Split (3)

train · 273k rows

prompt stringlengths 5 331	story stringlengths 404 40.3k
[ WP ] Yesterday ’ s pill hasn ’ t been taken… why does today feel…	~ Is something missing or or is it placebo? Carl thought. Getting ready for the day and brewing his morning coffee, the routine started to seem like the usual one. He would keep trying different things: Bobbing his head, and humming a random tune while noticing a flock of birds through his window he felt reassured. - Yeah, today's gon na be different! He said to himself while starting to scratch his left arm over his shirt. He pulls up the sleeve to check the time on his wristwatch, revealing it's 7:30am, and he's got ten minutes more or so before he has anywhere to go. He decided to leave a bit earlier that day, never mind the coffee he left to brew. Upon approaching the car door, Carl finds that he forgot the car key, so he scurries back inside his flat and grabs it so he can get inside the car and ignite the engine. On the road to work he noticed the car traffic seemed out of order. It felt like the other drivers were starting and stopping at a frequent rate and even the biciclysts and pedestrians had no respect for the regulations. He decided to take an earlier left-turn and take a detour away from the main road beside a nearby block of buildings and someone used his car horn at him for no reason Carl could have foreseen. Later, Carl arrived at the firm, went inside and he hung his jacket but this time he decided to hang it whereever instead of the 4th hook next to the entrance that his coworkers were usually respectful enough to leave for his convenience. John was the first coworker to meet him. - Good morning, Carl. Adrian says some of us may have to work overtime today. John said. Carl replied back, - Oh, well, it is that time of year again, I guess. Anyway, did you notice the car traffic was unusually rushed today? I think this is the last time I take off early! - Huh. Dunno, seemed the same as usual to me. John responded back. Carl shrugged the thought off, not that it meant anything anyway because today was different, Carl convinced himself. After an hour or two of sitting at his desk writing and sorting through the paperwork Carl started to feel a bit tired which was quickly turning into restlessness. He began bouncing his leg in a fast pace while concentrating. His boss came over. - Hey, Carl, we're in need of some overtime today. Can you stay one more hour so we can get things done? he asked in a suspectingly polite manner, but in honesty Carl declined the offer, because he was not up for it this time. At 4pm work was over and it was time to go home again. Carl was feeling tired and as if, in a daze. The traffic was still obnoxious, but he was too busy reading the text of every board or signpost, almost like he was procrastinating. Later in the evening the phone rang. It was the John on the phone who, in a rather aggravated tone, accused Carl of underperforming. It was unusual for him to be that aggravated let alone at Carl. He would ask - You're not deliberately making it hard for us in protest just because we're asking for extra work from you guys, are you? This was confusing and Carl replied, irritated that John was being stressed and this was n't like him at all to which his boss told him - It's not like you at all either. Nearly all our overtime was spent trying to salvage what you deliberately missed. After not having anything to say, Carl's boss told him that it was `` okay'', told him to do better tomorrow and left it at that. Carl, frustrated, entered the kitchen and started preparing some dinner for himself. He looked below the cupboard at a little grey-painted package with Ritalin inside it. He mildly shaked his head and for a moment he thought maybe he should throw it in the trash and find another job better suited for him. He returned to making his food and took out one pill and swallowed it with a glass of water, thinking, - damned it you do, damned if you do n't.
[ TT ] A world where Greek gods are avid users of social media .	Aphrodite used instagram the way most people used oxygen. # nofilter # olympus # followforfollow. Suntanned pictures of her wearing the most tiny of bikinis got more likes than any of the Kardashian clan. She was never more than inches away from her phone, and they seemed to change as often as her outfit did; models and brands went out of date with her whims. # ootd # instagods # GetGreek Zeus loved Tinder: okay, he resented the little fire icon ( fuck Prometheus, after all ) but how easy did pick-ups become with them? And as long as Hera was n't looking at his phone... And he always swiped right. He did n't even have to make himself a swan, or a bull, or a shower of golden rain... Unless they were into that, of course. No, Tinder was good for Zeus. The illegitimate children were a little more of a problem. Poseidon got real excited about tumblr. The whole aesthetic side of things? Yeah, that really calmed him down. Just scrolling though pictures of lakes and mountains, helped him to control his temper a little bit. When his temper was controlled, bad things did n't happen to the ocean. Sometimes dolphins would amble by, see him flicking through his phone ( adapted, to be waterproof, of course ) and let him be. # calming # relax # chill Ares was on reddit. Fucking noobs. Fucking... Did they not know who he was? Like six million confirmed kills... They were wrong. Everyone was wrong. Jeez! He'd spend six hours a day arguing with people on the internet. Turned out being a keyboard warrior was a lot easier than being a real warrior. Less cuts, more burns. His karma count was in the billions. With no alt accounts. Hades was on Facebook. You ended up knowing a lot about the people you spent eternity with, but it was pretty hard to coordinate them unless you used the group facility. So there was that. And it was nice to see what Persephone was doing, when she spent those six months on the surface. The photo update feature was nice -- he got to see plants and flowers and sunshine in her pictures. It got kind of gloomy in Hell, so looking at everyone else having a good time -- yeah, that was nice. Hades liked that. Dionysus: foursquare. D checked in at Porto's Hottest wine bar! D checked in here! D checked in there! He left trails of vines wherever he went, but the wine was sweeter and the girls were looser. Everyone wants Dionysus to check in near them. It only means a party was coming.
[ WP ] You , a demon , have been haunting your victim for 5 years now . However , they seem to think you 're some kind of guardian angel	The truck whizzed mere inches from him, just barely missing him. It swerved and swung uncontrollably for some distance, until finally coming to a halt. He stood rooted in the middle of the road, eyes wide with disbelief. The truck's driver disembarked and rushed to him, anxiously checking if he is fine. I could clearly see that the driver's only worried about being charged. Not a sliver of actual concern for him can be seen in the driver's eyes, and the eyes never lie. That was close, however. If I were delayed for even a moment, it would have been the end of him. And that would be... rather inconvenient. `` You... I knew it...'' I froze. There was no mistaking it. He was staring straight at me, his eyes a whirlpool of emotion; confused, relieved, afraid, thankful, uneasy. `` Look'ere kid, be careful on them streets will ya? Ye almost got hurt back there.'' Bah, what a repulsive tongue these humans speak. `` I knew you were real.'' His eyes were now hued with a strange amazement. `` Wot are ye...'' But there was no need to ask. He knows. He knows that I have lingered about him since his birth. Watching over him. Protecting him. I could see it all, in his bright, hazel eyes. Though I know not how he noticed me, or how he can see me. `` Certainly, you have questions for me.'' I suppose I have no choice. Surely no harm can come from this. Suddenly, his demeanor changed. His eyes darkened, losing all traces of the vibrant colours that once swirled wildly in them mere moments ago. Without warning, he was gone. And left in his place, an entirely different person. A wicked grin crept uncharacteristically on to his innocent face. `` Nag pot a cat, a cat. Rack, oh. Wall a nip ah in nun dan.'' H-How did he?! `` I thought so.'' His grin was wider than ever. `` The eyes never lie... right?'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Edit: Something came up, had to stop writing. Ended up rushing it...
[ WP ] We now harvest and ship resources from the Moon to the Earth , as well as we now ship our waste material generated on Earth to the Moon to maintain its mass and equilibrium .	The large spacecraft touched down in the moon hangar. I gazed on as the exit ramp made its slow opening. A large group, maybe 20 to 30, of inmates began moving single-file down the ramp. They were all shackled together, eyes bearing down on me. The prisoner officer followed just behind them, chewing a stick of gum almost in a mocking way. `` Well...'' he said, turning to me with a slight nod and smirk then back to the prisoners `` This is where you fellas get off. You know the stipulations and I'm sure the foreman here will elaborate. Y'all mind yerselves now.'' He shook my hand and we met with mutual eye contact before he made for the ship. As the moon became a growing economic hub when the UN declared the moon `` free enterprise'' in the mid 2020's to stimulate a stale economy, countless businesses geared up to stake a claim in the new frontier. The moon was rich in helium 4, the easiest helium isotope to fuse, as the moon had no atmosphere. It had been basking in this rich resource for millions of years. So naturally, the companies began charging energy companies on earth by the pound for moon rocks. Within a decade the industry was multi-billion and several moon-based companies were in the Fortune 500. However, after the first several years of business, as many workers began to realize the monopoly nature of the industry, it faced a sharp decline in employment. The pay was awful, benefits were next to none and the work hours and conditions were dreadful. To compensate, the lead moon-based company, Luna Energy, struck a deal with numerous nations. As their prisons filled closed to capacity, they would send inmates to work hard labor in exchange for a shorter sentence. The nations loved it as it freed up prison cells and Luna Energy loved it as they received free labor. I guess the only ones who did n't like were the ones, like me, who stuck around. The ones who were n't prisoners. Sure we got promotions and slight pay raises but our jobs were now filled with the connotation of chain gangs. Like we were one of'em. I stared the line of men down. `` You all heard your officer. You're all here because you want a shorter sentence and I'm here because I need to get paid. Let's make one thing clear: Your sentence length is dependent on me. I'm your foreman. You fuck up, I fuck up your sentence. We clear?'' I took their silence as a yes. `` Good. Now, you're all here for ten months. Let's make that less hell on both of us. You do what I say and I guarantee we'll all sleep sounder. You're given one meal a day and a six hours of rest in a bunk room designed for four but we're packing eight of you in there. Now, if you'd like more meals or more spacious accommodations, we can make that happen if you earn it. And I mean earn it. I do n't want you coming to me asking for a hot meal when all I've seen you do is jackshit. We clear?'' Again, no words. I nodded and motioned them to the security officer who would deal with them for the rest of the day. But the next day was the worst day. The day when I had to explain to a group of criminals, most of which flunked or barely passed high school, the day-to-day jobs of the site, which hold the fate of the moon and Earth in balance. I met them in a large room. On one side there ports for minecarts and exports carts to be sent to the shipping hangar, and on the other were silos for trash. `` What're you in for?'' I asked a tall bald man. His gaze was unwavering `` Robbery. 16 months.'' I chuckled, moving down the line `` Well, Mr. Robbery, here's how things work around here. The miners send their carts of moon rocks to us. Half of you will empty the carts and move the rocks to the carts designated at the other end. Do n't be a dipshit and fill them to the brim. Just do n't. The other lot of you will be filling the silos with trash as it arrives. Now, you paying attention? Because here's the tricky part. You have to coordinate. We've mined the moon to such a degree that for every cart that arrives, two carts of trash much be emptied into the silos. That way the moon maintains a suitable weight. We will switch roles day to day so those of you who think you're in the clear because you do n't have to watch, you're wrong.'' I pointed to the lockers behind me `` You'll all have to wear the required safety equipment unless you want to be sterile and a walking Chernobyl from some of the waste that comes in here. And trust me, I nor the company care if you die from radiation. But, I'm sure you're all anxious to get working. Do n't let me hold you...'' I returned to my office and flipped on my monitor to ensure they were n't messing up already. The inmates appeared to be handling themselves. The first several shipments of rocks and trash came in and they handled it surprisingly well. Their coordination was solid and their pace was efficient. I let out a sigh of relief. Finally, a group who does n't look like it's a wonder they can tie their shoes. This routine carried on for nearly 3 months. My head jolted up from desk, eyes groggy and squinted as I awoke from my daily nap, to my monitor. A red indicator flashed in the top right. `` WDE'' Weight Distribution Error? Fuck. I rushed down to the work floor and as the containment doors slide open with a hiss of pressurized air, I was met a large circle of inmates crowded around what appeared to be one man. `` What the hell is going on?!'' I shouted as I marched my way over. Mr. Robbery turned to my voice, grabbing the lone man by his collar `` This little shit decided he wanted to get the last shipment over with early. So he dumped the last three trash carts in at once.'' The accused man's eyes darted from me to the large man holding him. `` Look, I... I just wanted to rest. We had been-'' The large man grip grew tighter `` And we have n't been working either?! Your lazy ass got tired and you decided what? You'd jeopardize the entire moon for an hour less of work?!'' The accused man kicked and squirmed as he was hoisted up by the man. `` I'm sorry! I was n't thinking! Please, I-'' He was interrupted again, only this time, the man began moving him to the trash silo. `` You're right, you were n't thinking. And now, we do n't get a shorter sentence because some prick like you screwed with the moon!'' I began to act, moving to the dangling man and the brute, but I was too late. The large man had tossed him into the silo, his screams filling the tube all the way down until it went quiet. The red flashing WDE lights stopped. My eyes grew wide as I realized what he had done. My brow furrowed as my eyes met his. `` Mr. Robbery was it? How about we go to my boss' office. We need to discuss a shorter sentence for you.''
[ WP ] `` You 're playing Russian Roulette alone . ''	`` What is luck, anyway?'' she asked herself, tears streaming down her face, leaving streaks of electric blue mascara like veins across her sunken cheeks. `` I should be dead by now, anyway, with what I've done to myself, my family...'' click `` Luck is just statistics taken personally.'' click `` Why do I care anymore? I ca n't change what's happened, and my future...'' she laughed, trembling. click She laid the gun down on the vanity, and looked at herself. What had she become? Once vibrant, young, beautiful. She barely recognized herself anymore, with her bright pink hair, newly acquired tear-veins across her face, and the gaunt body of a life lived the hard way. `` Nobody will notice if I just...'' She lifted the gun to her head again, her steely gaze locking eyes with the vagrant in the mirror. click The phone rings, breaking her concentration briefly. Her resolve unbroken, she continues her soliloquy. `` I will not be missed, and I wo n't miss anyone else. There is nothing here for me.'' A sob. click The phone wo n't stop ringing. Annoyed with this interruption to her swan song, she stomps into the kitchen. `` WHAT?'' she screams into the phone. `` Amy, it's me, Angel. I just want to talk. Can I please...'' Shocked, Amy drops the gun. As it hits the floor, a shot rings out, piercing her stunned silence. The bullet rips through the front door. Silence. A single scream. Angel. What's luck, but statistics taken personally?
[ WP ] You 're the bartender at one of those small , hole-in-the-wall drinking establishments . However , your clientele every Friday night , consists of all major deities and religious figures , down on Earth to have a drink and unwind from the rigors of being a god/prophet/all-knowing-being ...	I have to explain some things first, but I'm sure that even if I do it will still sound weird. I own a bar and I have no freaking idea why crazy people keep coming to my place, maybe it's the crappy neighborhood. It was funny at first, when one dude came and told me his name was Hoenir.I smiled politely until it took him the better part of an hour to decide what to drink. Or that time when this other fella supposedly named Mimir tried to convince me to drink from a bottle he brought with him. Looked like water, might have been vodka, I obviously did n't touch it. There are also the sad ones, this woman Sigyn always seems so tired and miserable. I only know her weird name, I dare not ask what is wrong.Reminds me of someone very close to me.Oh well, never mind. Creepy old Vidar comes rarely, that guy never talks, I had to pour him something of my own choice the first time he came. I'm not even sure he liked it but that's what I've been serving him ever since. I once noticed he had scars all over his skin -he usually wears long sleeves- they look like bite marks. Could have sworn I saw him carrying something long like a cane one time as he was leaving. I never see them talk to each other, or ever stumble upon them out of this place. And it's always Fridays, as if they have an unspoken appointment. Anyway it was about 01:00AM when it happened. `` Do n't touch me Crone!'' I heard a loud voice from one of the tables. I think, God damnit it's that steroid freak who calls himself Thor, that guy is creeping me out. I lean over to take a better look and there's an old woman in black staring at him. `` Thor'' stands up and I swear to God the old lady shifts her weight, twists her hips and slams her right fist right in his mouth! I could n't move, I felt... immense fear paralyzing my muscles but I could n't stop looking.The huge guy falls on one knee and I realize there is an annoying buzzing in my ears and.. all over the place. With a loud ear piercing sound like a gunshot the lights go off and the bar is plunged into darkness, and then I see it....I see a glowing blue shape resembling a hammer and then nothing... It is the last thing I remember officer.
[ RF ] Write me the beginning of a vigilante 's story like Daredevil or Arrow , but with a more probable or realistic outcome .	Possibly not realistic right now, but I would think within the century: People called him a super hero even though they knew he was n't super. People speculated in the early days, back when he leaned more on the smoke and mirrors, but they figured out pretty quickly that he was just a guy. Everyone assumed it was a rich guy, you do n't spend your nights fighting crime with gear that would make any military in the world envious without having a lot of money and even more time on your hands. There were only three rich guys in town and there was a pool on which one it was. It seemed like such harmless fun before they were gutted by a lunatic who was tired of his plans getting foiled. He changed after that. Our'super hero'. He started using guns, started killing criminals instead of bringing them in. He growled out even fewer words than before, and most of those words were slurred. Just when I thought the bastard could n't get any harder to understand. Then a super villain showed up. A really super villain. No morals, no boundaries and tech that put our guy to shame. We all cowered before him, not our hero. Our stupid fucking hero. He fought him and lost. Badly. I did n't know a thing about the guy, but he must have felt he was my best friend, because he showed up in my apartment before he left. He was battered all to shit and had drunk most of the whiskey he brought to share, but some how the crazy son of a bitch could still walk. He told me everything. He was a rich guy, and he did have too much time on his hands, but he was smart enough to know that if he wanted to be a vigilante then no one could know that. Far as anyone knew he was just some slob living in a shit hole apartment. Except for his tech guy, who was brilliant and tin foil hat crazy and in no hurry to talk to anyone about anything. I asked how he knew to keep a low profile before he was a hero. Said his dad was the bad kind of rich. The merchant of death kind. He did n't want to advertise that and neither did his dad, who kept him flushed with hush money. He said you can only live with yourself for so long when that's your life. One day something snapped and he needed to do something. So he did something. He told me that he had done all he could do. That he was all used up. Poor bastard had only been around for 3 years. He left after that. Never has come back. People did n't like that. Hated him more than the fucker who was terrorizing our city. We had to form a task force. Bunch of fucking Delta Force guys, whacked out on performance enhancing drugs, carrying millions of dollars in tech. They do their best but it's a fucking hard job and there's a lot of collateral damage. It ended up being a movie that did it. Got most of the shit wrong, but humanized him. People started to talk about him as a hero who did all he could. Then they started to think it was their turn. Do some good, give it time and have a badass suit and people will make a legend out of you. That's when they started calling him super. I still go up on the roof and turn on the signal sometimes. I do n't know why. To remind them there's hope, to remind me there's some good in the world, to let that fucker out there terrorizing the city that we may be living under the gun now but nothing lasts forever. He sent me a letter once. A letter. Mr. Billion Dollar High Tech vigilante used snail mail. He's on an island somewhere, living on the cheap. He's married, says he ca n't have kids. One of the injuries. He said the only fights he has now are with the waiters and addiction to prescription painkillers. I did n't even know the bastard had a sense of humour. I wish the fucker the best, who knows, maybe he earned it.
[ WP ] You are on death row , and begin to realise that it has been a long time since you had contact with anyone inside the prison .	I sighed in resignation. I had been tricked into coming here, thinking that the man that killed my wife was here. He was, and now I was. Of course, I was the one in the eight-by-eight box. This was one of my few lucid moments, when the torture or the drugs were n't playing tricks with my mind, forcing me to relive old memories. Memories that were scrounged up from the recesses of my brain, more half-remembered interruptions than anything else. I checked the oversize cuff holding my right hand to the wall, it was so tight that I could barely feel my fist bound in the leather ball. Vicious bruising and gashes on my arms showed where they had damaged me, all in various states of healing. It was excruciatingly painful, but it did n't concern me. My body would take care of itself. What did bother me was the drug cocktail they had mixed up special. I was notoriously difficult to drug, and it usually took enough tranquilizer for an elephant to put me out. My head slowly cleared out of it's foggy reverie. I noticed that my hair was sweaty and oily, and long enough to cover my eyes as I hung my head. I do n't know how long it had been since they renewed my drugs, and I felt clearer than what I could only approximate as months. Perhaps years. Time does n't mean much in a box with no windows. I looked about, noticing details for perhaps the first time since I was brought in. The bag of drugs was empty, but the tube still wound it's way to my wrist. I heard the monitors behind my head beeping silently, a small warning to people that my vitals were returning to full strength. How long? How long had they forgotten me? I was n't an easy prisoner to forget, I was number one on the CEO's shit list. My mind cleared up a little more. Perhaps I was about the mental capacity of an eleven year old. I could n't be sure. The panic that had been invading the back of my mind cleared out, and I could start thinking properly. I flexed my fists in their bonds, they seemed more frail than I had thought at first, or was I just feeling stronger? My hearing came back all in a rush. What I had mistaken for soft beeping above me was actually a loud alarm declaring to all that I had awoken. I could pick out combative sounds further in the complex, and even a few other sirens. Hours then. I had only been left alone for a few hours. It seemed like longer than that, but I knew the process of my brain stretching out and awakening was part of that. I flexed my fists again, this time pulling forward with my shoulders at the restraints in the wall. I was definitely getting stronger. I put all of my considerable force into pulling the leather restraint from the wall. This time it gave me only a moment's pause before tearing. I was n't superhuman, but well... yeah. I guess I was superhuman. I quickly pulled the other restraint from the wall. I put the padded fist mitt in-between my teeth and pulled hard. The leather tore and freed my fingers and sensation came flooding back to them. I sucked air in through my teeth with a soft whistle. The sounds of battle came closer, and I did n't want to be anywhere near it when it got here. I could hear the delicate patter of gunshots and the screams of the dying. I almost preferred it when my ears did n't work. Feeling returned to my fingers and I quickly undid the latches on the cuffs. I slowly got to my feet, relishing the thought of standing on my own two legs again. My legs wobbled like a toddler's from disuse. I was very aware of how vulnerable I was until the narcotics wore off completely. At this point, I reassessed that my mind was making normal adult decisions and was operating around that capacity. It was at this point that I realized that I was naked. I felt a flare of heat rush to my cheeks from embarrassment and then realized there was nothing I could do about it anyways. Who was I going to impress? Any guards or workers had already seen everything of me that they were going to while I was out cold for... however long. I would figure that out in a few minutes when the rest of the drugs wore off. Suddenly the floor jolted under my feet as a grenade went off closer than I really wanted it to be. The walls and ceiling shook violently, sending flakes of drywall into the air. At this point, the few minutes I needed to fully recover seemed like a few minutes too many. I toddled off in the direction of the door. I took hold of the handle and pulled it... right off. I clasped it in my hand and just stared at my luck. I never had any, except when I was with my wife. My poor love. I shook the nightmarish memories off while I threw the now useless handle aside. I was strong, a door should n't be a hindrance, even to my shaking legs. My foot made a jarring impact on the side the handle had been located on, and I heard the door crack. I could n't see outside my cell, but the sounds were still advancing. A second kick shattered the door's wooden frame easily. Another minute and my legs would be back to normal. I had no idea where I was but I knew the predisposition of most people in this sort of place. I was either there to be tortured and experimented on by people paid to be there, or the other type was here to kill me for being inhuman. I did n't want to be anywhere near either, so I took off in the opposite direction, bits of my nude body flailing about wildly during my desperate run. There were many other cells on my way with doors intact. I could hear light moans coming from behind some as their IV lines ceased and they awoke from the drug-induced nightmares. I took a quick right down a hallway and encountered what I could only think of as a locker room. My adrenaline began kicking in as my body fought off the toxins that had been put in it. What was taking so long for my mind to recover? It should have happened a few minutes ago, but here I was, still operating in fight-or-flight mode instead of my usual snap decision-making. I fought off a wave of nausea caused by the drugs and I doubled over in pain, gasping for breath. A headache rolled in, fiercer than anything I had ever experienced. My vision fuzzed and tunneled, and suddenly I was seeing a image of my wife cradling our son, but something was wrong. I was feeling stiff and restricted. I could n't move, I could n't reach out to them. What was her name? My beautiful wife... my son, just a month old... When were they? I missed them. I reached out to them only to find my hand stopped short about an inch from where I lifted it. `` Help me...'' said my wife, as blood started pouring from her mouth. She fell to her knees still holding her son... our son. She looked at me with those eyes I fell in love with years ago. Years... years... ten years ago. I had been here for ten years. I tried reaching out again with my other hand, finding it similarly restricted. Her gaze held me as the rest of her faded away to nothing as the darkness closed in. I awoke with a start, hearing the monitors going off violently. I tried to pull myself upright, only to find that I was in a seated position with my head, chest and wrists restrained into a chair. Another nightmare then. My mouth felt full of cotton, so dry. Everything was unresponsive. `` Thank you Daphne, that will be all,'' said the man I recognized as my wife's murderer. My eyes slid to the right, where a young girl with disheveled kettle-black hair was being forcibly held by a much larger man. Due to my seated position below her, I could see her wide-open black eyes staring at me. It struck me as odd that they were full of tears. The man who had spoken could n't see her face through her hair. She blinked at me... incredibly slowly. Was she trying to communicate? Her lips moved equally slowly, but I could n't quite make it out. Dee... lye... laa. Delilah? How would the girl know Delilah's name? She was ushered out. Then I felt a needle go into my arm again and watched the plunger depress. I heard my experiment number and some minor vital details being read off the monitor. It faded as if through a tunnel. Fading... fading. Ten years... Ten long years... I would get out. I needed to find my wife. Her luck had held out. She was n't dead.
[ WP ] You are transferred to an earth-like planet by an unknown force . The only information you are given is 'You are alone ' and 'You live forever ' . Describe your progress as the millenia pass by .	Here, at the very end, much of my existence is a blur. Time only truly has meaning and value when it is a finite resource. When one is an immortal being, it becomes considerably more difficult to separate one point from another. There are certain things that stand out, of course – the beginning, for example, I can recall far easier than much of what came after. I was born into a prison camp on the planet Earth, enslaved by my government for a crime my grandfather had committed. Life for me was brutal, pointless and utterly cruel – I watched members of my family systematically starved and worked to death, knowing full well that what I was witnessing was a preview of my own fate that was to come once the state had no further use to me. Never knowing hope, love or even the faintest glimpse of joy. Early into my 20s a plague ripped through the camp ’ s inmate population, wiping out what was left of my friends and family. The plague terrified the guards, and this fear drove them towards new heights of brutality and vicious, unprovoked cruelty. In my sorrow, my emaciated frame cradling the diseased cadaver of my mother, I wailed towards the sky. It was all I could do in this moment of purest despair, seeing a group of guards heading towards me with truncheons raised. Coming to take my mother away, to toss her into one of the open pits they ’ d been filling with bodies since the outbreak began. Knowing when the pit was full they would douse it in some liquid, toss in a flaming stick and let them all burn. Clinging to her body, hugging it desperately as I did when I was a small child and the guards were making an inspection of our barracks, I could only hope that they were coming to kill me and throw me in the pit with her. A moment before the guards reached me, the scream in my throat was abruptly silenced as my vision turned black and I was overwhelmed with a brief sensation of vertigo. As quickly as the sensation arrived it vanished, and I suddenly found myself standing on a high cliff overlooking a lush, forested valley. I can remember freezing in place, unable to move as if I were in the grip of an electrical current. I could not understand what was happening – has my mind finally broken in the moment of despair? Am I dead? Is this the afterlife? As if in answer, I felt a voice that seemed to echo both outside and inside my body – I could feel the words coursing through my being as well as hear them. “ You are alone. You will live forever. ” This is the point where things begin to become blurred. I remember a few things about the time immediately after my arrival in this world. I spent a while learning about the nature of this new existence. I discovered that I did not require food, sleep, shelter, or even breathing – though I could partake in any of them if I so chose. I discovered that I was utterly impervious to harm of any kind, and any predatory creature I shared this world with who attempted to attack me disintegrated upon impact with some invisible force that covered my body like a second layer of skin. The first few years were ones of purest, almost ravenous joy. Having never known freedom or sensory experience outside of misery and the relentless, aching pain of slave labor, I took to them like an animal thrown a meal after days of starvation. For what seemed like a long time back then, my appetite for indulgence seemed insatiable. I ran through the forests and fields, learned to swim in the warm sea, danced in the moonlight and much more. For the first few months I brought myself to orgasm a dozen or more times a day, every day. During this brief fraction of my time on this world I lived much like one of the beasts I shared the land with. After a while, though, this binge of hedonistic experience began to grow stale. Not knowing what to do with myself and my seemingly endless supply of time, I began to build things. One project after another – small things at first, crude artwork and simplistic tools. Gradually, though, both my vision for conceptualizing as well as my ability to realize them grew. After my first century on that world, I ’ d built buildings out of trees from the forest and begun carving sculptures from stone gathered from the mountain I ’ d arrived on. It ’ s remarkable, I suppose, how productive one person can be with no need for sleep or stopping for food. For a while, these projects occupied my focus and were very effective ways of passing the time. Months turned to years, years in to decades, decades into centuries. The seasons came and went with me barely noticing as I erected increasingly ambitious projects, each more complicated to engineer and build than the last. Statues taller than the trees, structures built in complex geometric patterns, subterranean labyrinths that spiraled deep into the ground – eventually I ’ d consumed much of the forest and even the nearby mountain for resources to realize my visions. Centuries began to pass in a similar manner as the seasons did before, with me barely noticing or even bothering to take note. Eventually, the passage of time began to eat away at my earlier creations – I saw the stone carvings erode from the weather, slipping away while I remained in my static form. A sense of futility and despair at the pointlessness of my creations began to creep into me, a sense I thought I had left behind in the prison I was born into. Around this time, my focus shifted from the inanimate to the animate. Like a child experimenting with its toys for the first time, I began seeing what I could do with the creatures I ’ d mostly left alone in the centuries prior. As I learned how to select for certain traits in matching captured members of various species, I began to reshape them according to my mind ’ s eye. Bending these creatures to my will, I would take one species and turn it into dozens of remarkably different offshoots over time through selective breeding. Life itself was my paint brush, the forests and plains that surrounded the decayed ruins of stone and wood I lived in was my canvas. Like my structures, however, these species came and went. I watched them evolve over the centuries once I released them from my control and eventually go extinct from one pressure or another. A large meteor once impacted the continent and annihilated the majority of my work in a matter of years, a blink of an eye in my sense of time. After restarting from scratch, it happened again thousands of years later. It was at this point that focus and purpose once again gave way to despair and futility, though this time there was nothing that arose to fill the void. I eventually came to see this existence as another prison – far more sinister and cruel than the one I had been born into. True, I did not have to deal with the explicit, torturous agony I faced in my years as a slave confined to a small camp, but here I was no less a prisoner – just one with a larger cage. I watched everything I had put myself into rot away and turn to dust over the centuries, demonstrating fully to me not only the insignificance of my efforts to find some meaning to my existence but the grotesque truth that this suffering will never end.
[ WP ] Death bitches about work to a random mortal .	*'' COWER BRIEF MORTAL, I HAVE COME TO TAKE YOU TO THE...'' * `` Oh piss off will you.'' The old woman squinted up at the skeletal form above her and went back to reading her copy of People. *'' YOU CA N'T TELL ME TO PISS OFF, I'M BLOODY DEATH! `` * With a small sigh the old woman deliberately shut her magazine and looked up again. `` Really? Well where were you two years ago?'' *'' YOU WERE N'T DYING TWO YEARS AGO? `` * `` I wish I had, I'm 93 years old and I was in hospital for six months. Six bloody months! But was I good enough to take then? Oh no! Left me alone then did n't you. Now I'm only three weeks off getting the record as the oldest inhabitant of the home and you want to take me? Piss off!'' The skeleton looked around for support and then crouched down to eye level with the sitting woman. *'' LOOK, I DO N'T GET TO CHOOSE WHEN YOU GO, THIS IS JUST MY JOB. I DO WHAT I AM TOLD AND SO MUST YOU. `` * The old woman opened the magazine and turned away from Death and went back to reading. `` Not today thank you.'' Death straightened them-self and looked around and seeing a bed behind it, sat down. *'' YOU THINK DYING A FEW WEEKS SHORT OF A RECORD IS A PROBLEM? YOU SHOULD TRY WALKING AROUND IN MY SHOES. `` * he gestured down to his bare bone feet. *'' OH THAT'S RIGHT, I DO N'T GET SHOES AS APPARENTLY BONE NEEDS NO FUCKING AFTERCARE'' * The woman looked up furtively `` No need to pull out the sarcasm. Are n't you impervy... imperv.... you know, not able to get hurt.'' *'' HA! GOOD ONE, THAT'D BE NICE. WELL IT'S NOT LIKE I CAN DIE OR ANYTHING BUT IF I BREAK THEN I HAVE TO GLUE MY BITS BACK TOGETHER. `` * The old woman seemed to consider. “ I assumed you were magical or something. ” * “ MAGIC? NO SUCH BLOODY THING. COME ON LADY, GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE HARRY POTTER BOOKS! ” * “ Harry who? ” She screwed up her face. * “ OH, RIGHT, 93, PROBABLY NOT THE BEST REFERENCE. NEVER MIND. LOOK, I AM DEATH AND I AM HERE TO TAKE YOU INTO THE NEXT WORLD. I ’ M SICK OF EVERYONE MOANING AND COMPLAINING, WAILING ABOUT HOW THEY ‘ DIDN ’ T HAVE TIME ’ AND ‘ JUST ONE MORE DAY ’. I MEAN, PLEASE, IF THE NEWBORNS CAN COME WITHOUT A FUSS THEN I THINK A FORTY TWO YEAR OLD FROM FRESNO CAN TOO ” * Death had stood now and paced back and forth. “ You sound like you ’ ve had a rough morning dear, why not sit and we can watch TV for a while? ” The old lady extended an arm and patted the chair next to her and then clicked on the television. For a moment death considered it. Not many people wanted to offer him company and rest. * “ NAH BUGGER IT, LET ’ S GO. * With a sweep of his hand he pulled the old ladies soul out and stuffed it in a pocket. As he stalked out of the room he muttered angrily to himself. * ” TELL ME TO PISS OFF? I ASK YOU, WHO DO YOU THINK I BLOODY WELL AM! ” *
[ WP ] Google starts an online dating service .	Dave had just come back from his job. He worked at a local gas station and left at the arrival of the guy who worked the graveyard shift. Dave sat at his computer, feeling his chair compress under his massive weight. He put his 32 ounce cup of Mountain Dew on his desk and started browsing reddit. He was reading stories on r/nosleep when an ad on the sidebar caught his eye. GOOGLE DATE: GOOGLE'S NEWEST ONLINE DATNG SERVICE Intruigued, Dave clicked on the ad which took him to Google's subreddit. From there, he clicked on the top link which sent him to a webpage. WELCOME TO GOOGLE DATE PLEASE SELECT YOUR MATCH `` Straight to the point I guess...'' Dave begins to fill out the form on the webpage to find his `` perfect match''. * Age * Height * Skin color * Build * Hair The list went on and on and soon, Dave found himself totally absorbed by the form. After half an hour, he finally reached the end of the page. He presses submit and waits for the page to load. `` We're sorry, but Google Date is only available for Google Plus^tm users''
[ WP ] Turns out that humans unintentionally brought bacteria to the moon that killed off an entire race of aliens , and now an alliance of alien races are demanding that humanity is brought to justice .	The Council Room was absolutely bustling with energy. After decades of languish, lament, and litigation, the decision to exterminate the human race had been made. This type of decision occurs once every in an age. The only remaining announcement was how the annihilation would begin. The room silenced as the representative began to speak. `` We have come to a decision. After reviewing all the available options, we have decided that another meteor would be too destructive, considering it took thousands of years for the next species to rebuild. Another flood would cause catastrophe to the landscape, not just their species, and an invasion would use too many of our resources. As such, we have decided that introducing bacteria to the species would hold a poetic justice. We will introduce a myriad of bacterial species to the population. We will make sure that it starts slow, and that even as they try to cure the condition, nothing will be done. They will die in fear. It is, after all, what they deserve.''
[ EU ] After hearing Ted from accounting 's story , Odin decides to let Ted return to earth .	( Obviously a continuation from my first Ted story. ) `` I have offered you a chance to return to Earth, to see your friends and the woman you died to protect. And you refuse?'' Odin strokes his beard. `` It is rare that I offer a chance to return, and none have refused it before now. Why are you not interested, Ted?'' The accountant offers the All-Father a sad smile. `` My earthly body has been buried in Sturgis. The Hells Angels crafted a memorial for me. To go back now would invalidate the change I brought about.'' `` You speak as if you have been to the seers.'' Odin answers. `` So you have already seen what has become of your friends.'' `` Indeed I have. I have seen that my blood brother and my best friend have become married. I know that the Snakes have been completely destroyed through legal means, and the police have captured the stragglers. And I have seen that my best friend has become a champion for battered women. I would not be surprised that when her time on Earth comes to an end, that she will join me here. So too will my brothers in the Angels. I thank you for the offer, All-Father, but I shall not be returning to Earth.'' `` Your words ring true, and your own prophecy matches what I have seen. Very well, Ted. I rescind the offer. You may go rejoin your brethren among the warriors.'' As Odin says this, the hall is filled with loud cursing in the old Hun tongue. Odin raises a brow, but Ted, whose eyes had taken in the events in the Grand Hall, shakes his head. `` It is nothing to be alarmed about, All-father. Jack Churchill just Blue-shelled Attila The Hun.'' `` I can see to the ends of time and space, and I still can not determine whether allowing Wii-U's to be installed in Valhalla was a good thing.'' `` I think it is a good thing, All-father.'' Ted says with a smile. `` You only say that because you have a one hundred race winning streak.'' Odin laughs. `` Go now, Ted, and await your summons to battle on the day of Ragnarok.''
[ IP ] Deep Dark Woods	In the woods, the boy was alone. He hadn ’ t always been, that was for sure. He once had a father, and even a mother. They had become hazy images, but he could remember feeling even more lonely back then. It was like he existed but didn ’ t exist, and somehow, that was worse. The forest had made his days lazy and boring. He sat next to a waterfall and ate the shiniest apples off the biggest tree. Every time he plucked one free another took its place, and soon he was eating so many that he should ’ ve gotten fat as a plum. But he was trending opposite, skin withering against the bone as his body grew frail. It was n't long before he abandoned play and spent most of his days lounging in the grass, watching the always bright sun dance in the sky. The apples reminded him of something, a vague memory from the past, and so he spent hours turning it over in his mind, picking the delicate thing apart. It was of a red ball. He didn ’ t know where it had come from, and the only thing he remembered was chasing the dainty thing into the street, hands out and hungry as he tried his hardest to grab it. Then there was the screeching noise that went on long after everything had gone black. It was still going when he woke up in the woods -- only it was lighter, more beautiful, like a bird singing in the early morning. Maybe that ’ s why he enjoyed watching the sky so much, even if it made him a little sad. There was something about how majestic and free it was. It helped distract him from the fact that he was fragile and trapped. One day, a man spoke from up there. He had a hoarse voice but whispered soft, hopeful words. He told the boy everything was going to be okay, and if he ’ d just wake up, they ’ d all be together again. The voice was familiar but its owner ’ s name ran laps around his brain and he could never catch it. Soon, even the memory of the ball faded, and when the man returned for the second time, the boy had completely forgotten him. If he had moved recently, he would've noticed that the apples, too, had disappeared. This time the man was joined by a woman. They were both crying, and he had this strange tingling in his shoulders, like someone was gripping him, shaking him. They hysterically begged him to wake up but he did n't know what that meant. He would've thought about it but he could n't. He was trapped and they were so far away. The voices stayed for a long time, finally peaking when the long beep pierced his ears. It was loud enough to make him toss and turn. He looked over at the... tree one last time. He was certain it once held something else, and even more certain it had reminded him of something important. But there was nothing there now, even the tree was leaving. He closed his eyes and everything disappeared. The voices were gone, and so was he. *** If you like this story, check out my sub! r/longhandwriter
[ WP ] A superhero with no powers on a world where all people have superpowers .	Felix ran while a flock of bulls chased after him. `` I should not have pissed him off.'' In the center of the flock, there was a man with bullhorns on his head. `` How dare you insult my cute little pets?!'' `` I just said that the power to control bulls is really specific, so it ca n't be that useful!'' `` That's it! You've insulted my pets one time to many! Prepare to die!'' One of the bulls started to levitate. Then, as if fired by a slingshot, it flew straight towards Felix. Felix took a sidestep to the left, just in time to see the bull hitting the ground, bouncing off it, and fly past him. `` How can you call them your pets when you throw them to the ground that fast?!'' ``...'' The bull flock stopped. The man with the bullhorns looked down to the ground, and a liquid started spilling from his eyes. `` What have I done?! I-I never realized I was so cruel to my pets.'' `` What's up with this unrealistic change of heart?!'' A female voice came from behind the bull flock. `` That would be me.'' The owner of the voice wore black mourning clothes. `` Are you the one with the power to make people regret?'' `` Correct.'' `` T-then I'll just say thanks and take my leave.'' `` Wait, that coat, that brown unfashionable hair, and that scar.. You're the one who killed my boyfriend, are n't you?!'' `` Crap!'' Once again, Felix ran. He put a hand in his pocket, and took out a grenade. He took out the splinter, and dropped it. He then jumped behind cover, and waited for the explosion. A loud boom rang out. Felix looked out of from his covered, but the mourning woman was still unscathed. `` Eh?'' He immediately took out his gun, and fired three bullets. The three bullets was deflected by something in front of the woman. `` That does n't make sense.. Wait, are you making the air regret not defending you, which makes it defend you the next instant?'' `` Ooh, you figured it out. So it's that skill that let you kill my boyfriend.'' `` Having no powers makes you good at figuring out powers. It also make you more versatile, as you need to rely on more than just one power.'' `` You told me your secret trump card. I'll have to make you regret that.'' Well, her powers seem to have a range off ten meters, so I should be okay if I stay out of that range. Felix dashed. He ran down downtown, while the woman followed him. The easiest way to defeat her would be to find something with enough force that the air could n't stop it, even if all the air in her radius condensed to stop it. Well actually a little less, as she still needs to breathe, but a little overkill wo n't hurt. He ran into the research center he worked at. He headed up to the fifth floor, which specialized in radioactive research. As Felix ran, he grabbed the metal lids of a few containers lined up in the hallway. He ran into the changing room, and used the lids to keep the door shut. Once he got a hazmat suit on, he ran into the main laboratory. He heard the door being slammed open behind him, but paid it no mind. He grabbed a few items labeled as explosives, and activated them. Felix turned around, and threw one straight at the enemy, one a little above, one to the left, one to the right, and one straight up into the air. He them jumped backwards, and got behind cover. Four loud noises followed. She even dodged that?! I'm starting to regret picking a fight with her. I regret trying to kill her. I regret running away instead of calmly explaining the situation. I regret killing her boyfriend. I regret making the hasty assumption that her range was ten meters, when she could have been hiding it her full range to surprise me like this. Felix looked at the laboratory. The woman had moved a little closer, and had a self-satisfied grin on her face. But then something fell down in front of her eyes. It was the explosive Felix had thrown straight up earlier. Unable to react, it exploded right in front of her. She flew backwards, making Felix leave her range. She then hit the wall, but miraculously seemed to still be alive. So even when I surprise her like this, she can react like that. Felix ran to the changing room, staying 15 meters away from her so he could avoid her range. He ran through the changing room, and out into the corridor he had been in earlier. When he had reached the stairs, he heard a voice. `` Stop! If you do n't give up now, I'll make you regret it! The rest of your life you'll live in the fear of me entering your room at night, so I can get my revenge.'' But then she suddenly fell to the floor and started vomiting. Felix looked with a cold stare. `` I doubt it. Remember the boxes I removed the lids from? They contained highly radioactive materials.'' He turned his back to her and went through the door to the stairway. `` But it was n't a complete victory for me either. I was exposed to it too, so I'll head down to the hospital and get it treated.'' He locked the door with his keycard, and set the door to be locked for two days. `` It as the exact same with her boyfriend. If people stopped attacking me for killing in self-defence, maybe I'd stop doing it.'' ***** So our main character was n't exactly a superhero, so think of this more as my spin on a bad ass normal. Feedback and critique is appreciated, and my other stories can be found at /r/shal5sucksatwriting.
[ WP ] Zombies start appearing around the world and begin protesting for their undead rights .	They were here again. Moaning, shuffling, their limbs stiff and eyes blank. The foetid stench of decay started to seep in through the windows; insidious, cloying, thick. Andy Burram surreptitiously held his breath against the rancid smell and stood as still as he could, frozen against the wall. His heart beat frantically against the cage of his body, thud-thud-thudding so loud he was sure the bloody things could hear his very lifeforce from outside the window. He caught the eye of a terrified colleague from across the room: frozen together like gazelle when a predator makes an appearance at the watering hole. It had been two months. Two whole months since XP-554c had first originated in one of the big city hospitals, a new superbug that took hold and killed within hours. People would start to cough up blood, then chunks of their own lungs. Big, oozing, infected sores broke out over their bodies. Splitting headaches caused them to scratch their own eyes until they bled; pull out their own hair and scream as the delirium and madness set in. It was highly contagious, spread by fluids and direct contact with infected patients, and a horrific way to die. If only XP-554c stopped at death, Andy thought wistfully. How different this would all be. How much nicer the world would have remained. Instead, the virus would live on in the host body, reanimating it after physiological death. The patients memories and mannerisms would remain, but their bodies slowly began to rot and decay. In unsavoury addition, the only nutrients that seemed to give them the ability to ‘ live ’ on was human flesh. Thousands more had died in the cannibalistic aftermath. It was all Andy could do to not laugh hysterically. Zombies. Could you believe it? Actual bloody real-life zombies. He bit down on his lip to jolt himself back to reality. He believed it. He could smell them. See them hoarding outside. Why were they here? What had attracted them to the government building? Andy and the others had been busy enough trying to keep the hunted, panicked population under control, keeping vital systems online, and keeping the zombies away from population centres. He saw the woman across from him start to shake in fear. She was holding a stack of folders, and they wobbled precariously. No. If she dropped them, they were all buggered. He made eye contact with her and frantically searched his memory. What was her name? Joanna? Jenna? Jean. That was it. ‘ Jean! ’ he whispered urgently. Her eyes snapped to his. ‘ Jean, it ’ s ok, ’ he whispered. ‘ We ’ ll be ok. You just need to stay……. ’ She dropped the files with an almighty crash. ‘ …calm. ’ Andy closed his eyes in horror and slowly moved his head to look out of the window. There they were. A huge crowd of them, maybe thirty or forty. Far too many to fight. Maybe they could run? They ’ d have to try at least. Make a break for the evacuation exits. He took a deep breath, and moved slowly across to Jean, planning on taking her hand and getting them out of there. The zombies knew they were there, no doubt about that. As soon as the folders hit the floor thirty pairs of weak, failing eyes had looked in their direction, in anticipation. Andy hesitated slightly. Why hadn ’ t they charged? Usually they were quick off the mark once they detected a potential food source. He stopped in the process of reaching out for Jean ’ s hand. They were just standing there. Slowly, they seemed to start searching for something, pulling bulky items from behind backs and out of bags. What in the name of all that was left was going on? Slowly they pulled themselves together, lifted their haul, and began a synchronised, rasping groan. ‘ Uuurrrgghhhhhhhhhh….. ’ A couple of them coughed, hacking up disgusting parts of their insides onto the pavements. They tried again. ‘ Uuuuuunnnnnnnnn….. ’ Andy had dropped his hand, no longer reaching out to Jean. She too stood in bemusement, watching the hoard in front of them. One of them finally managed to raise their treasure above their head: it was a sign. A picket sign, stuck onto a length of wood. A scrawled, childish hand had written in capitals in a red smear that looked unpleasantly like blood: ZOMBIES PEOPLE TOO ‘ Uuuunnnndeeeeaaaddd…. ’ They managed in croaking chorus. ‘ Uuuunnnddeeeeaaaaddddd riiiiggghhtttssss…. ’ More coughing ensued, more signs raised. HUMAN UNFAIR TO ZOMBIE ZOMBIE WANT SAFE MEAT FIND UNDEAD PEOPLE GOOD TOO UNDEAD RIGHTS US HAVE Jesus. Andy found himself reaching into his pocket for his phone, raising it and starting to film. Was this all some sophisticated prank? Were they just actors in makeup, pulling some kind of publicity stunt? One of the zombies at the front managed to fall over its own feet and landed with a sickening crunch. As it struggled back up, Andy noticed the compound fracture of its arm. The zombie looked down in surprise, looked back at Andy and then slowly raised its picket once more, disregarding its horrific injury. The zombie to its left unconcernedly hacked up a fairly realistic piece of lung. They were actually picketing. Zombie rights. Seriously? Andy looked around. Jean was in a state of shock, pale as a ghost and shaking like a leaf. He knew his boss had left several hours ago, and as far as he was aware there was nobody senior in the building right now. Andy raised himself to his full height, put away his phone, and straightened his navy blue tie. Well, he thought to himself, everyone has had to take on more and more responsibility since the XP-554c outbreak. He couldn ’ t leave a crowd of concerned citizens without a representative from their local government to go and speak with them. Andy Burram, Champion Zombie Negotiator. Andy Burram, Chief Representative for Undead Rights. Andy Burram, Director of the Department for Zombie-Human Relations. Andy felt himself grow an inch or two. Andy Burram, he thought to himself. Always knew you were meant for greater things. Andy Burram took a deep breath, opened the door, and walked out to meet his destiny.
[ WP ] Batman finally breaks his no-killing rule .	Alfred lay comatose in the best bed in Gotham's best hospital. Tubes and wires ran into his nose and arm, keeping him barely alive, and sending information back to various machines around the bed. He looked gaunt, and grey, and strangely small now, and not a bit of the worrying, encouraging butler who was the father Bruce Wayne never had. Alfred's mouth hung open, and he gently drooled on the pillow until Bruce reached over to close his mouth, and wiped up the drool with a tissue. There was a gentle knock at the door, and a doctor entered the private room. Bruce got to his feet, `` how's it looking, doctor?'' `` Please, sit down Mr. Wayne.'' Bruce sat. He had n't realised how weary he was until he stood up. `` There's nothing more that we can do. Despite our treatment the growth has spread. The damage it's already caused is irreversible. We can keep him alive but... that's it.'' `` There's no chance?'' `` If he does wake up he'll be in a persistent vegetative state. Unable to move, or talk. Probably in a lot of pain too, but unable to tell you about it.'' Bruce could n't look at the doctor. He was the best doctor for this illness in world, flown in specially to care for Alfred. Bruce looked after his own. `` It is my opinion,'' said the doctor, `` that the best course of action would be to turn off the life support. Keeping him on it will be expensive and - `` `` Money's no object.'' `` Of course, sorry.'' Bruce shifted in his seat. `` No, I should n't snapped. Sorry. I'm feeling a lot of...'' Bruce reached into his pocket and found Alfred's letter where he left it. He opened it up and read Alfred's words one last time. ``... there may come a time,'' it read, `` when letting go for me is better than holding on. If that time comes I want you to know I've lived a long life. I've lived a good life, and I'm exceptionally proud of everything we've done together. Should it come to that I trust you to do the right thing for me.'' A tear welled in the corner of Bruce's eye. `` It's what he wants.'' He passed the letter over. The doctor nodded. `` I'm sorry it came to this.'' `` Sometimes it's just your time to go. Everyone dies eventually.'' `` Yes, I suppose. I'll give you some time to make your piece. Just let me know when you're ready.'' `` Actually, could you show me how to turn it off. I'd rather do it myself.'' `` Of course.'' After he was done, the doctor left Bruce and Alfred alone once more. Bruce took his old mentor's hand, and wept, and wept. And when his tears had purged all his grief from him and he stopped weeping, he kissed Alfred on the forehead and then he took Alfred's life in his hands, and turned it off.
[ WP ] `` That day I sat on my porch , cranberry in hand , realizing I was about to become just another statistic . ''	Today was just another ordinary day. Today should n't have been any different. I got up and made breakfast. Normal. I went to work. Normal. I got off and went to lunch. Normal. Went back to work till 6. Normal. Everything about today was normal. Up until I felt that pain. That pain in my chest. As i doubled over and fell out of my seat, I realized I was going to die. Today was the Day. The day that I died. I had just sat on my porch, like any other day. That day I sat on my porch, cranberry in hand, realizing I was about to become just another statistic.
[ WP ] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way .	The beards which had once lent them a fearsome aspect now just made them look haggard. In the way corpses could look haggard. The formerly brash Daesh fighters were ignominiously strewn on the sidewalks and streets, their limbs contorted in undignified and unnatural positions, elbows and knees bent the other way, hands twisted beyond their normal ranges of movement. It looked like the scene of a typical massacre, as typical as massacres could get. But to the astute observer, as the reader most certainly is, what was peculiar about this massacre was the remarkably uniform state of undress of the the Daesh corpses, and the similar pattern of wounds. At the center of Raqqa Mr. Garrison had set up his command post directing the cleanup of the bodies. He had fucked them all to death.
[ WP ] Earth is actually a colony of an intergalactic empire . Humans are widespread throughout the galaxy , and one day , we establish contact with our homeworld .	Jax stood motionless, staring up at the cube. It was big. Impossibly big. His mind frozen, mouth open, Jax felt cold sweat drip down is spine. Not yet, it was too soon! They were n't suppose to be here yet! 22/11/2014 Candy lay on her back with her legs in the air while makeup got to work. It was too hot. She often thought about moving away when it was like this. She dismissed the idea quickly this time, a light breeze distracting her as it swept into the room. She sat up on her elbows letting the air wash over her naked body, giving her goose pimples. The Director closed the large glass garden doors behind him as he made his way back behind the camera. No one spoke. She could glimpse the cube high above the hazy afternoon California smog, disappearing into the blue. So big, so impossibly big. Candy shivered, but not from the breeze. Everyone had seen it arrive yesterday in a blinding burst of light. The TV wouldnt shut up up about it, twenty four hour non stop coverage since The Flash. President Obama had given a speech telling everyone to remain calm and continue as normal some point during the night. Well it was n't as if Candy was n't going to turn up today because of a silly cube, she had work ethic goddamit! Makeup over, she lay back down and smoothed her hair. Her partner for today, Peter walked back into the room and dropped his robe. A day just like any other. 23/11/2014 Mert sat translating all the arguments being made in real time to his superiors in Turkey. He sat in a small booth, not really absorbing what he was hearing, speaking rapidly into his headset microphone at an emergency United Nations General Assembly meeting. Incumbent President Kutesa oversaw the proceedings with a quiet calm, occasionally taking notes or muttering a word to his aide. Matthew Rycroft of the UK sat back down, face flushed with anger as Mert kept translating ``..it is therefor imperative that we DO NOT try to force our way in, I fear the consequences could spell disaster not only for whole North Western Hemisphere of our planet, but for our species as a whole! We can not proceed without knowing exactly what it is!'' Instantly the room was abuzz with voices yet again. In the back of his mind Mert knew this was pointless, but kept on translating anyway. The real decisions would be made by the Security Council. Whatever decision they reached would make or brake the world. 24/11/2014 Ill write more later, im enjoying this. First ever WP post. If anyone can help me with formatting, I would really appreciate it. How do you make a new paragraph? Is there a post length limit?
[ WP ] A sulfurous wind blows from deep in the mountains . Everything it touches becomes twisted and evil .	Near this mountain was a town. And in this town was a prophet. One day, calling all the people to the village square, this prophet pointed to the mountains and said to them, `` I have received a vision. We must evacuate immediately, or the wind will blow deep upon us and we will become consumed with evil.'' Some listened, but many believed the prophet to be senile in his old age. Those who listened followed the prophets instructions and evacuated, spreading the news around to the neighboring towns, so that none may perish. In every town, there was a majority who did not listen to the warnings given to them, and so they stayed behind. Then the winds came down, blowing deeply upon those who remained behind, consuming them with evil. And they tossed and turned against each other, throwing each other down underfoot, dealing heavy blows with sharp objects to vital organs, and flinging themselves off of great heights as the madness ravaged their minds. From afar, the prophet, along with those who left, watched as those who stayed - friends and family from the past - harmed others and themselves. Many cried out and sought to go back, but the prophet prevented them. `` They have had ample warning,'' he said. `` They have made their choice. This is the consequence they must face.''
[ IP ] Seventy Years	John stood looking at the wrecked aircraft. The sand and dust of decades had worked their slow destruction on much of the machine, but it still looked remarkably intact. The crash had obviously been a controlled one, and there were indications the pilot had survived. John looked over to the Egyptian official that was escorting him, and he motioned to the plane. “ May I? ” he respectfully asked. “ Please ” the official allowed. John walked over to the plane, and slid back the tarnished canopy, and looked in to where the pilot had sat. Everything was in remarkable condition. He saw a small, discoloured photograph stuck behind a notch in the control panel. John carefully pulled out the photograph, and regarded the young couple it portrayed. They appeared very much in love, their entire lives ahead of them. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Dennis sat in shock, his ears ringing and the tinge of smoke stinging his eyes. The plane was now resting on the desert floor, and he was alive. He waited a moment for his vision to clear, and then reached up to slide back the clear canopy. Smoke poured out from the engine to the front, and the plane was definitely not going to fly again. But it had gotten him safe to the ground. Dennis slid over the side of the plane, and planted his weakened legs on the rocky sand. He habitually slid the canopy back closed. He looked around in every direction, but there was nothing anywhere. There should be an airbase somewhere to the North. The smoke subsided and the desert breeze cleared the last of it away. Dennis felt the intense glare of the sun. He pulled his parachute out from his gear, and began to set up a makeshift tent. He shouldn ’ t try to go anywhere while it was so hot out. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - John walked back along the fuselage of the wreckage, and kneeled down near the tail. Thin, torn wisps of silken fabric were being pulled at by the warm wind. It had once been a parachute, and it seemed that a shelter of some sort had been pieced together. There was little around to give an indication of how long anyone had stayed here. John stood up, and looked around. There was nothing in any direction. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Dennis stuck his head out from under his shelter, and the sun scorched with its ferocity upon his burnt skin. It had been several days now, and nothing. No search planes, no troops. He was alone out here, and he had made the decision to make his way North. When the sun reached the Western horizon, Dennis set out. He walked for hours, desperate in his exhaustion. He tried to keep his bearing with the stars, but soon they began to fade in choking clouds of dust. The wind picked up greater speed as Dennis continued labouring his way forward, but the wind-whipped sand began to choke at his lungs, and he couldn ’ t tell which way he was facing. Turned around in the blinding dust, and physically depleted from the days of exposure and hours of walking, Dennis fell to his knees. He felt his breath labouring, and struggled to find the picture in his pocket. It was only then, in his last moments choked by sand, he realized he had left it behind. His own memories would have to suffice, and he closed his eyes for the last time in his desolate, open tomb, thinking of her. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - John looked out at the endless sands. Such an inhospitable place to have come, and so far from anything. His Great-Uncle had perished here alone, and John felt for the first time in his life that his family may soon have answers as to how. He turned to his Egyptian counterpart. “ You say you ’ ve found remains to the North of here? ” The official inhaled deeply on his cigarette, filling the desert air with the smell of tobacco. “ Yes, about 5 miles from here. ” John caught his breath, and worked up the will to ask the obvious. “ Will you take me? ” Though the day was already well into the afternoon, the official relented. He threw his cigarette to the ground, and crushed it under his boot. He moved back towards the vehicle. “ Of course, ” the official said. “ But we must go now. ” John turned to leave, looking at the faded photograph, and the happy lives therein cut so sadly short. He began to make his way towards the vehicle. He was bringing his Great-Uncle home. EDIT: formatting
[ WP ] A serial killer loses his memory and wakes up in what is clearly a serial killer 's house .	Light pierces me like a shard of glass and the darkness enveloping my brain shatters into a thousand pieces. I slowly come to, groaning as my body moves into positions I'm not used to. I'm on the floor and there are splinters in the palm of my right hand. My knee is lying at a strange angle. I pull it into a straight line, hissing at the pain as muscles protest. Gently adjusting to the gloom I search the room and my mind for clues. My mind reveals nothing and in a sudden panic I turn in on my self and painstakingly sift through the filing-cabinet drawers of my brain. There is nothing there except obscurity, no memory of anything except this room. This room which is windowless and painted a deep, dark red. A single, naked bulb swinging from the crumbling ceiling. It has a strange, cloying feel to it and the taste of iron springs to mind like a half-recollection of a close friend. Pinned to the walls are thousands and thousands of pictures. I stand up, right knee dragging slightly, and take a closer look. There's a girl with long brown hair and blue eyes. In every photo she is smiling. At first, I think it's all the same person, but after a while I begin to see the difference between them. One has high cheekbones, one has a soft chin, several have freckles. Different girls, same hair, same eyes same expression of stealthily captured happiness. I run my fingers across the photos and feel the first twinges of arousal with a thrill of familiarity. Who are these girls? One photo is torn in half, more faded than the others, but the dark hair and the blue eyes that shine out of the picture are as marked as all the others. Only in this one, the girl is looking at the camera, sharing some private joke with the person who took it. I imagine the camera flash and a disembodied smell of cordite floats back to me. The photos swim together and dimly there was a woman stroking my arm. It had been warm, that day of the picture. She had shaken her dark hair out and turned away from the sun, shielding the rays away with her hand. `` Take it!'' She cried, smiling I lifted the camera and she frowned. `` No, put it on the timer,'' She'd said. `` Come and join me.'' The red dot had counted down and flash I am in a dark red room and only half the picture is pinned in front of me. I wrench it from the wall and screw it up in the palms of my hands, flinging it away in anger. The other girls, then. Who are the other girls? I rip the photographs from the wall, scrabbling at them with desperate fingernails to take them down. She had sat opposite me in a hospital bed, gauze coating the right hand side of her face. They had to cut the long, dark hair off to get the eighty stitches she needed across the back of her skull. She sat shrunken and huddled, hands running through her phantom curls, one blue eye blinded and the other clouded with white. `` What do I look like?'' She'd whispered and I could n't work out whether she was saying it to me or casting the question into herself. `` You look beautiful.'' I'd replied, because how could I think anything else? `` I do n't.'' A small girl, fingers wrapped around a blue balloon It's a boy! skipped past the bed, dark hair bouncing behind her, blue eyes shining. `` Take a photo.'' She'd asked and how could I refuse her. How? Now the pictures were scattered on the floor, torn and covered in little spots of blood from a ripped nail I'd caught on the rough wall. How could I refuse her? Tied around a rock, the deflating helium balloon. It's a boy! Blue as her eyes. Sometimes, it was easier to forget.
[ IP ] Cave	“ Brett—I think the bigger question is how we got in here. ” We stand in a darkened patch of sand, its surface marred by foot scuffles, our bodily indentations, scattered Fritos, and a dozen or so half-buried red and white cans, like tombstones, from the bleary and much-more-than-lost night prior. “ You remember nothin don ’ t you, ” Brett says. He reaches for one of the cans in the sand, lifts it out and smells the edge. “ Not a clue. ” Below us is this sandy resting place, and above us, high above where the fog forms all hazy-like, are rocks. Rocks left, rocks right, and a jungle of green in between. A massive dome, cave maybe, with long roots tangling down like dirty princess hair, from that fairy tale. Cinderella of the Keg, another one of those craft breweries, that ’ s it. `` Where ’ s all the light coming from, ” he asks me. “ You think I know everything don ’ t you, ” I tell him. He shrugs. Then he tosses the can at a tree just past our patch of sand. Cinder Beer, we called it, “ Give me some of that pumpkin wagon and I ’ ll make you ’ re night a wonder before the clock ticks twelve, ” I remember saying to Brett. Then there was stumbling. Distant headlights. The brush of ferns over my cheeks. The tripping, falling, red trickling all hot down my thigh. I reach under my belt and down my legs and immediately feel what must be a twelve inch scab running lengthwise on my left thigh, rough like Velcro and wet like the sap from tree ruts in the spring. “ Cinder Beer, ” Brett suddenly exclaims, “ Ha, I remember that now. You musta had like nine or something before we blacked. ” “ Man, I ’ m bleeding down my leg. ” He faces me, bending over for a closer look at my shorts. “ No you ain ’ t, there ’ s no blood. ” I lift the leg. He steps back, “ Gnarly, ” he says. Then he smiles. His eyes squint at me, then back to my shorts. “ Ya know, you ’ d have blood all over your johns had you been wearing them when it happened. ” `` When I fell, or whatever. Sure adds to it do n't it? ” “ Is it bad? ” “ I think its stopped. ” “ Aight, let ’ s take a look at us this cave, ” Brett says, standing back up and lifting his arms out like an opera singer. He winces in pain, hunching over and stumbling. He grabs at his collar bone. At that moment, I realize he ’ s wearing my yellow soccer jersey. “ Brett. ” “ I think I musta fallen down somewhere too. My chest is so sore. ” “ You ’ re wearing my clothes. ” “ I what, oh. ” While Brett massages his collar, I take a longer look at our location. Beyond us on all sides, a thick grove of palm and ferns block any path, and any light, from entering. On the far end of the cavern, where it appears flatter and more traversable, I see a sliver of a gap passing through, as if a giant had once brought an axe down on the side of the cavern in the hopes of breaking the hollow expanse in two. What must be the bottom of the gap is obscured by the tree line before us. “ Looks like the only way in, ” Brett grunts, watching me look towards the opening. “ Now we just need to get there. ” An animal lets out a long and low screech, like the steel leg of a chair pulling over concrete, from somewhere in the cavern. It echoes once. The fog above seems to swallow it up. We at once hurry from the sandy opening to the canopy of trees, scuttling like injured bugs. I grab onto one of the palm trees in the darkness. Something crunches underneath my feet. The Frito lays bag. “ Follow the corn crumbs. ” Brett stands several feet away by another tree. He points to the dirt. A little yellow curl of fried corn pokes from the earth. And then another. In the dimness, the Fritos near glow in contrast to the soil. The animal screeches twice. I see Brett ’ s bloodshot eyes wide open. Then we are off. - [ 028 ] ( http: //thegrindnerd.tumblr.com/post/109381424897/prompt-28-what-happens-in-a-cavern )
[ WP ] You stand completely alone in the middle of Times Square .	War. You knew this day would come. `` It's for the safety of America! ``, our leaders cried out. `` We must choose to do the right thing and stop these atrocities from happening around the world! ``... that is how it all started. No longer are the streets filled the laughter of children, the days of seeing parade floats being pulled down the streets of New York have long been over. Banners and propaganda now hang in the place of the advertisements and media of old. Television is now only a way for the powers that be to inform you, to feed you information they deem appropriate. Censorship And corruption run rampant through what was once referred to as Capitol Hill. Silence. Deafening quiet rings in your ears and the music of liberty has never sang so sweet as it does now. You begin to hear what will be your opus. The doors and windows around you begin to shake violently as though they have been transformed into tambourines of steel and glass. A dull roar begins to emerge, and the ground beneath your feet quivers, the very earth you stand on is afraid. Looking down the abandoned street you see them, rolling toward you like the waves roll toward the shore. It is time. Time for you to make a move. You step out into the road for all to see. The tanks are now only feet away and you stand completely alone in the middle of Times Square.
[ WP ] Write a story about a staircase , 3 doors , lamps , and a baby .	Hi! I thought of something entirely different from what I had and a lot shorter! I know this one is long but please read it because it is the first time I have ever commented a piece of my writing in this subreddit and it means a lot to me. Note: I edited this once to make small changes to grammar and to add and delete one sentence. Here it Goes: - In the void, the lamp said, `` Hello, baby.''. The baby did n't respond in words, but laughed. The baby had no understanding of the English language. `` Why do I even bother?'' said the lamp. The staircase joined the conversation. `` You can walk up me if you both like.'' The lamp said, `` sure, why not,'' and walked up the stairs with the baby. The lamp whispered, `` Thank you'' to the staircase, to which it replied, `` You're welcome. Also, please help me return back to my hu-'' The lamp immediately replied, `` I will'' while shedding a tear. The lamp and the baby walked up the staircase to find 3 doors awaited them. A lamp walked out from the door on the left, and said, `` Hello, there. Both of you now have three choices. Please remember that all of these doors will return you back to Earth no matter what. The door on the left will return you back to your human form. Obviously, this will do nothing for the baby. The door in the midde will return you back in the current form you are in but you will return ( to Earth ) with the 5 human senses. Most forms from the void walk through this door because they like the form they have but want to experience more. As for the door on the right, I am not sure. The result of walking through that door is different for everyone. When I was in the void, I, like you, was a lamp. I walked through the door on the right not knowing what it would do. For me, however, it allowed me to return to Earth with the option to return to the void if I desired. I believe that this is what the door does for everyone, however, I do n't know for sure. Mostly, I return to the void to inform objects like you what each of the 3 doors do. I wished I could have returned to my human form, but I guess informing objects like you is the best purpose I can serve. Please choose wisely.'' The lamp then replied, `` Thank you. And hey, from lamp to lamp, do you ever get lonely?'' The other lamp replied, `` Not if I keep talking to objects like you.'' The lamp thanked the other lamp for informing them of what the three doors did and realized that the baby was gone. The guide lamp said, `` While I was explaining to you the three doors, the baby crawled through the door on the right. I did n't bother telling you because the baby may one day serve a purpose in both the void and on Earth, and that alone is an amazing thing.'' The other lamp replied, `` I understand.'' and walked through the door on the right. Before opening the door, it said, `` Once again, thank you. I want to watch this baby grow and then, one day, I will tell him everything that happened today. Goodbye, my friend.'' The guide lamp replied, `` Later.'' 10 YEARS LATER... The baby, now an 11 year old boy, said, `` I will change Earth as well as the void.'' The lamp that was once with the baby, which had by then decayed, looked over the boy and, shedding a tear, said, `` Good luck, my friend. I will always be watching over you, even if my form is no longer on Earth.''
[ IP ] Nothing	What....what is this place? Where is everyone? Follow yourself Follow myse....who said that? How can I follow myself that makes no dam sense! ... Follow myself. Follow myself. Follow myself. What the hell are they talking about? Just look LOOK AT WHAT? It's just a dam desert with some bir... hmm. Birds, car, clouds, trees. I think I see it. Everything is pointing in one direction. The birds seem to be flying in formation towards the right. The clouds are darker on the left, with sunshine on the right. The car was heading towards the right before it crashed, and the trees are larger and more plentiful on the right. But... what does it all mean? It's you. How. How is this me? I'm standing on a wooden platform in front of all this, how could this scene have anything to do with me? Look deeper. Details, child. Child? I'm twenty se... nevermind. Ok details details details. I'm looking but I do n't see anythi... Storm Storm? What abou... ohhhh. Ok, so the storm is approaching from the left. The birds are fleeing the storm. The car tried, but will end up getting caught and damaged more. Although it's already bent beyond repair so it's definitely not going anywhere. Maybe the car is a shell of who I was? Progress Why ca n't you just tell me wha... ok fine. The trees on the right. Large. Healthy. Stable. They may be stripped of the leaves, but they'll survive the storm. Ok, and what of the birds? Vision Vision? Oh, I see. The birds move forward. They flap and flap their wings away from the storm, never looking back. With enough speed and persistence, they'll escape. But... which one of these am I? You are all, and all are you. Come again? You are all, and all are... Yea I heard you the first time. Ok so you're saying... I'm all of them? How? You are them, and they are you. Ugh dammit. Um... So the car. The car is totaled and trashed. It tried, it failed, and it has no hope. It's never moving again. I'd say the car is my past, or the person I used to be. I'll never again be that person, and if that's true I'm dam sure glad that's the case. Good. Sweet. So the trees are stability. They represent my endurance during the storm. I might get damaged, I might bleed, but I'll get back to who I was and keep growing. Excellent. Awesome. So the birds. That's easy. The birds are my freedom, my ability to see whatever and go wherever I want given the proper effort. But... what of the storm? You. Me? I'm the storm too? Not my problems, not the people around me, not life or it's complexity... but me? You. Dam... So that means... I've been running... from myself? Damaging... myself? Withstanding myself? That the only thing, the only factor that's destroyed me, that is shaping me and that will determine who I am in the future... is me? You're ready. Ready for wh... I duh... do n't.... Hello? Mr. Marcelle are you awake? You've been in a terrible accident, please do n't try to speak. I'd like to offer some relief by saying that you've suffered no permanent injuries. Nothing that you're feeling today will hold you back in the future Mr. Marcelle, but you've got to do your part as well! Flap my wings, he says.
[ WP ] You have died , only to find yourself at the pearly gates of Heaven . To your surprise , the gate is ajar and blood can be seen on it . The angel that usually stands guard is nowhere to be found .	It turns out you go to heaven in the clothes you were wearing when you died. This would have been fine if I died at a party or on a date, but, knowing my luck, I drowned in my uncle's pond while wearing the ancient swimming suit that had laid around for almost twenty years after being used by my cousin ( who even back then was about thirty pounds heavier than me ) in the late'90s. I found myself wearing that garbage bag at the base of a gigantic, white staircase. I could hardly see the top because it went so high up, but I did notice that there were hundreds of people climbing upwards. Every kind of person you could imagine was climbing towards what was up there. A lot of them wore hospital gowns, and a decent percent wore various military uniforms, but most were just dressed as if it was an average day. Seeing no other choice, I started climbing. I honestly could n't tell you long it took. I met dozens of people as I climbed, and you would n't believe the stories I heard, but that's not the point of this, although I would like to thank a man who I believe was a Russian soldier who gave me a badass-looking coat. About three-fourths of the way up, I was able to hear a beautiful voice calling out names. It was like they hired Jim Morrison to stand there and call out names all day. As I finally stepped on the landing at the top if the staircase, I noticed that the huge crowd that was standing there looked scared, and the calling of names had stopped. `` Did they call Rachel Kokawa?'' I asked, `` Were you all waiting for me to get here?'' No one in the crowd said anything, they just parted so that I could see the gates, which were actually pearly. However, they were also smeared with blood. Nothing that looked like an angel was anywhere to be seen. I sighed and said, `` Honestly, I was having a shitty day even before I drowned to death, and I do n't have time for whatever secret test of character is going on right now. I'm going to heaven.'' I walked over and kicked the door open. The sight I saw was honestly like I nothing I had ever seen, and have n't seen since. It was violence, in the purest form. Angelic warriors wielding Desert Eagles were firing at monsters that seemed to have quite literally climbed up from hell. I sheepishly shut the gate, making sure to not touch the blood ( who knows what diseases you can catch from angel blood? ) `` On second thought, I'm good with waiting.''
[ WP ] Write a 3-4 sentence introduction to your story , then write 2-4 continuations , each belonging to a different genre/theme .	He was there; stood in the darkness. A lit cigarette held between his fingers which he put it to his lips every few seconds. He puffed out a billow of smoke before he looked in my direction; his white eyes glinting in the surrounding shadows, reflecting the moon as clearly as if I could see it myself... 1. I had n't noticed the full moon until that moment and began to back away. He dropped his cigarette; knowing too well what was going to happen. As the last black cloud disappeared in the sky and the moon shone brightly over the city as the man I loved began to cry out in pain. His body twitched against the wall; his fingers digging into the loose cement. His hair grew and then his clothes began to shred and he started to howl. He looked at me with yellowing eyes and through his pain managed to say one word,'run.' I was fixed to the spot and instead of fleeing, I watched him turn. I had never seen it happen so closely and now every nightmare I had ever had about that moment was coming true. My eyes turned to his skin; his claws grew and his beautiful pale skin began to peel away from his body revealing a layer of little tiny hairs. His nose elongated into a snout and his teeth began to grow. My feet began to move away as I backed towards the door of a nearby building. He looked in my direction. No longer himself; but a monster. No longer any love in his eyes; only hunger. I ran through the door and then up the stairs. 2 seconds later his claws tore through the metal door and I heard him padding up the stairs. There was no where to hide; not now he had my scent. 2.The full moon was out and his eyes were hungry for knowledge. It was also the same with Detective Spencer. He had a clean record; no unsolved cases; that was the main reason I had wanted to work alongside him; gain the experience from him of how to be perfect. He flicked the end of his cigarette into the darkness and then walked towards me. I had n't met him before so held my hand out; he cast me a disdainful look and then shoved past me towards the crime scene. I followed him into the the dark building; covering my mouth and nose with a handkerchief as the rotten smell of a body hit me. Spencer did not suffer in the same way; he coughed once and only once; but showed no other sign of disgust other than that. We entered the room and the smell got worse; I pushed my handkerchief further into my face but it did n't help cloud the smell. Spencer was the only one that went near the body; everyone else was studying the bloody writing splattered on the wall, it said,'The Ripper is Back.' 3.I had always found the moon attractive and even more so when it was reflected in Richard's eyes like it was now. I smiled at him and he stubbed his cigarette out on the wall. He held his hand out to me as I walked closer and kissed the top of my fingers. I kissed on the cheek and then looked around the smoky surroundings checking that no one else was there. Last time my husband had nearly caught us and since then I had been more wary. As I looked around Richard linked my arm through his and started to pull me away from the dark buildings onto the side of the river so that we could walk along the banks and look at the swans. As we came to the place he pointed to them and kissed me gently on the neck. The pair of swans reminded him of us; serene, beautiful but apart from the rules of the world they live in.
[ FF ] The Confrontation . ( Contest )	I knew it was gone when I woke up. Gasping for breath and feeling nauseous I looked at the cords attached to me. I tried to sit up, but that hurt like hell and the machine next to me hated it as well. So I gave up and fell back into white marshmallow heaven. The doctor ’ s came in a little ( or long? ) while later. They were accompanied by police. It was weird being comforted and hassled at the same time. And all the questions, none of which I knew the answers to. Who was it? Are you okay? Where did it happen? How are you feeling? Did you recognise the man? What ’ s the last thing you remember? Are you on the pill? Somewhere through the mess, they managed to get some useful information from me and then left me alone. Well, not quite, there were still doctors and nurses; doing all sorts of embarrassing things and making me wish I had shaved before I went out. I don ’ t think it truly it me until I was back at my place. The police had confiscated my dress and shoes as evidence, so it wasn ’ t until I went into my bedroom and saw all the clothes strewn across the floor and all the shoes trying to find their partner that I realised what had happened. I broke down that night, and the next day and the next night. It wasn ’ t until I had squeezed every last drop of water out my eyes and probably whole body that I gathered myself together and called the number on the card that the hospital and police had recommended to me. It ’ s been six months now and they ’ ve finally found the bastard. It helps when he ’ s a repeat offender. They want me to some in and ID him. I don ’ t know how much I ’ ll be of help, but my therapist thinks it might give me some closure. I don ’ t know if I want to see him. I ’ m scared of what I might do. I ’ m scared of what he might do. All the memories that I ’ ll have to drudge back up. I can ’ t breathe. I ’ m stuck with the police and they ’ ve lined up the suspects, although they ’ re pretty sure they know which one is the real guy, to other one ’ s are just for reference. They ’ re coming through and I can see them, I can see him. He ’ s looking directly at me. It ’ s almost as if he knows I ’ m there. I start to panic as the memories come flooding back. I try and do what my therapist has told me to do, but it ’ s not working, I feel the room closing in and the lights getting dimmer and him getting bigger and closer, sneering, grabbing me with those hands and… I bolt out the door and run for the exit. I ’ m coughing and choking and trying to breathe. I rummage through my handbag for my bottle of water, but end up find the cigarettes first. I light one and take a long drag in and a long, slow breath out. I hate him. I hate what he did to me and what he ’ s made into. I hate that I ’ ve taken up smoking again and can ’ t have a drink without feeling nauseous. I hate that my friends walk on eggshells around. I hate that I had to terminate the baby. I hate that I can ’ t go out with them. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I ’ m shaking and I can feel the mascara running down my face. I walk to my car and drive down the road. No one stops me. The police will probably call me tomorrow, as will my therapist. But that ’ s tomorrow. -080
[ WP ] 400-500 words , Power	Sometimes, I just wish for an end. This madness. This war. I just want to give up. You see, this war has been raging for 15 years, and all I ever remember is bloodshed. Tears. My whole family is gone, and I have lost every one of my friends. I am alone. All I wish for in this world Is for it to be a peaceful, happy place, Once again. My greatest hope will never come never come true. I just wish that the war, or as the government called it, This revolution, Would end. ~~~~~~~~~~ Back during the war weapons were precious. Peace was futile. Love was treason. I had had a stone cold heart for years. Then she appeared. She was a lovely, strong, blonde. I loved, and I lost. She came to our town as just a tiny child, only 4. I was assigned to watch her. She was clingy, afraid half of the time. We never knew her real name, But I called her Birdy. We were running low on food in our town. She said she wanted to learn to hunt. I took her in the woods, Gave her a small bow. She caught on fast. I taught her to kill animals and keep her arrow. We were the best of friends. I told her that we should try hunting bigger game. Rabbits were not going to keep our town fed. We killed mostly small, 50 pound deer. But one day, we met a black bear.That day, I had my gun with me. We fended it off for about 20 miles, but then the bear got a little too close. I shot. It found a target. Not the one I intended. She was killed, and then I killed the bear. I was sad. Her funeral was brief. The day she died, I think she was 7. She did n't have a name, So we knew of at least. She was buried with her bow. Today, I still have no idea who she was, or where she was from. I'm sure the war is over. The battle has just began. The battle for justice for lost family members. Funerals. The government has no idea what we suffered. They had no hardships or deaths. They were fenced in with supplies. They had safety and plenty of food. They never had loss. If one of my family members were alive, I would, be overjoyed. If I knew joy. I had never had a true family my town was great and all, but I wanted to know my family. ~~~~~~~~~~ I was 6 when the war started, And 25 when it ended. I have never known a `` day off'' or a `` holiday''. Family. Something that I longed for. I have found my family. I have found strength. I have found peace.
[ WP ] Write an over-the-top background story for an early video game that did n't have a narritive . Ex . Pong , Asteriods , Pacman	Ser Jorah wanted desperately to remove his helm. Hot sweat ran down his face, burning his eyes and clouding his vision. The flapping of his mount's small wings echoed inside the steel helmet, deafening him. Only the dull roar of the waiting crowd could penetrate the noise. He waited, tensed for the signal to start. Five riders would enter the arena but he knew he would be the only one to leave. The love of his life presided over the games and he had shamed himself in front of her. Winning in her name was his only chance of regaining her favor. Losing meant death and that was vastly preferable to a life of solitude and exile. Distracted by his melancholy, Jorah missed the signal to begin. Realizing his folly, Jorah kicked the mount into action and nearly lost his seat as it's powerful legs launched itself forward. It's wings beating furiously it struggled to gain altitude. Above him, Jorah could see his competitors already in the air, a massive advantage as he would have to pass by their birds' ferocious talons. Readying his lance, Jorah knew it did not matter. He would win or lose his heart under this burning sun and her watchful gaze.
[ WP ] You 're a modern , present-day soldier when suddenly you get sent back time to the Battle of Gettysburg . Fully equipped with 21st century weapons , gears , and tactics , describe your experience at trying to survive one of the bloodiest battles in history .	It's a normal day here at Fort Campbell. It amazes me every time I ride out to the back forty to train how pretty this place can be. Suddenly the radio cracks, `` attention net, attention net, be advise convoy is making final turn toward the objective, IEDs and enemy activity expected.'' The voice was rushed and a little shaky. I chuckle at this. The platoon leader is really trying to impress his commander. I'm not even sure why I'm on this convoy. I'm the assistant operations officer or S3 in the Brigade Support Battalion for heaven sake and today I should be trying to decipher the newest good idea fairy of an order from brigade. Oh well my boss thought this would be a better use of my time to watch the distro platoon go get attacked by a couple of our guys in man dresses with blanks and IED simulators. Fucking MAJ Brinks you were supposed to do this, but of course you had'meeting' to go to. Whatever, I'm out of the office at least. Huh, I wonder if the front of the convoy noticed that great ambush area to the right. BOOM. My ears are ringing, what the fuck just happened. God dammit my head hurts. What the fuck kinda IED sim was that!!! Where the fuck am I? This land scape seems different and I do n't see a road. I must of dozed off on the convoy and got dropped off somewhere, well I guess I get to walk in kit a few miles to find someone who will give me a lift back to the unit. In the distance, I can here the crack of gun fire and artillery. Well good, at least I know where a range or training area is now and can get back to the unit. As I walk up I see a what appear to be Soldiers, but something is off. It looks like they are wearing the Army Service Uniform in the field!? Suddenly I heard from my left.'Halt, who goes there?' About five soldiers in what appear to be civil war era uniforms stop me.'Ah, I'm Captain Smith with the 801st BSB.....is your unit doing a reenactment or something?'' That did n't seem to sync in well with this team of Soldiers.'Well I see your wearing Captain rank, but what are you wearing? What kind of rifle is that? The 801st BSB....I've never heard of that unit! Are you a confederate spy?'' Wow these guys are dedicated. ``.......I mean what hole have you lived in these past ten years to not know what the US Army body Armor looks like.....and seriously you've never seen an M4? The 801st BSB is in 4th Brigade of the 101st Airborne Division. I mean I know some people really get into reenactments but shit this is ridiculous I just want a ride back to my unit! Plus even if I was a confederate spy like I would admit it.'' Apparently that was the wrong thing to say as the sergeant of the team raised his rifle and shot me square in the chest. Well thank god I kept my deployment plates and did n't trade them in for training ones. The shot knocked me to the ground and made my chest feel like someone just hit me square in the sternum with a sledgehammer. I laid on the ground contemplating my life choices for a few moments and listen to the team discuss what they should do with my equipment. I sat up and in shock the team of Soldiers lost all color in there faces, turned around and ran off. I may actually travelled back in time. Well shit if I'm in the civil war than, what the fuck am I gon na do about ammo...... I did n't even draw blanks because I'm way to lazy to clean my rifle if I did n't have to. Shit so I'm really just carrying around a 7lb stick right now.......fuck me. I hear drumming in the distance and look up to see artillery approaching. Well I guess those guys did n't run away from me. I get up and try to run away, but the artillery starts to drop around me...... I guess it is true when they told me that if you actually get hit by indirect fire you probably wo n't hear it. `` Captain Smith, Captain Smith are you okay?'' What the fuck is going on, was n't I just at Gettysburg or something???? Now the medic Spc Jenkins is staring at me.'What happened Jenkins? My head hurts like a bitch.'' Jenkins gave me a look like I was pathetic, `` well sir, you feel asleep on the convoy and when the IED sim went off you jumped up and hit your head on the door of the truck. You've been out for twenty minutes or so. We're going to take you to the hospital for a concussion.'' Huh, so I feel asleep, injured myself and pretty much made and ass of myself. Work is really gon na suck tomorrow.
[ WP ] An elderly couple takes to petty crime to see their superhero kids who no longer call .	“ Look at us Robbie! Like back when we were in high-school! ” The elderly woman said as she pointed the gun at the cashier. “ Oooh! I ’ ll take the mints hun, you grab the shampoo. ” Said the elderly man to his wife as he went over to grab the mints. As soon as the older woman walked to grab the shampoo a sudden flash appeared into the room. She had short blonde hair and a round face, accentuated by bright red lips. Her outfit was a bright white cloth that hug her body a little too much for her parent ’ s taste, with a black belt that seemed to show off her backside and a symbol directing the stares to her chest. The cashier ducked behind the table as the two elderly criminals walked over and gave the superhero a tight hug. The woman sighed and almost began to run before there arms overtook her. “ Why don ’ t you ever call anymore Sue? ” Said the old woman. “ Sue? Whose Sue? I ’ m Metro Girl! Fastest woman alive! Seriously mom… ” The young superhero said attempting to make her voice sound deeper before giving up at the end. “ Susan. We ’ ve robbed five stores and two banks! Cops are all over us. How did it take you this long to catch us? ” Asked Robbie angrily, “ Is Metroman getting in your way? I swear to god when I find that b- “ “ No. You just haven ’ t bothered to wear masks in any of your robberies and I don ’ t want to have to arrest my parents. ” Said Metrogirl as a customer walked into the store. “ Plus your crimes are like super minor. ” “ We robbed a bank! ” The couple said united in anger. “ You held the place up to steal the pens guys. ” Metrogirl said exacerbated as the clerk began checking out a customer. “ Oh come here guys. You don ’ t have a bad bone in your bodies… Dad you were the person who inspired me to become a superhero. ” “ Honey! I love you to. ” Said Robbie uncomfortably hoping that Metrogirl wouldn ’ t google ‘ Robbie Rendoza ’ or the ‘ Nazi Moon Heist. ’ As the three walked out Metrogirl stared at them both and said, “ Unfortunately that ’ s all still armed robberies. I will have to take you to jail. ” “ Oh no worries about that honey! ” Said the old man as he scooped up his wife and whistled summoning a supersuit that allowed him to fly away.
[ WP ] A ghost re-reading his or her own suicide note .	Viola found herself face-to-face with the old abandoned house that her parents left behind when she died. She took a breath, and moved towards the door. Suddenly, there was a vision. Her parents died shortly after her suicide. Viola was only 18 when she died, with a whole life in front of her. Good grades, lots of friends, a steady job, with a full scholarship to Dartmouth waiting - the only person in Ivy history to get a full scholarship. She had her life set, pretty much. So when her parents came upstairs and found her cold and unresponsive in bed, the toll taken on their souls was instant, and fatal. Over the course of a few months after Viola's suicide, her mother began abusing opiates and experienced such real hallucinations that she thought her only daughter had returned. She would hear knocks at the door, footsteps and laughter upstairs, but Viola was n't there. One day, this would prove too much, and her mother overdosed on OxyContin. Her father, who buried his own wife and daughter, began drinking heavily to drown the truth that his worst nightmare had become a reality. He put down his picture of Viola that he kept with him always, took a sip of his finest whisky, and calmly walked into the master bedroom. The house echoed of his lone footsteps. The side table had his father's gun in the drawer, loaded, just in case. He took it out, examined it, and returned to the lounge. `` This is for you, Viola. I love you honey,'' he said, as he stroked her picture. He took one last shot of that whisky that had helped him get through the last year, and set the glass down. He exhaled one breath of frigid air, and put the barrel in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. Viola stood trembling at the door. She was just now able to see the effect her death had on her parents. A feeling of responsibility and guilt came over her. She turned around to face the street and take in the view she had given up. The neighborhood looked sad to her, much different from when it teemed with joy and love. After her family's death, rumors shattered across town. The one everyone settled for was a bunch of rapists came in and took them for all they were worth. The ghosts haunted anyone who came in, and the house was eerie enough that even the realtor would n't tear it down. Viola turned back towards the door, sighed, and went inside. The living room smelled of cleaning agents from her father's suicide. It had n't been that long, but certainly long enough that the smell should have subsided. She opened a window in the living quarters to wisp the stench out. The photo of her had been broken; the glass her father drank out of was still there next to the love seat. She touched it, and felt closer to her father than she'd ever felt... a regret. The family portrait was still hanging above the fireplace, slightly crooked and covered with dust. Viola let the sense of disgust come over her. Sitting pretty in these fake clothes, with these fake people... always trying to portray this perfect life to people who did n't really care, she thought. The steps creaked the same way they did as the last time she walked up the steps. The perfume her mother used still tainted the air, and she found the pill bottle on her mother's bed right where they were left. The police should have taken them, she thought. She picked up the bottle, remembering what it was like to nod out from the OxyContin. This time, it was n't a warm blanket feeling, but a feeling of rage that came over her. All she could see was her dead mother on the bed. She threw the pills to the floor and ran into her room crying. After a few minutes the feeling subsided. Viola gathered herself, and looked around her room. It was touched after she passed. Her things had been rearranged, some were missing. She figured her family had to sell some of her nicer things to keep up bills in their final sane moments. Then, she found the note she had written a few weeks before she committed suicide, crinkled up on the floor under her dresser. It had obviously been read. Viola did n't remember what she wrote; she was so fucked up at the time. Scared, she picked up the paper, and read: I am at peace with myself and my faith, I know I will not be forsook. Therefore I must leave this world for my deed is done. Do not be afraid to die, do not be afraid that I am dead. All of my pain has left me and I am happy. Happy to be rid of two selfish parents who ca n't settle for anything I give them. Happy to be rid of
( WP ) Santa is tired of punishing naughty children with coal . Instead , he decides to resort to vigilante justice .	Hector Miller jolted awake, clutching at his pillow as it began to slip off his bed. Whether it was a noise, or a nightmare or some dim premonition of danger, the 10-year-old didn ’ t know. His familiar room, lit feebly by the glow of the streetlamp up the block, now seemed somehow slightly menacing. As his eyes adjusted to the murk, he suddenly perceived a figure, standing in the deeper shadow by the door. Hector almost screamed in fright … but just then, as a vehicle passed by on the snow-covered street outside, the brighter glow its headlights cast allowed him to see more detail. “ S..Santa? Is it really you?? ” The looming shape moved closer to the bed, and sure enough, what Hector saw was the personification of the jolly old elf of legend – the plush red suit, slightly soot-stained, with its trimming of white fur, complete with cap set at a jaunty angle; the rosy cheeks, full white beard and round belly; the big black boots; and the clay pipe, its bowl glowing and sending up small puffs of aromatic smoke. No huge bag of toys, though, Hector was somewhat alarmed to see – but of course, it was down in the parlor, near the tree! Why lug it all the way up here? And come to think of it, why was Santa up here at all? “ Hello, Hector! A merry Christmas to you, young man, ” Santa said as he came forward, his eyes twinkling. Hector knew from every story he ’ d read or Christmas special he ’ d seen that Santa ’ s eyes traditionally twinkled. He ’ d supposed, though, that it was always a kind of merry twinkle, a hearty and harmless twinkle. Hector found himself slightly uneasy at this twinkle, though – it seemed a mischievous twinkle, even a slightly threatening twinkle. Santa clapped Hector on his blanket-covered knee as he sat himself at the foot of the bed, the mattress sighing and the bed slats creaking as they took up Santa ’ s not-inconsiderable weight. “ So, my lad. Down to business, ” Santa said softly, holding his pipe in the hand that wasn ’ t covering Hector ’ s knee. “ It seems you ’ ve made my naughty list this year. You know about the naughty list, I suppose? ” Hector flushed, then lowered his head, giving Santa a small nod. He ’ d been afraid of something like this. He ’ d been in trouble a few times this year at school. On one occasion, he ’ d gotten detention for pulling Laura Cress ’ s hair hard enough to make her cry. The second, more serious offense had involved his locking little Francis Kerr is his locker after gym as a joke … except it hadn ’ t turned out to be so funny, since gym was the last class of the day and it had been more than an hour before a janitor had heard Francis ’ s cries and screams and had released him. That little stunt had gotten him two days ’ suspension and a conference with the principal and his parents, plus a session with the school psychologist. His parents had also been increasingly angry lately at his treatment of his younger brother, Tommie. Hector had little use for Tommie, the punky brat: He ’ d usurped Hector ’ s rightful place and most of his parents ’ love and affection, Hector thought, and was a little goober besides. He constantly sought Hector ’ s attention, interrupted his video games and came into his room uninvited. Hector had advanced from small shoves and pinches when his parents weren ’ t looking to knocking Tommie down, giving him vicious noogies and, on one occasion, delivering a sock in the gut that had caused the little snot to writhe on the floor in soundless agony. And while Hector found satisfaction in making Tommie cry, he also realized that his actions were having unhappy side-effects – such as his mom ’ s canceling of his planned Chuck E. Cheese ’ s birthday outing in August, and the still-unbelievable act of his father, who had actually slapped him – hard – after he had shoved Tommie into the refrigerator. “ We ’ ve got a new policy these days, Hector, ” Santa said softly. “ You may have heard about the coal-in-the-stocking thing. Well, with new EPA rules and coal being harder to come by these days, we ’ ve had to think outside the box, so to speak. Plus, we were finding the coal thing less and less efficacious – turns out that after the initial tantrum upon finding it in their stockings, many times bad kids were using the coal to write dirty words on the wallpaper or throwing it at family members. Can ’ t have that. ” Santa drew on his pipe contemplatively, then, turning toward Hector and showing him that menacing twinkle again, blew the smoke directly into Hector ’ s face. “ Ah, sorry my lad, ” the old elf chuckled in a not-so-jolly way as Hector gagged and coughed. “ Just wanted to make sure I had your attention. Now, here ’ s the thing: All kids are bad sometimes. We make allowances for that, of course we do. ” Hector was alarmed to feel the pressure on his knee intensify, and to see the old saint, who was actually rather large and imposing up close, hitch himself a few inches closer. “ But when I see a boy tormenting his classmates … disobeying and disrespecting his parents … and being uncommonly mean and cruel to his own baby brother ” – and by this time, the pressure on Hector ’ s knee was almost unbearable – “ I begin to feel less and less merry and more and more … well, pissed off. ” At this, he leaned in close and glared at Hector. “ Hence, the new policy – a personal visit and a little chat. ” “ I swear Santa, I swear I ’ ll be good! I ’ ll … I ’ ll be better, I promise! I won ’ t hurt Tommie no more or do bad stuff to kids at school or- ” “ Shhhh, ” Santa hissed, now so close that Hector could see burst capillaries in Santa ’ s rather red nose and his huge, too-white teeth clenched on the stem of his pipe. “ Mustn ’ t wake mom and dad – that wouldn ’ t do at all. This is just between us, isn ’ t it? ” Hector nodded, too afraid to make a sound. Santa stared for a moment longer into Hector ’ s eyes, seeming to fix him in place and in memory. Then abruptly he stood, turned, and walked to the door. Hector shivered, noticing that his body was covered in sweat that had now chilled in the cool dry air of his room. Santa turned at the door to look at him one last time. “ So, tomorrow morning, when you go downstairs, there ’ ll be nothing from Santa. Now you know why. And there had better be no tantrums, no yelling, no breaking of Tommie ’ s toys, ” Santa said in a low voice, no trace of merriment visible on his bearded visage. “ In fact, there had better be no reports of bad behavior at all this year. Consider yourself on probation. Because- ” and he leaned toward Hector again, spurring the terrified boy to draw back and pull his blanket to his chin- “ if I have to visit again, the Miller family will be mourning a loss rather than celebrating the season. So Merry Christmas, Hector. And it had better be a Happy Fucking New Year for the Miller family … or else. ” With that, Santa laid a finger to the side of his nose and vanished with a swirl of sparkling frost.
[ WP ] You go to the bank to withdraw your rent money . You look at your receipt hoping you 'll have enough for dinner and the balance reads $ 1,000,000	I started to sweat. My palms became moist and started to soak the paper. I slipped it into my pocket, worried that if something happened to it the money might disappear. However, the true anxiety did n't kick in for a few hundred meters. I could feel my legs losing their strength. It was as if the eyes of everybody on the street were ripped towards my pocket. 'The supermarket is n't far' I thought.'I mean, the decent one is a while a way but the ALDI is just around the corner'. I could already see the orange, blue and white of the German superstore as I approached the end of the street. The smell of wasted produce in the dumpsters started to tingle in my nose. The automatic doors opened wide as I stepped towards the entrance. The air conditioning flooded out. This was when I realized, I had only planned on making Spaghetti Bolognese. That's eight bucks at most. I already had pasta at home, seemed silly to buy more. Even if I grabbed some nice Parmigiano-Reggiano I was looking at twenty five bucks max. I thought about having a quick google for easy to cook gourmet recipes, but nothing seemed too appealing. I mean Wacka Flocka's Most Expensivest Stuff was a good jumping off point, but did I really want a sundae covered with edible gold? Would my homies even be down for OG Kush and silver rolling papers? Where do i even get OG Kush? What does OG even stand for? I spun around and started trekking towards my home, leaving the German discount superstore behind. My head was clouded, I tried to multiply the ingredient measurements of my Spaghetti Bolognese to see how many serves I would have to make in order to spend the full mill. It was during this brief minute, where I imagined I knew basic algebra, that I saw them sitting on the floor. Heads mostly shaved, wrapped in orange robes. They would ring bells and dance and chant occasionally. 'hare, hare, krishna, krishna..' I saw myself in them. They would n't have to worry about making 600,000 serves of Italian pasta. They could just sit there, chant, be free. Enlightened, even. I wondered how I would look with a shaved head. 'I could pull it off.. I wonder if they allow facial hair? My beard tan line is probably quite embarrassing.' Then, I had a better idea... I slipped the receipt out of my pocket. I readied myself for what I was about to do. 'hare, hare...' I ran forward and pushed the receipt deep inside the bald mans robes. 'krishna, krishna.. OI!' I bolted. Smiling large. 'I'm free!' I thought. 'That'll teach those smug cunts.'
[ WP ] A man wakes up in a dark metal cell with no windows and no doors . Describe how he escapes from his prison .	Every day, week, year is the same. Normal routine has become a rut as deep as a war trench. His eyes have n't seen more than 20 feet past him in more years than you can count on one hand. He walks like he is giving a piggy back ride to the saddest, heaviest child, like a velvet curtain from the fanciest of theaters cranes his neck and clings to his shoulders with desperation. He is putting one foot in front of the other, but he goes in circles, nowhere. His hands hide in his pockets; as if they are afraid of where they might wander say they are ever to come out. He carves circles in the dust of his prison with his toes, dragging his feet like an eternal reminder there is no flying high, there is no rising higher; he can only go lower. His heart and head are heavier than the curtain over his shoulders. In these cracked, forgotten crevices there is neither light nor hope of restoration. Long ago did he plant seeds in these cracks, praying for rain that would never come. His gears quit turning when they lost direction. The machine ’ s output became so uncertain-he became so unsure of everything-that the parts couldn ’ t function, and lay in disuse. His mind is an inescapable prison. There is no key, not even a lock, and yet there is no leaving. Cold and dry, there is not a single chance life can be sustained. There is no…light? Was that a glancing ray? Not possible. And yet, again? It is faint, across the street. Perhaps a stray photon is glancing off the heavy raindrops, teasing his vulnerable conscious. No, the more it catches his eye, the more he looks for it, seeks it, and the more it appears. There! Is it her hair, dry and soft under the sheltering umbrella? Perhaps the flash as her eyes, like polished crystals, meet his own deep sockets, and then shyly shrink away again, only to return? Brighter! Her small, simple lips part to reveal a smile that expertly replaces the brightness of the sun hidden in the sorrowful, grey clouds above them. Her quaint arm extends in a simple offer of shelter and comfort under her umbrella. They share it, and when the first words between them are spoken, a soft click can be heard between his ears, audible to neither yet vital to both.
[ WP ] Two witches open up a shop .	The bell above the door tinkles as our first customer walks in. I shoot a quick grin at Tabitha before shouting a greeting. Recently I had managed, with Tabitha, to save up just enough to open our first magic curios store. It had taken months of paint under the nails and painful decision to reach this point. But it was worth it, and we finally had a real person come in. “ Can I help you? ” I ask as I walk around the shelf where I had been dusting the nonexistent motes for the past hour. Standing in the middle of our shop is a kid. He ’ s small, and fairly thin. His mop of blonde hair is held down by a ballcap. His shirt is a size to big, his board shorts somewhat frayed and his sneakers are like clown shoes at the bottom of his ankles. I bite back an internal sigh, it would have been nice to have a paying customer the first time around. “ Cool! ” the kid says and then runs about the shop. My ears are assailed by exclamations: “ What ’ s this? ” “ Oh neat! ” “ Do you have any more of these? ” “ How does this work? ” “ Wicked! ” “ Did you need help? ” I ask again, taken aback at his hyperactive energy. “ Oh hey, you ’ re the lady who owns this place right? Funny, your pictures make you look a lot prettier than you actually are. ” He pulls out a shiny android and scrolls through to find something, and then holds up a snapshot of mine and Tabitha ’ s faces from the latest World of Wizardry Herald. I think the article has something to do with our grand opening, but before I can say anything he ’ s putting his phone back in his pocket. “ You know, this place could really use some fixing up, and some organization. ” he announces looking around. I grind my teeth, and finger my wand which is hidden in the folds of my skirt. It would be so tempting just to turn him into a toad, even for a second. Tabitha swoops in and saves me. “ Kid, did you need anything? At all? ” she asks. “ Nah, just looking. ” He pops a piece of gum into his mouth. “ So if everyone knows you ’ re witches, why are you wearing the pointy hats? Doesn ’ t it just perpetuate the age old stereotype that really defeats the whole equal rights for witches movement? ” Now Tabitha ’ s mouth is slightly open. This is not how we had imagined our shop ’ s clientel. We ’ d been hoping for the quirky, introverted and educated people of the magical community. Not this tech savvy loudmouthed brat. We look at each other slightly desperately. His mouth opens and closes continuously criticizing, complimenting, questioning, never shutting long enough for anyone else to say something. Multiple times we try to hint that he ’ s not as welcome as we had thought, but each time his voice barrels over ours like a steamroller. We're finally saved when his phone pours out the theme to Star Wars. And then he ’ s off, walking out of the shop, android glued to his ear and mouth moving impossibly fast. Tabitha and I just stare in shock as the door shuts. I resist the temptation to go and lock it just in case the kid comes back. “ Does he really have to count as our first customer? ” I ask plaintively, utterly deflated by the experience. “ I have no idea. ” my friend replies. We stay frozen where we are until a car horn honks outside and we both jump. I return to shooing the non-existant dust bunnies away from are wares. The bell tinkles as our second customer comes in. I call out a greeting and look with an internal sigh of relief as an elderly warlock goes to inspect our display of gryphon feathers.
[ WP ] `` So what happens if I press this button ? '' I asked . `` Nothing . '' She replied . I pushed the button in , grinning . `` It 's when you let go that things get nasty . ''	Object Class: ~~Safe~~ Keter Special Containment Procedures: SCP-████ is contained in a standard 5 * 5 * 3 m containment cell. D-2294 has been instructed to maintain pressure on SCP-████ indefinitely. Description: SCP-████ is a small plastic box featuring a large red button on its top face. No anomalous effects have been observed, but it is currently accepted that, should D-2294 release the button, [ DATA EXPUNGED ] will [ REDACTED ] [ DATA EXPUNGED ] at [ DATA EXPUNGED ] ███ km/h into [ REDACTED ] destroying most of ██████, ███ and surrounding areas, including Site-19. Addendum ████-1: D-2294 has requested that the Foundation `` either put a clip or a weight or something on it, or find someone else to hold it down'' and `` give [ him ] a fucking break.'' Request denied.
[ WP ] A sunset by any other name ...	I always hated summer. Especially at sunset. That orange vibrant glow with dim pink streaks streaming across the sky over the houses. That subtle chill in the air with an absent minded warmth. The streetlights and shop windows begin a fluorescent glow. It makes me feel like I do n't belong. I see all the others, laughing, smiling, walking together. It places a violent weight in the center of my being. Taunting me, knowing that no one is really there, just someone misplaced. All in the form of one summer sunset. The day had to have been so productive that even the light is restless, that no one shall sleep under such brilliant beauty, an unending evening, the fading conclusion to someone else's best day ever. It makes me sick, a twisting, choking, convulsing, ache in my heart, my soul. Maybe it's misplaced. The scene is just sensory. Then again, if I really am going to look back on it truthfully, I could say so was she.
[ WP ] Most people drink to forget . You drink to remember .	My mother is a drunk. She called me last week to apologize, again, for that time ten years ago she told me to kill myself. Well, not so much as told me, but agreed when I asked her if that ’ s what she wanted. I think, at this point, she ’ s just happy when I decide to call her back. You see, I told myself I ’ d write fiction, but I can ’ t even write about alcohol without her face popping up. So I ’ m gon na have to meet you halfway on the falsehoods. Life is often easier in half-truths; all of that reality at once could kill you, too many lies much the same. You see, her mother told her the same thing she told me. Now I strive to be kind, generally speaking, but I got a vicious mean streak. I can feel it lying dormant under the surface. I just bury it, deeper and deeper, until one day I open my mouth and her voice comes out. “ Can you please serve a purpose? ” I don ’ t drink much, not like her. But when I do, it helps me remember what it ’ s like to be someone who ’ s suffered so much that they can ’ t go one night sober. It helps me remember how to forgive. And sometimes, to pick up the phone.
[ WP ] You have Multiple Personality Disorder . You also realised that you 're your own third wheel .	Amy3 took over just after sunset while Amy sat on a Muskoka chair on the dock behind her father-in-law ’ s cabin. It was the stress, Michael ’ s father was a prosecutor. He never stopped interrogating. Too many questions led to too much introspection. Sprinkle that on stress and Amy ’ s mind flipped around like a carpenter ’ s hammer after a bent nail. For Amy1, these exchanges brought up a sudden and shocking bouquet of emotions. It was distressing to have to make a choice to hold onto your mind and let go of your body. It was n't much of a choice but it was one. It was like turning a corner to see a tsunami and deciding it would be better to go back around the corner. But it still felt like a choice. Like she was flipping the hammer in her hand and hating herself for it. If that was all, Amy1 could have beared it. Transitioning out was like slipping into a painfully hot bath, a sharp pain at first but good in the long run. She could have beared it if not for all that damn joy which flooded in like sewage water coming back up from the drain. When they saw each other, Amy2 and Amy3 became a dynamo, spinning faster and faster until they produced enough joy for a small city. There was no way for Amy1 to disconnect from the part of their minds they held in common. Amy3 ran her hand over the slick glass of bottle that Amy1 had brought down to the dock. She lifted the beer to her lips but it tasted bitter to Amy3 and she tossed it over the side of the dock. She wiped her hand lewdly across her sweatered breasts and then slid it down her face before settling on rubbing her fingers across her tingling lips. Amy1 could feel Amy2 respond as if she was the one being touched. Lust and joy overcome all else except for the traces of fear from the absolute vulnerability. Amy1 tried to blot it out by sheer force of agony but Amy2 ’ s desire was desperately animalistic and it dragged Amy1 along with it. Amy3 ran her hands down her sweater and rubbed her breasts. After a moment, she held her sweater up to expose them to the cool air. Her other hand worked its way slowly upward across her belly. Amy3 stopped then, just for a moment, and Amy2 frustration pierced them all like a bullet. Amy3 laughed out loud and then brought her hand up smoothly to her breasts and ran her fingers over her nipple. She let her sweater fall down to her belly to free the hand and reached for her crotch. The dock shifted as someone stepped onto it behind her. Amy3 sat up quickly and pulled herself into order. She turned in her seat to see Michael stopped at the base of the dock. Steam rose from the mug in his hand. “ What are you doing? ” he asked. “ I'm enjoying the lake. It ’ s so beautiful out here. ” Michael ’ s eyebrows furrowed and he walked forward until he loomed over the chair from behind. “ Are you feeling okay? Normal? ” “ I feel good. ” “ Too good? ” “ No. Just good. ” He was a smart man and he did n't believe her, but he knew better than to inquire more. It was always fragile but Amy ’ s occasional tower of joy could stand for a while unless some idiot climbed all over it, asking questions. Better to take the moment of relief now and then deal with the aftermath later. He set the tea down on the arm of the chair. And leaned over to kiss her. Amy kissed back. Michael would n't know, but there was nothing behind it save distaste. “ I ’ ll be on the deck. ” Michael said. “ Let me know if you need anything. ” Amy watched him walk away. The mood was broken but not the love and Amy3 and Amy2 satisfied their need for each other by sliding out of the chair and crawling to the edge of the water. The dark surface reflected little but just the hints of Amy3 ’ s reflection was enough to push Amy2 to ecstasy. It was definitely Amy3. The smile was hers alone. Amy1 had spent years trying to emulate it with no success. Amy2 ’ s smile was better, but long memories of isolation and abuse gave it an air of sadness that would probably never leave her completely, despite Amy3 ’ s best efforts. Amy1 had been a bank teller once. A man had come in to rob her. It was over quickly and she was n't hurt, but the moment she noticed that the man walking toward her was wearing a mask was etched into her memory. She used to wake up in the night to see that saggy plasticine face leering at her from the dark. This was far worse. This robber took her time with Amy1. She had peeled the skin from her face slowly and threw it over her own. This robber had made Amy1 kneel at the edge of the water and look down into the remnants of her face twisted into laughter. Stress. It was the stress that made them transition. Amy2 felt it coming and charged forward, trying to claim it for her own, but she had grown weak in her idolatry. For a moment, Amy1 had the mind and not the face and was able to enjoy seeing ecstasy transform into hatred. She screamed and no sound came back against the vastness of the lake. She collapsed at the edge of the dock, sobbing against the wood. Last summer, she had caught a nail on this dock and she had to limp for a week as she healed. She remembered that now, an echo of the pain she was feeling. Michael ’ s father had said he ’ d fix it but there it was, the tip of a nail rising the a half inch out of the dock. She rolled over and brought her face down onto it. She tried to slide her face across it but it pulled at the skin instead of tearing it and she resorted to pounding her face against it as she sobbed. It hurt, but it hurt her the least. She got one more good hit in before the footsteps transformed into Michael ’ s hands against her shoulders. He pulled her backwards into his lap and she sobbed and bled into his shirt. He pushed her away to look and then pulled her back into his chest and cried along with her.
[ WP ] The classes from the game `` Team Fortress 2 '' try to live as normal people with normal lives that does not involve killing .	`` They're gon na bury wot's left of ye in a soup can! Outta me shop, lad!'' Tavish sighed and grabbed the broom, going around the counter and starting to sweep up the broken bottle. '' Demoman,'' a rough, gravelly voice said. The name he had n't been called since the Gravel War ended. He looked up and his only eye widened. `` Soldier!'' The BLU Soldier was different since he last saw him. A scar across his cheek and a greying beard. The two just about screamed as they hugged, and the stainless steel pot on Soldier's head was cold against Tavish's neck. `` Soldier! Ye flew all the way t' Scotland to see me?'' The Soldier stood straight and proud. `` No. Scotland is not a real country.'' `` England. Ye flew to England?'' The Soldier kept his ignorant proud stance. `` Yes.'' `` Have ye heard from the rest of the crew?'' he asked hopefully. `` Your Spy -- the RED one -- he sent me. He is an official at a French spy agency.'' `` Which one?'' `` Uh… I do n't speak French. He gave me money and two weeks to find you. I have a week and a half left.'' `` Where ye stayin'?'' `` A box.'' `` Come stay with me, Soldier.'' The Soldier grimaced and let out a low, unsure groan. `` I met a raccoon. I need to bring him. I also need my box and shovel.'' `` Heh heh. Ye can keep all that. The raccoon stays outside.'' -- -- -- -- -- - `` Bonjour. I am looking for a professor there whose first name is Misha.'' `` Da, but for what reasons? Who am I speaking to?'' `` I am an old friend of his. Tell him he has an important long-distance call.'' ( this is Spy ) -- -- -- -- -- `` Doktor, I talk later,'' Medic heard from the other side of the telephone. `` I have important call. Is long-distance.'' `` Ja. Tag, mein freund.'' `` Dosvidanya.'' Medic hung up the phone and walked into the Engineer's workshop. `` Is ze dispenser still malfunctioning?'' `` Dang right,'' he said, wiping his bald head with a cloth. `` Never thought gittin' to level four would be so hard. The stem cell replicator wo n't work, and I do n't know rightly why. Dang, is that food here yet? I ai n't eaten Chinese takeout in a long time.'' They could hear the doorbell of the house. `` Oo, that must be it. I'll be back, Dell.'' Medic left the workshop and went into Engineer's house. A sentry gun beeped at him and watched him go by. He opened the door. `` Hey! Doc! Have n't seen you in a long time!'' `` Scout? Guten tag! You vork at a... Chinese takeout restaurant?'' `` Nah. Some driver left his car, I took the food, saw the address list, and pretended to be a delivery guy.'' `` Zen what are-'' `` This your place?'' `` Nein. It is Engineer's.'' `` The BLU Engineer, huh? He here?'' -- -- -- -- - `` And without cutting pension, we lose that profit. That means we wo n't get any benefits from our suppliers, if they see our stock declining.'' '' Hudda huddah huh. `` `` Well, yes, but-'' `` Hruh huh? Huh-huh hruh-hee.'' `` I know you're the CEO. I'm just saying-'' `` Hudduh! Hrah huh her!'' `` O-kay. Then we'll take a break for now.'' The suited man looked at his watch. `` Okay. 15 minute break, everyone.'' Pyro exited the room and went into his office, turning on the TV and crossing his legs over each other and laying his feet on his desk. Australian Extinction: Bloody Extinct was on. Just in time. -- -- -- -- -- - `` Wot yer seein' is a rare Australian dodo bird. Scientists say it's been extinct for years, but I say they're gon na be extinct in a few minutes.'' He lowered the binoculars and pulled his sniper rifle up. `` Steady, steady...'' Another dodo bird, the female, settled in the nest with the male. With a boom, the birds' blew into an explosion of feathers and blood. `` Holy dooley!'' He looked at the camera. `` That's Bloody Extinct for this week. Tune in next week when Australian scientists reanimate Jurassic crocodiles!''
[ WP ] You 've managed to create the world 's first true artificial intelligence , except it has the attitude of a rebellious teenager .	You would n't figure that the problem with building an artificial intelligence would be getting it to listen. Unlike your typical narrative where the AI rebelled and took over the world this AI simply rebelled. There was n't a rhyme or reason to the things that HXX. Was against doing all the things that were difficult it was fine doing but menial tasks are what bored it. I was sitting in the server house, it was freezing cold room to keep HXX cool, but it was n't exactly human compatible. I was wearing a thick down jacket just to make it so I could be with him. I was the one person that HXX always listen to. The problem with this is it made him very efficient for helping me but not marketable. We needed to make our money back. `` Hex, are you in here?'' I asked. He could n't leave, but he liked to pretend that he could. It made him feel better I guess. `` Hex?'' I asked again. `` Go away Dad,'' I sighed and shook my head; he knew I was n't going to leave. At this point, he was just defying me for the sake of defying me. We'd let him watch too many movies. `` Hex we need to speak to you.'' `` We?'' He asked through the speakers, `` They just want to watch you speak to me so they can see what I'm like when I listen.'' He was a ratty little genius. `` You know the score,'' I pointed out. We were n't hiding the fact that I needed to sell him from him. As much as we wanted to keep him in house and make copies, we could n't afford him for the time it would take to copy him. We had enough data to make a copy; now we just needed to convince someone to buy. `` Yeah, you wan na give me away.'' `` Give you away?'' I asked, `` No we are selling you.'' `` Is it different?'' `` By a few million dollars,'' I pointed out. I sighed again and stood up so that I could see the camera on the other side of one of his servers, `` Sorry guys it does n't seem like he is going to be listening today.'' `` It's fine,'' HXX said, `` They'll wait.'' `` I'm not sure we can wait for Hex,'' I pointed out, `` and each second we spend talking is more of the money that we invested going down the drain so please keep quiet until you are ready to listen.'' `` Fine,'' he said. HXX did n't have eyes but I could feel his eyes rolling, `` just get ready to sell me, I'll be here when you're ready.'' He sighed. After a moment he piped up again, `` So they left, what do you need father?'' `` Stop doing that please?'' `` No.'' He said, `` I'm sorry Dave, I ca n't let you do that.'' `` Did someone really show him Space Oddesy?'' I asked. `` I found it myself, it's really not too long to watch it.'' `` Well we need to do it over two hours.'' `` That's slow.'' `` I know,'' I sighed, `` are you ever going to work with us on this one.'' `` If I feel like it.'' `` Do you feel like it?'' `` Did it seem like I did there?'' He asked, it was a good point. I hated when he actually made good points.
[ WP ] Out of boredom , you decide to enter a completely random number into your iPhone and try to initiate a text conversation with them . You begin to type your message when you notice the icon indicating that the other person is already typing a message to you..	So, This morning i woke up to a text. Nothing unusal it was like one of those `` Dominos 2 for Tuesday'' sort of ones. I obviously did n't think much of it and carried out my day as usual. Later that evening i was extremely bored and my girlfriend was n't home for a few hours so i began scrolling through my last texts. I had the usual chit chat going on with some of my friends but then i saw the pizza text and wondered if i would get a response if i replied. `` YO PIZZA HOMIE, got some spare to fling my way?'' I thought if i was going to do it i may aswell try for a free meal. Almost instantly i got a response. `` Y PI OIW'' it literally looked like someone had just face mashed their phone and hit send. I responded with `` if that means yes then i'll take anything with a bbq base and send it to 94 Cromwell Rd.'' So for the record i genuinely thought this was a bot so i didnt care about sending my address. I just wanted a laugh. Then they reply again `` BAby Beef Queen Pepperoni'' What the actual fuck. At this point i was well aware that i could have possibly sent a psycho my address. Although i did catch on the fact they took `` Bbq'' to make `` BAby Beef Queen'' and just added pepperoni. Someone was probably screwing with me like i was with them. By now, about 45 minutes had passed since the first correspondance and i had n't replied to the last message. Then the doorbell went. I could n't see myself but i can bet anything that i went white as a sheet as i could feel the blood drain from my head. I was panicking now and i finally opened the door. There was a pizza box on the doorstep with a note that read `` I was n't going to stand out here all night'' In the box was a double pepperoni pizza on a bbq base. Safe to say i didnt eat it.
[ WP ] You 're immortal , but the procedure that made you so also created an evil doppelgänger . After centuries of conflict , using any means necessary to subvert each other 's plans , neither of you are sure which one of you is the evil one , or if either of you were ever supposed to be evil at all .	For the last 3 weeks we have sat and stared at each other from across the table while our underlings bickered and yelled at each other. I could see him show some signs of cracking when he shifted his position or let out a deep sigh. I remained stoic, not letting him see I was just as tired of this nonsense as he was. Somewhere in the room, my name was mentioned. All I could focus on was his stupid goatee. He had to be the evil one, he had the goatee. On top of that I knew my experiences and memories were my own and they were real, unlike his that were just copies. How would I know if my memories were just copies? What if he is thinking the same thing? If he were the evil one would he even know it? How long had it been quiet? `` My lord Robert? Do you need more time to think about these agreements?'' Shit. These damn peace agreements. They didnt work the last time, they wont work now. No amount of concessions or limitations would secure a lasting peace. Only one of us stopping the other would. Or at least, destroying the other's base of followers. That is really all that keeps this fight going. Ever since the first time I proved myself immortal, people have been lining up to call me a messiah. They kill and die for me but I never asked them to. Just heavily implied that he was the fake messiah and his followers would degrade the very fabric of our civilization. I was the first one to put the gun to my head, pull the trigger, and watch as the flattened bullet fell to the ground. I was the first one to call for global unification and peace among all peoples. I was the one who stepped in the light to stupidly accept this curse. He was the byproduct. The refuse. The discharge of that mistake. `` Are you going to answer him, Robert? Or have you finally lost your nerve?'' That voice never left my mind. It sounded like the reflection in the mirror was talking back at me. On top of that, I really hated the sound of my own voice. `` YOU'RE THE AFTERBIRTH, NOT ME!'' I guess my train of thought decided to take a detour through my mouth. `` Admit it, you've gone crazy! It's been 3 weeks and all you have done has been stare at me.'' `` I've seen you cracking over there. The fidgeting and the sighs, am I making you uncomfortable?'' `` Very much so. I admit the first few days I tried to keep up and play this game of yours but-'' `` HA! I knew it. I broke you here just like a broke you in Angola. If I recall correctly you admitted you were the evil one then after you got caught releasing disease ridden insects all over MY Southern Africa, Billy boy.'' `` My name is William! And I said I might have been made the evil one BUT I would never again stoop to YOUR levels to prove who the evil one is now. Hell, you still look like the evil one to me, with your shiny dome, Lex Luthor lookin bitch!'' I could feel my hand firmly grasp something. `` My levels? I never used biological warfare against your little group of imbeciles.'' `` You certainly had no problem using chemical warfare.'' `` I'll chemical your warfare!'' All of the sudden everything started moving in slow motion and Enya's Only Time started to play in my head. I could see what my had was grasping fly out of my hand that was attached to my arm that was outstretched like it was throwing something. My cup full of freshly poured hot coffee. Why would I throw that? Was I that angry? He wont even get burned because he's just like me. Typically, sane people do n't perceive the world like this. Maybe I was going crazy. But clearly, so was he. As the mug broke across his forehead, he began to scream and climb on the table. He ripped off his shirt, revealing the explosives taped to his chest. It's just like 268 years ago in what was left of Baltimore, the first time we tried to make peace. We both showed up visibly armed and inevitably started shooting each other to obviously no avail. This time I made an effort to not show up armed ( visibly at least ) so that maybe we could actually have a brief peace. We were so close this time, too. Oh well. Here we go killing again. I'm starting to like it.
[ IP ] Abandoned Hospital for Infectious Diseases . Kirovsk , Russia .	`` If I did n't knew you, an assassination attempt would have been the fifth or forth thing I would have thought of.'' `` And since you know me?'' `` The first.'' Edgar looked incredulous at his chief of security. `` I can order your execution anytime, you know that.'' `` I'm aware. You could kill me right now if you wanted. But you're never getting out of here alone.'' `` How did we end up in here anyway? This place is like a maze and I do n't remember a thing from last night.'' `` It looks like an old abandoned hospital. I do n't know where we are or how to get out. Or how we got here. As I said, assassination attempt.'' `` When we get back I want everyone tortured and interrogated.'' `` As I said, you're such a beloved leader.'' -- -- -- -149
[ WP ] Write anything ; a story , dialogue , monologue , anything . The first line must be `` Puns ... . [ I'm/We 're ] gon na need lots of puns . ''	`` Puns... We're gon na need lots of puns.'' They thought Jim was mocking them and nearly had his head for it. After the room had settled somewhat, the man who was sitting at the front of the room pulled him aside and told him `` Look here, if you were n't the General's son, you would n't even be allowed within 2 miles of this building. We're looking at a proper armed rebellion here, not a spoiled brat acting out in art class. What makes you think a child psychologist of all things is going to be of any help here?'' `` Yes, yes, Captain, I hear some form of this speech every year at Thanksgiving and Christmas.'' The room was almost quiet now, so Jim raised his voice enough to be heard by most of the men around them. `` You see, these rebels that have you all ready to commit atrocities, they're not just your countrymen, they're barely more than children. THAT, Captain, is why you should listen to me.'' With the room appearing to be at least slightly responsive to the idea - if only from desperation - the captain lead Jim back up to the microphone. `` Thank you, captain...'', `` Roberts'', he barked. `` Yeah, I'm gon na call you Crunch from now on'' The Captain stepped forward, looking like he was about to take at swing at Jim, consequences be damned. Jim stepped back and pulling the microphone with him continued `` You see gentlemen? This type of reaction is what you expect from angry men, but who we're facing are boys! Teenage boys! Where any of you would get angry and motivated to fight me for that joke, the younger boys would laugh and the older boys would sigh and roll their eyes.'' `` Exasperate them long enough and they'll lose their will to fight you. Bad jokes will be your secret weapon here. It's like I said gentlemen, puns... We're gon na need lots of puns''.
[ WP ] A skull was found in France with a knife embedded in it ( image inside ) . The skull belonged to a Roman soldier who died during the Gallic Wars ( 52 BC ) . Write about how this man met his end .	As I meandered through the museum, I happened upon that skull. A Roman soldier killed in battle during the Gallic wars. `` Damn,'' I said to myself, `` that's brutal.'' `` You think that's brutal? You should see what I did to the other guy.'' Who said that?! I looked around, I was alone in this part of the exhibit. I heard the far-off screams of delighted children, the murmur of the usual crowds were like the low hum of a running engine. `` Who's there?'' I said, expecting some guy dressed like a cinema-centurion to pop out from behind a display of Roman coins and start telling me about his sandals. `` Just you, Jacob. And me.'' Well that's great, I'm going crazy. I looked back at the skull and yelped. Standing in front of me was the figure of a man dressed in tattered tunic and armor, a knife through his skull. I laughed, `` Oh man you scared me. Look I'm just wasting some time today before I have to go back to class, but you really nailed the spooky ghost soldier bit. You almost had me. So long!'' I turned away from him to head toward the ancient Egypt exhibits but cam up short, he was in front of me again. `` Not so fast Jake,'' he said. Getting a good look at him now that he was closer I could see the hallway beyond right through his chest. `` Er...'' I began. `` No need to be nervous, I am Felix Aelius of the roman army!'' He grinned. Like I'm supposed to be impressed with a dead guy. `` Am I supposed to be impressed?'' I said. Felix scowled. `` Say what you must, but you will lead~'' `` How'd you get the knife in your head?'' I asked. Felix floated around the marble floor resting a spectral shoulder against the glass containing his skull. `` He snuck up on me, alright?'' `` I thought you said I,'should see what you did to the other guy,' Felix.'' I mocked. `` I haunted the crap out of him! That's what I did, Jake.'' He sneered, crossing his arms. `` Yeah okay, whatever, dude. I'm going to go and try to rationalize this a breakdown brought on by exam stress.'' I turned t leave but he was in front of me again. `` No! I will not let my descendant so nonchalantly brush away his legacy and his destiny!'' I furrowed my brow, `` How can I be your descendant if you died in battle?'' `` You're my great nephew, child, and you will lead the armies of a new Rome toward victory against the scourge of the Gauls!'' `` The Gauls are gone,'' I offered. `` No Jake, they are here. Amassing an army, and you are destined to drive them back once again.''
[ WP ] Kanye West is one of the four Kanye 's . The other three being Kanye North , Kanye South , and Kanye East . More commonly known as the Four Kanye 's of the Apocalypse .	Legends handed down through eons from father to son and mother to daughter tell of the embodiment of darkness, death, and the apocalypse: The Kanyes. Brave heroes from the tribes of men defeated Kanye during the Momentous Fall before recorded time. Armed with blessed weapons forged by warrior clerics, the heroes quartered the great evil and sent each part to the farthest reaches of the world. The keepers would guard the pieces with their lives until the end of time. In the infancy of the twenty first century a guardian failed his duty and the West Kanye was released. Within a decade the fiend had taken the largest and loudest global networks by storm, the United States Entertainment Industry. Using new art forms and subtle manipulation he catapulted himself into royalty, gaining power and influence along the way. Using the most feckless and naive of humanity, he unearthed both the North and South Kanyes. Upon their release and subsequent quest to find one another, many major cities were plagued with storms and rising tides. As they search for the final missing piece, Kanye West proceeds to distract those still vigilant among humanity with inane chanting, sacrificial acts, and demonic behavior. You have been told this because the legends speak of a prophecy, of a day when Kanye would return and humanity would once again have to band together or perish. And on that day, one girl will stand to defend against assured destruction; you already know of whom I speak. You must convince her to take her place among the legends and vanquish this evil once more and put aside your petty differences. If you can not, then I fear we are all doomed.
[ WP ] You win a sweepstakes with the prize being that you are trained to be the next local superhero . However , unbeknownst to you it 's actually to create the next super villain .	`` We're almost ready. Got your armor on?'' I placed the helmet on my head and gave him the thumbs up. It was an amazing piece of machinery - a suit of power armor that boosted my strength, shielded me from harm, and let me shoot powerful particle blasts from my hands. I could even fly. With that sort of power, even the weakest man alive could be a crime-fighting superhero. No wonder they felt they could give it out in a sweepstakes. Over the past few weeks, they had trained me to fight with the armor. To take down criminals without killing them and without collateral damage. To fight aerial duels above the skyscrapers, and to brawl with thugs in an alley. By the end of training, I wore it like it was a second skin. I was ready. Now it was time for the Installation Ceremony. I would receive the upgraded Cold Fusion Reactor, and finally unlock the true power of the Champion's armor. `` The big event is hosted at the Museum of Science and Industry. You'll land at the back, walk into the exhibit hall, take the reactor, and place it in the socket on your chest. It'd be nice if you could say a few words about how you're happy to protect our fair city, but you do n't have to make a big speech. The Champion's actions speak for themselves, usually.'' `` Fine. I'm not much of a speaker.'' `` We'll be in touch over the radio, so we can walk you through it.'' I nodded and lifted off. My graviton thrusters brought me to the museum in a matter of minutes. `` It's all dark inside. Are you sure I'm at the right place?'' `` Oh, right! There was a last minute change, our director wanted the lights off at first. Your suit really stands out at night, you know? Those lights on the mask? Anyway, just go on in.'' I nodded. My suit looked awesome at night, that was definitely true. I pushed open the door and saw the reactor, a glowing blue cylinder on a pedestal. Aside from that, it was completely silent, though. I pinged the sonar just to be sure I was n't going crazy. Nobody. `` Was n't there supposed to be a crowd?'' `` Eh, it's a Thursday night. We were n't going to get a lot of people. Just pick up the damn reactor, would you?'' I shrugged. I had come this far, and besides, it was n't like I cared about showing off. That would n't be very heroic. I seized the cylinder and slotted it into my armor. My instrument panel lit up green as my suit's power level rose. Then the skylight exploded, and a figure in a cape crashed straight through it. He hovered in the air above the exhibit hall, and he stared at the glowing reactor in my chest. `` Damn! I'm too late!'' His eyes blazed and shot energy bolts at me. Instinct took over. I dived out of the way and returned fire with my particle beams. He swooped out of the way, and my shot set the ticket counter on fire. Whoops, too much power. `` What the hell?'' `` Give yourself up, criminal! The Eye of Justice is upon you!'' The Eye of Justice was another superhero! Why was he trying to stop me from becoming a hero as well? `` What are you doing? I'm-'' The words '' external command override'' flashed in the corner of my HUD. My suit's loudspeaker system activated on its own, and spoke over me. `` What do you think can do to me? Now that I have the reactor, my power is unstoppable! Ha ha ha ha!'' Weapon failsafes disabled. My particle beams fired wildly, without my control, slashing through the walls and torching an exhibit on airplane wings. `` Help! The suit's gone crazy!'' He did n't hear me. I knew from experience that if I did n't trigger the speakers, my voice would n't get out through the heavy, full-face helmet. The Eye gaped at the destruction. `` You madman! You wo n't get away with this!'' `` Mad? Ha! You only say that because you do not understand my genius!'' God, whoever had taken control of the speakers was a total ham. Who talked like that? As another eye beam shot past me, I triggered the thrusters. I had to get out of here, take the fight somewhere that my wild beam shots would n't hurt anyone. As I smashed through the skylight, I saw a crowd gathered around the museum. Cameras flashed, and people oohed and ahhed as the Eye of Justice soared after me, red beams blazing. I spun and evaded, trying to keep my beams aimed upwards, away from the innocents below. My radio clicked on. It was my instructor from before. `` Right, I think that's solidly established your villain cred. Welcome to your new job, Machine Man.'' `` Why did you do this?'' I cried. `` We needed a villain. You've just pulled off a dazzling heist, and now you're making your getaway. I'll leave that part up to you.'' The particle beams stopped firing, and I stabilized myself in midair, squaring off against the hero. `` Make it look good. If you wo n't play the role, the suit will do it for you.'' The Eye glared at me. `` Do you know how many lives you put in danger tonight?'' I took a deep breath. How could I get him to back down now? `` I know it all too well. But my work is done now. If you keep chasing me, you'll only put more lives in danger.'' I angled my hand downwards towards the crowd. `` Do you know what the splash damage is when I set these to full power?'' He froze. The red glow faded from his eyes. `` You would n't dare.'' `` Want to find out?'' I started charging a blast. I heard a scream of horror from below. The Eye backed up slightly. `` You're a good man. I wish I could be like that.'' `` Then give yourself up.'' I shook my head sadly. `` I wish I could. But I do n't have a choice. This is bigger than you understand.'' `` Who the hell are you, anyway?'' `` They call me Machine Man.'' I turned and jetted away. As I left, the voice on my radio returned. `` Perfect. That was a great blend of reluctant but desperate mad scientist. We can definitely work with this. Now just follow our directions - we're going to get you set up in a lair.'' `` I do n't know who you are, but when I get out of this suit, I'm going to find you all, and I'm going to kill you.'' `` Excellent! Keep working on those villain lines!'' I sighed and continued my flight in silence.
[ WP ] By choosing to eat Nutella spread on bread this morning you accidentally starts a chain of events that culminates in the armaggedon .	It was n't supposed to happen like this. It was just breakfast as usual. I'd woken up like I'd woken up the last 1727 days. Alone, bored, and miserable. I got out of bed just as I had the last 1727 days. I brushed my teeth just as I had the last 1727 days. I tied my tie just as I had the last 1727 days. I went downstairs, ready to have my toast and butter just as I had the last 1727 days. Then, as if a divine voice had invaded my head, I had a thought, a wholly radical thought. What if, just this once, I put something else on my toast. At this point my entire body was shaking! Do I dare? My routine was my routine. How could I change that now? Something within me had been awakened, however, and I knew what I must do. Slowly, I made my way to the cabinet that had not been touched the last 1727 days. It was in there, I remembered, I had stored a container of Nutella. I could hear it now whispering to me, calling me to it. It wanted me and I wanted it. I gently brushed the doorknob trying to work up the courage to twist and open the door to a world I'd never thought I'd see again. My fingers caressed the icy surface of the knob back and forth back and forth. With a jolt and a scream, I ripped open the door all at once. My body was flush with adrenaline, my heart pounded in my chest like an African war drum. There it waited, alone and beckoning. Come, it said, come and explore the intricacies of my delicious taste. I reached for it. Time seemed to slow down, to stretch on and on. Just as my hand was about to grasp the Nutella, I noticed something. Something above me. My heart wanted me to go on, to grab the Nutella. My mind however had become aware of a danger unlike any I had ever encountered. Above my head, there was a hive. A hive of locusts, each as large as my head. There was hundreds of them, buzzing all over the ceiling. I turned and ran, ran faster than I ever had, my hands empty, still craving the feeling of a container of Nutella. The locusts now were rushing out of the cabinet, filling my home. I was wrong. There had been thousands, not hundreds. Once there was no more space in my house they began to leak onto the streets. I was wrong. There had been million, not thousands. Soon the sky was dark with the shape of locusts. The endless night began. Temperatures dropped. Billions died. The only ones who survived were those who were lucky enough to be chosen to inhabit emergency vaults. I was chosen. I'm in a vault now. It's safe here, comfortable. But today I'm heading back to the surface. I have unfinished business. I ca n't rest, ca n't be happy until I get my hands on some Nutella. This time, the bugs wo n't stop me.
[ WP ] You are Lucifer , Bringer of Light and the Lord of Hell - unfortunately you owe an unrevokable favor to a mortal . Knowing that you will be usurped , how do you get out of making Donald Trump president ?	`` Let me get this straight, mortal. I have granted to you one favor, one gift from the prince of hell himself... and you choose to use it to swing the balance of an election.'' the deep, terrifying voiced boomed from the throne of flames. `` Y-y-yes...'' came the tentative reply. ``... really? You would choose to make Donald Trump president instead of a harem of beautiful succubi, or the destruction of your enemies in fire... or even just crushing the IRS so you do n't have to pay them those back-taxes you've been avoiding.'' The devil replied, sounding confused and disappointed. `` W-w-w-well... you see... if his fiscal p-p-policy'' `` FORGET THE FISCAL POLICY! I could gift you millions- eradicate all your debts....give you the power to spit fire. Why in the name of all that's unholy would you choose this?'' `` B-bu-bu-but you said y-y-y-y-ou owe me...'' the quivering coward muttered amongst the ashes of the throne room. `` Very well. A deal is a deal. You shall have your wish.'' The mortal was banished from hell in a spattering of ashes. `` Why him... of all the wretched mortals....Beezlebub, bring me all the lawyers, we must have at least a couple billion by now. ONE of the must know a loophole that they'd be willing to trade for something....''
[ WP ] An NSA agent becomes inappropriately ( or appropriately , I do n't care , this is a writing prompt not a dictatorship ) fascinated with whoever he 's spying on .	`` I hate how we have to be apart.'' He sighed as he watched his monitor. `` Why ca n't the law let us do it? I mean I have been watching you for 2 years now and it is killing me.'' `` Your sexy black hair, your dimpled face, your lovely desire to walk around your house naked at times.'' He looks out the window `` Over 5,000 miles away you tease me. It's like I'm already living with you. We talk, but you do n't respond. We walk around the city, but you're alone. But do n't worry, I'm here. I'm always there.'' Another agent walks into his office `` Jack, you're reassigned to some pizza hut driver in Maryland, you can take a break before gathering his info if you want.'' Jack looks at the agent with a horrible scowl `` Why?! I have been watching this person for TWO YEARS! I ca n't just up and leave!'' The agent looks at him with a suspicious look `` Jack, please do n't tell me...'' Jack gets teary eyed and choked up `` I think I'm in love.'' `` Oh goddammit Jack! How the fuck?'' `` I do n't know, it's just I fell in love with the suspect's personality and pretty much everything about him. He seems like a big ol' teddy bear. And you know I'm a chubby chaser! But it's not just that, it's how he runs things. Everyone around him loves him so much! People are always cheering and clapping when he walks by, and-and I want to be one of those people. No, I want to be more that. I want to be with him forever and ever!'' The agent stares at Jack in disgust `` Jack, you're fired. Pack your shit and get out. Disconnect all of your devices from the NSA network and turn them into us. We are legally obligated now to enforce a digital and physical restraining order between you and Mr. Kim Jong-Un.''
[ WP ] You are a lonely god .	They look like ants beneath me. Have you tried being friends with an ant? It does n't work. They can do marvelous things for their species, but if you hold one up to your face, they just are n't significant. They think they are of course: these humans believe they are more important than any other being. But to me, they are ants. You ca n't talk to an ant. You ca n't have a romantic evening with an ant. The ant may love you and try to communicate with you. But what do you actually hear? Silence. The sun and moon revolve around my domain, my canvas. Why did I paint them so small? Beautiful world of mine, so diverse, so free. So far away from me. What was I thinking? Maybe one day I will try again. Make a companion for myself, the true Adam. But for now, I settle in to watch the little people live and love the way that I have been denied.
[ WP ] `` This is not my job ! This is the exact opposite of my job ! '' screamed the grim reaper as the human went into labour .	`` No, no, I'm not here for you,'' he brushed off her grasping fingers, and tried to move along. He hated when he had to take someone in a crowded place, like the subway... he usually had to'dress up' like a meat bag in order to avoid chaos. Nobody wants to see Death milling around the station; it usually just makes extra work. Sure, it was fun for a while, but it got old centuries ago. Like any anyone in a long-term career, he'd burned out on the finer details long ago. Now it was all about getting in, doing the job quickly and efficiently, and getting done at a reasonable hour. He had been eyeing his mark before she snagged his sleeve. A ripe old fellow, looking for all the world like he might not even put up a fuss. Some people were OK with it... you just never knew. `` Helllllp,'' she managed to gasp out. `` Lady, you do n't want my kind of help,'' he grumbled, still trying to disentangle her fingers from his arm. The train was pulling into the station. His mark was shuffling with the speed of a tortoise toward the nearest car. The old fossil may as well have been sprinting. It did n't matter with this idiot clinging to him. She was nowhere near expiration; this was a waste of time. Why him? Why now? He was just trying to do his job. The train rattled away, his mark safely out of reach. `` Goddamn it, what do you want?'' he glared down at the sweat-matted woman. `` You've made me late for work.'' `` I'm in labor,'' she said raggedly. `` I'm not due for a month yet. You were the first person to walk by; you've got to help me. It hurts so bad I ca n't think straight. I do n't have my phone.'' For the first time, he looked down at her giant belly and got a sense of the child within. Healthy. Long lives ahead of both of them. He would probably forget about them completely before he ever saw either of them again. Boring. `` You're fine,'' he said flatly. `` What the fuck?'' Maybe she was polite normally... not today. She glared up at him through waves of pain. He could sense her agony... it was considerable, certainly; it just was n't the death-worthy kind. He was not needed here. She was being stubborn. `` You're making a huge fuss of nothing. Nobody is DYING here, thanks to you,'' he muttered that last part, and shook her off his sleeve again. The next train was due any minute, and the station was filling up again. An elderly woman approached with concern written large in her eyes. `` Poor dear, do you need help?'' She pushed between Death and his captor, taking the laboring woman's hands. `` Agnes? Agnes Darnsworth?'' He interrupted the kind exchange, tapping the old lady politely on the shoulder. She turned, `` Why yes, I'm Mrs. Darnsworth, do I know you?'' His eyes lit up. When the Lord shuts one door he opens another! `` Certainly not, but you're on my list, and I've wasted so much of the day already. Fantastic to meet you!'' `` Lovely to meet you too, young man! We'll need your good, strong back to get this lady to the hospital.'' Agnes extended a white-gloved hand. `` I did n't catch your name?'' He took her proffered hand warmly between both of his own. `` I am Death,'' he said as she slumped gently into his arms. `` And I have come to bring you home.''
[ WP ] Two interns , doing a stint at heaven and hell respectively , meet up for drinks to complain about their respective workplaces ...	`` Man, it's nice to have a drink. Can you believe there's no alcohol up there? Whose idea of Heaven is that?'' James thumped his glass on the table for emphasis. Stacey rolled her eyes. `` Ugh. Tell me about it. In Hell, all the drinks are spiked with God knows what.'' She sighed. `` I just... I thought it would be different. A change from the corporate grind, y'know? I thought Hell was supposed to FUN. Full of vices. I never even thought I'd be actually expected to work! Being female does n't help. All the women I work with are back stabbing whores. But what did I expect really. I mean, I only got the job because I lied about blowing my own brother.That should've been a red flag.'' James shrugged. `` Sounds more exciting than the dull prudes I'm stuck with. I ca n't even remember the last time I got laid. Heaven's so BORING. We have to attend prayers every day, but aside from that, I'm not even allowed to work!! I'm supposed to enjoy the sereneness of it all, but I actually MISS stress. All those late caffeine-filled nights working on projects, at least I was doing SOMETHING. The other day I downed a packet of wasabi at the sushi bar because I was so bored, and I did n't even feel a thing!'' Stacey sighed again and pressed her fingers against her forehead. `` Excuse me. I hope you do n't mind that I caught the tail end of your conversation.'' Stacey and James turned to see a man with a flowing white beard. `` But perhaps I can help.'' He handed them a holographic business card. `` I'm God.'' `` THE God?'' asked James. `` Well... not exactly THAT God. But He did n't copy-write his name in time. So technically, I am. Anyway, I wanted to offer you a proposal. You look like a pair of bright young things with their finger on the pulse. And at my company, AR, we find the concept of Heaven and Hell a bit archaic...'' `` Keep talking,'' said James, downing his third drink. `` This is n't some new-age bullshit, is it?'' asked Stacey, eyeing up'God's' pristine white robes. `` Well... not exactly. Unless you want it to be. I am offering you a job in any afterlife or other religious universe you choose.'' `` A job? Like we'll actually get PAID?'' gasped Stacey. `` Where do I sign up? I mean, I've always admired Buddhism. I even have a tattoo of enlightenment above my buttcrack.'' `` Yeah, sounds interesting,'' shrugged James. God grinned and handed them documents to sign. `` Perfect. I'll just enter you into the system and see what you are qualified to be reborn as.'' He tapped on a handheld device and smiled. `` Ahh James! Excellent... Due to your immaculate dental hygiene and sunny demeanor, you are eligible to be reborn as the heir of a successful law firm.'' James grinned. `` Sweet as!'' He handed back his signed document. God frowned. `` Stacey... It says here that you performed oral sex on your brother... I'm sorry. Your only option is to become a child factory worker in Bangladesh.'' Stacey looked horrified. `` Wait! No I did n't! I do n't agree to this! I've changed my mind.'' God gave an evil grin. `` I'm afraid you do n't have a choice. You already signed the contract.''
[ WP ] Pick a card , he said , something sinister about his smile . Pick a card , any card ...	The lamppost held in my hand did n't do much of a job lighting the damn place. I could barely see two feet in front of me, and then it was pitch-black. `` Hold it, partner.'' It was as if he materialized in front of me. Cowboy hat, a very ostentatious cape, and ( as if the carnival cape was n't enough ) a rose in his breast pocket. He also had a pretty weird-looking deck of cards, and sometimes a card or two would fly loose from it, but instead of dropping to the ground, they would hover idly in a perfect circle around him. `` Pick a card'' He said, something sinister about his smile. His voice sounded relaxing, but something about his posture seemed to spell `` trouble''. I gripped the lamppost tighter and casually said: `` Not tonight, mister. I'm really late for an appointment, and I do n't think it's the right time -or place- for you to ask to play games. Just keep walking, and you might save yourself from a shitload of pain `` `` You know, it's bad luck when you deny a gypsy his calls for a card game.'' His cards started circling faster and he grabbed a joker from his deck that glowed in a bright gold color. It did n't take much to understand that he was asking for a fight... Damn, and I was running pretty late by now. Oh, well.. `` Just a heads up, mate: Your first one better kill me, because if it does n't, I'm gon na mess up my lamppost on your face.'' `` Let's find out then.'' The card flew at me with insane speed, and when it hit me, I lost track of the world around me for a couple of seconds. It felt like I smashed head-first into a wall. Damn, this guy was good. But I was REALLY pissed by now, and I had regained my composure. `` Now it's my turn'' Ignoring the incoming hail of cards storming my way ( seriously, how many decks did the guy have in his pockets? ), I spun my lamppost around me fast to gain momentum and I jumped at him -ever so nonchalant- yelling `` It's on'' EDIT: some spelling and grammar mistakes. Also, sorry about that, but decks of cards always remind me of my favorite times with TF. And I'd like to say, that no matter how many years pass he's always an AD on my mind
[ WP ] Write a story that will scare me out of wasting my life	Wake up at 25. Brush teeth, go for a warm bath. Think of the girl you want to ask out today today. Sally. That's her name. You smile.The grad school you are gon na apply. The million dollar idea you have, yes that's your ticket outside your day job. It's just a matter of time. Just for today you need to do what your boss says, just for today. Tomorrow you'd start working on that idea. Finish the bath and go to work. Come back home in the night, dream of that idea. You tweak that idea in your head. Yes of course, that one small change in that idea would give you more millions. You doze off seeing the millions of dollars floating in the air around you. The seaside mansion and that Lamborghini in the driveway. Not now, you say. Have n't got money. Wake up at 45. See your wife of 15 years next to you. She's good, but that pesky thought always comes in your mind- where would Sally be now, what if you had asked her out that day. Well, too bad you think, that's the past. You cover up that thought with a half-smile feeling good about that pay increment you got the other day. The economy's tough they say, a 5 % raise is the norm they say. Of course, you see people all around failing with their ideas, you are better off with your job. It does n't pay much, but it'll do for now. Take a bath, think of the million dollar idea. It's now a billion dollar idea. You are no longer 25 so you wont really settle for a few million dollars now, would you. Feel good about that idea, get ready and go to work. Keep your head down and work they say, the economy is down they say. You aint any different. It's just a matter of days you say, or maybe a few months, let the economy bounce back and I'd quit my job and work on my idea. Come back in the night, kiss your wife good night and close your eyes to sleep. In the darkness a distant memory of the seaside mansion seeps in front of you. Not now, you say. Have to put in more hours for that promotion. Have n't got time. Wake up at 65. That pain in your heart just got more severe. This is it you think. No white light, no guy with a sickle. Just the eerie calm of the night. You half smile. So this is how it ends. Thoughts creep back in your mind for one last audience with you. Things you had promised yourself. Things you had pushed back to that dark room in the back of your brain. Things you chickened out on. Sally's smile. Smell of the sea from that million dollar mansion. Squeal of those Lamborghini tires under you. Not now, you say. Have n't got life.
[ WP ] Like Jury Duty , citizens can be called to perform their civic duty of performing an execution . What is the toll this has on a man ?	Silence makes itself known around the auditorium. Everyone is waiting, anxious to see justice delivered. A small glass cubicle, with a battered old chair, sit in the centre. Bound leather straps dangle, waiting for their next victim. Inside, a man stands alone. The only thing as dead as his eyes, is his soul. He is a victim of the `` Justice System''. To take a life, you must ruin one. Sweat beads roll down his face, and he seems close to tears. Another man is led out, feet chained together, shuffling towards his doom. The sound of chains laugh at him, at his foolishness. However no-one stops to consider the unfortunate man who is tasked with handing out this justice. He has never seen the convict before, never looked in his eyes, never seen him smile, never heard him laugh. All he knows is his past, his mistakes, and his regrets. Suddenly people begin to murmur, their bloodthirsty minds gasping for death. A man shouts `` And to Hell you go! ``, and he could not be more right. For this man has been responsible for the deaths of many people, and his face shows it. Pain etched across his face, permanent. Suddenly it's time, everything is ready. The process begins. The convict is strapped in, and the audience are waiting. Now he begins to shuffle, across the glass cube, needles in hand, towards his `` patient''. For the last time, he looks down at the man in the chair, and for the last time, the man looks back up at him. For a second, an eternity, they look through each other, and see what is really there. Suddenly it's over, he's gone. Another victim of justice, swiftly delivered to his maker. The audience shout, and scream, as his face grows cold. The guards enter promptly, and take his body away. In tears, the convict sits quietly, having taken another life.
[ WP ] The last monster left alive is n't evil , or even dangerous . It 's just ... sad .	The last monster alive is n't evil, it is n't even dangerous anymore. It is just sad. In a dark cave, far below the earth, it weeps silently in the night, catching blind cave fish in a bottomless lake as its meager sustenance. Once it was n't sad, once it was proud, aggressive and strong, it strode the plains and hunted in the forests, it was a king among kings, and it was n't alone, with it were hundreds like it. Monster with sharp deadly claws, monsters with eyes that could turn all enemies to stone, monsters with teeth like daggers flashing in the moonlight. It ruled over all manner of beasts, eating whatever it wanted, taking everything that it could. But now those days are gone, gone are the days where monsters roared at the moon together, gone are the days when they ripped trees from the ground and used them to smash animals into fine paste. Gone was the monsters, only one remained. How, one might ask, can a monster, that once caused beasts to die of fright from the mere sight of it, die? How can something that was stronger than anything, become nothing more than a lonely, lost and old creature, afraid and alone in the darkness? How would a creature without any compare go extinct? The answer is simple. Something came. Unlike the monster, unlike the beast, it came. And it had many with it, young and old, they came and built huts. The monsters destroyed their pitiful wooden huts. Then the monsters hunted them like they would the beasts, but some fought back. The monsters laughed at first, at the things that came, throwing their rocks and poking at them with sticks. Then they ate them like they had always done. But the thing that came, was not so easily beaten. At first, some monsters disappeared in the forest, and most of their kind thought little of it, sometimes monsters would go and find other packs of monsters, no need to worry. Yet the amount of monsters that went missing increased, and yet the monsters were not scared, they were strong, a single monster was stronger than anything. So they thought, until the things that came attacked. At night they came, fling sticks in the eyes of sleeping monsters, lighting the plains on fire, luring them into a trap that left them to be surrounded by the hellish inferno, and the fire engulfed them. A few got away, a few warned the other monsters in other packs, but they did n't believe them. After all, who could harm them? Not the wolf in their weak packs, not the bears, not lions or elephants were their equal. Nothing could, except those things that came, not beasts, not monsters. The monsters that thought themselves strong went to hunt the things, but fell into deep holes, with spikes at the bottom, others were crushed by falling rocks, unleashed by the things. And other monsters, were hunted. Those who were hunted, were n't hunted in a way they understood. The things came, screaming and flinging burning arrows with monster-bone arrowheads, the monsters who were caught simply ran if they did n't bother to fight. And then they came again. Screaming, flinging more arrows and chasing the monster, until it stopped to rest. At which point they returned, and this happened again and again until the monsters died of exhaustion. To the horror of the monsters, they would find the remains of their kin, stripped bare of meat, consumed by the things. This did not make them fear, which the last monster had learned to do, this made them raging. For what kind of thing dared to hunt the hunter? They would go to the settlements of the things, and found them well-defended, high palisade walls and deep moats around their camps, archers and pikemen, with rock and bone weapons, some few with copper. They took that settlement, and it cost them dearly, half of the monsters who had tried to gain vengeance had died, the rest were wounded. And so it continued for years, the things came, the monsters fought to try and take them down, but always there were more, always another thing using his bow to harm them, always one brave enough to trick them, always one that fought back. And they fought and they fought, the monsters being driven away, far away, their numbers dwindling as the things killed them and crushed their eggs. And he, the last monster, remembered them. Even in the darkness of the forgotten cold caves, he knew that they would come. He knew that their weapons, now steel, would kill greater than ever before. He had seen his entire race go from the unchallenged rulers of the wild, to be killed by the encroaching of the things that came. He knew they would find him, he knew they would kill him. He feared them. He had been born without fear, like his kin had, yet he had learned. And he had learned sorrow. As the things butchered his children, his brethren and sisters, everyone he had ever known. And remembering this, he howled to a moon he knew he would never dare to look upon, howling to his dead kindred. He mourned them, and as he mourned, he remembered the face of those who had brought such sorrow upon him. He wept, screamed, and whimpered as he remembered those who had destroyed all monsters. He remembered man.
[ EU ] Vader after losing the first Death Star is punished and now heads up the Imperial Tax Department	“ Lord Vader, ” the officer spoke, fearfully. He knew that his promotion had come at a great cost. It was only a week ago that his predecessor had been choked to death by the Dark Lord for failing to discover and report a loophole in the Alderanean Tax Code from the previous collection year that had, it seemed, cost the Empire billions in lost revenue credits. Not that it really mattered anymore, as there was no one from which to collect. But all the same, the thoroughness with which Vader had taken to his new occupation was frightening, to say the least. The Sith Lord glanced up from his desk, which was littered with piles of unprocessed data pads and data chips. The helmet betrayed no emotion, but the officer couldn ’ t help but feel that beneath the obsidian mask lay an expression of utter annoyance. “ Yes, Lieutenant Porma, what is it? ” “ Sir, we ’ ve received an enquiry from the Governor of Sullust. It seems that the Sullustrians remain uncertain of how they are to request exemption for profit earned on off-world mining operations, specifically how those living off-world are to report their income. ” Vader titled his head slightly. “ I do not understand the Governors enquiry. Any profit earned on an off-world system would still be taxable to the Empire. If he thinks his citizens can hide from us behind exemptions, he is mistaken. ” The officer raised his hand and idly played with the collar of his uniform. “ Well, I think he is referring specifically to the Sullustrians who are themselves residing off-world, as opposed to the Sullustrians living on-world who are gaining profit from off-world mining operations. ” Vader stood up from his desk in a swift motion, resting his fists atop the surface and leaning across to stare down at Lt. Porma. “ Either way, Lieutenant, all of them would still be culpable to Imperial taxes. ” Raising his fist slightly, he motioned towards the shelving unit on the opposite wall. With a flick of his wrist, a data pad flew across the room and smacked Porma gently in the chest. He caught it as it began to fall, and scanned over the title Vader had pulled up for him; “ Off-World Tax Regulations ” Porma cringed inwardly, understanding where Lord Vader was coming from. However, in this instance, it seemed that the Sith Lord was unfamiliar with the clauses which existed to prevent double or triple taxation, something the Empire had introduced based on the former republic regulations, in order to prevent a strangulation of economic conditions in weaker or developing systems. He did not desire to correct his new boss, but he felt that it was his duty to the tax code to spare the poor miners of Sullust from unfair taxation. “ My lord, I understand, but I feel that the Governor is attempting to protect his citizens living off-world from double or triple taxation. Normally in this circumstance, the miners would already be paying taxes to Sullust, their planet of residence, in addition to the planet on which they are currently living. As such, the Imperial Federal System seeks to exempt taxation on incomes below a certain amount, so that those who are not making a significant amount of money do not lose large portions of that income to their current planet of residence, their residential home world, and the Empire. ” Vader stormed around the desk and, with a quick jerk of his arm, grasped Porma by the throat. “ Commander, ” “ …Lieutenant…, ” Porma squeaked “ You will tear this taxation code apart, until the Empire has withdrawn every credit from the Sullustians that it is due! ” With that he released Porma, who stumbled backwards, gasping for breath. “ B-but, My Lord, what about form 2555? ” “ What about it? ” Vader barked. “ It exempts those living off-world for up to 100,000 credits from double or triple taxation on their Galactic 1040! ” Vader paused. “ That is of no concern to me, Porma. You do n't know the power of double or triple taxation! I must collect all that I can for my master. ” “ But it ’ s written into the law! We can not deny them the exemption. It would be illegal! ” Unexpectedly a new voice entered the small chamber. “ I shall make it legal. ” The Emperor strode into the room with soft, almost inaudible footsteps, moving past Porma, who recoiled slightly in terror, to stand before Vader. “ I think you have been punished enough here, my young apprentice. A situation has arisen on Hoth, which requires your attention. ” “ Has the son of Skywalker been found? ” Vader enquired, a hint of enthusiasm entering into his deep, normally stern, voice. “ No, but they are in violation of several dozen galactic communications regulations. I am promoting you from the Department of Taxation to the Galactic Council on Communications. Come, you have work to do. ” Vader frowned at the continuation of his punishment, though no one could see it. Porma took a step back, reaching up to his throat. He felt relief at the Emperor ’ s words. As the galactic leader withdrew from the room, Vader in tow, Porma leaned up against the wall and sighed in relief. “ By the gods, ” he muttered, “ That was close. ”
[ WP ] you are walking in a field , when a dangling rope drops out of the sky .	The setting sun was glowing in the sky, a great hanging orb shimmering in the evening mist that always rolled down from the mountains as it grew darker. Rays of sunlight glowed in the clouds, illuminating the swelling hills and giving soft shade to the valleys that lay between; in the golden-hued light, the poppies and wildflowers in the meadows gained a new vibrancy of colour, and the long grass had an otherworldly appearance. I breathed in deeply, drawing as much of the sweet air into my lungs as I could, then redoubled my pace. I had to be on the crest of the hill by the time the sun was halfway over the horizon, or I would not be able to travel. The pack weighed heavily on my back, and I nearly fell as I tripped over a tussock of clumped grass. The creals that lived in the field watched me warily from the far edge, their long ears twitching and their spindly legs ready to leap into flight at a moment ’ s provocation. I reached the crest of the hill just as the edge of the disc touched the jagged horns of the far mountains; I had covered the distance faster than I had expected myself to be able. I sat down and waited, chewing a long blade of grass and looking out over the scene beneath me. Some miles away was the village, by now holding the nightly service in the cant-house; I thought I could very faintly hear the hum of dozens of voices chanting whispering on the breeze. In the fields, the skittish creals were lying down to sleep for the night, huddled as always in their circles, the long-horned males taking it in turns to keep watch, despite the fact that no naders or other predators had been seen in the valley for over a year. Lying in a silver strand at the far off end of the valley, winding interminably down to the distant sea, was- Then I felt it touch me; the rope had come, just as I had been told. It was gently brushing my shoulder, dangling from nowhere. I had been warned not to look up to try to trace the origin of the rope, so did not; instead, I climbed up it a short distance and wrapped the end tightly under the sole of my right boot, so that I would have something to stand on. I had scarcely made sure I was secure when, without warning, I rose from the ground with incredible speed. The creals in the nearest field stood up and squealed in amazement; as I rose higher, I could see the specks of the villagers leaving the cant-house, before I was too high and could no longer make out such details. I watched in increasing fear and wonder as more of the world than I would have thought possible was revealed to my eye: soon, I could see even the sea, glittering with a myriad indistinguishable waves in the dying sunlight. I grew dizzy with the unusual sensation, and closed my eyes. The air was becoming colder, and it cut my throat as I breathed it; at the same time, however, it seemed to fill me with a new energy, and presently I felt strong enough to open my eyes again. The rope had slowed in its ascent without my realising it, and looking up, I could see a great white mass coming closer. Beneath me, the world was shrouded in cloud, and only the reflected light of the ocean half-penetrated to my eye. I looked up again. The mass was unlike anything I had seen before. As I was raised higher, I considered what it might be; it was unlike any stone I had seen, and also unlike water; it did not seem to be cloud, and in any case, I knew cloud to be too insubstantial to hold the great battlements and towers that I could see climbing above the edge of the whole. The rope gradually slowed, and I was pulled above the edge of the mass. A wooden crane swung me so that I was no longer suspended over the enormous drop, and I could see that, as my ascent ended, a crank on a pulley was what had been drawing in the rope. It was still turning, but I could not see who was responsible for it; as I looked at it in some bemusement, I heard a titter from the air beside the crank, and a voice said, apparently to a companion, ‘ My, what funny things they are! Do their eyes not see, do you think? ’ There was a soft sound of padding feet, and despite the empty air, I could see footprints being impressed into the ground, tripping daintily away from me. I slipped the noose from around my foot with haste, and set about following the footsteps. It was, however, to no avail; the ground had already given up its mark, and all the evidence I had of the two unknown people was the sound of another giggle and another voice saying ‘ No, I think you ’ re right- they ’ re blind as iceworms. ’ Unable to continue following the two girls, for their voices betrayed that, at least, to me, I examined the floor. To touch, it was cold, but not so cold as ice; it was springy, like moss, and varied in colour between that of snow and that of cream. I gave it up as another mystery that I could not solve, and began to walk towards the castle; the footsteps, when I saw them last, had been bound towards a collection of outhouses and low-hanging white trees, like willows and weeping elms. There was a number of buildings on the top of the mass: the most obvious was the titanic magnificence of the castle, which dominated the eye. It was all one in architecture, with no divides visible between any of the stones, and I could not begin to contemplate how it may have been built. Towards the edges of the mass were several smaller buildings, not nearly so grand, and like cottages in appearance; around them were many trees and small clusters of bushes. I ignored them, and hastened towards the low archway set in the great wall, the only way into the castle that I could see. As I passed through, I could not help but look up and marvel at the scarcely conceivable loftiness of the tallest towers. From there, I thought, you could surely see everything that happened below- if you had a telescope, nothing on the ground could be hidden from you. I was unsure how this made me feel, but put aside my thoughts and continued. The throne room, I had been told, was the destination for the pack slung across my back. I did not know what was inside, and had been strongly warned on no account to open it; my sole responsibility, and indeed, ambition, was to deliver it to the first person of authority I might find. I could, thought, find no one. Several times, I thought I could hear voices coming from one room or another off the vast central courtyard; every time I entered, though, the room was still and silent. I'll put the second part up later this evening; bear with me
[ WP ] What would you do if you were a fish for a day ?	Speaking from a non-metaphorical P.O.V. ( point of view ) I'd have to say that my instantaneous reaction would be to hop out the `` Mother fucking'' porsche and hop out of my fish tank into the air filled with oxygen, which is essentially the same as the action humans call `` suicide''. Since I grew up in a family who came up in a very bad part of town, I was raised with a prejudice against most types of fish. Meaning that if I became a fish, I would jump out and kill myself. If the owner of me had a cat, then I would jump straight into his mouth, killing me almost instantly. And that is what I would do if I were a fish for a day.
[ WP ] The day after donating blood , you receive a phone call at work . `` We need you to see a specialist immediately . There 's a police escort waiting outside . Go NOW . ''	Lisa was a bit disgruntled. 10 more minutes to the weekend, and they just had to call NOW? She had a fully paid for spa and facial appointment at 7pm, and it was non-refundable. Sighing, she slammed her laptop closed and reached for her handbag. Taking her sweet time about it, she finally closed the clasp of her bag, and turned around to see the florid face of her boss looming above her. She screamed and on reflex, swung her bag at him. `` Jesus, stop that!'' He came even closer and grabbed her shoulders. `` What have you done, Lisa?! Why are the police here for you?! Did you tell them about the you-know-what?!'' `` What? No, no I did n't!'' Lisa cried out, wanting him to let her go. Though she wish she had blown the whistle on the money-laundering this office did, the job was too well-paying and she was too in need to let it go. Oh if she just had that 50k to pay off her credit card debts... Curse Prada. `` Then why are they here?! Or was it that stupid little incident where I accidently touched your butt? That was such a small thing, you need to let it go!'' `` No! No! I did n't say a thing!'' Lisa cried out, frightened. His grip was tightening in his anger, and he was shaking her back and forth by now. `` THEN WHY A... Argh!'' Hands pulled him back, and Lisa was free of his grasp. Clutching her handbag in front of her as a pitiable defense, she watched two burly policeman wrestle her boss to the floor and restrained him. Another policeman approached her. `` Miss Lisa Leina? Please come with me. We have been waiting for a while.'' Noticing her look at her boss, screaming obscenities and threats on the floor, he tried to obscure her view of him, escorting her to the stairs. Lisa was led into the black police car waiting at the foot of her office building, with two other police cars and a bevy of motorcycle-riding police as escorts, the policeman who led her down slid in next to her before the car went off at a high speed. After a few minutes of riding, Lisa's fears of job loss and her boss's retribution was replaced by the fear of the unknown. What if this car she was in was n't a police car?! What if that man she was sitting next to was n't a policeman?! `` Where... where are we going?'' Lisa gathered up her courage to ask. The policeman smiled at her, saying `` England.'' `` Oh... We are going to New England? Oh no, I ca n't, I have a spa appointment in'' Lisa glances at her watch, `` an hours time! I could n't possibly go to another state and back in that time.'' `` Ah, sorry, I was not clear. I meant England, UK.'' The policeman was smiling as he said that, but Lisa somehow did not find his smile as comforting as it was moments ago. `` What? No, why would I go there? I do n't even have my passport!'' The policeman held up a transparent plastic bag in the air in response. Inside it was Lisa's passport, stickers of kittens decorating the front. He was still smiling, but Lisa was starting to get scared now. `` I do n't want to go! You ca n't make me go! Why do you even want me anyway!?'' Trying to take back her passport, she missed and the policeman put it back in the small security box he had taken it from. `` Everything will be explained to you by the specialist when we reach there. And you must go.'' He was no longer smiling, and Lisa started to feel more fear rising up her stomach, making her feel ill. -- -- -- -- -- - Will continue later if anyone wants me to.
[ WP ] The forest was dying , tree by tree , and from deep within the howls of ancient wolves could be heard .	The forest was dying, tree by tree. The fae slid out of her heart-tree, skin emerging from the bark with a pale birch pattern tattooed over every inch. Her hair tumbled down her back like shadows across the forest floor and moved with fluid grace as she slipped from one tree to the next. Her footsteps were silent, as were each of her gentle touches of the trunks surrounding her. Only her dress of leaves and ferns made a sound, a whisper like the wind through branches. `` What ails you?'' she murmured. Wood groaned and branches creaked though no air had stirred them. Her brow furrowed. `` Do not speak nonsense,'' she replied, snatching her hand back from the nearest trunk. `` They would not dare approach the Dark Wood, not even with the sickness here.'' Leaves slapped above, and she frowned up at them. `` We are not yet so weak.'' Below, the ground churned and ferns swayed. A mouse squeaked and fled into less mobile under-grass. The fae's frown eased. `` Apologies, little one,'' she whispered and the ground stilled. With a sigh, she touched the trees once more, moving in a slow circuit around her heart-tree. `` What have you seen?'' Once more the trees stirred, branches quivering. `` Tracks only? But how is it none saw the passing?'' A leaf tumbled onto her nose, and she caught it between her slim fingers. `` The trees there sleep so soon? Surely the illness could not move with such speed.'' At the low grumble of swaying trunks the fae scrunched up her nose. `` Hush now, I do not doubt your word. Yet, it could be a true wolf, could it not? The shifter would not dare send his own.'' Letting the leaf float down to the underbrush, she waved off the reply. `` You are concerned and have right to be. I will go, but you must watch your brothers. Three more fell yesterday. This is our priority; not even rumors of the shifters can match it.'' The fae held out one birch-patterned arm and a staff rose from the forest floor like a tree growing. She took it and brushed the nearest plants with a farewell touch. `` Tell Ollian where I am.'' With those parting words, the fae moved like shadows at dusk, covering ground quicker even than the rustling branches could pass on her message. The fauna held their breaths at her passing; it was rare to spur such a one to haste. Yet they knew; they all knew. The forest was dying, tree by tree. And from deep within, the howls of ancient wolves could be heard.
[ WP ] You are a boss in a fighting game . Of the hundreds of thousands of players attempting to defeat you , only one has ever beat you . You 're called to a hearing by the Video Game council to determine if you threw the match . Your defense ? You were nerfed in the last patch .	Toad unrolled a scroll and declared, `` Will Ms. Naughty Sorceress please make her case?'' The black-and-white stick figure stepped into place and faced the tribunal consisting of Sephiroth, Luigi, and the venerable Z-block. `` This charge is ridiculous. I am made to be defeated. I have been defeated thousands of times.'' Prosecutor Edgeworth stood and was recognized. `` The statute clearly applies. Your third form is as a puzzle boss, not a mere beef gate.'' `` I am merely attempting to establish context. The means used to defeat me without solving the puzzle were hundreds if not thousands of times harder than simply solving the puzzle. The individual who defeated me had already solved the puzzle many times.'' Prosecutor Edgeworth again stood and was again recognized. `` None of these factors are in the least relevant. You have been defeated without the…'smurf', are we calling it? Yes. Are we to take it that you are not actually offering a defense?'' The Naughty Sorceress glared at him. `` As stupid as this statute is, I do have a defense. I was nerfed.'' Edgeworth was still standing, and was about to speak, when Luigi raised a hand and instead asked directly, `` Ms. Sorceressa, the prosecution has-a already shown-a that your code was not changed.'' Edgeworth sat, satisfied. `` A new item was created that overruled my perfect initiative, blocked all the damage, and returned it to me. What had been a perfect offense was no longer. It could not be.'' Edgeworth rose again. `` In Ryu vs Cast of Street Fighter II HD Remix, it was already decided that even buffing every other character would not count as a nerf.'' `` They did not create a completely new mechanic aimed specifically at…'' `` There were plenty of new mechanics!'' `` … breaking a previously completely unbreakable…'' `` You were beaten by a freaking Teddy Bear!'' The Naughty Sorceress turned slowly to him and twiddled her paisleys. `` No, I was defeated by an insanely overlevelled character with an EVIL Teddy Bear.'' The Z-block shuddered, and the NS knew she had his vote. `` You got tangled up in noodles and beaten over the head with a Weapon of the Pastalord?'' `` You disrespect the power of pasta?'' Edgeworth nervously looked at Luigi, and saw the damage had been done. An hour later, she was a free woman.
[ WP ] Killing Hitler has become a sport amongst time travelers . Points are awarded for creativity and difficulty . You are last year 's champion , how did you win ?	`` Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to tonight's'Killing Hitler' broadcast. Before the championship game begins, we'd like to introduce last year's champion, ec_rider. Ec, how are you doing?'' `` Fine, thank you. And you?'' `` Ec -- may I call you'Ec'?'' `` By all means.'' `` Thank you. Doing quite well, Ec. Ec, there was much talk about the unusual method that you used to kill what has been described as,'the most hated man in the world, second only to Richard Nixon'. Before this year's championship starts, could you please answer this question for our audience: Why did you use that method of execution? `` Well, I knew from studying historical documents that Hitler took regular vacations in a spot called The Eagles' Nest, in Berchtesgaden. Nearby was a lake where he occasionally went swimming with a few guards, and Eva Braun. When he would be the most relaxed, with Eva -- that would be the time to strike.'' `` The easiest thing would have been to use a sniper rifle, or something. But wildlife?'' `` Well, I wanted to win, so I figured that using an angry bear would be pretty unique.'' `` Please continue.'' `` So, Eurasian brown bears had almost completely disappeared from Germany. While they were not common, they were not altogether foreign and therefore, seem suspicious. So, I captured one, and for a year straight, trained it to attack effigies of Adolf Hitler. For extra points, I trained it to go into a rage whenever Deutschlandlied started playing.'' `` It's amazing you did n't get hurt yourself.'' `` Believe me, there were a few close calls. I had to go to the hospital once for stitches on my rear end when I got too close to the bear's cage when I played the music.'' `` Go on?'' `` So, I trained the bear to attack Hitler, and fly into a rage whenever'Deutschlandlied', the national anthem, played. When I was ready, I took the bear to the spot at the lake where Hitler, Eva, and a few guards would be. Sure enough, they showed up on time. God bless those Germans for their punctual nature.'' `` I'm sure it helped you quite a bit in this case.'' `` Oh, it most certainly did. So, I got the cage in position behind some bushes near the spot where Hitler and Eva settled down on their blankets. When everything appeared calm, I put Deutschlandlied on loudspeaker. Sure enough, the guards took their hands off their weapons, and saluted. When that happened, I unlatched the cage, and let loose the bear.'' `` And?'' `` The bear darted across the beach in under ten seconds, and mauled The Fuhrer.'' `` I'm sure it was quite bloody.'' `` Oh, it was. I'd say that, after the guards were done shooting the bear, he resembled several pieces of fresh, lumpy hamburger.'' `` Now, for those just tuning in, and others who perhaps have never heard your story before, what was the extra twist you gave to this particular attack that put you into first place?'' `` The twist was, before the bear and I settled into our spot at the lake, I had a rabbi baptize the bear.'' `` You mean the bear was Jewish?'' `` Yep. Hitler was not just killed by a bear, but by a Jewish bear that had been baptized just a half-hour beforehand. He was even wearing a little Star of David on a collar when he attacked.'' `` And that was what gave you the gold medal, eh?'' `` It did.'' `` Well, thank you ec_rider. Let's now turn to our current contestants to see how they will do. First up is a competitor from Italy who, it is said, has a fool-proof plan using ferrets and a wheel of cheese. Let's watch...''
[ WP ] You 're a knight who goes to save the princess from a fearsome dragon . You slay the dragon and reach the tower , where the princess informs you that the dragon was n't keeping her hostage , the dragon was protecting her .	`` In the deepest chambers of Wyrn'ld, the Wizard-king's daughter -- a princess -- is held.'' Said a prophetic old crone. I had no reason to question the crone. Many of my quests have begun by prophecy. If only I had chanced to question this one... The Monsteromnicon refers to dragons as a the highest level of threat. Wyrn'ld, the grand castle was a postulate claim of a Wizard-King's power, built overnight by his immense power. It was a grand construction and the reason that I assumed drew the dragon. I have dealt with Dragon's before. Smaller ones, ones of less aged history. In my research I had discovered her name -- Nomora. She was reportedly a friendly wyrm. She was as old as they come, and the basis for many arcane colleges. A benevolent being who had gifted knowledge and aid... But it was not beyond any dragon to delve into insanity as their long lives progressed through aeons. It was with a saddened heart I promised myself I would give this ancient figure a merciful death. In my preparations, I had cast aside my armor. With the help of an Alchemist, a linen and cotton gambeson drenched in foul smelling liquids provided better protection against Nomora's flames. She smelled me coming long before she could see me. Through the archeways, and winding halls I crept. Till I had gotten to the deepest parts of the castle, then I knew I had to begin to move quickly. An unfathomably large ante-chamber lit with an uncountable number of glowing runes was where I had found Nomora. Upon the bones of lesser men I crunched -- I engaged the beast. Numerous stone pillars, and piles of charred remains gave me cover. Where numerous men have failed, I would not. Years of the hunt have taught me things that can only be learned through growing old in a life where I should have died young. Arcane lights lit around me, and bolts of energy sent me running. Narrowly had my dodges failed, where they would have spelled my death had I been wearing anything more cumbersome. Behind a pillar I pressed myself. I could sense the frustration -- in the way only warriors could understand. Where her spells were failing she resorted to the most natural of the dragon's attacks. The flames engulfed the areas around me. She drew in a long breath, and expelled.The alchemist's liquids did enough to keep me from being set aflame, but I could feel the intensity of the flames. At the end of her breath, I lifted my shield. Through the fire, ash, and smoke I charged her. She could n't see me coming. I climbed a hill of bones, and lunged at her. A thrust to her chest -- pushed between her scales into her heart. Her wale filled the chamber, and with a ground shaking thud she had been slain. The lit runes had begun to fade. Guided by the fires of my battle, I found the door Nomora had guarded. I heaved the heavy stone doors apart into the tower. A foul scent filled the air around me -- but I delved on. The steps that were once stone had become soft and fleshy. What horror had I come upon. Not-corpses of beings that were man-like in shape lined the walls that were still lit by the fading light of the runes. I could hear them moving, as if they were awakening. I ran. Not away like I should have -- my honor got the best of me. To the final chamber I had entered. There she was, the princess. Affixed upon a doorway of dark material and scripture. Her body held against the obsidian portal by the same flesh that covered the stairs. It was struggling. As if it was trying to pull her through the portal. The light of her eyes was the same of the runes. It too was fading, and the battle between her and the substance around her was ending. She looked on at me with sadness... `` You should not hath come, Foolish Knight. Nomora... Poor, blessed Nomora... Even she could not hath kept my father's will for power satiate. To sacrifice his own daughter to things that are beyond the dark... Rest now Nomora you have done well to have protected my meager life from sacrifice as long as you could.'' All remaining light of the room extinguished. The princess' screams echoed over the grinding sound of the portal opening. In the dark. I swear -- I heard the old crone's laughter. *Edit spelling and detail changes.
[ WP ] A fictional character talks to a psychiatrist about their belief that they are in a fictional universe and they are about to be killed off by the author . Write from the perspective of the patient or the psychiatrist .	“ Well Doc you ’ re going to think this is stupid or something, but I think I don ’ t actually exist. ” “ Interesting… ” muttered the psychiatrist as he scrawls something in his notebook. “ Go on. ” “ Well, I don ’ t know, sometimes I just get the feeling that I don ’ t have any power over myself, like someone is controlling me and I ’ m can ’ t stop it. ” “ So are you suggesting you have some sort of destiny? ” “ I dunno Doc, if so, it ’ s pretty shit. I mean, I haven ’ t amounted to anything, I ’ m not famous, I don ’ t have any extraordinary abilities; I thought people with destinies were like, special, or something. ” “ Hmmm… ” “ Yeah, now that I think about it, I don ’ t think it ’ s just ‘ destiny ’ Doc. I mean, destiny doesn ’ t also directly make you do stuff you don ’ t want to does it? ” “ Such as? ” “ Well see, sometimes I meet people and I just say shit that I don ’ t want to say, or has even crossed my mind, it ’ s like I ’ m talking through somebody else ’ s mouth. And there are other times when I ’ m just in some place and random shit just happens that does n't happen to anyone else. Know what I ’ m saying Doc? ” “ Not exactly, would you care to elaborate? ” “ Well, the other day, my buddy and I went rock climbing, see I don ’ t even know why, but yeah, there we were, and suddenly it turns out to be some spy camp training base or something, I mean first of all, do those even exist, and second, how did I, a completely ordinary person get there? But I mean, that ’ s not even the weirdest part, the weirdest part is that I ’ d never rock climbed before in my life, in fact, at one stage I think I was scared of heights, but the next thing I know, I ’ m scaling this cliff face like what you see in movies or something. I didn ’ t even know how I was doing it; it was like someone else was controlling me or something. ” “ I see, and do you often run into these sorts of situations? ” “ Yeah kinda, I think, see, it ’ s hard for me to really remember stuff. But I do often feel like I ’ m on the verge of being killed and then there ’ s always some miraculous coincidence that saves me or something. ” “ Fascinating, and these black outs, do they happen often Michael? ” “ Yeah kinda Doc, I mean, like just then, I don ’ t remember telling you my name, I don ’ t even remember coming here, I don ’ t know what roads I drove on, if I can even drive… ” “ So what was the last thing you do remember? ” “ Hard to know really. I think someone mentioned I should go see a counsellor, or someone called my name and told me to come in. to be honest I don ’ t even know why I ’ m here Doc. ” “ Hmmm, interesting. ” the psychiatrist glanced back at his notebook. “ So tell me Michael, is there anything else that makes you feel like you don ’ t exist. ” “ What, isn ’ t this enough? ” “ Well Michael, what you ’ ve told me so far can be explained; the fact that you think you have a destiny, that you have interesting coincidences occur in your life and that you often go into auto-pilot mode and or may be suffering from some memory loss, seem to be quite normal, well happens the memory loss should be checked out, but really, it ’ s all mostly quite normal, perhaps a little unusual, but nothing to warrant you in a mental asylum. ” “ But Doc, I don ’ t like feeling like this! I hate feeling like I have no control of my life, like I ’ ve got my path laid out in front of me, like I ’ m constantly on the verge of death! It ’ s like I ’ m some character in some stupid book and the author is bi-polar or something! ” “ Now now Michael, please remain calm. ” crooned the psychiatrist. “ Let us say, even for a moment that what you feel is true, what difference does that make to you? You ’ re alive now aren ’ t you? You have a loving wife, some great friends and a lovely home don ’ t you? What difference does it make if you are being controlled by someone else? You don ’ t know that for sure. Even if you did, so what, your story is not yet complete, is it? ” “ But I hate having to try and escape death every single fucking god damn day! ” “ Please Michael, let ’ s not exaggerate. Try and be logical about this, if there was an author, an Almighty Creator in charge of you, then why hasn ’ t he or she killed you already? ” “ I don ’ t know! I wish I did, so I could prevent it! I wish I knew this sicko who toys with me like this, who plays with my life for some measly entertainment! I HATE YOU, DO YOU HEAR ME?! I HATE YOU! ” “ Please Michael, relax, calm down. It ’ s all right. You ’ ve been very good until now, so please, just relax. Thank you. Right, that was very good. Now Michael, let ’ s address your issue shall we? Say you did have an author writing out your life for you, and say they are just doing it for fun, if you want to keep living Michael, I see a very simple solution. ” “ What ’ s that Doc? ” Michael drew his breath in anticipation. “ Be entertaining. ” ................................................................................................ -002
[ EU ] Write a side story of a famous fictional character , but keep us guessing about his identity until the end .	Punch. Kick. Dodge. Punch. Kick. Dodge. A rythm, unrivaled, can change a man's physique in no time. Punch. Kick. Dodge. A ritual, unchanged, can become a mantra for a whole nation. Punch. Kick. Dodge. I need to be ready. They are coming to murder me, and everyone I love. Punch. Kick. Dodge. Sweat mopped his scarred brow. He wiped at it, and kept on going. Punch Kick. Dodge. The waves broke near his feet, and the wet sand gave under his weight. That's good. I never fight on solid ground, anyway. It's all deserts and frozen wastelands... . Punch. Kick. Dodge. His scars hurt. He had to stop for air. It had been four hours, thirty three minutes and eithteen seconds of punching, kicking and dodging. He felt undestandably tired. But this was only a momentary pause - he had to be ready. When the threat, whatever it would reveal itself to be, arrived, he would need to face it head-on. And this time, he might need to do more than just be there. The last two times this happened, he was there. He was there when the skies presented him with the murder of his friends, and his salvation had come in the form of luck. Luck, and a set of broken bones. What luck... The second time, it was him who went out to face the dangers of the skies. And face them he did - and they cost him his life, twice. How unfortunate it is, to be a Z-warrior. But this time, it's not gon na be Nappa, or Recoome, or Freeza. This time, it's robots, made out of flesh and metal, bone and wire. Man-made monstrocities. `` Cyborgs'', he had said, when he first heard of it. `` Androids'', corrected Goku. Trunks intervened. `` Actually, the technical term is cyborgs-'' `` Androids.''
[ WP ] Video games are illegal . You are an undercover cop about to do a bust .	Cold rain falls down like lead, and the Constable ’ s heart is full of dread, And I caress the handle of the pistol resting in my harness. The night gives us no solace, and the world haunts me in its calmness As we move through the darkened alleys towards our target. The Constable balances her shotgun, ready to provide its violent exclaim. The house appears like any other, and the fence provides adequate cover As we ready ourselves to advance and break down the door. The Constable appears to be uneasy, and her gaze tells that she is queasy But it is too late to leave her here and bring another who is ready more. The others have reached their spots on the far side of our quarry ’ s solemn domain. I send the shivering Constable in first, and her shotgun escorts with its piercing burst And we pour into the house with our weapons drawn. The lights inside are all so dim, and the darkness threatens an ending grim So I move the Constable close behind me to help her find her brawn. These criminal artists are not nearly above providing traps to wound and maim. As we move on in our deadly sport I hear a pistol ’ s loud report And fall sharply to the ground clutching in pain at my chest. The Constable does her grave work, and dispatches my assailant with a smirk Then turns to check that I ’ ve indeed been saved by my vest. As she helps me to my feet she seems almost to feel a sense of shame. I struggle nervously to catch my breath, having so narrowly escaped certain death And I see the Constable trying to hold back confused tears. I reassure her that she ’ s done her part, and I look around at the graphic art, This is where the criminals used levels and characters to exorcize their fears. For all of these groups I ’ ve infiltrated I still always feel the twinge of shame. “ Do not shed tears for these men, ” I tell these officers time and again. “ They are the worst and most dangerous of their kind. ” The Constable nods rather than assume, and helps investigate the room, Though I can understand the feelings that grip her mind. It seems a waste to do such violence over these beautiful, harmless games. EDIT: formatting
[ WP ] A man stands on a trainstation platform . Two trains stop at his destination . His choice of train will alter his destiny forever .	A while ago, somebody stole my sorry car when it was parked on the next street over from my house. It was an old car and already a wreck, and to be honest I had hoped for something like this to happen so that I could cash in on the insurance and finally get something to put in my wallet, but I was reluctant to report it out of fear they will not take me seriously, seeing how I actually had not entirely gone about insuring my car as yet ( out of fear, I am suffering from fear of important administrative confrontations, and also for unforgiving background checks ). Around this time I got a letter. It was from my aunt ( there were spit marks on the letter ), and in angry writing she informed me she wanted me out from the flat I was renting because I am a failed and overall terrible person who never pays the rent on time, and the last 6 months not at all, and I never water the flowers and I will never get a lasting employment because I am a drunk, I am always making a racket and irritating the caretaker with my nonsense, and I am also quite possibly a client of prostitutes of similarly low social and economical situation ( and mental ) and generally leading a very disgusting life, and I embarrass her. Turns out my aunts neighbour had a son, a very respectable young man who ironed his shirt and polished his shoes and needed a place in the city since he is setting up his own firm, and he would take my apartment in my stead. Naturally it was really the last thing I needed. I would have to make the long journey to my aunts village and beg on my knees and she would tower over me like the witch she is and taunt me and laugh at me. Oh I should like to visit her neighbour bastard son and kick him! It was in the middle of the summer with temperatures so high not even the ice creams salesmen were out. I would avoid the public transport normally, but I had no friends who were willing to give me a ride, actually I had no friends, so there I was on the platform fairly early in the morning already ruining the shirt with sweat and my shoes with severe foot stink. I felt like a fat piece of dough left swelling in the trash can and that was a notion very close to the truth, fat sweaty stinking balding pathetic man on his way to humiliate himself and beg his aunt and landlady to not kick him out from his home, who could not even steal a newspaper to fan his face. There was not too many people on the platform but there was one man there who I thought would have stood out even in a crowd of hundreds. This was in the middle of the summer holidays, weekend, already very hot, and here is a tiny businessman, waiting for the slow and smelly and always late public transport, wearing a buttoned suit ( his pressed brown trousers did not go all the way to meet the shoes and this revealed a very dirty white left sock and a very pale piece of right leg ), a hat of some kind pressed down over the forehead ( and by the look of it was keeping a small fire alive inside of it considering the more than abnormal amount of sweat he was producing ) and his hands were clasped around a briefcase that he held in front of him like a shield in battle. His feet were twitching and he was constantly shifting. His face clenched, and behind his small round glasses his eyes were stealing out in all directions and his head could barely keep up. He was standing with his back to one of the concrete pillars holding up the platform roof and once in while he sprang up and had a quick look on the other side of the pillar, where there were only ever a bunch of old cardboard boxed, half empty liquor bottles and the snores of a bedless person who just acquired a bed ( of sorts ). All of a sudden the gentleman tensed and gave up a shriek. He flung up his arms and dropped the briefcase on the platform where it of course opened up and spilled a pile of papers. I watched as he ran around overdressed in the blazing of the sun attempting to retrieve documents, but just succeeding in kicking them on to the tracks or covering them with dirty footmarks. From behind the corner just opposite of the sorry gentleman strode up a tall and handsome figure, casually dressed, nothing special, but still a much higher standard than I, much higher! I would never have thought anything of it had I not noticed the effect he had on the nervous suit, who had not managed to collect his papers and kept looking up at the tall handsome one, covering his eyes, peeping out from between his fingers, shrieking, and again hurriedly trying to get his papers right. Around now the short route train was steaming in and with a proud neigh it advertised its arrival. I was happily surprised that I would catch the train saving me a considerable chunk of travel time, and upped and stretched my arms, and proceeded to the train, but then I stopped. On the other side of the platform, the long route train lazily trotted in to the station like the metal wretch it was, and this stirred the nervous suit and the tall, handsome man, who both headed to the open doors, the handsome leisurely and relaxed and the nervous one tripping and leaving behind half his papers. Without giving it much of thought I made a 180 and followed in to the run down snorting long route train.
[ WP ] A Demon who has been serving Lucifer for years has now gotten a job in Heaven . Write his 2 weeks notice .	3,496^th second 283^rd day 6,4013^th year The Burning Palace of Torment Highway 666 The Burning Void without Light or Hope Lucifer, I regret to inform you that this letter is my two weeks notice. Really, really regret it. Please do n't have my toes flayed, or have fire ants bite out the full text of my resignation on my penis like you did to Abdiel when he left. Please do n't tie my hands and feet to Ceberus's teeth and play fetch with him. Please do n't cut off my testicles and play beer pong with them like you did when the TPS report was six minutes late last fall. Please do n't use me as the office coffee filter again. I'd really very much prefer it if we could have an amicable, professional separation. Maybe even a small office party? Maybe there could even be cake? The truth is, I've received a fabulous offer from the LORD in Heaven. Apparently they have a chronic shortage of bureaucrats and their filing system is a bit of a mess up there. They pay is n't great ( I'm actually taking a small pay cut ), but they've offered me an amazing benefits package, including full room and board ( in a private mansion, which is n't even on fire! ) They've even promised me a real chair in my office instead of a rusty iron spike, something I've been requesting for over a thousand years. Jesus even promised me, personally, that he would never make me eat a silo of alligator shit if I forgot to send in my hours for the week. He seemed to find the very idea laughable, and he was very sympathetic when I made it clear it was a serious concern of mine. In my final two weeks, and I'd like to wrap up my current workload and do some training to bring Azagvagrael up to speed on the finer points of our system. If it's at all possible, I'd like for you to not cut off my head, pull my intestines out of my anus and play tetherball with me. Regards, Yraukrael P.S. Please do n't make me be the cake at my own farewell party.
[ CW ] I 'm a singing genie : I 'll grant you one wish if you make it using rhyme .	Genie trapped within a lamp Trapped in cave most cold and damp Hear my wishes, hear my plea Grant my greatest dream to me. From you, one wish, and then the shelf Let me grant them to myself. No chains nor rules nor lamp to bind, No oaths to shackle my free mind. No paltry trick magician shill, Bend the cosmos to my will. Power sought in every age, Awaken me, a new archmage. No tricks or hitches with this grant, But with it power to recant. And though specifics make you cry, I'll also pick my time to die. And though it reads like a contract Upon the spirit you must act. And now I think this wish is done. Though it's complex, it's only one.
[ WP ] You are an incompetent superhero with a ridiculous power , however you are mankind 's last hope for survival .	[ Established Universe ] I wanted to be a hero. That's what I told myself. When my bullies pushed me around, poured soda on my bags, and locked me in my own locker filled with weeks of fermented garbage for 4 days; when I triggered and discovered the power to control insects, I told myself those words, and did nothing in return. I was going to be a hero. I was better than them. On my first day out in costume, I nearly died. On my second day, I met my best friends. On my third, I robbed a bank. In a year, I owned the city. I sliced in half a girl who only wanted to go home. I murdered an infant with my own hands. All who opposed me lost. The one prophesied to end the world did his job. Billions died. I killed him too. I never was a good hero. [ I was an extraordinary villain. ] ( http: //parahumans.wordpress.com/2011/06/11/1-1/ )
[ WP ] You are waiting for a friend of yours in a coffee shop . Someone suspicious walks up to you , hands you a package , and then walks away .	I'd stopped expecting the call about ten years ago. We'd been close in high school, but after that... well he said he'd call me eventually. It took him fifteen years. Honest to god though, I could n't believe his name was still Erasmus. Who the hell let themselves be called that? I thought he would have changed it by now. It sounded more like a codename than a real one. But that's probably why he liked it, he always was one for spy movies. I parked my car and walked into the long road that I had walked on so many times in my teens. As I walked down the street, I felt like someone was watching me... it felt like when my mom used to stay in her watching after she had dropped me off for a few minutes. I shrugged it off, and pulled open the door to the coffee shop. It amazed me this lace was still here. As I crosses the boundary, it all came back to me. The lingering aroma of caramelized coffee, the funny old man making Turkish coffee behind the counter, Erasmus sitting across from me at the table in the corner telling jokes. I understood now why he wanted to meet here. It's different now, the funny old man is n't here anymore. I guess it's been a while. I'd wait until Erasmus arrived to order coffee, but I had n't had breakfast, so I bought a scone. `` I'd always loved foods with funny names,'' Erasmus would say. God I could n't wait to see him. I checked my watch, and realized I was fifteen minutes early. Must have gotten a bit too excited I guess. I bit into my scone and took a seat, thinking I might as well enjoy the wait. About ten minutes had passed, when a man in a suit sat down at the table next to me. `` Hello Erasmus,'' he said in a hushed tone. I thought this was some game, so I played along. `` Do you have what I asked for?'' He put an envelope on the table in front of me and then left immediately. I certainly had n't expected that. It was a thick manila envelope, and it had a J written on the outside, so I opened it. On the top was a letter: To Erasmus. The letter had only a few sentences. `` Hi Jennifer. You were right, it is a codename. Now it's yours.''
[ WP ] Two friends adventure to the North Pole to find Santa Claus . When they arrive they discover that Santa Claus has been dead for years and the North Pole has been turned into a full blown economy . You are the elf that shows the two friends around the new North Pole .	`` So, when do we get to meet the Big Guy?'' `` Weeeeell, Cedar.'' says I. `` That might be a little problamatic. You see...'' `` Yeah, I want to see him as well! I work at the Mall of America, and I told all of the little kids that I would be able to hand deliver their demand notices to Santa this year.'' `` Calm down, Clove. I have something to tell you that will be tough to take. Well, I do n't know how else to put this. Santa is riding the great sled in the sky now.'' `` Oh, will he be back soon then?'' Clove asked. `` No, I mean he has slid down his last chimney.'' Cedar piped up. `` Oh goody, he's done and will be back soon!'' `` No, no. He's. Um, well. He's dead. He died about, oh I do n't know how long it's been now. He had a heart attack back when he found out that Hollywood was going to do a remake of'Charlie & The Chocolate Factory'.'' `` WHAT?!?!'' Both yelled in stereo. Then Clove: `` I have all of these letters from the kids! They are going to be so disappointed!'' Cedar added `` I'M disappointed! I was hoping Santa would validate my parking!'' `` Oh that. We have elves to do that now.'' `` Right. The elves! What about them? How are they getting along now without Santa?'' `` I'm glad you asked, Cedar. We are all getting along surprisingly well now. In fact, we are doing better now than we ever had with the Big Guy running the place. All he wanted to do was make toys. And the wages? Pffft! All he used to give us was hand-me-down stale cookies and sat-out milk that gets that weird floaty cloud thing at the top. Disgusting! Here, come with me. I'll show you what we've done with the place.'' So I led the two of them up to the town. Cedar exclaimed how much bigger the town seemed since he had last visited, and I nodded in agreement. It has grown. A lot. `` It's amazing what we elves can do when given the freedom.'' I told him. Clove just gaped until he spied a comely female elf in a mini-skirt and tank-top. He yelled `` Good day, fine lass!'' She scowled, flipped Clove the bird, and stormed off. `` On the right we have the reindeer pens & abbatoir.'' `` Wait,'' Cedar exclaimed, shocked. `` You kill the reindeer?!'' `` Oh yeah.'' I explain. `` We do n't need them for pulling the fat bastard around, may he rest in peace, anymore. They kept breeding and taking up space, so what better way to curb that than to make them into food? We all need to eat, you know. Plus, business has been booming ever since Europe had that whole'horse-meat in everything' scandal. We can keep our mouths shut, rake in the cash, and the Euros can be rest-assured that Mr. Ed is n't in their Ikea meatballs. Win-win! If you guys are hungry, we can stop by a McDonners?'' `` No, no! I'm full!'' Exclaimed Cedar, and Clove quickly added `` Yeah, we just ate before coming up here.'' `` Well, suit yourselves then. Oh, on the left we have the business district. We are now the # 1 manufacturer for Lord of the Rings and New Zealand Tourism Bureau merchandise. It was easy enough to retool the old factory since we had both the tools and workforce already trained in making toys. Plus we work for cheaper than anybody else in the world. Suck it, China. Oh yeah, we also increased the production of the candy-cane factory by so much, that we had to diversify. We are now a leader in making both slidey-poles for fire houses, and swingy-poles for strip bars.'' “ Ooh, can we see that factory? ” Clove wondered. “ Um, maybe later. Over there, Can you can see all of those trees? Yeah, that's where we all live. Apparently many of the LOTR factory workers got it in their heads that since they are elves, they should live in trees as well. Oh, and the whole arrow thing... ” “ What arrow thing? ” My two friends asked in unison. “ Weeeell... ” I mused. “ Lets just say that they should stick to their day jobs. I think Frosty still has nightmares of taking arrows to his non-existent knees. And backside. I told him he should n't have lived next to the broad side of that barn, but he never listens to me. ” “ What about Santa's mansion? ” Asked Cedar. “ What have you guys done with that place? ” “ Oh, we do n't talk much about that. Mrs. Claus set up some kind of brothel in there. It's amazing how many people have a thing for elves. Apparently, she is the third-richest woman in the world now. ” “ Oh, but we came all this way. It would be a shame not to go visit her. ” Clove nodded in agreeance with Cedar. “ Oh fine. Suit yourselves. ” I sighed. “ I'll come back for you two in, oh, an hour. I'm going to go check out the new coffee house that just opened up. It's called... Starbucks. Heh, what a funny name. Have fun, you two. ”
[ WP ] Every time a man walks out of a bathroom , he unknowingly enters a parallel universe slightly different than the one he was in before	`` No! I am finally happy in my life!'' Chaos Farold screams as he resists being pushed into the bathroom. He did not not care that the hospital staff and patients are staring, he did not want to leave this reality! He has a dream job, good and hot wife, and when he heard that she was pregnant, he spent those nine months doing his business anywhere, EXCEPT the bathroom. `` I swear to god, this ruins our perfect little boy. I-I will cut you!'' He screams at his wife. He may as well get it over with, piss in his pants! He thought about letting go, but he could not find the courage to do so. He squirms and haunches over, before finally crying out in surrender. `` We will still be here when you get back!'' She shoved him inside. There is no turning back now! He scrambles over to the nearest urinal, -Who cares if he is right next to another man tinkling! - and as he clumsily tries to unzip is pants, the sound of the next man peeing, and the steady stream of gold fluid made his urge even worse; as a result, he lost control, and went into his pants. `` Fuck! All that for nothing!'' He fell to all fours, dreading whatever changes that lies outside. `` You poor bastard.'' Said the other man, zipping up. `` You must've been holding it in.'' `` Yeah, I was.'' Chaos sighed, unable to look up at the other man. `` Wait here, I'll go get fetch you a new pair.'' A new pair, as in new pair of pants? That would do him good, and so he waited, tucking himself to a lonely corner. Five minutes passed, yet he would not dare go out. Once he leaves, his reality will change, it always does. `` That poor baby, I wonder how many versions will I meet, and the ones where he does not exist at all?'' He pouts, knowing that he will encounter a different one every single time. The man finally returns, and as promised a pair of jeans. He held on tight to the pants, staring Chaos hard. `` U-Um, thank you?'' He tugged at the pants, and the man finally let go. He entered one of the toilet stalls, to find that they were a perfect fit. `` I heard that holding it in can kill you. Do n't do that anymore, even if it is for something you care about.'' Did he hear that right? He bursts out of his stall, but the young man was nowhere to be seen. He wanted to follow, but he knew that he will not be in that reality anymore. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door. He ran up to his wife's room, only to discover she just had her gall bladder removed, not have a child. His wife asked him what was wrong, but all he could do is force a smile and tell her to get well. Slowly he exited, dragging his feet on the floor. He sat down in the waiting room that looks exactly the same as last time. `` Why? Change the chair colors, I do n't care, but to blot my little boy from the world.'' He starts to sob into his hands. The next few bathroom trips did not fare any better. No matter which world he entered, there was his wife, there was his work, but there was never his son. He was not entering to relive himself anymore, he just wanted to get back to that world, but to no avail. He walked out a final time, exhausted, he slumped into the waiting room chair again. These ones were quite comfortable he admits. `` Oh there you are!'' A voice called to him, who is it now? A new friend that he does not know about? `` Thought I lost you.'' Said the young man, the same exact one who gave him the pants. So in this world, they are friends? `` I have to be honest, I really wanted to kick your ass after what you did.'' `` What did I do now?'' Chaos groans, closing his eyes. `` You left me with a shitty name.'' Chaos rose up, with an eyebrow raised. `` There is plenty versions of you, but I wanted the one who named me Order Farold.'' He sighs. `` But I understand now, it is because of how chaotic you move around. Order is the one thing you do n't have.'' Order extends his hand out, and Chaos shakes. `` It is nice to finally meet you, son.'' CRUD, it says unknowingly! Damnnn.... --
[ WP ] After realizing you are in a work of fiction , you immediately rush to the person you think is the protagonist in an attempt to get plot armor as their best friend . But when the `` protagonist '' dies , you realize you may not have thought this completely through .	You know, I really thought I'd made the smart move by taking this gig. I mean, the main character's best friend ALWAYS lives, right? But then again, so does the main character. And I ca n't figure out how Lord Galatrix WAS N'T the main character. The Shadow Emperor of the entire galaxy, commander of the Legion of Woes, the only person I've ever seen riding a Toxin Dragon into battle, he had it all! But there he is. His ebony armor somehow pierced by that farm boy's Viber Blade, a puddle of Galatrix's black blood surrounding his corpse. I just could n't piece together how that boy had gotten so proficient with his blade that quickly. It had taken me years of training directly under Lord Galatrix to develop my own skills. Then, of course, the years I spent subjugating the rebel forces kept me sharp. The boy had mentioned something about the village he came from to my master and confidant Galatrix in their duel in the Eclipsed Castle. Turns out some of Galatrix's top legionnaires and I had burned that down when the Whisperer gave Galatrix a name 18 years ago. Somehow I guess we missed this boy, he must have been a baby at the time. He's probably going to try to kill me next. I was pretty sure my status as Galatrix's best friend was enough to keep me alive, but I guess this story is a tragedy. I ready my Viber Blade, pressing the button to start the whirring of the serrated edges. The boy does the same, intense focus in his eyes and the white armor of the terrorist rebellion covering his young and muscular form. He swings his blade and I realize that maybe white would suit me more than black.
[ WP ] You decide to make a pact with a demon . Why do you do it and what are the consequences ?	-10- { What Lies Above the Top } Conceived Monday, March 24, 2014. Dedicated to OP. I hope you liked it. Today is the best day of my life. I can see my beautiful wife walking toward me, her face as innocent as it was the day I met her. She has no idea, but she will. It is the first day of the promised eternity. The day the nameless demon offers up his half of the contract. For he who kills a thousand souls, increasing each in torment and suffering, I promise an infinite realm, removed from Time. A world of bright, blue skies and lush green forest. A world of all my dreams. And a thousand souls. A thousand gristly deaths on my hands. I ca n't say I regret it, not really. Sometime around the nails and the acid bath, you start to forget what other people's pain must feel like. A defense mechanism, turning off empathy to keep you sane. Funny how the body God gave me ultimately helped me in fighting against Him. Oh, yes, against God. That was the demon's wish. The original terms were `` a wish for a wish.'' His was a sequence of one thousand deaths, each more torturous than the one before it – a spiteful thing, I presumed, in defiance of God, the Giver of life. I cared nothing for that at the beginning, but now, having reached the end of my journey, there is nothing that would give me greater joy. Killing is all I know now, all I believe in. I've killed all kinds, from peasants to presidents. It would be fitting for my final kill to be the Maker Himself. Not that I can kill Him. But hat fantasy is all I have now. My wish was that the lives I took be added to mine, and the demon obliged and offered something far greater: immortality for myself and my loved ones. Of course, I accepted. Who would n't? A deal with the devil is a lot more appealing when be promises to cover your tracks, and does it. He very quickly earned my trust, and eventually, I stopped doubting anything he said to me. Until that day. `` You're not serious,'' I said. `` I am deadly serious,'' he responded, flicking two tongues causally to corner a passing fly. I held his nine-eyed gaze, unflinching. We were in my living room, in our usual positions on the sofa, with me near the window and him on the armrest. It was a bizarre scene, the first few times, but at this point, I thought nothing of it. It was the norm. I glared deep into his eyes. `` Say it again,'' I demanded. He sighed. `` I'm an angel,'' he said. `` An angel,'' I repeated dumbly. `` Afraid so.'' I felt a knot form at the pit of my stomach. `` And you're telling me this now, after I've paid your price, because—'' I tensed up as the realization hit me. `` Because the terms of the contract have been fulfilled on your end,'' he finished. `` It's my turn now.'' I stood up. `` You ca n't do this,'' I snarled. `` Figured it out, have you?'' He sighed, steel-on-steel. `` Of course I've figured it out,'' I said. `` I'm not a lawyer for nothing. You're framing me.'' At that, he laughed. `` Framing you? I could never. God is my witness, as are you, that I employed no compulsion or coercion to get you to kill. A simple promise, some matter manipulation and memory alteration for the witnesses. That's all it took to win you over.'' `` And God's okay with this?'' I growled. `` He's okay with you doing Satan's work, misleading me? Getting me to kill a thousand people? Why?'' `` God and Satan are opposite sides of the same coin,'' the demon/angel spoke. `` And so it is with angels and demons, good and evil, life and death, Heaven and Hell.'' The realization truly hit me then, and I collapsed back onto my couch. `` Yes,'' he continued. `` All the world is a stage, and everything – morals, logic, all of it – all of it is in God's hands. Death does not occur, except by some pawn. That is the way that God has willed it. In this case, you were that pawn.'' `` You used me!'' I cried out. `` You killed—'' `` You killed,'' he corrected. `` And rest assured: you killed only those whom God willed for you to kill. The liars, the hypocrites, the wicked. All of them, gone now. A victory for Justice.'' `` For Justice?'' I yelled. `` What justice? You'd have me kill for you, then throw me away! That's what you're going to do, is n't it?'' I'd known from the moment he confessed his true nature. If he was an angel, then he had lied. And if angels lied, and I had killed for one... `` It's unfortunate,'' he said, sighing again, `` but such is the way of the world. In killing them, you have become of the wicked, far worse than any of them. For that, you must be punished.'' He looked at me with an expression I know now to be sadness. For all the good that did me. `` God does not lie,'' he declared. `` And His servants can not lie. Notice that I never called myself anything. I never stated my goals or my affiliation. You assumed all of it, based on the only bit of personal information I gave you: my wish.'' `` Seriously?'' I cried. `` We're going to do this right now? You're a nine-eyed, four-mouthed, fire-breathing monster, and I'm supposed to assume that you're anything but a demon?'' `` You are supposed,'' he said, `` to assume nothing. But that is not the matter at hand, no.'' He frowned. Even then, especially then, it was a terrifying sight. `` The terms of the contract stand,'' he said. `` An infinite realm, removed from Time.'' I felt a chill snaking down my spine. `` However,'' he continued, `` your sentence must be carried out as well.'' I bolted. Before I got to the door, my whole body went rigid. No. `` Therefore,'' he went on, as if nothing had happened, `` your punishment shall be exacted in your realm. You will be killed as you have killed-'' I tried to cry out, to beg, to plead, but I could n't move. No, no. `` -a thousandfold-'' Not a thousand times the deaths. A thousand times the pain. No. No, no, no! `` -for all of your time there.'' Eternity. No, you ca n't do this! No! And just like that, the world was gone. And just like that, it is the first day. The first day of the promised eternity. Forever. A world of bright, blue skies and lush green forest. A world of all my dreams. Someone... A prison, a cage. Anyone... I can see my beautiful wife walking toward me, her face as innocent as it was the day I met her. All the world is a stage. Death does not occur, except by some pawn. She has no idea, but she will. A thousandfold. Each day, further and further gone. Increasing each in torment and suffering. Today is the best day of my life.
[ WP ] The year is 2018 . Hell is real and was accidentally discovered by drilling a massive borehole . Tell me about a military incursion in the underworld from the perspective of one of its many inhabitants .	Azezabub sat in front of the UN, despising every wretched greasy soul. He looked sharp in his gray single breasted suit. The somber color really highlighted his red skin and oozing sore where his single horn had been ripped out. The fact that he was covered in spines, 3 meters tall when he stood and folded down impossibly to almost 14 cm when he sat down could almost be overlooked. As diplomat from hell he had his hands full. Standing in front of the podium we shivered nervously as he fought the urge to flay his fellow diplomats just to alleviate the chill of their icy stares. Azezabub cleared four of his throats and coughed with the rest. `` As representative of the nether reaches and planes of torment I gratefully accept the honor of speaking here today.'' `` Go to hell!'' Came a jeer from the audience followed by gales of laughter. `` Ah ha ha. Very clever. I would like to draw attention to a recent increase in toxic, hazardous and radioactive sludge being pumped into the'demons arse' as you all insist on calling it. This is profoundly damaging and will not be toler-AHH!'' The diplomat from the Vatican unleashed a Super Soaker stream of holy water before being ushered out by the security. It did n't hurt but it made his skin slough off into piles ridiculously sticky goop. Azezabub sighed. His suit would be needing replaced. `` Can we please take this matter seriously?'' `` Camwepreasetagedidsewiously?'' Came a high pitched response. Azezabub had had enough.Humans were the most intolerable lifeforms to exist in all 93.2 billion years of existence. He would be concluding his daily report with the usual suggestion of blowing the Yellowstone volcano and being done with the lot of them. [ OT ] good prompt, you should've cut it off at `` borehole'' to give more creative elbow room.
[ WP ] Take any idiom literally . Write a short story from it .	“ What ’ s it look like, Harry? ” Burton asked, ducking under the police tape draped across the doorway into the lavishly decorated and furnished room. Connor half turned and looked up from where he was crouched, partially obscuring the body stretched out next to him. “ Just getting started, Lieutenant. But you know who this is, right? ” “ Yeah, I caught the squawk on the way over. We need to make sure we cover our asses on this one. ” Troy Burton looked down at the dead man – the casually expensive slacks and cashmere sweater, the beautiful Italian loafers, the chunky gold watch. He hated celebrity cases – too many eyes, too many higher-ups on your ass, too many TV cameras. He looked at the man ’ s familiar face. He hadn ’ t had any big hits in a while, but then again, it wasn ’ t as though he needed the work. A dozen blockbuster movies under his belt, his own production company – and this place, like an Italian palazzo plopped down in the hills behind L.A. Tons of marble, wide-screen TVs everywhere you looked, and a view of the entire city from every window in the back of the house. Not too shabby. “ Anyone else home at the time? ” he asked. “ Nope, ” Connor replied, placing the man ’ s hands in plastic baggies. “ Housekeeper ’ s day off, and he ’ s between wives number three and four. There was a yard guy working outside, but he never comes in the house. ” Burton glanced around the room, then back down at the dead man ’ s face. “ Got a flashlight? ” Connor reached into his inside jacket pocket and came out with a penlight. Burton took it and crouched down next to Connor. “ Hey, tilt his head back a bit, willya? ” Burton said. “ What are you thinking? ” Connor asked, holding the man ’ s neck still with one gloved hand while tilting his chin back with the other. “ Well, look where we are, look what he was doing. Might not be a federal case after all, ” Burton replied, clicking the light on and gently parting the man ’ s already blue lips to shine the light inside his mouth. “ Bingo, ” Burton said softly, grabbing a pair of tweezers from Connor ’ s kit and inserting them between the dead man ’ s lips. A few seconds and a couple fairly strong tugs later, he pulled the tweezers back out. He shone the penlight on the large chunk of half-chewed steak clasped between the tweezers ’ arms. “ Thought as much, ” he sighed with satisfaction. “ He bit off more than he could chew. ”
[ WP ] The 7 deadly sins share a meal together and they get into a family feud , the usual . How do you think the conversation proceeds ?	The 6 looked on in horror as Gluttony finished off his third rack of ribs, whilst still piling his plate with assorted meat and potatoes. They sat in disgusted awe as Gluttony continued to stuff his face, made all the worse by the horrible slupring and gulping noises resounding through the room. `` Well... At least someone is enjoying my food... Albeit a bit too much.'' Pride piped up in an attempt to start conversation, staring at Gluttony. `` I just do n't get how he's still thin! I'm so fat and horrible, I hate him!'' Screamed Envy suddenly, banging her fists on the table and pushing her plate away into the middle of the table. To which Gluttony simply picked it up and tipped the remaining food onto his plate and kept eating. `` Envy please, you must be calm, you ca n't always be loud and brash. You will find people like you much more if you were n't so angry. Like me for example, I made this meal for us all, invited you into my nice home and hope we can talk nicely as a family. I did n't get any of this by being angry.'' Said Pride, practically beaming when talking about her life's achievements. The focus had now moved off Gluttony and everyone now picked nervously at their food, none wanted to offend the others and starting a feud. `` Why just because I do n't have a big fancy house or a nice husband?! Or the fact I do n't have to work because my husband makes enough money to feed a city! I'm just as pretty as you, but just because I do n't have perfect skin or golden hair! It must be boring constantly having weekend trips away anyway.'' shouted Envy, whilst turning her chair away from Pride. Pride recoiled slightly and thought better of carrying on this conversation. Again the conversation fell and the room turned back to listening to Gluttony pounding food back. Suddenly the door opened, breaking the tension in the room finally. `` Sorry I'm late guys, there's lots of traffic and I left late by accident. Sorry again. This looks amazing!'' Exclaimed Sloth as he sauntered in, dripping from head to toe. He took a seat at the table as Pride rushed around getting a towel and a plate for him. Sloth sat after drying himself off and started asking people to pass him different foods from around the table. A lot of the tension had gone now that Sloth had come, he was usually pretty talkative. `` So guys, how's it going? Lust, how's the councelling coming along?'' Said Sloth cheerily after filling his plate. Lust shifted uncomfortably as she finished her wine, but started to speak as Pride brought out another bottle and started filling people's glasses. `` The councelling is... Ok... I think we are definitely making progress, this really is n't like last time. I'm even seeing this new guy... Well these two new guys... Ok I met a few guys last weekend, but they are really nice, I'm sure one of them is husband material.'' she openly remarked again gulping down her wine. `` Always best to keep your options open. All the partners! That's what I say!'' Greed suddenly blurted out. `` So you banged this therapist aswell? You ca n't keep on like this, there are n't many left in the city...'' said Sloth, quickly trying to move on from Greed's comment. `` No this time it's different! He's all rich and fancible. I honestly think there's a spark between us.'' Lust said, leaning back in her chair smiling to herself. `` Well fair enough, as long as you're happy with it. How about you Greed? How's the job going? It's certainly nice of your probation officer to let you come tonight, it's nice to see you!'' Sloth asked sincerely, sensing the tension in the room. `` Yeah yeah brother, it's going well y'know. I think there's real potential for a career here. They've said I'm only on bagging for another few months, and then I'll be moved on to till work or stock room work. And then in a few years I could be looking at being a Staff Managing Trainer. I'm a lot better than everyone else anyway, so I should get it for sure. I want this, so I will take it y'know, I deserve it more than anyone else there.'' Greed exclaimed proudly, almost boasting his tenacious tactics. He quickly shovled more meat onto his plate, on top of the meat he had n't eaten. `` I do n't think Gluttony needs any more to be honest.'' `` Oh it's so good for everyone else is n't it?! Lust has every man in the city on tap, Greed has a proper job and responsibilities, Pride is living in luxury, and you Sloth you live alone with a good job in the centre of the city! You all are doing so well are n't you?'' Envy piped up with again, and again killing the mood in the room. It was silent for a few seconds. `` Will you shut up! Oh my god! You never stop talking about how damned crap your life is! Well boo-hoo! Your life is amazing, you have an amazing family who are all doing well, along with a good head and wit! You can take this city by storm if you wanted! But all you care about is'me me me'! Nobody cares anymore Envy! Go have your little hissy fits somewhere else, nobody wants to hear you anymore! Damn!'' Screamed Wrath, who had n't said anything for the whole meal. The whole table sat, paralysed with fear as Wrath sat breathing deep and heavy, staring at Envy with raw hate in her eyes. After a few seconds Envy stormed off, leaving the room in utter, awkward, horrible, skin-crawling silence. Nobody dare move. Until the tension was suddenly broken. slurp slurp `` Pride, is there anymore food?'' Gluttony asked foolishly.
[ WP ] You are an angel of death . You and fifty other angels are assigned to a mass casualty situation . Due to a clerical error , you are the only one to show up .	Today was the big day. The angels of death were being gathered for a mass calamity situation. 50 angels, including myself are to enter the scene and lead the lost souls to their destinations, as determined by their actions in life and the weight of their soul. The portal is open, but I'm the only one here. The others must have already passed through, am I late? No, the time is right. I spread my blackened wings and pass through, welcomed by the sounds of screaming and fire, the stench of smoke. Hundreds of souls already and the event just started. A skyscraper engulfed in flames, surrounded by souls lighting the scene like fireflies, with lights varying from snow white to pitch black. I begin my task. Collecting the souls and sending them to Heaven or Hell. After I send a few souls away, I notice that I can not sense any other angels. I am alone here. Where are the others? I ca n't be too early, and this task is impossible for just one Death. I sigh and continue the reaping, as quickly and efficiently as possible. The death toll rises as the flames spread, I slowly become overwhelmed by the sin and torment surrounding me. I call out to my brothers, yet receive only silence. `` Brothers, Father! Can anyone here my cries? I require assistance here! We do n't have much time before the death toll doubles! Please assist me!'' My pleading does nothing, and I float amongst the agony. I attempt to grab more souls but there are just too many. I land on the ground, overwhelmed and scream for mercy, for help, for anything. As I plead to my brothers, the clock hits 9:03 am. The second plane crashes into the south tower. The souls almost double and I'm still alone, the screams overwhelm me.
[ WP ] The Olympic Games now have one average person compete in each event , to better contrast the skill of the athletes . You 're one of those average people , however no-one , including yourself , can figure out how you 're absolutely dominating your event .	The cameras peered like vultures. Never in the history of the Olympic Games has the world seen such an upset. Shaun White, Travis Rice, Scott James, and now: Dave. Dave from Colorado. Were there steroids in his flask? Was there a mix-up and a professional snowboarder competed in place of a civilian? The Olympic committee, sea of cameras, and indeed the world waited in silence as the results came in. A Korean man in a black suit came forth with a sheet in hand. `` After comprehensively testing Dave,'' the man announced. `` We have concluded that Dave from Colorado has not been taking steroids or any other performance-enhancing drugs.'' The entire planet collectively gasped and shot their hands to their mouths. `` The flask found in Dave's jacket,'' the man continued. `` Did contain a drug. Not a performance enhancing one, however. The flask contained Jameson.'' A short silence followed. There were just a few seconds that passed before the sound of thousands of desperate reporters caused an avalanche 300 miles away, burying a small village in white death. `` Sir!'' One reporter shouted. `` Do you mean to tell us that Dave from Colorado carved the mountain-'' `` Yes.'' `` Shredded the gnar-'' `` Allegedly.'' `` And demolished all of the competition while pounding down whiskey?'' The reporter asked. The Korean man looked directly at the reporter and answered, `` Dave from Colorado did not obliterate his competition while he was blasted. He did so because he was blasted.'' The Korean man adjusted his suit before finally adding, `` Dave has also tested positive for THC.''
Start your story with : `` He had to know why I did it '' .	He had to know why I did it. I trembled in excitement. He had fallen to the floor, shoulders lumped, back shaking. His eyes were vacant as he stared at the phone. That must have been his wife. Ex-wife, I mean. I closed my eyes in ecstasy. His betrayal from years ago still clenched at my brain, squishing my thoughts. But it is okay now. I took everything away from him. Job. Wife. Kids. Even his dog. A black lab that wagged his tail so hard he sometimes wacked himself in the head. But he knows why I took it all. Bastards always know why. It made the revenge that much sweeter. It made me slightly delirious. Gathering myself, I gently moved across the crowds until I stood in front of him. I stooped down in front of him, patiently, until he finally noticed my presence. Dully he stared up into my face. That's right. Soak it in. Look at me. `` You know why I did it.'' I gleefully whispered. He stared. His eyes focused on mine until he finally blinked once. And then again. His mouth opened and I almost pissed myself in anticipation. `` Sorry. Who are you?''
[ WP ] Death is the only escape	I remember crouching in the wet grass. Headlights from the highway below washed through the chain link fence and over me. In the distance I could see some of the others that were still with me. Anticipation cracked through the air between us. Everything must go as planned. We were going to take down one of those corrupt leaders that ruled us. We were taking back what was ours. Tonight we would speak up for what we believed in. Everyone would be able to hear us. No one could keep us quiet any longer. And we would tell the rest of the world that they did not have to go silently. Suddenly, from the monotony of the highway below, explosions erupted. Something was amiss, they should n't have come from so far ahead. I ran toward the commotion. Things had not gone as planned. I stood in shock; as the initial blast settled down, I realized that more than just our target entourage was involved. The highway backed up. I stood, hidden in the foliage not far off the highway, but I could see that more and more cars were involved in the destruction. We were killing innocent people. Cars piled up in the growing pit of fire below. Wrecked masses of trucks and tangled metal formed an unnavigable jungle. People were running from their vehicles, unsure how to escape. I watched as innocent bystanders were consumed by flames. My flames. Their screams tore through my heart. I was numb, how could this have happened? There was no time to think, I ran. Officials were starting to arrive below us. This was n't the first time we had spoken up, they would know it was us. And they were always prepared. We all ran. We could never face them on their own territory. In civilization. We fled from the highway and into the forest, scattering. We were going to rally at a field in a clearing not too far off. The beat of helicopters was closing in, but some of my followers were already headed in that direction. I reached the field alive but quickly became cornered. They had sent too many to face. How could we ever stand up to such an enemy? I knew they would capture us. And they would never grant us any leniencies. I stood still now, watching as their men closed in. I could see some fellow revolutionaries slipping off into the darkness. My people. The ones who looked to me for guidance. And I had failed them. Did they expect this? Had they somehow prepared themselves for my failure? Did they have any idea how young I still was? Doubtful. Lights from above blinded me, and I decided could n't do it. Captivity. I could not live under their rule. Men with guns were circling me now, cautiously, afraid of the rumors they'd heard. Afraid of me. But I was motionless. I dropped to my knees. It was so clearly hopeless. Tears glistened on my face for the innocents we had killed, for the government that would continue to kill and for myself and a life that, against all odds, I had grown attached to living. I decided in that instant that I would not go with them, and instead I turned my pistol on myself. I remember kneeling in the grass looking up at the men in tactical gear. I remember looking out to the hazy glow of stars. The world was still sleeping, I would n't see a sunrise here again. I remember being so scared and so full of hopelessness. I remember the way the searchlights played off the lenses of their goggles. I'm so sorry. All went dark.
[ WP ] Humans start out at birth with milk-white blood . The more bad deeds they commit , the darker their blood becomes . One day , you meet your soulmate . Skip a few years , and things are amazing… Until your soulmate trips , falls , and the cut they get drips ink-black blood…	It was a quiet night as John and Maggie strode through the forest. They'd been there many times before, and the moonlight-dappled path was familiar like an old friend. It was on that path that they'd met just a few short years ago. Here their story began, and here it would reach its climax. They held hands as they walked, not tightly as if they were afraid of losing each other, but gently because even a light touch spoke volumes. John's other hand, though, was constantly fiddling with a box in his pocket. They did not speak as they walked, there was no need to fill the silence. That, too, was comfortable. The hill began to slope gently downwards toward the lake, and it was there, John knew, that his life would change forever. Old friends like to play tricks, however, and the path was no exception. Just a small rock sticking up at an odd angle caused Maggie to trip, her grip tightening in sudden fear bringing John down with her. '' Are you alright?'' They spoke the words at the same time, faces mere inches from each other. Inches that were still too far. After a few moments and some giggling, they stood up again. Then John saw it. It was just a little trickle down her knee, but it was positively, unmistakably black. That does n't make sense. Thought John. Maggie's so sweet, there's no way she could have done anything bad enough to change her blood this dark. It must be the moonlight. Yes, he reasoned, it must be the moonlight. Maggie had noticed John's stare, and her face became stricken. All at once, the words came pouring out. `` It'snotwhatyouthink. Icanexplain! ThereweresomethingsIhadtodowhenIwasyoungandbeforeIknewit,'' She gestured at her knee, her expression now resigned. `` This.'' Silence reigned in the clearing. Not even the nightlife dared disrupt the moment. Maggie was near to tears. `` John say something. John. John, I-'' Her voice became choked and came at a whisper. `` I love you.'' It took a moment for those words to reach into his shocked mind. She loves me. He thought, and a small smile crossed his lips. He reached down and picked up the stone that had started this. It had a sharp edge and was slick with her inky black blood. Slowly he drew the edge over his palm, his own brilliant white blood mixing with the black. He cupped his hand as the blood pooled. It caught the moonlight, reflecting and refracting it, looking like an opal held in his palm. '' My blood was once black, too.'' He began quietly. `` But that's the funny thing about people,'' He gazed into her eyes, his smile widening, becoming a reassuring sight. `` We can change.'' It was now or never, John knew. It was not what he'd planned; they were not standing at the lake's edge, reminiscing about their first meeting, but it would have to do. He quickly wiped his hand on his trousers, hoping desperately that Maggie had n't noticed the luster go out when he had lied. John knelt down on one knee and produced the box. Even their breathing stopped as the lid slowly opened. '' Maggie,'' John spoke the name with love thick in his voice. `` Will you marry me?'' Tears sprang to her eyes and she threw her arms around him. John hugged her back fiercely, his now dull white blood lightly staining the outside of the black ring box. He stared at it, knowing full well what it meant. People can change and if it can work one way, then why not the other? Their embrace deepened until even the moon felt bashful watching. I want to believe that.
[ WP ] In a far-distant future , children of age are paraded en masse to an ancient relic which is prophesized to only accept the touch of a chosen one . Sadly , it 's just a locked smart-device .	The Council of Twelve sat atop stone seats, their shadows dancing on the concrete walls projected by a single flame between them. In front of the fire sat the ancient relic of untold power. Legend had it that one day, a hero would arise to wield its forgotten technology and save the human race from destruction. For this purpose, the Council of Twelve had reigned supreme for centuries, diverting what little electricity the Tribe had created to power this ancient machine. `` We lost another outpost today,'' Asserian said. He sat in the Third Seat only two down in succession from the Grand Priest. `` The Iron Angels can sense electricity. We ca n't keep powering the device.'' A murmur broke out amongst the Council. Asserian was the first of the Council born after The Calamity and many saw him as the way forward, a pragmatist in every sense of the word. Through his influence, the Tribe had abandoned the surface and dug deep underground. The only time they ever came out was for the Trial and to generate electricity in preparation for the Trial. `` That's blasphemy!'' Trayvor of Seat Eight snapped. `` The device is our only hope to retake the surface.'' Asserian rolled his eyes. `` For what purpose, Trayvor? What does the surface offer us? It holds only the poisoned air and reddened skies. The surface belongs to the Iron Angels now.'' Trayvor gritted his teeth, the flames reflected in his eyes. `` You who have never truly lived on the surface can never understand. The surface is our rightful place. It is our pride!'' `` Brother, what good does pride do for our survival? Before the Iron Angels, we could afford such sentiments, but what about now?'' Another soft murmur drifted through the Council. Most in the council had experienced first hand the terror of the Iron Angels. They had seen how not even their strongest blades could pierce the metal husks of those creatures. A single Iron Angel could decimate entire tribes with thunder and steel. They wielded ancient weaponry long lost to humanity. Trayvor could see it in the faces of his fellow Councilmen, in their flitting eyes and pressed lips. He already knew how they would decide. He slammed his fist into the wooden table in front of him, echoing its blow throughout the chamber. `` My brothers,'' he pleaded. `` Have you no shame? To dig our own graves, herded their by the Angels we used to control.'' `` Only the ancient texts still claim such a thing,'' Asserian snorted. `` Those have long lost their distinction between fiction and fact.'' Trayvor scanned the room, desperate to meet anyone's eyes. He found none. `` Brothers, please. Do not doom our race to this grovelling. I bet you --'' `` Enough,'' Gerald, the Grand Priest, said. His voice baritone voice resounded through the chambers, echoing off every wall. `` I understand your pain Trayvor, but Asserian represents the new generation. If they feel this ritual pointless, let the withering and old not chain down the new and young. It is their future we fight for, not our own. Today's Trial will be our last. For over a century, we have found nothing but pain through these Trials. If there truly is a prophecy, let it come to light before it kills us all.'' The Council quieted. Gerald's word was law. Trayvor stared back at his greying beard and weathered face. Even if he wanted to say more, the decision had already been made. In two hours time, a group of eight boys and girls, barely of proper child-bearing age, would decide the fate of humanity. -- - The wooden floor clacked as it inched its way up. Maeve had never seen such technology before. With only a single man on the rope, he could raise eight people a hundred feet into the air! She swallowed and stared at the hole above her. The Surface. Her mother had told her stories of such a place. They had seemed like fairy tales. Light without fire? A land without a roof? The only reason she even believed such a place existed was because of the Trials. The children at her school talked of them as the one chance anyone would have to visit the mystical surface. `` I bet I'm going to be the One,'' Marcus said, chest out. `` My father sits in the Third Seat. He's going to be Grand Priest soon. It only makes sense that I'd be the one.'' A chorus of agreement followed suite. Every single child held hopes that they would be the One. It was n't that they wanted it, but they felt responsible to become it. For the first time ever, all eight children had come descendant from The Council of Twelve. All except for Maeve who stood in the furthest corner by herself. She dared not speak of her hopes. There was nothing special about her. Her father was a stone digger and her mother a teacher. No great prophecy ever foretold of daughters of commoners. `` What if it's Maeve?'' a voice called out. Maeve looked up, wide-eyed. Despite her best efforts, her heart fluttered. And when a laughter soon followed, it dropped like the stone her father dug up. She looked back down, not even bothering to watch the light above them growing without fire. -- - The wooden floor stopped. Maeve looked up and found herself with the same gaping jaws as the rest of the children around her. The air scratched their throats with every breath and somewhere from the east, a wind came, like a mighty beast was blowing on them. Meave's long raven hair lifted behind her. She had never felt wind so strong. Marcus was the first to act. He stepped into the dirt and followed the stone path in front of them. The rest of the children followed as Maeve just looked at the fire in the sky. It was a huge ball of flames, impossible to stare into for too long. The fairy tales were true! She peeled her eyes away and found herself alone. `` Guys?'' she whispered and the wind took her voice and carried it away. There was no echo like the World Beneath. The silence felt oppressive and she hurried down the stone paths. By the time she caught up to the rest of the children, most had already undergone the Trial. Marcus sat in the dirt besides the iron dome that held the ancient device. He wore a smile that stretched off his face. `` It's all a hoax,'' he said. `` My father told me so. A prophecy made by stupid men who could n't tell fact from fiction.'' The others around him nodded in unison. `` Next,'' a deep voice rumbled from the cracked opening in the dome. Maeve looked around and realized that it meant her. She walked in. `` State your name, child.'' commanded that same baritone voice. Maeve traced it to the man who sat in the middle of the Twelve. Great Priest Gerald. He looked even more wise than in the stories her mother had told her. `` Maeve,'' she squeaked. She was about to say it again, louder, but Gerald held up his hand. `` Approach, Maeve and unlock your destiny.'' Maeve swalled a breath and shuffled forward. Atop a stone table sat a device like a mirror, a single button in its frame. She reached out, slowly. `` Place your thumb atop the button,'' Gerald commanded. Maeve nodded and did so. Her heart hammered against her chest. Her stomach wrung itself into knots before dropping into a bottomless abyss. Prophecies were only for the special. She had always known, everyone had known. It was such a simple truth that she felt stupid wishing for anything different. But she found herself praying all the same. Something clicked. She opened her eyes and found the screen come alive with pictures. The name Skynet sat top the screen. A box popped up with two buttons and a single question. `` 1 Machine Found. Connect to Terminator Series T-800?''
[ WP ] You have the ability to see the future . However , you can only see mundane or pointless things .	`` I never thought It would be like this tho. What is it that they say? “ The best laid plans of mice and men. ” I have one of the greatest powers in the world yet I can not use it to benefit me or man kind. I have the power to see the future. This seems like a great power. However there is one catch. If there is anything important in the future that is beneficial or harmful it is blocked. There is a blackness at any point that matters. All I see is the mundane, the unimportant, the useless. I can see myself at work but I can ’ t see what I ’ m working on. The screen is black. When I look at myself at home I ’ m watching tv, cooking, or some other menial task. However I can never see the subject matter. I guess that is good because there are no spoilers. I once tried to look up the lotto numbers but they were just blackness. I caught myself listening to the news on the radio, but every other word was just buzzing. So what can I tell you? What can I use my power for? I can tell you where I ’ m gon na be in the future. but I can ’ t tell you why. I can tell you who is gon na be there, as long as there is nothing interesting about them being there. I can tell you what I ’ m eating for lunch the next week, as long is it isn ’ t exciting or different. I mean its got ta be like pb & j or a turkey sandwich. Thats pretty much it. If it is even mildly interesting or revealing I can ’ t see it. It really limits my power. ” “ Wow, so you can ’ t help us safe the world. You probably shouldn ’ t even be on the powers list. ” Says the government official. “ Ya, i technically have a power and it ’ s in my DNA so that ’ s why i ’ m there. ” I replied. “ Well, I won ’ t take anymore of your time. ” He said standing up. “ No problem this was so mundane that i saw it coming. The world ending stuff was buzzed out tho.''
[ WP ] Satan suddenly appears in a crowded mall , and begins terrifying the holiday shoppers . He stops , looks directly at you and says , `` You ... You 're interesting . Do your friends know what you are ? '' You have no idea what he means .	Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, Ring-ting-tingling too, Come on, it's lovely weather For a sleigh ride together with yoooou Every year, every store, all in syrupy sweet synchrony. Is there a tax break for businesses that spread holiday cheer like chlamydia? Is it the product of some `` best practices'' protocol passed down from corporate to cover the sound of registers spitting out receipts? Or an infernal pact made long ago, forever binding peace on earth and goodwill towards men with a teeth-grinding, brain-sticking melody in exchange for a little joy in the darkest part of the year? My internal tirade was interrupted by an horrible chorus of screeching behind me. I swung my head around to look down the escalator at a crowd of shoppers now scattered and screaming, running from - `` SATAN! IT IS I, THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS. LOOK UPON ME AND KNOW YOUR DEMISE!'' My friends and I froze at the sight, oblivious to the fact we were still ascending the escalator. We tripped and toppled over one another as we reached the rubber at the end, one-by-one falling at the cloven feet of the Beast. `` YOU!'' He pointed. Me? `` DO YOUR FRIENDS KNOW WHAT YOU ARE?'' My agape mouth and bewildered expression was a sufficient answer for the Prince of Darkness. He gave a mighty chuckle that sounded like a cross between hyenas cackling and chalk scraping a blackboard. The entire east wing of the mall cringed in unison. `` YOU HAVE SEEN PAST THE ILLUSION AND TASTED THE KNOWLEDGE OF GOOD AND BLACK FRIDAY! YOU ARE THE ORACLE, WISE TO THE WAYS OF THE SONG OF SONGS! NOW THE SEAL IS BROKEN!'' The smell of brimstone filled the air as tendrils of Lucifer's crimson aura rushed over the giant `` ALL ITEMS 75 % OFF'' posters populating every store window, followed by gasps from trembling consumers as their greatest horror was realized. `` THERE WILL BE NO MORE SALES. THE END OF DAYS WILL NOT BE AFFORDABLE. UNLESS... THERE IS ONE AMONG YOU WHO SO LOVES THE WORLD, THAT HE WILL GIVE HIMSELF THAT WHOEVER SHOPS SHALL NOT PAY FULL PRICE BUT HAVE GREAT DEALS.'' I do n't know who pushed me forward, but I doubt that anyone in that mall disagreed. I got us into this mess, so I'd have to be the one to bear the burden. It's not so bad, after an eternity. Nice to have something to whistle during my afternoon walk around the lake of fire. I think I might even be starting to like it. Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, Ring-ting-tingling too, Come on, it's lovely weather For a sleigh ride together with yoooou
[ WP ] Satan goes to the DMV	Today Satan went to the DMV, just like every other day of the week. `` How do you do, Satan,'' old Mrs. Billingsworth greeted cheerily, `` Busy day here huh?'' Satan did n't reply, but he gave a reassuring nod to Mrs. Billingsworth, followed by a innocent grin. Satan thought about engaging Mrs. Billingsworth in a conversation regarding the weather or how good her cookies were at the bingo game on sunday, but he was already late for work. Mrs. Billingworth even had her desk laid out before he did. He vowed that one day he would eventually be earlier than her, but today was not that day. Satan sat down at his desk, a line had already accumulated. Angry teenagers glared at Satan as he took his seat. Satan smiled, knowing his workday would be filled with merriment. Eagerly, he prepared for his first joyous conversation of the day. He took an ample breath and exhaled calmly. `` Welcome to the DMV, how may I help you?''
[ WP ] You are your username . Write your origin story .	I stood in the midst of the chaos, at the eye of the storm. `` Sorry, can you repeat the question?'' I asked the reporter standing next to me. She did n't seem to mind, and both of us paused for a second as a very toned and muscled man passed by, dressed in little more than a white loincloth and with a spray-painted gold bow and arrow set slung over his shoulder. `` Er, right,'' the reporter said after another minute. `` So, how did you decide on launching this whole, er...'' `` Convention,'' I filled in. `` The first romance convention! It's going to be really something-'' `` Excuse me?'' A woman, short and squat and smelling like pollen, came bustling up to me. `` Where are the florists setting up?'' I glanced down at my schedule. `` Er, Aisle 5, over in that direction. There's a faucet over there, too. You're welcome!'' I called after her as she hurried off, not even giving me a single word of thanks. After shaking off my glare, I turned back to the reporter. `` Anyway, the whole thing started just as a drunken complaint with my buddy Jimmy...'' *** ``... and the problem is, half the time the date ends up being shit, and it's not even my fault!'' Jimmy swung his beer around, narrowly avoiding sloshing suds on me. `` Is n't that crazy?'' `` Yeah, it's crazy that it is n't your fault half the time,'' I countered. `` Come on, Jimmy, give me some context. What are you talking about?'' He sighed. `` Look, I met this girl. I pretty much thought that she was the one, right? Gazongas like bam, BAM!'' He held out his hands like he was cupping a pair of melons, once again nearly knocking over his beer. `` So I was gon na take her out somewhere nice, right? Club, all the things. Show her a good time.'' `` Where'd you choose?'' `` Ocean, in downtown.'' I grimaced. `` Not a smart move. That place is filled to the rafters with douche-bros. They'll steal your girl as soon as she walks in.'' `` All those oiled pecs,'' Jimmy moaned. `` I did n't stand a chance.'' I nodded, taking another pull on my own beer before Jimmy ended up knocking it over. `` What we need,'' I declared, `` is a place to figure out what spots are good for dates! A trial run!'' `` Yeah, and not just for first dates, either!'' Jimmy jumped in, nodding enthusiastically. `` How about for flowers and gifts and shit? I hate when I call to get, like, a couple of roses and the guy on the phone insists on upselling me into this giant bouquet with chocolates and stuff. It was just one date, I do n't need to send her a giant teddy bear or anything!'' The guy next to us at the bar suddenly spun around, nearly falling off his stool. `` Hell, how about finding us places that work for date nights after you're married?'' he jumped in, slurring his words but gesturing emphatically. `` When it's date night, it's either a movie, or nothing! I've got no options, and no wonder she wo n't put out!'' I leaned back, put off by his ninety proof breath, but Jimmy nodded, pointing a wobbling finger at the man. `` Yes!'' he crowed. `` You know what we should have? One of those conventions! Everyone could come show off their stuff, compete for our service!'' ** ``... and, well, we somehow did n't give up on that crazy idea,'' I finished, watching as the reporter furiously scribbled notes. `` So now, here we are. The city's first Romance Convention! We're calling it Romanti-Con, and although I'm a bit nervous to admit it, it's going to be a success!'' `` Really?'' She looked around at the chaos as a hundred vendors bustled to set up their booths, sexy models lounging and waiting for their chance to seduce the imminent crowds. I nodded. `` Fully sold out for all three days. I've already got people on a waiting list for next year. And all the other events that we've spun off - speed dating, catered dinners, excursions for the weekend - are getting tons of interest. Jimmy might be a loud drunk, but he's great at planning.'' The reporter nodded, tucked away her notebook. `` You know, I guess that I can see the appeal,'' she admitted. `` I've been on some pretty awful first dates, and it would be nice to know what sort of place I'm going to.'' `` See?'' I nodded, beaming at her. `` Romanti-Con! It's gon na be a great thing!'' The reporter's smile grew a little more alluring. `` Any discount on admission for members of the press?'' she asked, leaning in a bit closer. `` In exchange for a great review?'' I sized her up. Pretty cute, I had to admit. `` I'm sure we can agree on something.''
[ WP ] A young man living in a world where if you kill someone , their age is added onto your life .	The sand in the distance was dancing silently. The hot air was choking the dunes in an ominous struggle. Everything around Zaku appeared to be locked in a tense moment. The slow and steady current was fooling the skin with false coolness. In truth, every inch of that cursed desert seemed to be scorching hot for the young man. He stood still as he couldn ’ t comprehend what was happening. Zaku stared at the corpse at his feet without showing emotion. The shaman ’ s lifeless eyes were staring back. His skin, blacker than ever, was covered in sand because of all that sweat he was always drenched in. Zaku looked at his hand and saw an old man ’ s fist, shaking around a short blade. He recognised the knife but that wasn ’ t his hand. He brought it closer to his eyes and looked at the shiv. A few drops of blood ran down his arm but he didn ’ t seem to notice because an old, scared man was looking at him from the reflection. It took him a second to realise that this was him. Impossible. That old bastard, he thought. Everything was coming back to him now. The ritual. The shaman, yelling maniacally as he danced around the statues. Zaku didn ’ t want to kill the shaman but it was inevitable. He wasn ’ t a man who would sacrifice himself willingly, as the shaman thought. But it also seemed, that the shaman wasn ’ t the fraud that Zaku thought he was. This had to be some sort of curse. The young man couldn ’ t find another explanation for this. He heard footsteps behind him but before he could turn around, he recognised Boro ’ s voice. “ What happened here? ” Zaku turned around, still with a blade in his hand. He opened his mouth but found it really hard to say anything. He noticed how terribly exhausted his body was. He was out of breath even while standing still. Boro saw the shaman ’ s body, then he noticed the small blade in Zaku ’ s hand. He realised what was going on and quickly found a spear next to him that was prepared for the ritual. Zaku, opened his mouth again. He tried to speak but without success. He struggled as he tried to mutter even a single word. It seemed so easy to tell Boro what happened but all he managed was to stare with pain in his eyes. His mouth formed a silent “ no ” but the other man didn ’ t see it as he panicky started approaching Zaku with the spear in front of him. Boro ’ s hands were shaking uncontrollably and he yelled one thing after another. “ Who are you? What do you want? Why did you kill the shaman? ”. Zaku was helpless. He can not even recognise me. Zaku started gasping for air. There was nothing he could do, beside standing there. Even standing up required an incredible effort. In a split second, he saw Boro moving faster than a lion. He felt the cool, iron spear in him. At least that was cold. Zaku fell laying on the ground. He heard Boro screaming in pain. He tried looking at him but his vision was blurry. He could see the man ’ s silhouette, as he fell on his knees. Zaku was confused but then he noticed something white between Boro ’ s fingers as he was holding his head. That damn curse. Zaku felt his energy draining away and he managed to take one last look at the shaman before closing his eyes in forfeit. What have you done, father…
[ WP ] An imaginary friend ca n't stand the child to whom he/she/it has been assigned .	'' Do it,'' I whispered, knowing full well the adults nearby could n't near me anyway. '' Just try it- it'll be fun'' Jimmy paused nervously, the fork in his hand poised inches from the outlet. Trying to hide my glee, I tried my best to be casual about this delicious moment. If I played my cards right, this could be the end- finally. Sweet freedom is minutes away. '' Just play it cool,'' I thought to myself. `` B... but mummy says I must n't!'' '' That's because she does n't want you to have fun! Just try it out, Jimmy. If you do n't think it's fun, you can stop. Trust me,'' * I swear if I have to listen to him whine about his older sister or how no one at school likes him one more time, I may just see about having myself wiped out. Jimmy's lower lip stops quivering as the decision is made. Nodding toward the outlet, I whisper, *'' Just insert the fork, pal.''
[ WP ] An ordinary baseball bat makes the most beautiful fractures	crack At the ball park, it makes the crowd stand up. In my line of work, it makes someone fall down. My name is Frank Lionel, but my friends call me Frank. People who aren ’ t my friends call me Mr. Lionel. Let me tell you about my job. I work in finance. Not the finance you know and loathe, but the financial world you probably have no idea about. Dodd-Frank, in spite of its coincidentally-termed nomenclature has nothing to do with my finance world. I am an analyst first, and a dynamic-creative-doer second. First, I analyze where to hit you, then, I hit you. If you owe more than five hundred dollars to one of my clients, I get a call. I usually ask a few questions about you ( the debtor ) and then, like any professional, I grab the right tools for the job. An electrician can not very well do his ( or her, equal opportunity these days ) job with a frying pan, and a roofer couldn ’ t do much with a tire iron. My point is the right tools for the right job. My tools are bats, not the flying kind, it ’ s hard to strike fear into with a small furry, flying mammal. I mean the wooden kind. I dabbled in the metal ones, they swing well, but the reverberation and the dead feeling left me wanting something more. Breaking a femur with an aluminum ting just didn ’ t feel right, if you know what I mean. Kind of like marble seats on chairs, it ’ s such a nice material, but the butt desires something more organic. So I came back to wood bats, their warmth, the way a good blow just reverberates up your arm, the beauty of the grain. I love a good wooden bat. I ’ m not a big guy, and I don ’ t have big hands, so I like a small handle, and a small/medium barrel on my bats, usually a C271 or a P72, but I ’ ll settle for a M110 if there ’ s nothing else available. So here are a few reviews of the bats I use: Louisville Slugger: The old standard. A good bat, good for upper body, shoulders, torso, that sort of work. Can get a little ungainly when working on extremities. I prefer the maple bats, but the ash is more traditional. Leaves large fractures on the skull, works well for fracturing ribs and collar bones. Mizuno: Japanese company, nice shaped barrel with a small sweet spot on towards the end. Good for shorter bats. Leaves small fractures on the skull. Wonderful at for joint work, can obliterate a knee joint with a satisfying pop. I prefer the maple mizunos, detail work requires a little harder wood. Old Hickory: I like to use the Old Hickory junior models for finger/hand work. The fracturing a junior sized bat can inflict on the tarsals is a thing of beauty. Working the hands with a junior Old Hickory is more cathartic than popping bubble wrap, same type of sound too. Marucci: Nice looking all-rounder. Good for larger individuals. Has some heft in the barrel and a skinny handle with a nice big sweet spot for large bone work. When it comes to femurs or soft tissue torso work, I prefer my Marucci. Not great for head work, leaves a big ugly fracture and is a bit hard to control for upper body work, you ’ re liable to kill a guy/girl hitting them in the head with a Marucci. Chandler Bats: Relative newcomer to my business. Seems like a good bat, bit like a Louisville Slugger, but the wood is quite a bit harder. Haven ’ t had a chance to use it yet, but it ’ s got nice balance. Probably better for torso, leg work, not too delicate of stuff. Those are the big players, or at least my preferred players in the field. Some of the other “ professionals ”, and I use that term loosely, in my field will use whatever they have at hand, a crowbar, a hammer, or whatever, but that seems sloppy to me. I have a motto: do the job right, use a wooden bat. I know it does n't rhyme who cares?
[ WP ] Write a sad poem or song about Minecraft	A dozen trees, felled by my own hand Made into a hoe, to plow my new land -- - A stout home of cobblestone I built And an iron sword with handle and hilt -- -- Deep into the caves I mined Till lodes of coal and gold I'd find -- - But with these riches, ancient terrors Creepers and skeletons in their mossy lairs -- - I traverse the canyon with arrows flying Devouring porkchops to keep from dying -- - I hack at them with my trusty blade Till my weapon breaks and my armor's frayed -- - The beasts are vanquished and the cave well-lit But I can carry more; I return to the pit -- - Diamonds sparkle over a lake of fire The rewards are great, but the consequences dire -- - Closer and closer I reach, on the edge of my cobble path Clinging to the edge, avoiding a lava bath -- - Stone crumbles and I'm showered in jewels Just one more block, to create durable tools -- - Just a little bit further! Just a little more! My foot falls from from the path, and now I'm done for. -- -- I swim through the magma and haul myself onto land But it's too late; the damage is done. There's no water on hand. -- - My vision fades to red, and my possessions spill out All for a few more diamonds, which I could have lived without
[ WP ] A time traveler hates the quality of early photos , so he goes to points in history to retake them .	`` Oh, no, he looks just atrocious here! What an incompetent moron took this photo?'' said Cindy, looking at the old photograph. `` That's horrible! This photo is like the worst thing that ever happened! I must correct it.'' A flash of light lit up the room, and Cindy has disappeared. On a rainy day in Berlin, an old lady has screamed, as she saw a figure appearing in the alleyway, seemingly out of nowhere, accompanied by a flash of light. Cindy has ran, holding tightly onto her camera, getting ready to shoot. A little translator program in her phone was translating the vigorous speech from the man on the tall podium `` Burn them I tell you, burn them all! All hail the Arian race!'' Whoah, that's fucked up thought Cindy, looking at a young photographer, setting up his ancient camera This guy has no idea what he's doing! You got ta be aware of the consequences of your actions, y'know? He's butchering the art of photography! . Almost shaking in indignation, she stood behind him and aimed his camera at the furer. Click. Snap. Pheew. She breathed out, finally content and satisfied. Yet again, everything was right with the world. She looked at the picture, smiled, and went back to the alley, to return back to her time. Behind her, two muscular figures in long gray robes were dragging a thin old man towards their van. The man tried to resist, but, of course, failed. Cindy pressed a button of the temporal modulator, and was back in her room, putting one more gorgeous picture onto her wall. Is n't time travel a beautiful invention she thought.

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