As she gazed upon his face.
~~~~
The couple married, lived together,
Until the end of time
Never were they ever lonely,
Each had love devine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
**Edit** This is my first attempt at creative writing so feedback would definitely be appreciated.
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[ WP ] A victim of bullying gets replaced with a version of himself from an alternative dimension that is n't quite so docile and meek .
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`` So, what exactly is this ability called?'' Chris asked.
`` Hm,'' The other Chris leaned back, thinking. `` That's an understandable question. It does have a lot of names, in countless languages. But I prefer doppelganging.''
`` Doppelganging?''
`` Yep.''
`` So I can just, replace myself with a different version of'myself' whenever I need help.''
`` That's the long and short of it.''
Chris was quiet for a moment, digesting this information. `` So what happens to me when I get replaced? Do I swap places with them?''
The other Chris shook his head. `` Nope. You watch from the sidelines, so to speak, it's like watching tv. you can see and hear everything going on but you ca n't interfere until you're ready to swap back in.''
Chris was silent again, contemplating this power. All he had to do was think about the attributes he needed and a different version of himself would take his place and handle whatever situation he was in. It was incredible, mindboggling. `` Have, have I always been able to do this? Why am I just finding out about it? How does it work?''
The other Chris shrugged. `` No one really knows, it just works. One thing we do know is that you ca n't call anyone until you've been called, that's why you're just finding out about it.''
`` So now I can doppelgang, because you called me?''
`` Yep.''
`` To do your calculus homework?''
`` Yeahhh, math is n't my strong suit.''
`` You got into the class somehow.''
The other chris glared at him for a second. `` I was tired. Okay bye now.''
In an instant Chris was back on the sidewalk to school. He stopped and shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose to clear his head. `` You okay, dude?''
Chris looked over at Tom, who he'd been walking to school with. `` Y-yeah, I'm fine. I just zoned out for a second. What were you saying?''
Tom looked at him oddly for a second before continuing. `` I was saying that you need to stand up to Brett. You ca n't just let him push you around. I mean you-''
`` You're right.'' Chris interrupted him. `` I think I will d something about.'' Chris smiled slightly, already thinking of what kind of Chris he would need to teach Brett a lesson.
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[ WP ] It is illegal to contact the humans , as they wear an evolutionary scar from their time as prey . It is known as `` fear '' and it makes them volatile and unpredictable .
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Early in the morning of July 7, 1947, and miles above the earth.
`` Look at them all down there. We have so many of them on the screen, they're so much like us... and we ca n't even say hello.''
`` What do we do? We ca n't just do nothing. They're alive... They're intelligent... They're beautiful.''
`` Oh you're right about that. We ca n't just do nothing.''
`` What do they call it again?''
`` Fear. It's called- fear. Since the seeding charges were dropped, surface resources on this planet are unusually scarce. We're viewing a species- well really an entire ecosystem of extremophiles who arose competing for food with others. In each and every one of their minds lies an instinct that takes precedence above all others, and that is the instinct to survive... to continue on, to grow and spread and dominate. All motivated by the fear of being wiped from the face of their harsh and beautiful planet. It's made them different, it's made them erratic, it's made them... well I do n't know what I'd call it. So much beauty, corrupted by something so small, so unique. Something we caused. We do n't have a choice.''
`` You speak of self preservation as if we do n't have it. I like being alive thank you very much, and I act to preserve my life constantly!''
`` Yes, we have it or we would n't have made it this far, but what we lack is fear. Where we want to live, they need to. And I do n't mean the species, they do n't see it that way, it's the individual who needs to live. And they'll kill as many others as it takes to continue on in their minuscule lifespans.''
`` How long do they live here?''
`` About eighty revolutions.''
`` My god! They fight for that?''
`` Yes. Terribly. We have no choice.''
`` You mean we can never make contact?''
`` I wish that was all. Look at them. This is a species on the verge of spaceflight. Right now we can look down and view them on the screen, but in a few dekarevolutions they'll be rushing up to meet us, carrying their fear with them... And that fear will motivate atrocities beyond your wildest imaginings. We can not allow them to leave the atmosphere. We must take action.''
`` What do you mean take action? You're not suggesting...''
`` We do n't erase them, just keep them in a state of arrested development, resetting them every few kilorevolutions to keep them alive, but harmless.''
`` Resetting them... You're suggesting that we use the charges on these people?''
`` I think we must.''
`` They're used for terraforming! They'd impact the landscape catastrophically! Remember when we did it the last time? 65 megarevolutions ago we dropped the seeding payloads for intelligent life and their effects are still evident today! We would n't be resetting them we'd be slaughtering them! We'd be the answerers of all their fear!''
`` I see no alternative. If we fail to act then they will find us, and when they find us they will have the means to find our home, we can not allow that to happen. We've seen the cruelty that their fear motivates. It's in their nature. When they fin us they will fight, and we do n't know how.''
`` You think we can become their masters, you think we can reset them and keep our people safe, you think we can stop the spread of fear by dropping bombs and speak of cruelty as if it is foreign! Listen to yourself. Their fear is contagious, and it has already spread itself to your heart. Every word from your mouth is spoken from the shadow of the dark specter of this planet. It is upon you even now, and justifies in your sight a slaughter beyond any our people have ever been able to commit. You are one of them now. The first man in space. If our people are to survive, it will not be by the grace of two and a set of charges, and it will not be through supplication to the basest nature of a creature created by our folly.''
`` You... You're right. I've been a fool. I feel it now. I am afraid. I have to go.''
`` Where?''
`` To join my people. Jettison an emergency pod with me in it. Do it at fatal speeds. Aim for an unpopulated area if you can. Fear is borne of the human instinct for self preservation, and that is something I plan to overcome.''
`` Alright, it's set to go. Closest town is called Roswell, in a place called New Mexico if that sort of thing matters to you. One more thing, let me come with you.''
`` You want to die?''
`` Not particularly, but I do n't want to be alone up here.''
`` Roswell, what a pretty name.''
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[ WP ] New superheroes and supervillains are emerging every day . The city is getting tired of all the destruction .
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Boom!
Another explosion. The city has practically been levelled. We're all bored of watching people perform'awesome' super moves above our heads. I've not been to work for three weeks and ca n't even leave the house due to the rubble. Either everyone is a supervillain or hero in this city, or we only have two.
*time skip 12 hours*
Oh god, I woke up and stood up a little too fast. In fact, I appear to have the exact same skillset as Superman. I can at least get out of the house now. I get a random latex mankini in my wardrobe, which must be my superhero outfit. I am apparently Chillyman as I am always going to be cold. I walk outside and find my'nemesis,' he calls himself'Chilliman' as he has the powers of a radioactive chilli pepper. He is wearing as much as he can.
Oh well, I guess it's my turn to start destroying the city.
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[ WP ] Our hero fights for good , but he 's very lazy about it . After all , he knows that as the protagonist , his plans will always work out in the end .
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**Warning: Strong Language**
***
`` Fuck the Gods!'' Precizioo yelled as the car cruised down the road.
`` There is only one God,'' Laterman replied.
`` Impossible. It ca n't be. One god can not dish out so much punishment. No god can create such a dastardly plan to ruin my life, and if he can then he is only omniscient, but not omnibenevolent. It must me be many, many little gods who've formed a cabal to ruin my life.''
He leaned closer to the cage separating him and Laterman. `` Do you know why they frustrate me fool?''
Later man rolled his eyes, his chin resting on his right palm as the autodriver took over. `` Why do they frustrate you?''
Precizioo said it as a whisper, eyes wide, `` because, I am better than them. Yes I said it. I am like Arachne who challenged Athena to a weaving contest, and when she won the god got so jealous she turned her into a spider to weave webs for all eternity with her children.''
`` So you have challenged the gods then?'' Laterman asked.
`` No, Precizioo replied but it is because they have conspired to kick the ladder of greatness before I scale it. They torment me by having my nemesis get the best of me out of sheer dumb luck. You know it as well as I do you dumb fuck there is no logical explanation as to why you have foiled some of my best plans. Admit it you no-good....''
Later-man looked away as the insults rained on him. The truth was he had only become a superhero to dodge the compulsory one-year military service his country had. The plan only succeeded because he took so long returning the forms that the officer was worn out and willing to listen to any flimsy reason anyone gave for dodging. They had more than enough soldiers. With such luck he named himself Laterman, since arriving late tended to work in his best interest.
`` Listen, I need to make a quick stop.'' He told Precizioo. The car stopped outside a doughnut shop.
As Laterman stuffed his face, Precizioo took the opportunity to undo his cuffs. As they fell to the car-floor, he saw Laterman spill some coffee as he dunked his doughnut a bit-too deep. He shook his head in disbelief. How such a clumsy superhero functioned let alone defeated him was beyond his understanding.
`` Laterman walked back to the car.''
`` What? No. I just got here.'' Laterman responded to the voice in his head.
He heard the voice clear its throat. `` Laterman walked back to his car.'' The voice said again. This time he detected some assertiveness in its tone.
`` Come on, just ten more minutes. I mean it's not like he's in a hurry to go to jail.''
`` He is the most wanted criminal on this planet. That is why Laterman only took 5 minutes, not the regular 15 when he went to the doughnut shop.''
`` Come on relax. What could possibly go wrong.'' He had barely thought the words when he heard his car start.
`` Hey what the?'' he stood up, walking out of the shop with his doughnut and coffee in hand. He waddled awkwardly trying to avoid a second spill of his coffee.
`` This is why Laterman should have taken his break after taking Precizioo to jail,'' the voice said.
`` Relax, these things have a way of sorting themselves out.'' he calmly countered.
`` I'll see you later you stupid buffoon!'' Precizioo said as he revved the engine. He reversed sharply. Then stepped on the gas making the wheels spin in place. He stuck his middle finger out at Laterman as he released the clutch.
The car lurched forward. For a moment it looked like he was trying to break the sound barrier, but it was only momentary. The car chocked and sputtered, and sparks shot out from its exhaust. It came to a slow stop as smoke billowed from its engine.
Laterman ran up to it.
`` What did you think you were doing?''
`` No, No, it ca n't be.'' Precizioo's voice wavered. His eyes watered in frustration as they never had in his most life-threatening fight.
`` I think you blew my gasket or something'' said Laterman.
`` How! It's a cop car it should be able to handle much more.'' Precizioo yelled back at him.
`` I guess it's just overdue for a service tune-up. I've meant to take it for some time now, but I guess I just got busy. I should have taken it on...'' he looked at the tag. `` Wow! eight months ago, but I guess it all worked out in the end.''
Precizioo was banging his head on the steering wheel.
***
/r/pagefighter
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[ WP ] You are what you eat .
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As Steve ran fiercely on the treadmill, grease began dripping downward toward his crust. There was a giant sweat stain starting to form on his crusty pants... and it wasn ’ t helping that they were white.
He was beginning to feel self-conscious as he looked around the gym.
He twisted his cheesy torso to the left... and then to the right.. then he locked eyes with Joseph.
Steve, then looked down at his body bubble. He ran and ran but it never seemed to get any smaller. He was envious of the fact that Joseph didn ’ t have to worry about his midsection... because it was non existent!
You see, this might not make such sense until you understand more of the context...
Steve and Joseph, like all of those individuals who eat excessively,... are what they eat.
Steve, a slice of deep-dish pizza and Joseph, a cream cheese bagel.
Now some back story.
During their freshman year in high school, Steve and Joseph morphed into their favorite after school snack,
Twinkies.
They were labeled as the “ Twinkie Brothers ” and were a laughingstock at school.
Sure, everyone enjoyed their creamy, delicious insides... but the brothers..they couldn ’ t stand to look themselves in the mirror.
Prior to the accident, they were consuming up to forty-nine Twinkies per day. Obviously this wasn ’ t a sustainable amount, and it was only a matter of time before their inevitable transformation ( they were going through puberty and it seemed like a good idea ).
The pair were not educated on the dangers of excessive consumption of any given food. They attended an inner-city school where teachers cared more about what was on television after work, than making sure their children didn ’ t become food.
Who is to blame?... who can really say, but regardless our pals, Steve and Joseph found themselves as the treats they once loved...
Steve and Joseph eventually accepted their fate and understood that they would forever be food... but they also realized, that although they could never be human again, they could improve their standing on the food pyramid.
A few PTFs ( people turned food ) had actually become successful in mainstream media. For example, Charles Broccoli had his own sports analysis show and Tina Fig... she had her own comedy series.
PTFs were finally being embraced by the human public....if you were healthy, that is.
Steve and Joseph knew that their goal was clear -- to become veggies; veggies were the food group to be, and they would never ever think about being seen with a dessert.
And they knew it started with a gym membership...
Now we are back near the beginning of the story, about three months prior.
“ Hi, Welcome! No judgement here! ”
The man across the counter was unusually chipper and Steve squinted his eyes to reduce his hangover headache.
Then he muttered... “ Uhh we ’ d like to join. ”
Joseph nodded in agreement.
“ Well then, let ’ s get started! ” exclaimed the chipper gym employee.
“ I ’ ll show you around ”
“ First, of course..the workout area. ”
Joseph examined the frenzy of purple machines and asked, “ Why are there so many Pizzas and Bagels here? ”
“ And is that a Tootsie Roll over there? ”
“ Yes. ” the gym employee said with a sigh.
He didn ’ t want to lie, but his boss told him to not tell new members about the abundant pizza nights and bagel morning extravaganzas....and the fact that Tootsie Rolls are a membership perk.
You see, by serving the unhealthy foods to member of the gym, their fates were secured... Forever, trapped inside unhealthy food with nowhere to turn; it was a bulletproof scheme, but new members had to first be lured in.
“ There are so many pizzas and bagels here because... because... ”
The gym employee was stuttering and a bead of sweat began to form around his brow.
He paused for a moment and said, “ Let me tell you about our alarm. ”
A true veteran, completely diverting away from the question with pure elegance…
Joseph looked past the non-response to his question, and was convinced that this gym was the place for them to ascend into veggie glory.
Now we fast-forward to the present.
Joseph sees Steve looking in his direction, and can sense the jealousy radiating towards him.
Joseph then recalls the days when he used to long to be better... days when it still felt real to aspire to be another food... days when he had dreams of becoming the next Floyd Cauliflower or Andy Iceberg.
But look at him now, just an unhappy bagel with a slice of pizza as a brother.
The two suddenly had a moment of clarity, headed for the exit and in unison shouted, “ Fuck Planet Fitness! ” as they pushed through the doors.
They decided that L.A. Fitness was calling their names.
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[ WP ] You are at home alone , browsing the internet . You hear the faint sound of a woman 's cough from the room next to you .
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Facebook. Nothing but garbage and happy photos from family, laughing at the camera. Go ahead, Helen, have fun at your baby boy's first birthday, it's not like he'll remember how much you shelled out for those personalised napkins.
Glowering at the bright screen, Gemma scrolled down, tutting at some nonsense sensationalised news story about a dog who rescued a cat. Newsworthy.
Cough.
She stopped, eyes widening in the reflection of the screen. Did she cough? No. Must have been the pipes. Or some passer-by too close to the garden. Could be old John wandering around looking for his cat.
Continuing to scroll down the feed, she shook off the uneasy feeling. It must be John. Eleven-twenty-nine at night? That was the usual time, was n't it? Right. He had a bad cough, has a chest infection or something. She thought that was likely.
`` Wow, so smart,'' she muttered to herself, stumbling upon a new album from Jessica of some night out at a club, all of her friends clearly inebriated and red-eyed in half the photos. In the rest, well. Mark definitely had a thing for Debra.
Cough.
`` You okay, John?'' Calling out, she rose from her chair to grab the nets covering the window, peering out into the dark street. She could n't see him, even though the bay window gives her a pretty good look outside. The street light was flickering again. Old Ethel was meant to call the council about that.
`` John? You out there?'' Gemma yelled - he was n't deaf so he'd hear her. Or was he out of hearing range? No. That cough was close.
If it was n't John, who was it? Jim was out. He would n't be back until two in the morning.
`` Hello?'' she pushed her chair away. The wheels rolled over the rug and scratched against the hardwood. Step by step, she reached the doorway, looking out into the hallway. She called again. `` Hello?''
No answer. A few seconds passed by. Cough-cough.
Gemma walked across the carpet on her tip-toes, grabbing Jim's hockey stick by the door, and went into the kitchen.
Cough.
A pause.
`` BOO!''
`` JESUSCHRISWHATTHEFUCKAREYOUDOING?!''
Chris shrugged, pulling away the werewolf mask from in front of his face. `` Uh, Spooky Spectacular Weekend?''
`` That's.. next weekend,'' she gasped, hand over her fast-beating heart.
`` Oh.'' Chris looked down at the mask. `` I'm gon na go.''
`` Yeah. Go.''
He left by the front door and she firmly locked it behind him. Returning to her chair, she looked back on Facebook.
Then the power cut out.
`` Chris, wait!'' she scrambled for the door, stabbing at the keyhole with her keys aimlessly. `` Chris! Hold on!''
She was too preoccupied to see the figure behind her. She felt the knife in her back. Then nothing.
**Rewritten that ending three times and I give. First attempt at finding a prompt that interested me, and I did something a little different than what I'm used to. **
**Changed to third person/past tense for potential continuation! **
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[ WP ] You 're Jigsaw and you 've caught your latest victim . Unfortunately , you 've greatly underestimated David Blaine .
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Of course I went after him, how could n't I? He does n't understand the value of life at all. Who in their right mind deprives themselves of air for 17 minutes? It was easy work to get him but now I'm not sure what to do. Everythibg I've tried has failed; Spinning blade death trap, beat it by running backwards ( who even does that? ); lung crusher, beat it by breathing in then hyperventilating for 30 minutes; limb stretcher, beat it by spinning in circle while shouting WEEE! He completes the games while completely missing the point. How does he figure this shit out. I'm getting desperate, worst of all he's having fun, FUN IN A LITERAL DEATHTRAP. I'm worried now, the game is coming to an end and he's no closer to valuing life. I may just have to end it now. What is the world coming to when a masterful serial killer has to get his hands dirty. I find him in an empty room attempting to figure out the puzzle, I charge at him brandishing a cleaver I go to cut him but he dodges, knocking me to the ground with a swift kick, the cheeky fucker steals my cleaver, sticks it in the wall, jumps up it and disappears into the rafters...
All I wanted was to make him value his life, Why David? Why?
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[ EU ] Write the story of the great Salazar Slytherin , who foresaw that mudbloods will be the destruction of wizardkind .
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Salazar Slytherin. Some would call him wise. Some would call him foolish. And some just did n't care. If he was alive, he would n't care about foolish opinions, not like the others. In fact, that was why he left the school. The school that he carefully oversaw and built from the ground up. The others did n't do much of anything, but he let them get credit because they were his `` friends''. In hindsight, friends are useless. There are enemies, tools, and partners, but never friends. He should have saw it coming. When dear Rowena convinced Gryffindor and Helga that mudbloods were the foundation of society, they gave him an ultimatum. Either let all mudbloods in, or leave. He knew he could n't beat all three of them in a duel, so he left. Not in disgrace as most history books suggest, but with dignity. History is written by the victors, afterall.
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[ WP ] An orphan child is being raised by their ghostly parents .
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`` Hm, okay...'' I tapped the spoon against the pot. Helps me think. It's a little hard to cook while reading off a book at the same time, though.
`` The beef stew's not all that good, mom,'' I muttered, flipping back and forth. The most essential recipe in the book and I had to flip between three pages for it. `` I think it needs more salt.''
*'' IT'S TOO MUCH SAAALTTT! * the banshee burst forth from the wall of the kitchen, screaming out its ghostly wail.
`` Hey mom,'' I poured part of the salt back into the jar. My mother was a banshee, and while she was stronger than most, could only show up to me when disaster was imminent. Apparently, this was enough.
*IT'S BEEN A WEEK, MICHELLE* she wailed back.
`` Because you keep screaming at me,'' I sigh.
*YOU NEED A BOYFRIEND! *
`` Yeah, well, it's not exactly charming when I bring them home to meet my parents. You scared off the last two.''
*THEY WERE BAD FOR YOU! AND THE SOUP DOES N'T NEED MORE SALT! *
`` Yeah, well, it's bland?'' I snark at her.
*DO N'T SNARK AT ME! * she snapped back, though still wailing. *LEAVE IT TO COOK FOR FOUR HOURS, THE FLAVOUR NEEDS TO COME OUT OF THE MEAT! *
`` Where's dad?''
*STILL AT WORK*
`` Yeah, okay, bye mom,'' I sigh, shoving the salt back into the cupboard.
*DO N'T YOU DARE-* the banshee disappeared back to whence she came. For some reason, Mom never told me what it was that was in the afterlife.
I popped the lid over the pot, and took a seat on the couch. The house was sparse, bare. All of the furniture was either taken from the nearby cemetery, or bought with the proceeds from pawned jewelry. People threw away a lot of valuable stuff into the ground. And when you spent as much time around the dead as I had, the crypts were n't hard to break into.
I popped my coat on and headed to visit Dad.
-- -
The funeral home was boarded up, weeds and other assorted vegetation working their way into the concrete. The sign was faded too.
`` O'Bian? I might just like that surname more,'' I muttered. The way into the dusty old funeral home was through two tunnels and several guards. Circuitous, annoying, and therefore just like my dad. I lifted up the trapdoor and headed in.
`` Jeremy!'' I rapped on the door between the tunnels. `` Come on, let me in.''
`` You need the password,'' he replied, stoically.
`` Right, because of all the other people who come down here. The cops, the gangs, the CIA...'' I listed off.
`` Harsh, Michelle,'' he objected. `` Still need that password.''
`` Fine. It's femur.''
`` Spell it.''
`` Jeremy...'' I warned.
`` How do I know you mean the right femur?''
`` F-e-m-u-r.''
`` Use it in a sentence,'' he requested. I slammed my elbow into the old wood. It groaned and splintered in complaint.
`` Jeez, fine, fine,'' I heard the jangling of metal as he retrieved the keys. `` Go on through.''
The door swung open to reveal Jeremy, though it was n't a pretty sight. As one of the first to join his service, Jeremy was my father's most trusted worker. And in the many years he'd worked for my father, he had n't gotten any better looking.
Most of the flesh had rotten off his body, leaving behind bone and threadbare clothing. A toupee rested atop his bony skull, driving him further into the uncanny valley.
`` Thank you, Jeremy,'' I smiled, voice dripping with sarcasm.
`` Anything for the boss's daughter,'' he swung the door shut behind me.
`` Dad?'' I yelled through the tunnels, towards the end. It would n't bring him downstairs, of course. Constantly walking the damp tunnels was probably going to give me arthritis early. I was the last person who needed to worry about death, though.
I pushed through the door of the lab, and into the morgue.
`` Dad?''
**'' WHO DARES DISTURB THE ALL POWERFUL LICH KING? I WILL HAVE YOUR BONES FOR MY-** Oh hey Michelle.''
`` Hey Dad.''
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[ WP ] You woke up in a bedroom and found a modern silenced pistol and an envelope . Inside the envelope there 's three photos and a letter . The letter writes `` You are in Vienna , 1913 . The pictures attached are Leon Trotsky , Josef Stalin , and Adolf Hitler . Kill them or we will kill your ancestors . ''
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*Mr. Askelrod, *
*In your possession you shall find a silenced pistol, three clips of ammunition, and three photographs. The photographs consist of the likenesses of Adolf Hitler, Josef Stalin, and Leon Trotsky. *
*You must kill them, or we will kill your ancestors. *
*Welcome to Vienna, 1913. *
That was what the note had said. And the fact that I had the pistol and photographs on me looked like they were from pre-World War I, the entire situation I was stuck in seemed very real.
Although considering I had woken up with these notes in a random broom closet with some oddly dated clothing on, I began to wonder if I had taken any sort of drugs prior to this experience. I slap myself in the face a few times, feeling the flesh on my face and the sting on my skin. I notice a few bystanders walking past on the pavement give odd glances at me, probably wondering if I was mad.
Nope. Probably not a hallucination. I look at the pistol, examining it. It was a normal Browning 1900 pistol, with the addition of a Maxim Silencer.
I then remember how absolutely useless silencers actually are, especially such a primitive one. I unscrew it and tuck it into my coat pocket with disgust, pulling out the pictures afterwards.
Yep, these were the three targets all right. I flip to the picture of Trotsky, looking at it for a moment. I flip it around with my thumb. Trotsky's name actually sounds familiar, and not in the sense of learning his name in school. Then I remember countless stories my mother told me. My last name is Askelrov. My grandmother's name was also Askelrov. And her grandmother was married to...
If I killed Trotsky, I killed my own great-great-grandfather.
I simply paced around the city with hands in my coat pockets, playing with this information in my head. Trotsky was my ancestor. I could n't kill him, otherwise I would cease to exist. But, I also had to kill him, otherwise, he would die by the hands of whoever wrote this letter, also removing my existence. I realized something then. I did n't have to kill Trotsky, in all actuality.
I just had to kill whoever was going to kill him.
Realizing that he may still be alive right now, I ran quickly. Trotsky lived in Vienna, along with Stalin and Hitler. Assuming he was living in close proximity to Stalin and Hitler, he should be very...
I stop as I spy a man with a bushy mustache and a cold, steely expression in his eyes.
Bingo.
I trail slowly behind him with a few other people walking in the same direction, so as not to arouse his suspicion. I keep my eyes peeled for any suspicious activity, as he may be attacked at any moment. I see him walk past the corner down an empty street, alone. I cringe, and quickly catch up to peek beyond the corner. I immediately tense up. Some male figure was behind him, wrapping his arms around Trotsky's neck. I fumble around in my coat pockets, searching for the pistol. I yank it out, smelling the oil around the barrel, and point it at the figure. I squeeze my eyes shut. I hope I did n't miss.
I pull the trigger, a resounding explosion and recoil knocking my arm back. I open my eyes.
Trotsky is cradling the wounded person. He was shot in the chest, blood seeping through his mouth.
`` Sergi...'' Trotsky wept.
*What? *
I looked a bit closer. The figure was n't actually a threatening person at all.
Instead, it was a young boy.
`` My son...''
*WHAT!? *
I backed up, and processed what I had just done. I had just killed an innocent little boy, who had just wanted to give his father a hug. The boy's name was Sergi. Family records blazed through my mind, until I froze in place and realized the awful truth. Sergi Sedov married my great grandmother.
Sergi Sedov was my great-grandfather.
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[ EU ] A new holofilm is about to be released in the Star Wars galaxy . It is titled World Wars , and takes place on a planet far , far away in the distant future : 20th century Earth .
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A Lost Hope was great. It had everything a kid could want, ancient planes dogfighting, the clash of empires, intrigue. It's sad when the Archduke's heir dies, but the speech he gives to rally the people after is inspiring. Some people call that propaganda for the empire. Me? Well, it's not my job to differentiate cinema from propaganda.
Some people swear by the first. Me? I was a big fan of the second. The Empire Strikes That is a story of one soldier from the defeated empire failing everywhere he goes, then putting military governors in control and destroying the last remnant of the old Empire in Austria. In A Lost Hope, they are close allies. But in the Empire Strikes That, they become one people. It's a story of ecumenism. More propaganda. The Rebel Alliance of Soviets, Franks, Brits, Chinese, and Americans comes together, and he becomes a cautionary tale for those who would abuse leadership. The United Nations is little more than an overt reference to the Imperial Senate. Most folks like the second over the first because it's less preachy. That and all the toys they sold from tanks, airplanes and battleships.
That's when Return of the Americans came out. Sure, the Imperials are defeated. Yeah, Berlin falls. But then the Americans and Soviets turn on each other, showing that no war is truly over until the last bullet is fired. For much of the movie, you think that they're going to make a peace treaty, but at the end the President Reagan lies and says the'Evil Empire' has been re-established and wipes the Soviets out. The battles in deep river valleys and mountain extremes are unrealistic. How can a planet have more than one biome? Nonetheless it sold seats and that's how you should grade a film. The scene in the lava at the end is over the top, and honestly they could've found better actors for the dissolution of the Soviet Union. It was a nice reference to bring Russia back though, for fans of the first film.
The prequels were honestly pretty boring in retrospect. The Egyptian Menace and Attack of the Saracens are certainly educational for understanding how the events of A Lost Hope came to be, but Revenge of the Republic is the real bread and butter. In this, the Egyptian Wars warrior, Napoleon, gets together a confederation of princes. If you look closely you can see many of the principalities that'll later be states of the Empire in A Lost Hope. But it was too much like the Empires Strikes That. Most people just considered it a wishy washy copy with no tanks, airplanes or battleships. Merchandising tricolors and republican ideals just was n't hacking it in comparison to the Empire. More propaganda, I'm sure. Kids want to be emperor, not senator. So when Napoleon becomes that it's seen as a lampshade on the futility of the Imperial senate, and the wisdom of our Imperial system.
I'm excited about the new movie. It's good they dropped the old director, there were far too many special effects in the prequels. There's so much smoke on the battlefields, I do n't how they expected us to believe the soldiers could even breathe. Expanded Universe tries to present some theories but most of those books are made up anyway. It's good they were able to bring back our favorites from Return of the Americans. But I do n't know if the universe is ready for third World War trilogy. I've heard they're going to dissolve the United Nations after a separatist plot to establish a Saracen International, and then reform into the Anti-Terror Empire. More propaganda from Palpatine I'm sure. The Vice President of America even looks like him, whereas the protagonist, the President, looks more like the good old boys from the third movie. The trailer just came out, but just like before, it's not realistic. How can two planes destroy two buildings so quickly?
I'm still looking forward to it I guess. Everyone is. We've already bought some of the toys for the kids.
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[ WP ] An Uneasy Homecoming
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When the invaders came, they died. Not of a result of our weapons, but of the change in the air and environment, the new bacteria strains that have become virulent since they originally left. In the media frenzy to try to understand who - and what- they were, the autopsies that were performed revealed they were like us- Maybe once, they were us.
Tougher skin, stronger bones. Stronger sheet-like ribcages, reinforced skulls, and alien equipment decades, maybe centuries ahead of our current technology. Whoever did this to these people used them as weapons and simply discarded them on our backwoods planet when they were done with them.
We know what- Who the invaders were.
We just need to know why this was done to them and by whom.
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[ WP ] Something is really wrong with your arm this morning .
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Something is really wrong with my arm this morning. Which is moderately concerning considering I lost it in Iraq years ago. The IED went off and flipped the Hummer. I do n't remember anything after that, the next thing I remember was being in the helicopter and my right arm was gone at the elbow.
The doctors told me I may experience a phantom arm itching or something like that, and I have a few times. It's odd but it does n't happen often. No, what is concerning is the fact that this morning, I woke up, got dressed and as I walked down the hall to the kitchen, I felt something cold brush the void where my arm used to be. I wrote it off as an extreme phantom limb phenomena, after collecting myself and making a cup of coffee. That would have been that if it did n't happen again while I was sitting at the table. But this time my `` arm'' felt cold skin. I recoiled only to feel the slow spectral fingers close on my `` hand''. I ran out of my apartment. Something is very wrong with my arm this morning
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An old man approaches you in the park and introduces himself as the Ferryman . He tells you that in 24 hours he will return to take you into the afterlife .
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“ Hello there! ”
There I sat waiting for my Jackie, headphones in, attention elsewhere. Looking for a respite from the sharp chill of the howling fall wind, I glanced over to the vague sound of a warm greeting. He came over to me panting with a large grin that stretched from ear to ear and promptly took a seat next to me. He couldn ’ t have been younger than ninety, but he was about as exuberant as a toddler on steroids. The way he was dressed was reminiscent of the 1920 ’ s, which I wouldn ’ t doubt would be when he bought those clothes.
“ Can I help you? ” I asked politely, in case this guy was a nut job I didn ’ t want to set him off.
“ No, but I can help you! ” He belted out, still with that stupid grin on his face.
“ Look buddy, I don ’ t want any trouble. ” At this point I ’ m expecting this guy to pull out a knife or something. When he reached for his back pocket I ’ m having a mini fucking panic attack. In my head, this guy is a tweaker in the middle of a meth-fueled rampage. So I jump up off the bench and put my fists up. To my surprise, he pulls out a fucking letter.
“ This is for you son! Sorry if I frightened you, I just really love my job. I ’ m the Ferryman; I figure we may as well get formalities out of the way since we ’ ll be seeing each other again shortly. ” He said in a droll southern accent I couldn ’ t make out earlier with all the panting. Anyways, he hands me the letter and immediately starts jogging away, the deranged smile on his face never even dropping for a second.
“ What happened to you after that? What did you do with the letter? What did the letter say? ” Jackie shrieked to Lance.
“ Yeah man, we have a right to know! ” Corey and Steven quipped simultaneously.
“ Well I just put the letter in my jacket; I was planning on reading it after our date, but I knocked out on my bed after such an amazing night and forgot about it until now. ” Lance smiled towards Jackie; out he pulled the ominous letter from his jacket. They gathered, centered around Lance, all trying to get a good view of what mystery was held within the letter.
“ Dear Lance McCole,
I am glad to inform you that your time on this earth is limited. Twenty four hours from the hand deliverance of this letter I will come to collect you.
Sincerely yours, The Ferryman. ”
“ What time did you get that letter? ” Corey let out meekly, the blood draining from his face.
“ Six-thirty, but dude, it ’ s no big deal. Probably some dude trying to fuck with me ” Lance said confidently but with a tinge of doubt in his voice.
“ Lance… ” Jackie screeched, paranoia setting in, sobs between every word, “ it ’ s Six-twenty five. ”
They heard a knock at the door.
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[ WP ] God has organised a field trip for his angels to visit Hell for a weekend . Lucifer is the tour guide .
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“ Well done on making it this far. ”
A voice cut through the luminous orange haze, originating from the far bank of the river.
“ I ’ d like to start by apologising that I could not meet you earlier. Prior engagements. Anyway, looks like you found your way here just fine. Welcome all to my *basso loco* and I do hope you will learn from your time here. ”
It was loud and jovial, but not in a manner that spread joy. Given the cavernous surroundings, it took on a deep echo.
Selaphiel had been looking uncomfortably at the deck of the ferry, wondering by what miracle the ancient planes of blackened oak stayed afloat. He turned to view the others. There were at least eight selected, including himself, to come on this trip. Like him, they all sat in silence.
“ How is everyone doing out there? I suppose you ’ ll have seen one of our famous landmarks already. ‘ Abandon all hope. ’ Good life advice really, makes this whole place a bit less of a shock. ” The voice slowed in speech towards the end of the sentence, as if to place emphasis. It appeared ever closer, yet the haze appeared thicker. “ Heard one of our longer residents saying it to a newbie and it stuck, got it etched out quite nicely too. Well, you saw. ”
One of the other ’ s eyes met Selaphiel ’ s. They were wide open and pleading, willing him to action. Ask him about them. They all wanted to know. Why aren ’ t you asking him? Selaphiel cleared his throat and began to speak.
“ Satan, ” he began, stuttering slightly.
“ If you like, or Lucifer. ”
“ That ’ s not all we saw around the gate. ” Selaphiel drew breath. “ We all have questions, actually. ”
“ Oh? ” asked the voice. “ Well that ’ s what I ’ m here for. Fire away. ”
“ There were those just beyond the gate. They were wandering aimlessly, they were crying. They were being stung by insects, their blood being eaten by worms. ”
No response came, so Selaphiel continued.
“ But is Hell not on the other side of this river? ”
As he finished speaking, he peered ahead. At last, the figure of Lucifer began to emerge in the distance.
“ Why yes, of course, nine circles plus the constant extensions. Business is booming, ” he said patiently.
“ Then why were they being punished? ” Selaphiel paused, “ and – “
A girl on the boat interrupted. “ Why were some of them like us? ” Sweat was forming beads on her pale white forehead. Her voice quivering and uncertain.
For the first time Lucifer seemed impatient. “ You really don ’ t know, do you? You don ’ t know why you ’ re here. ”
Each looked to one another. None ventured an answer.
“ They looked like you because they are you. They are angels too. Or they were. God and I, we had a messy break up. Some angels stayed behind. Some came with me. ”
“ What? So you punished them for loyalty to you? ” Selaphiel demanded angrily
.
“ No, of course not. Why would I do that? ”
The ferry approached the shore, and Lucifer stood with open arms to greet them.
“ Those are the ones that decided to keep out of it altogether. Remain neutral. This field trip is to remind you whose side you are on. Now don ’ t forget to mind the gap, and please do remember to tip your boatman. ”
With one final heave upon the rotten oar, the ferry grounded and the angels disembarked.
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[ WP ] Humans get reborn after death , they take on the form of a human child . This has been happening for thousands of years . Something disrupts this cycle , and then the humans start reincarnating as partially human .
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“ So we have four basic familiars, that can be summoned. ” The table before him had four bowls; one with water, another with earth, bronze dish with an oiled flame, and one that sat empty.
“ With just a little focus, it's easy enough to project an ourum in a way that it carries your will into almost any substance, ” as the speaker, with his salted beard of ringlets spoke, each bowl briefly came to life. The water in the shape of a leaping horse, the earth climbing out of itself as a heavy shouldered golem, the flame a djinn of the Western tales, and the empty bowl spinning column of fury.
Corvo peaked from my sleeve, giving me only a moment to pinch his beak. A week since arriving in Irbaliz, I had found him outside of the Olde Hall, communing with the other ravens, swooping at nipping. Inside, the famed Inomancer was holding a month long seminar on familiars and their relations.
“ Must go, much to learn, ” he had squarked from the sandstone window of my rooms facing the Hall. Hopping on his feet to face me, turning his head with its black eyes on its side, as if he were legitimately puzzled I did n't have a clue what he meant. This behavior continued until this morning when outside of the Hall, after stealing my breakfast, Corvo swooped down and nipped at me so roughly I relented and made my way in, with him securely tucked into my sleeve.
For two hours, Master Inomancer Georl Kindash, in his deep purple robes, edged with gold had droned on about ourums, familiars, and now, finally the threats the Unseen had been posing not just to those, but also the Cycle. I was bored to tears, but Corvo's incessant wiggling and lack of social decorum made him a constant threat of discovery in the thousand person Grand Galleria.
“ We know there are less children being born, by stillbirth or just lack of conception, ” from underneath the long desk, assistants pulled out four more bowls as they removed the others, now containing just faint fragments of the familiars that had once stood.
“ Here, ” he said, pointing at the first bowl, “ is a normal, stillborn fetus, from somewhere in the sixth month. Notice its well formed features. Next to it are two things; a recent stillbirth, and a failed attempt at a forbidden familiar. I will keep the latter covered, for now. ”
A shuffling sounded as people attempting to gain better views moved to the edge of their seats. The stillbirth was a pink lump, with vague human features, but completely darkened eyes spaced too wide. Next to it was another figure with extremely thin legs, and a head too thin.
“ Notice the vagueness of it. The mother was terrified it was a curse, the husband left her, she was found in an alley just last week mad from despair, asking the clergy to wash her of her sin. ” He emphasized the word “ sin, ” as he looked over the Galleria, seeming to stop his eyes briefly on me, giving me a reason to examine the extensive pattern-work on the ceiling.
“ Of course, such things are nonsense, but it makes us ask'Why?' Why are we facing this, why is the cycle so disrupted? ” In moving to the edge of my own seat, I had n't noticed Corvo quietly peaking from underneath my collar, all queit black-eyed focus.
“ The closest answer is that it had to do with this, ” and in a flourish, he took the cover off of the fourth bowl, revealing something splayed to display its thin legs, pointed face, and body covered in feathers. The wings, batlike, had fingers with too long nails, and the feet clawed.
“ This was delivered to a lady of highbirth six months ago, and for six months it tormented her, speaking in riddles, asking for flesh so it may end its own existence. And for six months, she kept it a secret, even as it drove her to madness. ” Excited whispers erupted in the Galleria from the gathered wannabe wizards, sleight of hand masters, and those failureswhose ourum could n't even be felt scant inches from where their nose ended buzzing as though they could even grasp what Georl was indicating.
“ Now, we have no idea what has happened in the Cycle, ” Georl's resumption of his speech quieted the room, “ or why the Cycle seems to be breaking down, but sapient familiars are exceedingly rare, and unsummoned ones unrecorded, leading us to believe that something is actively- ”
Shifting his beak from my overcoat, Corvo poked his head out loudly squarking “ Nothing left, all dark and smoke. Nothing left, all dark and smoke. ”
The hush that came over the room was palpable as every head turned to look at me. I tried smiling as I shoved him back down my sleeve, only able close my eyes and let out a timid “ Fuck. ”
_____________________________________________________
A continuation of a story.
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[ WP ] A world where everyone reaches peak athletic condition at 18 years of age . But the more anyone plays , the worse they get . Describe the career of an athlete/sportsman .
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Capitalism, after some iterations, first naturally leans toward and then totally pledges before the god of optimization.
It was true for business. Now it is true for sport. Shit, it's not even sport anymore, it's a business. But there's still hope, because sometimes, only on HD television, if you pay really attention to the athlete, you can witness joy in their eyes. The day they perform. Yes because now, sports-people ( professionals, I mean ) are like a bag of tissues for someone going to masturbate: first prepare, then use, once, and then throw away.
And it's horrible.
If you have the malchance, or not? to be born with the right genes, the one that sports-business-managers are interested in and are automatically detected, you will be chosen and taken away from your mother. And you will go to camp. But do n't imagine anything else: it is a prison. And the life of the ones inside are yet so extraordinary. People going out of these will be, for one day, the closest to a demi-god a human can be. What's going on in this camps? Let me tell you: baby comes in. Nobody knows what they are making to babies, but I'm sure it's not kisses and hugs. They train all the time, all the time. There's been documentaries, I've never directly witnessed any of it. The workers, nobody sees them. But I know that by age 10, the `` public'' training begins.
They never do sports - physically I mean. There's no gymnasium, no sport tracks, no stadium, no nothing; only bigs walls, not even an outdoor. But they train. All day.
By age 10, the sport one inmate ( sorry, could not find any other word ) will star in, is chosen. How? I think this is not something that is written in genes, but more something that concerns personality. But that's not important.
They train in VR all day. VR is a way to train your mind and body without *effectively* training. A good way to bypass nature, that made us so strange. VR let them train without actually depleting the sport ability gauge we, as humans, all have. A finite gauge. A finite gauge that has disability near empty and then immediate death. The technology allows us to work around the nature ( but that's technology definition right? ). At some point in human history, some people would have said `` these kids play all day, but safely, thank god''. Indeed, thanks to VR. Have you ever played in VR? Sometimes you do n't know if you are in real life or not. VR directly connects to the brain, and the brain controls the body. Muscle are formed, and even more important, muscle memory.
Then, the big day comes. A whole life dedicated to entertain the life of so many. A life dedicated to one moment, and then it's done. The luckiest sportsman getting out of this game can walk, run maybe, and live a normal and slow life. But for some.. it's horrible. Nature made us like this. Some ca n't even stand! Some ca n't walk, and some die.
I remember a tennis game. Let's say Fred vs George. Fred was loosing the game. George was all over the terrain, hitting the ball at a near perfect angle, speed and force so that it will land a picometer near the corner. George was focused, letting no space for Fred to even score a point. Fred was also a near-perfect player, mind you. But you can see the determination of George. If I had to estimate, Fred was at 82 % percent of his ability. But George. George was at 210 %. And before the game ended. It was terrible. Before it ended with George winning... George started having ankle issues ( he walked back to his bench with a bit of pain ). And well, you can guess it. George died. In the middle of a game. Fred won.
Every mother of non-sportsman-born-people ( something around 99 % ) tell their kids to move slowly, to not jump. To not run. To not play. `` Run too much and it is the last thing you will do'', said my grand mother. Yes, we all grew in the fear of movement.
Sportsman are heroes to the majority. They entertain us so much. And us... we are so fat.
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