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[ WP ] One day , you find out theres an upcoming apocalypse . You can save people , but in order to do that , they have to believe from the bottom of their hearts that the apocalypse is coming . Unfortunetely , only the nut cases believed you . Write a journal detailing the first week in rebuilding the world
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July 16th 2017: Scratch that, January First 0001. There that sounds better. Well the apocalypse came and went exactly as I foretold. I tried my hardest to convince everyone through any means necessary the internet, television, preaching, hell I even bought a shit ton of billboards ( not one of my better ideas ). It seems he only people I was able to convince are batshit crazy, I mean drinking the Kool-Aid crazy. Here let me give you an example, Janice one of the first people I convinced of the oncoming collapse of civilization, still thinks her beanie baby collection is gon na be worth something one day. EVERYONE IS FUCKING DEAD JANICE.
January 2nd 0001: This is just total bullshit, was it really worth saving these people? I should n't have said anything at least I could spend the apocalypse in peace and quiet. I guess I should use this journal to start chronicling the “ Great Rebuild ” of human society. Yea because that's gon na happen with these fuckwits, they spend 8 hours a day chanting random words that they made up to praise the “ Glorious Leader ” aka me. In total I have saved a little over 2000 of these nutjobs, and was unanimously elected to lead them, yea I kid you not it was 2065 votes to 0.
January 3rd 0001: This is hopeless. 3 days into my NWO and my people are already practicing human sacrifices. Jesus Christ 4 days ago half of them where still tweeting and facebooking each other, now we are already regressing to the dark ages.
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[ WP ] You know you are about to die . Write a letter to the person that might find your body .
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To my family and friends,
If you're reading this, then it should be known that I am dead. I just wanted to let you all know that I care about you... All of you. Since I joined the service, and upon deployment to Washington, D.C., I always had a sinking feeling that I would end up brutally injured or dead. I just wished to tell you, that I fought valiantly on the field of battle. I died along the true brothers that I knew...
War is brutal... I ca n't tell you of the horrors I have seen... The inhumanity... Whatever these... things... were, they killed many of us. The initial months of deployment were horrid. Brutal weather, courtesy of the intelligence cadre, caused by the displacement of mass from the invaders' troop transports.
Off the shores, just within sight of the coast, we saw bulbous transports... Hundreds of them, the size of cities. From their bellies, they disgorged thousands of troops, and began mobilizing towards us. Their rapid movement was unparalleled. We put up a hard, determined fight. But the weapons they used... I held my friend Chase, as his legs slowly melted into liquefied goo... That's the most I can give... Its just too much.
We had, lost the Battle of Washington... Slowly being pushed back inwards. Losing state after state... City after city... We tried to save as many people as we could... but... there were too many to save...
Its been seven months, and now, I man the post on the near 20 foot walls of Los Angeles, ever looking east. Watching the horizon. I share a bunker lodging with two kids, barely 18... They wear rag tag uniforms and run down body armor... They're tough and determined, but they have n't see what I've seen... Watched as their friends died... Held them as their life slipped away...
If you're reading this, thank you. My family died during the September Bombings, killed by the enemy while still trying to evacuate... My friends are either dead, or far away on distant battlefields, about to die...
Humanity is on its last dregs... The Government is gone. Resistance is all that is left... I see the enemy armada approaching...
I always told myself today was a good day to die... But I wonder if this time, I just might not make it....
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[ WP ] One night , finally fed up with retail , your store team kills a customer . The police do n't seem to have the first clue and you 're now up to 6 victims .
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Frustration nagged at Alexandria. Yet again the two children of a regular had knocked down the Lindor Ball stand. The mother just laughed as her children started eating the lindors.
Silently Alexandria pulled out some capsules from her handbag, pulled them apart and sprinkled it into the Hot Chocolates that she was making. She swirled them in and added more chocolate hoping it hid any taste.
With a smile she handed the cups to the siblings who just run off without a thank you.
It was her first kills but police put it down to a Gastro bug. Not connected to the cafe at all. Alexandria smirked as she continued doing so to customers that annoyed her and her cafe co workers did n't notice, not even her duty manager.
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[ WP ] When turning 21 , everyone develops a mutation , either physical ( Claws , horns , wings ) or mental ( telekinesis , extreme intelligence , etc ) . You 've just turned 21 , and you 're terrified of what you 've gained ( though others will be impressed ) .
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I was 21 when I died, drunk on the side of the road.
When the man in the dark robe came for me, he gave no name. He just led me to this pool and left. *Watch. *
I saw the world through my best friend's eyes. Ferguson was an elderly yellow lab, my special buddy. Sometimes I hear the distorted words of my sister, as if through water. `` Can you take Fergie out?''
`` Can you take Fergie for a walk, Estelle?''
I have been eager for something more than just the darkness that surrounds me. So I watch the human world pass by through the eyes of my only friend.
But today there is no narrow view, only a single cry. `` Wake up.''
The puddle ripples and I look up, surprised by the sudden light filling my cave?
A man walks forward, his eyes deep, black pools. He tells me what I have learned.
That being a dog is very boring, I tell him. That I miss my life.
The man smiles, showing straight white teeth. He lifts smoky hands and touches my face. Have you come to understand what you were lacking?
I do n't understand, I said, the feel of his cold flesh against mind unpleasant. You said, when I first came here, that I would see the world through the eyes of my loved ones. I would come to understand how my life has made a difference. Why have you come now?
When I turn to look at the pool, there is nothing. Just smooth stone.
The man removes his hand and gestures towards an opening. It is a sliver of white, harsh against the murky walls. You know why people wait here? Because they have to be forgotten to move on. And I do not mean their name, but the essence of who they are.
You were not a pleasant person, you did things no one should be proud of. But you were loved in some small way. Until you were forgotten, replaced, turned only into a memory and not a ghost in their minds... you would remain here. Sometimes people wait 80 human years. Though they do not know how long it has been until I return for them.
How long have... I began to ask. A cold, wet nose pushed its way into my hand. Looking down, I was met with the soft, wavering eyes of Ferguson.
He never forgot, the man said. He never forgot, even after six months. And now he is with you and you may leave. Through the door, to be reincarnated together.
Wait, he is the only one? I asked, kneeling beside my friend and hugging his shaggy neck.
You lived a very narrow life, the man said. His smile wavered and he looked down at the stone floor. There were many people who breathed a sigh of relief when you were gone.
But at least you had one person remain true until the very end. Now, will you go?
Tears streamed down my false cheeks. I breathed in the fading warmth of my best friend, the only entity to mourn me. He licked my cheek and I rose. Okay buddy, let's go.
*Okay. Lead the way. *
It is then I realized my power.
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[ WP ] the hero 's mentor is not all that he seems .
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James was my master, the one who taught me the sword. He was, in many ways, the embodiment of the pinnacle, the wall that could not be scaled or conquered. He was handsome, with no real physical flaws or blemishes, and women flocked to him in a manner that could only be envied. He wore a casually proud half smile, which curled in a manner that made him seem almost cocky. He wore it well.
Sometimes, when he was not careful enough, a bright glint shone in his normally dull eyes. His fist would clench suddenly and his body tensed up, tightened up like a long taut string suddenly pulled on both ends. During these moments, it was difficult to even breathe, since he emanated such terrible killer intent. It was as though he wished to kill everyone, anyone, in the vicinity.
I asked him once about this, foolishly, for I was curious. Perhaps if I had been a cat, I might have been killed. Then again, no man would say a cat would be so brave.
James did not reply me in the same calm manner he usually carried himself with. His words came out, sharp and harsh, even as he stood up and looked away. Always, towards the east. It was as though some bestial instinct was guiding him.
`` Someone, a person very important to me, once died. I have been avenging her ever since.''
James was the most perfect man I knew. Even if he seemed fragile, like a rose in the desert, there was something dangerous in it. Still, I can not think of a single person who looked sadder than he did.
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[ WP ] You are about to sign your contract with Satan in blood , when all of a sudden , God bursts through the door to try and make you a better offer . Satan and God begin to barter for your very soul .
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`` A river of pussy'', the devil says, smiling through a set of perfectly white, bright teeth.
`` A river of pussy…'' I repeat to myself, thoughtful.
`` Well, not literally… I mean, it *can* be literally, if you want, but –''
`` I do n't want a literal river of pussy.''
`` Good. Good. Then we have a deal?''
`` And the money?'' I ask, before he forgets.
`` Yes, the money, the women... And a third wish. The whole package, man.''
`` And all I have to do is go to Hell when I die?''
The devil smiles again. `` Yes. But we'll send someone to drive you there, when the time comes.''
`` Good, cause I hate public transportation.''
The devil's smile widens, and he reaches under the table for some papers. `` Here'', he says, throwing them in front
of me. `` If you could just sign there…''
I grab a pen from the holder and lower it to the paper. `` Wait'', I say, raising my eyes to him. `` Do we need to do this in bloo –''
`` Blue pen is fine.''
I smile. `` Perfect.''
The ball point is almost touching the paper when the front door bursts open. `` Hang on!'' An old, bearded man says, propelling himself inside the room. `` What do you think you're doing?''
The devil rolls his eyes. `` Oh, for the love of –''
`` Exactly'', God says, making way around the table to face me. `` Have you signed this contract, yet?''
`` Yes, he has.''
`` No, I have not.''
`` Good. I have a counter-offer.''
`` We are kind of in the middle of –''
`` Shut up, Lu. Listen, bro'', God says, leaning closer to me. `` This is a terrible deal. The Earthly pleasures, they are
not worth it. You ought to sign with me.''
God has a British accent. For some reason, this makes perfect sense.
`` I can sell my soul to God?'' I ask, looking from God to the Devil. `` This is new information.''
`` Yeah'', Lucifer says. `` But no one does it, it's a crappy deal, if you –''
`` You got ta think ahead, man'', God says. `` Sure, you can sell your soul now for three little wishes, but them's only
going to last you a couple of years. Then it's *eternity* in Hell, man! Do you know how much Hell sucks?''
`` Hey!'' The devil exclaims, in an offended tone.
I look from Lucifer to God. `` And what can *you* offer me?'' I ask.
God smiles. `` Heaven.''
I wait, but he does n't say anything else.
`` That ’ s it?''
Now it's the devil's turn to smile.
God takes a deep breath `` Look, I know. I ca n't offer you Earthly things. Money, women… None of that. I'm not allowed to. But the spiritual pleasures, they are *so* more rewarding...''
I grab the pen again. `` Yeah, I'm sure... But I think I'm gon na go with Lu here, if you –''
`` No, but listen! You live your life just the way you've been doing, normally. No fame or fortune, or anything. But
when you die…'' God pauses, for effect. `` It's an eternity in paradise! Do n't you think that's better than fifty or sixty
good years on Earth for an eternity in Hell later?''
`` The man does have a point'', I say, turning to face the Devil. I drop the pen.
`` You know, I worked in Heaven'', the Devil says, rolling his eyes again. `` It's overrated.''
`` Well, maybe if you were n't always complaining you'd be –''
`` You know what, you were a terrible boss, God, I –''
`` *I* was terrible? You are Satan! You are *literally* worse than Hitler! If I cou –''
`` Do you have any idea how much it hurt when you pushed me out of Heav --''
`` Guys, guys, stop!'' I say, and they both shut up. `` I made my decision.''
They wait in silence. I look from the creator to the whatever you call the devil that's not Devil or Lucifer which I've
used enough already.
`` So, if I close the deal with you'', I say, pointing at Lu, `` I get three wishes, but no salvation and no Heaven.''
`` Yeah'', Satan says.
`` And if I go with you'', I nudge to God, `` I get nothing here on Earth, but I get to go to Heaven when I die.''
`` Exactly'', God replies.
I look from one to the other to one to the other, biting onto the tip of the pen as I consider the offers.
Then, in a sudden movement, I pull the Devil's contract closer to me and sign it.
`` Yes!'' The Devil exclaims, opening a big smile. `` Great choice!''
By my side, God's looking all kinds of disappointed.
`` Good working with you'', the Devil says, offering me his hand. I shake it. `` Tough luck, though, man'', he completes, looking up at God. God grunts.
`` So?'' Lucifer says, getting up and looking back at me. `` What's it going to be? The river of pussy –''
`` *Metaphorical* river of pussy'', I correct.
Of course. The metaphorical river of pussy, the money… And? What's the third one?''
`` Going to Heaven when I die'', I say, simply.
God and the Devil look at me, then at each other. Then back at me.
`` You ca n't do that'', the Devil says.
`` Why not? It does n't specify in the contract that my three wishes *have* to be Earthly.''
The Devil frowns, looking from me to the contract on the table. `` Yeah, but… Come on, I'm the devil. Earthly pleasures, original sin and –''
`` Tough luck'', I say, shrugging. `` You should get a better lawyer.''
By my side, God turns his head away from the conversation, and I swear I hear muffled laughter and a, `` Motherfucker'', out the corner of this lips.
___________________________
*Thanks for reading! For more stories, check out /r/psycho_alpaca = ) *
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[ WP ] Write a story in which the main character does n't feel like participating .
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It was June 7, 2009.
Everything was great, but Kyle thought the opposite. Reason was..
He was stuck in the internet.
No, not just metaphorically surfing the web. He was **literally** surfing in the web with an ASKII surf-board. He could do anything at his will, and if he wans something.. He puts himself in a webpage that allows him to do just that.
To Clippy, a little paperclip in the Microsoft Word program, he was a good person. They worked on everything together. Making great things.. Breaking great things.. But after a while, Kyle was n't into it. He had yet to be discovered inside the bulky Windows XP computer, and eventually he got bored. He wanted POWER.
Fast forward a few years, it's January 1^^st, 2016. UNDERTALE had recently been released, and he browsed the internet for more information on the game. He enters his old credit card number, and installs it.
He immediately kills everyone, only sparing the main bosses. It was basically a f-cked up neutral run. He reset. Time after time, he reset the game. He was getting bored again. His emotions were basically what Flowey was feeling at first. He'd beaten every game, lost every game. Read every book, BURNED every book. Even Flowey was predictable. Dodge this, attack now.. He was no longer excited. He had nothing else to do. He visited chat sites, and moved from computer to computer. People rejected him over and over again, thinking that he was a virus. They uninstalled him over and over again. Finally, someone emails him to another PC. The email is opened, and he escapes. He is found snooping around on Reddit, and looks at a post made by `` iiDapperDog''. It sent chills down his back, and he attempted to leave. But then, the user launches CCleaner, and attempts to delete him. Stupidly, the user did n't unplug his iPhone 6s. Kyle had entered the phone, where he rested in Instagram, waiting for a famous person to post. But it never happened. He explored the phone while it was off, but then the phone turns on. **I** saw him in my phone.
( Please do n't hate, this was made by a 10 year old, okay? Geez. )
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[ WP ] A picture of your family hangs up in your apartment . Every morning one of your family members goes missing from the picture .
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Sometimes I see horrible pictures of the dead from war zones or big tragedies and I focus in on the clothes the victims were wearing that day. I ca n't help thinking about how they never knew that it would be the last time they dressed themselves, that they were pulling on the clothes they would die in.
It was the same thought that ran through my head as I stared through the glass at the big, familiar old silver watch on my father's wrist in the morgue. Had he known, that morning, that it would be the last time he would ever strap it on? Maybe he had. Thirty years of marriage, ended by a self-inflicted gunshot in the mouth. Around me, my siblings cried and tried to comfort our mom, who was utterly broken. I thought perhaps I ought to make some kind of token effort to join in the wailing, but I was numb. The man on the other side of the glass drew back the sheet covering my father's face and the sobbing around me intensified, exploded. It did n't look so bad if you ignored the mess underneath his head; his face was actually recognizable. The sheet-lifter glanced at us, met my dry-eyed gaze, and I nodded at him. Yes, that dead body was my father.
The numbness lasted the rest of the day and followed me home after I left the rest of my family and returned to my apartment alone. Perhaps I should have stayed with them, but the miasma of their grief was suffocating and made me feel strangely guilty for not sharing in it. Somehow, all I could think about was the pale, waxy visage lying on the table in the morgue.
I dreamed about his face that night, the sunken hollows of his eyes and the white lips opening to reveal shattered teeth and a gaping throat, torn open by the path of the bullet. I woke up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding.
I could have sworn there had been a noise in my empty apartment. I lay absolutely still, but there was no sound. Slowly relaxing, I thought back to my dream. My father and I had never been close, but suddenly I felt bad that the only way I could remember him now was by seeing his face in death, with all the grisly violence beneath the surface. I should be able to remember the way he'd looked in life.
I swung my feet out of bed. There was a picture in the entry hallway, a family portrait my mother had insisted on a few years ago. The whole family had worn their best sunny smiles while I had tried to look less than sullen, but it had n't worked. There were five of us children: Daniel, Kyle, Nicole, me, and Max. I looked, as I had known I would, like an angry gremlin dropped into the Brady Bunch. Still, it would be good to look at my father as he'd once been, smiling and handsome.
Except he was n't there. Where his head had been was only a jagged hole. Bemused, I traced its outline with one finger. That's twice a hole's gone through his head today, I thought absently, before realizing it was n't the only place where the photograph had been mutilated. Mom's face was also missing, a second hole torn on top of her shoulders.
I had never glanced at the photograph since the day I'd moved in and my mother had put it up. It did n't seem likely that she would have given me a family portrait with her and my father's faces ripped out. I lived alone and the only visitors I ever had were my family. It made absolutely no sense for the picture to be mauled in this fashion, it was absolutely weird and inexplicable, so I put it out of my mind and went back to bed. Sometimes when weird things happen for which there are no answers, you just have to sleep it off.
The noise that woke me up next was unmistakably the buzzing of my cell phone. I had it barely to my ear when Nicky's shrieking jarred me out of sleep completely.
`` Mom's dead! She killed herself too!''
It was the grief over my father that had driven her to do it, everybody decided. There were no questions asked, it was pretty open-and-shut in everyone's eyes, even ours, the new orphans. It was Max who'd found her, cold and still in the master bedroom our parents had shared for all of their married lives, two empty bottles of prescription pills on the nightstand next to her. One would have done it, but Mom had always been prone to insecurity. The only question raised by her death was what would happen to us, the children left behind. As usual, Daniel took charge.
`` Take Max back to your apartment tonight.''
`` No.''
`` Please, I need you to take care of him.''
`` Hell no.''
`` Alice!'' Daniel stopped, took a deep breath. `` Look, Max is the one who found her body. He's traumatized and I do n't think he should sleep here tonight. Please, for once in your life, do n't be an asshole and take him back with you, just for a couple of days.''
I wanted to say something about the asshole comment, but I realized with both our parents dying one after another in the past two days, my eldest brother might be under some strain. Besides, Max was only seven years old, he could n't have had time to grow as offensively perfect and wonderful as the rest of them.
I had moved out of the house four years ago, when he'd only been three, so my little brother and I were practically strangers. I fed him some leftover pasta, then gave him some blankets and a pillow to make himself a bed on my couch. Max did n't say much and obeyed my orders, so it was with a feeling of relief that I went to bed that night. He could stay for a couple of nights, I decided as my head hit the pillow. A couple of days, then he'd have to go back.
I do n't know what woke me, but when I opened my eyes there was a child-sized shadow in the darkness at the foot of my bed. Nameless fear made my body clench, then I remembered my house guest. The fear dissolved into rage.
`` Fuck, Max! I told you you're not allowed in my room!''
`` There's someone out there,'' said my little brother.
`` You're dreaming! Go back to the couch!''
`` Someone's there,'' he insisted.
I could see his former obedience was no longer in effect. He would have to go back immediately, I decided as I leapt out of bed. `` The door's locked,'' I told him. `` There's nothing out there and you're too old to wake me up because you had a bad dream.''
He followed me silently as I stalked through the rooms, flicking on the lights as I went. `` Where's your intruder, Max? Huh? You see anybody here?'' I glared at him with my hands on my hips, the picture of an angry evil witch who did n't care that he was a little kid who had seen his mother's corpse today. Max looked down and shook his head. I saw his mouth tremble a little and suddenly felt bad.
`` Okay, look,'' I deflated, kneeling down to look him in the eye. `` I'm mean when I wake up. Actually, I'm mean all the time. I'm sorry, though, I did n't want to be mean to you. I think you had a really bad day and you're probably just scared. Do you,'' I paused and sighed heavily with a sense of sacrifice, `` Do you want to sleep with me tonight?''
I've loathed physical contact for as long as I can remember. Mom had told me that as a baby I hated to be held, and always wriggled away from touchy-feely people when they tried to hug me. I bundled Max onto one side of the bed, created an impassable mountain range of pillows between us, and shoved him away roughly four times during the night when he dared to put an errant limb in my space. I had just woken to another soft little foot in my eye socket when the buzzing of my phone sounded in the morning.
`` Nicky, I ca n't understand what you're saying,'' I said sharply over her sobbing. `` Take a deep breath and tell me what's wrong.''
`` It's Daniel,'' she gulped out. `` He's gone, too. Please come home, Alice.''
Daniel had spent the previous day arranging for Mom's body to be taken care of and comforting Nicole. Then, at night, he'd gone out to the bar and gotten completely drunk. Ever the responsible drinker, he'd left his car parked at the bar and entered the subway to get back to the house. Apparently around 2AM, he'd stumbled off the deserted platform just as the the express train had screeched through and gotten his head popped off and his body unrecognizably mangled.
`` There were no witnesses other than the conductor, who says he only saw the victim the moment he fell onto the tracks,'' said the police inspector. `` There is a security tape, but it's taking some time for us to get a hold of it. We were, however, able to retrieve these items from his remains.''
I stared at Daniel's shiny leather wallet. Three family deaths in as many days had left my older sister incapable of leaving her room. Kyle, second eldest after Daniel, was flying in from the West Coast tonight, but until then apparently I was in charge. Max, seated next to me on the couch, watched with big eyes as I gingerly opened the wallet and looked at Daniel's driver's license. Yep, that was him. I tried not to think about it being taken from his `` remains''. They say when a train hits a human body caught between the tracks and the platform, one part of the body spins rapidly while the other half stays still, essentially twisting it apart. I tried not to think of that, either.
The police inspector left shortly afterwards. They were treating Daniel's death as an accident, a drunken fall off the platform, and did not mention the word suicide. I was grateful for this only because Nicky was already at her limit.
When Kyle arrived that evening, I was finally free to make my escape. I probably should have stayed, but the house was feeling more and more like a mausoleum, what with my sister's misery and the ghosts of my parents and brother. I tried to make Max stay, but he had been my silent shadow all day and I was getting used to his presence, so when he shook his head at my, `` Stay with Kyle, Max,'' I shrugged and let him come back with me.
The family portait hung exactly eye-level when I stepped in the front door of my apartment. For four years, I had somehow managed never to look straight at it as I entered, but today it caught my eye. There was a third hole now, where the tallest head had been. Daniel.
< Part One End >
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[ WP ] Write a dark fairytale .
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Champas was a boy who lived in a village by a cliff. The entire village spent every day building furniture to sell to the surrounding towns and villages and were very prosperous. People would come for miles and miles to this little village with large sacks of gold to buy from them. Every evening after a long day, the entire village would gather beside the cliff and throw the best piece of furniture they made that day off of the cliff and into the river below as an offering to the god of the river.
As Champas grew from a boy into a man, each day he would get more and more bitter and prideful. `` Why should we sacrifice our best work to this river god?'' he would say to himself. Soon his pride got the best of him, and he began to throw some of his lesser work into the river in the evening. Chairs with uneven legs, bookshelves with crooked shelves, and beds that did not lie straight. These he would throw away, and his best work he would keep and sell, and he made a great profit for himself.
One night as he lay in his bed, dreaming of being a great man, he heard a voice. `` Champas, it is I, the river god, wake up''. With a start Champas awoke, and directly before his bed was the river god. He had the appearance of a man, but scales like a fish, and when he spoke, his voice was like the river rushing into rocks in the rapids.
`` Champas, why do you give me your worst, while the rest of the village gives me their best?''
`` River god, I have only ever given you my best!'' Champas lied.
`` Champas, I lie awake at night tossing and turning in the bed that you made, why does it not lie straight?''
`` River god, it must be too hot for you to sleep''
`` Champas, when I use your chair, my back hurts for the day, why does it not sit straight?''
`` River god, perhaps you are working too hard during the day, and hurting your back?''
`` Champas, when I set my books upon your bookshelf, the books fall off, why does it not hold them straight?''
`` River god, perhaps you have too many books''
`` Champas, if you are a liar, then you have cheated me, the river god, and if you are telling me the truth, you are a very poor furniture maker indeed. From this day forth, you shall spend your days making furniture as before, but each evening, instead of throwing your best item into the river, you shall throw yourself into the river, to be my furniture until the next day. I shall lie on you as a bed, sit on you as a chair, and you shall hold my books. If you can not make me good furniture, you shall yourself be my furniture.
And so Champas spent the rest of his days serving as the river god's furniture every night, until his back was too broken as a bed, his legs too broken as a chair, and his arms too broken from holding books. He could no longer make furniture, but instead would spend his days besides the cliff, warning others of his failures.
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[ WP ] Humans are capable of deific powers . The more worshippers they have , the more powerful they are . After thousands of years , social media is changing everything this system has created .
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Titans. The Pope and his lackeys on Twitter were against anything that had to do with modern gods, threatening to create an electromagnetic pulse that would destroy most technology. Naturally, people complained about being silenced, as they always do, but after Hawkings death nobody was both popular and smart enough to stop such an attack.
Before technology, this power was accredited to whatever God whomever worshipped. Technology, however, proved that it was actually people donating a piece of their mind to be used for psychic powers, varying by the types of followers. The Pope has greater control over electricity, Trump can manipulate sound, Hawking had greater control over electricity, perfect memory, and minor control over gravity, all rare powers and rarer still together.
Nobody has had all 13 powers, until today. Hi, I'm Mark Zuckerburg, and today the top 10 social media persons have just agreed to the revised terms and conditions, thereby giving me all mental power they receive.
My power? Number 14, lesser mind control.
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[ WP ] Finding long-range space travel to be impractical otherwise , humanity has turned to manufacturing mobile planets to facilitate their survival and exploration of the universe .
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`` Which one are we sending this one to?'' asked Frank over the intercom.
`` Toward Orion, I think'', I answered, as I used the massive pinchers on the ship to guide another asteroid toward the growing ball of dirt. It was pretty amazing. A year ago, I'd been a demolition man, and I'd been contacted through an agency to do similar stuff in space. I'd never in a million years dreamed I'd be making a *planet*.
Several hundred miles away, an elite group of scientists were doing something with hydrogen. I was n't knowledgeable on the details, but I knew they were making a star to orbit the planet. They'd be expecting this thing to be ready in a month. No problem, one more ought to do it. I returned to the asteroid belt, pinched a sizable one, and brought it back, letting it slam into the compressed mass.
Here was the tricky part.
It took a million of us to maneuver the damn thing. So we all were divided into teams and had to listen for our designation to adjust the force on the mass so it went in the right direction. The basic idea was to roll the damn thing through a star so it got all melty. Then you put a bunch of water on it. The scientists directed other people to give it a propulsion mechanism and other things needed to assemble an environment conducive to life, then you had a mobile planet. Once the star was added, you had a self-sustaining vehicle that could go anywhere for millions of years.
`` Okay, everyone, punch it!'' The boss shouted over the intercom. I pushed the go button through the panel and gave it a huge burst of fuel. It was slow going at first, but then the mass gained momentum, hurtling toward the star.
`` There she goes!'' said the boss again. `` Wait, the course is off... shit!''
Everyone's eyes turned to the massive ball of dirt, which seemed to be going in the right direction, until you realized there was a planet in the way. The two collided spectacularly, sending dirt and gas every which way. It took out some of the collectors with it.
It took a month and many funerals for the higher ups to complete the investigation. At the end of it, I was called into the boss' office.
`` Fred, we're going to have to let you go''.
I sat, stunned. `` But why?''
`` Did n't you read the formation procedure? It says clearly that you must use the linking button so that pressure on the object is coordinated with the other ships.''
`` Surely one ship could n't have caused that.''
`` Fred, this is why we have procedures. You have willfully violated them, and that is inexcusable.'' The boss gave me a stern look.
`` Or perhaps you could have looked toward our destination before you gave the order?'' I said, fuming. If they were going to fire me anyway, I was going to speak my mind.
`` Well, Fred, we're sorry you feel that way. But we're responsible for getting you home safely. We can either do that if you take responsibility for your actions, or you can have an accident with a malfunctioning airlock.'' The guards around him readied their weapons.
So that's how it was. `` Sorry'', I said.
`` Good. There will be a ship waiting for you this afternoon. I suggest you do n't cause further trouble.'' He flashed an irritating, smug smile.
I rode the ship back to Earth. Maybe I could get my demolition job back. After all, how many demo guys could say they destroyed two planets?
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[ WP ] You live in a world where a superhero called stopwatch who can stop time . But everyone is still conscious of the world when he does .
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As I was setting the table, the tension was palpable.
`` Do n't you have anything to say to me?''
I did n't. Although I still love my wife, we've been drifting apart. After Stopwatch retired, work at the police station started to pile up and I was barely at home. A young family needs love and attention - both of which I no longer have. She's been complaining about my work so much lately, and not looking at the big picture. I just wanted one last night as a family together before I finally tell her the truth.
The divorce papers were waiting in my coat.
`` I'm sorry, Heather?''
`` You know what I mean! You're never at home and suddenly you invite him over? And for what? Another evening of not having to talk to me?''
`` He's my brother, Heather! And he needs this, now that he's done crime fighting''
`` I suppose Mr. Stopwatch is just too important for you to start caring about your family. What about Isaac? He's only 8, and barely sees you at all!''
It was true. A young man needs his father, but as his older brother, I just could n't leave my superhero little brother alone.
`` Yes, actually. He's not all he's portrayed to be on the news, you know that! The power to stop time? He's had trouble handling this power since he was young, and having to save the city from chaos time after time is no easy task. He's seriously traumatized, and he needs us - his family - to support him now that he's hung up his tights.''
`` Jeez Louise. Look at me, Thomas, Chief of Police, guardian of the City! You worry about the rest of the City and expect your family to look after themselves.''
We've been fighting like this a lot.
`` No, I just feel like there's a bigger picture here. As I've said before -''
`` What bigger picture?'' I hated it when she interrupted me mid-sentence. `` You mean the 10 years of vacation pictures you have n't been in? You mean the pictures of you in the news, hollow-eyed and sullen-faced in front of a corrupt City Counsel led by that incompetent fathead of a Mayor? That you'd been the only thing holding the line in a losing battle, and chasing away the only people that love you?''
She turns around, picks up a photo album off the living room shelf, storms towards me and chucks it on the table.
`` What picture Thomas? Show me!''
The photo album fell open to pictures of our wedding day. We were so happy.
But these days, she always talks like this. And I'm not angry anymore, just tired. Tired of the fighting. It seemed as though happiness had been slipping away ever since Stopwatch stopped helping out. Did it really fall on me to look after the City?
All we would have to do, even without asking, was wait for the time to stop and pick up the pieces afterward. Sweeping the streets for tied up bank robbers dumped on the front steps, or rapists and murders dropped off in front of the police station after time resumed. But it was taking a toll on Stopwatch.
He'd tell me about the horrible things he felt when time was stopped. The stillness. The loneliness. The silence. He said it felt like when mom died. Dad was n't home, and it was always quiet around the house. I always tried to keep his spirits up, take him out to the park, or hangout with what friends I had at the time. But when we got home, we just sat around the dinner table waiting for dad to stumble back home, drunk and miserable. But we were young, and he just wanted to see his dad. The anticipation gave him more unbearable silence than a child deserves in a lifetime. And his fair share of cold potatoes.
It was the silence got to him. It drove him a little closer to madness every time. But he could only say those things to me, and I was the only one who understood.
When he announced his retirement, the Mayor proudly proclaimed that the police force was more than enough to make up for Stopwatch's absence. But our department barely had money to keep our forces armed, let alone ready for action. It took long hours of number crunching just to keep the force running. It was n't a great time for him to retire. The Mayor's enemies kept starting up shenanigans to pressure him to pay his gambling debts, and he would lash out and have his men take out his rivals. The result? Gang wars all over the city.
The last thing I needed was a disgruntled home life.
There I stood, taking a good long stare at our photos. We were young, and she was the most beautiful thing I had seen. And we could always work out our differences with a little time. But I never had any of that now.
There we were, walking down the aisle.
There we were, cutting the cake.
There we were, on the beach on our honeymoon.
That was actually a terrible trip. I got horribly sick and Stopwatch had to stop time for a week during a sudden flood that swept across the city. I had just brought up my lunch all over the bathroom floor, and just at that moment, I was frozen there bent over the toilet bowl staring at my own sick for seven long days. After time resumed, Heather thought it'd be nice for me to get some fresh air. And there were were, strolling down the seaside.
She just understood.
And I used to understand her.
I remembered when I was there in the bathroom, all I could do was think about how I could make it up to her. I was scared stiff thinking that I had ruined our honeymoon by getting sick. I mean, what was I thinking by ordering ice in my drink? Never have the local water, she'd say. And she was right.
After a week of thinking about how I'd make it up to her, she just looked at me and wanted to make the most of our time together.
Heather. She deserves so much better, but she wanted me.
The more I stared at the photo, the more I realized that she may have been right. I have n't been a good husband.
The more I stared at the photo, the more I suspected that I might be two steps from giving Isaac the same childhood that Stopwatch - my little brother Jacob - had to suffer through.
The more I stared at the photo, the more I realized that I just needed time to cool down.
And the more I stared at the photo, the more I realized something else: that I'd been staring at this photo for a very long time.
But when I did, I stood up straight and looked around. I'm moving, so time did n't seem to be stopped.
`` Heather, did you just feel that?''
She cocked her head to the side. `` I thought you said he was retired, Thomas.''
I looked back and there he was, waiting at the dining room entrance.
`` Hi Thomas, hi Heather.''
`` Jacob, I thought you retired. Why did you just freeze time?''
`` What are you talking about? I did n't do anything. I was just coming up the driveway and Isaac let me in.''
And standing just behind Stopwatch the amazing crime fighter and time bending savant, was my son Isaac. He took his uncle's hand and led him to the dinner table. He walked around to the other side, between me and Heather, and pulled out her chair for her. She sat without a word, but we were thinking the exact same thing.
Then Isaac turned to me, pulled out my chair and gestured for me to sit down.
As I sat, he ran around back to the other side of the table, took Jacob's hand and they started towards the kitchen.
`` Uncle Jacob, help me get the potatoes for mommy and daddy!''
I turned to Heather, and before she could start, I looked her in her eyes and took her hand.
`` Heather, I'm sorry. I had some time to think, and you're right.''
`` I'm sorry too Thomas. I just miss you.''
`` I miss you too.''
And as we waited for dinner, it was the first moment in a long while alone with my wife that I wished would never end.
The End.
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[ WP ] Every day someone spends not speaking makes their words stronger ; this means that more people will believe them even if they do n't make sense , or do as they command without question . One woman made a vow of silence 20 years ago which she plans to break today .
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When the Day of Words came about, when everyone in the world suddenly became aware that silence literally meant power, there were people in every street corner, every store front, every public park, and every movie theater, compelling each other to rob, to steal, to rape, to kill. Even worse, there were people who compelled others to love, to be happy, to stay alive, to offer kindness. When anyone could force anyone else to effectively become someone else, thoughts and feelings be damned, no one would ever be, or feel, safe again. You could spend a week charging your Words to gain an edge, but unless you hid *very* well, someone else could always compel you to speak non-stop, and then even the freedom to scream would be denied to you.
Joan was young then, but far from stupid. She saw her parents shoot themselves because her brother complained after a week-long sulk that `` you do n't know me; you can both go to hell''. She saw her brother running out of the door soon after, crying and cursing someone else. Voices from the television began to report strange and horrible things. She knew she was in danger, and she panicked for a few hours wrapped in her duvet, but she eventually had an idea.
She made her way to the phone, called her best friend Meghan -- whose family was just out of town -- in her best impression of calm tones, and asked for her to sleep over. When Meghan came and was greeted by the sight of duvet-wrapped Joan with tear marks all over, she almost turned and left right then. But she did n't. And, after hearing Joan's story, she almost wished she did.
Joan explained the plan. It was simple. They would go to Meghan's house. They would charge their Words. When Meghan's family came back -- *if* they came back -- they would be compelled to stay silent. And **deaf**. It seemed the only way to be sure. And then, after a few more weeks of charging their Words, Joan and Meghan would compel each other, at the very same time, to stay silent and deaf. It would be an inconvenience, certainly, but the alternative would be far, far worse.
Joan and Meghan disagreed on how long they should stay deaf. Joan wanted a whole lifetime, but Meghan had hoped that the Words, just as they suddenly came to be, would go away just as suddenly, and there was no guarantee that the effect of Words would dissipate right then. It would be quite a waste, she felt, to give up on all the good music in the world if the Words proved to be powerful for only a couple of months. In the end, they settled on twenty years. Not because either of them had a good idea of what twenty years of silence and quiet would mean, though. Only because twenty seemed like a nice number at the time.
Meghan's family did come back. However, someone had already compelled them to be happy and carefree. They did not give Meghan's plan any thought, and compelled Meghan to join them for a second round of family vacations, using the last of their savings. Before Joan could be `` invited'', Meghan said the Words:
`` By the time I finish this sentence, you will become deaf and you will no longer speak, until twenty years have passed.'' Under her breath she added: `` Hope to see you then.''
It had been twenty years since Joan last saw Meghan. The Words had not gone away. The world had. It had been an advantage, not being compelled by anyone. Still, it had been Hell on Earth just to live those twenty years. But Joan lived. Joan kept silent. And soon Joan would be able to speak. She already knew what to say.
Only two words: `` **Go Deaf**.''
All she needed was to visit the last radio tower on Earth. Which she stood in front of, today.
Her now leathery face cracked a smile. *Meghan, I hope you can hear me. *
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[ WP ] Think of the lamest , goofiest superpower . Now right a story about a supervillain with that power and make me fear him
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Chester had always been different. As a child, the other boys teased him. He always was too sensitive. As he got older, this evolved into physical confrontation. He often walked home from school with a black eye. He felt alone, isolated. Angry. And dare I say... evil? He's an adult now, and he makes quite a bit of money off of the very thing that made him the butt of every joke. Even still, he is alone in life to this day, his history of torment had turned his heart ice cold and he could not empathize with any living creature of any sort anymore. All he could do was plot revenge. For you see, Chester's oddest quality was not his stuttering, awkward manner of speaking, nor his ragged and mismatched style of dress. No, it was not his habit of breaking away from the world and zombie walking throughout the day, lost in space. He had a special gift. A power, I would say.
He farts balloons. Yes, entire balloons. Every time his bowels burned to release the gases built up inside him, he could not silence his flatulence like the others. And boy was he flatulent. Every time, first the telltale sign of a helium tank releasing itself, then a little balloon tied to a string would always trail out of his trousers, somehow weaseling its way out no matter how tightly he buckled his belt. He sells many of them, without telling his customers where they came from. But what nobody knows is that he's been saving them, meticulously collecting them over the course of years. And what else nobody knows is that the balloons themselves are quite explosive, it is not helium contained inside them. In groups they can pack the power of a small bomb when ignited or popped.
Today, he visits his old high school. Hundreds of balloons in tow. He uses some pretense to gain entrance, saying it's his son's birthday. His strange, armored outfit looks clownish, serving as a front. But really he is wearing it for protection. The school staff still finds this a little odd, and quickly attempt to usher him out. But it is too late. A single needle pops a single balloon. And a chain reaction occurs, exploding them all at once. The school lies in ruins, bloody corpses surround him, children and adults together, equally maimed by Chester's wrath. And this is only the beginning of Chester's revenge...
Chester looks upon the wreckage surrounding him, and laughs. While doing so, a small toot can be heard, and a balloon floats towards the sky. A warning to a world in danger, a calling card, like an evil version of the bat signal. A sign that terror will soon reign the earth.
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[ WP ] People arrive at the River Styx and try to bribe Charon with bitcoins .
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> Be neckbeard fedora
> Be 38, live in shitty one bedroom, Target cashier, normies do n't it
> Have a collection of collector swords, super high value, all real
> Have assorted trenchcoats, master level Pokémon collection, win MTG tournaments- suffice it to say I'm the shit.
> Made awesome investment in Bitcoin a few months ago, gon na be rich
> Computer freezes during WOW raid- has heart attack and dies
> Wake up and standing at the River Styx
> The band Styx is there: disappointing
> Charon looks like death, not the one from Fallout, also disappointing
> Pull out my WOW gear, because it's the afterlife so whatever
> Tell Charon he can suck my 15 inch dick, I'm not going.
> Charon snaps and my trench coat falls off and my WOW gear is gone
> 2 inch chode flopping against balls- Charon laughs at me: `` newfag.''
> Tell Charon about my amazing bitcoin investment
> Charon listens intently while I explain that bitcoin is a cryptocurrency that is completely untraceable and will serve as the fulcrum for the libertarian movement.
> Charon stares at me.
> `` I'll take it all.''
> Holy shit this is gon na work!
> Transfer all bitcoins to Charon's account
> Charon smiles, puts two bitcoins over my eyes, throws me in the boat.
> MFW Egyptian deities of the dead do n't give a shit about money
> MFW Charon just wanted to pay the toll.
> Charon laughs again as we cross the river: `` Fucking robots.''
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[ WP ] This is n't happily ever after .
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The gods are cast into the heavens, never to return again. When the battle ends it is not a happily ever after. Rather, it is the start of a new era. Begins now is the age of mortality, where mortals shall decide their own fate and destiny.
Let my immortal ichor fall to the ground, and be forgotten by all. I am not afraid of fading; The world will continue without me. They can build up the world or tear it down; It is their choice now.
For that, I am glad... No, telling myself that is a lie.
I want to witness, experience for myself, to live and make choices that do n't matter. I want to explore and wander aimless without any goal in mind.
I want to be alive; I want to see too.
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[ WP ] The last man on earth hears a knock on his door .
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Three years now, he'd been alone. About two years back, he'd come to the conclusion that he was the only one left. Kind of like in those `` Left Behind'' books that he never had any inclination to read, but had come to appreciate the title. Henry had never been much of a reader, `` bunch of bullshit, really'' but would pick up the National Geographic in the waiting room and leaf through it while waiting to see the doctor, back in the day. `` Back in the day...''
There were things he missed. His son, his dog, his beer. No particular order - those were just the top three that came to mind when he'd sit, staring at the walls or out the window. Those things are gone now. Everybody's gone... just disappeared. He woke one morning to silence. At first it was a relief. No more `` Goddamned neighbor kids'' waking him up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday morning. He'd long ago stopped wondering what in the hell happened. Oh sure, he'd been curious enough to wander a bit, looked in a few garages... just to look. Some days he'd simply stand in the middle of his street, scanning the quiet yards and houses, scratching at his head, looking around. `` Huh. Well, I'll be Goddamned... Huh''.
Most days ( and nights ) were now spent sitting in his chair, staring at the wall or out the window. If he got tired, he'd close his eyes for a bit, settle back into his chair, and doze off. If he was hungry, he'd get a can of okra or chick peas from the depleted stock pile he'd gathered. At first it had made him a little `` twitchy'' - going into people's houses and rummaging around for canned foods. He had no qualms about helping himself to the grocery store in the beginning. His wife had worked a good many years at Dell's for very little pay - Bob owed him. Henry had never stolen a thing in his life, and to take from his neighbors, well that kind of bothered him, that was different. But, when you get hungry enough...'' Well, I guess they ai n't gon na be using it''.
Yesterday, Henry found himself at the hospital while out for one of his walks. He went inside... just to look. He picked up a National Geographic from the waiting room to take home with him, in case he got bored. He'd never trusted doctors much. Pill pushers. They'd had him on a steady diet of pills: four in the morning, two at noon, three at night. Ha! He had n't had his pills in three years and look at him now. `` Shows how much those sons a bitches know...''
And now he sits in his chair, eating his okra. Henry never liked okra, but `` you eat what you've got''. The National Geographic sits closed on the little end table beside him. He thinks about the three things he misses most: his son, his dog, his beer. No particular order. Henry notices a tapping at the door. No, a knock. He pauses, fork half-lifted, and glances toward it. It sounds again. Henry raises the fork to his lips. He chews a little, swallows. Silence. `` Huh. Well I'll be Goddamned... Huh''. Henry closes his eyes, and settles back into his chair.
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[ WP ] Whenever you get chills , you just died in an alternate universe .
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`` I should probably stop going outside until winter is over,'' I thought to myself.
But that's when it struck me. If I get the chills and an alternate universe-me dies, that probably means that one of the alternate universe-me's will get the chills whenever I die. In order to stay alive, I must get the chills as often as possible to kill off as many of my alternates as I can before one of them gets my `` chill.''
It's winter. Perfect. Shorts and a t-shirt it is. I will walk around town, stopping in stores to warm up so that I get more chills whenever I come back outside. You know what else winter means? Flu season and various other illnesses. I will as I'm walking around town and in and out of stores, I will look for people coughing and sneezing and immediately go up to them and shake their hand and introduce myself. Boom. Sickness chills.
I guess I should snag some scary movies while I'm out. That will kill a few more of those motherfuckers before I go to bed.
Yesterday went well. I probably killed at least 200 alternates. Time to go back out today. Oh, I should mention that I had a nightmare last night and woke up with the chills. Must have been all of the horror flicks last night. A good way to start the day none the less. Also, I have a bit of a scratchy throat and runny nose. Fuck yeah - give me the flu. Time to grab a nice pair of shorts and clean shirt and time to hit the town again.
It snowed last night. That's sweet. I started to get kinda used to the cold yesterday, so once that happens, I'll just relax in the nice fluffy snow. There's no way I'll get used to that.
The flu symptoms are really kicking in. My nose wo n't stop running but the cough... The cough is bad. Oh well, the chills are worth it. The chills are keeping me alive.
I'm getting used to the cold. Snow angels anyone? ( oh, the irony )
It's getting late and I'm feeling weak. I guess it's time to get home and let the flu chills pick off my alternates one by one. Maybe I'll have another nightmare and work double duty while sleeping.
I woke up this morning and can barely move. The cough... I can barely catch my breath it's so bad. I need to get out in the cold, but I can hardly move. Maybe I'll just watch some more scary movies and let the flu chills do the dirty work.
Seriously, this cough. I've been coughing up blood and mucus for the past 3 hours. This is n't good, but I'll be alright. As long as I have the chills, I'll be alright.
More blood. More mucus. Ca n't breathe. This is bad. Wait, why have the chills stopped? I'm sick as a dog. Man, I'm warm. I'm really, really warm...
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[ WP ] You are a video game character , and the player is speed-running it .
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It's actually pretty boring being a game avatar. Sure, that first time you conceed control of your body is completely alien -- watching helplessly as your limbs move seemingly of their own accord, driven by another's motivation. Pretty soon though, you just check out. You're just a passenger after all, and if you're attempting to will the player to be a rational actor, well, that way madness lies.
I really did n't have any expectation of anything different when the game loaded up for the upteenth time. It was initially a nice suprise that this player did n't care about character creation ( it's hard to achieve a zen state while my face is being stretched every possible direction for an hour ), but upon my christening of `` asdnf'' the game's introduction immediately began to bug out. Once the short jumps through time stopped assaulting my senses, though, I realized that the game was actually fine. The unskippable introduction was over, skipped through by the player quicksaving/quickloading at each line of dialog. I had to admit, it was better than the usual usage -- avoiding the consequences of forcing me to assault an innocent townsperson.
I had precious little time to recover from my disorientation, however, as we ran full speed through the tutorial dungeon. No sooner had we entered the third room than I veered to my left, and picked up a wooden tray off a table. Either I did n't have time to wonder why in oblivion that made sense or I was so used to not caring, but either way before I knew it we were rushing headlong into a wall. I braced myself for the pain, lamenting that I had not yet been able to settle into my happy place.
... And I was through the wall, into nowhere. I could see the rest of the dungeon ahead, half of it at least. I'll admit it was quite a shock to see that all the sturdy stone walls were actually incredibly thin one-way mirrors. With the exit of the labyrinth visible it was a trivial, if disconcerting, matter to find our way outside.
The rest of our adventure was far too short. I realize now that that was the goal, but I have never since experienced such a thrill. Punching guards to instantly travel to their jails, running past waves of enemies to steal quest items we should n't even have knowledge of, traveling to another dimension and slaying a dragon at level 1, all in the space of an hour. I was fully engaged the entire time. It was new. It was bliss.
I still ca n't pay much attention to the average player, perhaps less now that I've glimpsed my true potential. But now I have hope, and it gets me through the day.
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[ CW ] Your blind friend has asked you to describe a color to him . You must not use the name of the color in your description .
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Every colour has it's own creamy feel to it when brought to the right clearness and brightness.
But this one specifically is the brightest. Why do I love it? Well it's not sad, or angry, or jealous, like other colors. This one is a canvas for its cousins, it represents purity, something untouched, something clean, you know which is the good side when you see this hue. And it goes with everything, it's like that dude at the party who is friend's with everyone, even if you do n't know him you can have a 5 minute talk with him and then leave you wishing he would talk to you for another 5 minutes, or 10, or an hour.
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[ WP ] Upon his death , Billy Mays wound up in Hell . In exchange for a lighter sentence , he was given the opportunity to use his skills in the employment of the devil , scamming the damned and convincing the living to give up their souls . Hi ! Billy Mays here , and have I got a deal for YOU !
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This would be easy. The audience could not say no. They could not.
`` Everyone in their places?'' asked the producer, who was lingering by the director, fingering the frame of his glasses nervously.
There was a silence, though some murmured assent, and the lights came on. They shone on a tall and grizzly man, middle aged, with a round face that beseeched kindness.
'Rolling in three... two..one.'
Lucifer stood in another corner. He chose to manifest as black, oscillating coils of smoke.
'Billy Mays here, and have I got a deal for you!' began our Mr. Mays. His eye flickered only briefly to where he could feel Lucifer watching, and his hands gestured to the prop-room behind him.
The prop-room was a deep maroon red, with nothing inside of it save a small table covered in white lattice. Resting on the lattice was a small black box.
'Have you ever wanted to win a bet you've always seemed to lose? Ever wanted that girl you could never have? What about perkier breasts -- or,' Mr. Mays laughed,'Excuse me, a better boyfriend?'
He approached the box and picked it up. Without looking at it, he stomped to the camera and thrust the object into the lens.
'*This* is what you want,' he said emphatically.
'Cut!' cried the assistant director.
Trembling, Mr. Mays withdrew from the camera, stumbling slightly toward the set.
'Good job, Billy,' said a young and attractive German woman.
She was the assistant producer.
'Thanks,' he said, and tried to smile.'How much time for break?'
'Oh, it's not a break,' she laughed, putting the tip of her nail in her mouth. She surveyed him.'We just want to make sure you do n't need anything.'
Mr. Mays glanced at the oscillating smoke in the corner of the room.
'N-no, I wo n't -- I do n't need anything, Lucy. Thanks. Just a quick breath.'
'No problem!' she chirped, and giggled.'You're cute when you're nervous. We'll start again in fifteen, alright?'
'Sure,' replied Mr. Mays.
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[ IP ] A man on a horse in a fire surrounded by a crowd of people .
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DCI John Jakeson saw some of the villagers of Absalem gathered around something that was burning. A bonfire? No, the structure was wrong. He nudged his CID issued mount, Wolfsbane, over to get a closer look. It was then, that he saw the villagers had made up a 6 foot tall straw mannequin and set it on fire.
He nudged Wolfsbane into the crowd, the horse pushing people aside with his large bulk. He was soon in the middle of the crowd of villagers.
DCI Jakeson surveyed the crowd and then turned Wolfsbane around and charged him into the flames, destroying the mannequin and dispersing the flames. The villagers stepped back in alarm. DCI Jakeson quickly got the grey 14-hand horse out of the flames.
`` Their Majesties do not hold with this ridiculous superstitious twaddle.'' He proclaimed, marching Wolfsbane around the ring.
A young man stepped forward, `` We do n't hold with `` Their Majesties'', bring back the True Ruler.''
DCI Jakeson sighed and moved so that Wolfsbane was in front of the speaker, `` I am bound, it is my duty, to arrest and report sympathizers of the previous reign to Their Majesties.''
The young man snorted with derision, `` You were born and raised in this village. You raised *me* in this village. And you're going to arrest me? Well, Da, are you?''
`` It is my duty as a DCI of this county and an officer of the law to arrest sympathizers and report any sympathetic activity. If you disperse immediately, I shall not report anything that I have seen here this night.''
Some people had already begun to disperse after his arrival, but now it was truly breaking up. Those who were moving away, stayed in the shadows, inconspicuous, and barely recognizable.
When most of the onlookers had moved on, the young man moved closer and said, `` Da, you fought for the True Ruler in the war; why are you working for the enemy now?''
DCI Jakeson looked down at him and said, `` I had a family to protect and a son to raise. I could n't do that from a military prison. I had skills and they were offering jobs with pardons for skilled law officers.''
Nudging Wolfsbane away from the young man, he said, `` Get this cleaned up before the laird comes down from the big house next day.''
As Wolfsbane trotted down the cobbled High Street, DCI Jakeson put his hand into a pocket and rubbed a small medallion that was engraved with the Royal Seal of the True Ruler, whispering, `` I'll fix it someday, somehow. I swear it.''
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[ WP ] Fire does n't go out anymore .
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The world first realized it when fireplaces did n't burn out. After the logs were burnt and used up, the fire kept going. A phantom flame floating in space. All over the world it made headlines. *I* first realized it when the abandoned house collapsed but the fire kept the outline of the structure. I remember it clearly, that feeling of elation as I figured out what was happening. I was ecstatic when I was proven right by the firemen not able to put it out. Now, I stood atop of the highest building in the world, surrounded by a city engulfed in flames. Smoke from far distant lands rising into the sky from fires of legendary proportions. All around the world my work was showing itself. Eternal. Without any signs of stopping. Soon, the building I'm standing on will collapse and take me with it. But the flames will continue to give light to the empty that is left behind. I smiled as I overlooked it all. My death is insignificant.
Some men just want to watch the world burn.
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[ EU ] When Galactic Senators Thomas and Martha Wayne are murdered for sympathizing with the Jedi , their young son Bruce is devastated .
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Imagine if you saw the world fall apart. Imagine if you watched light fade, as if sucked through a black hole. Imagine if everything you once knew changed in an instant. Now imagine if you witnessed all this happen, through a pinhole.
They say, `` You do n't know what you've lost until it's gone.'' Well, they were partially correct. A revised statement may be, `` You do n't know what you've lost until you're losing it.''
My story starts here and now, because as far as I'm concerned time stopped today. Today everything changed, the world got darker, my universe fell apart, and I could n't do anything about it. I was helpless to watch everything I know and love fall apart before me. Now you're probably curious as to what happened, so I'll tell you. After all, it occurred mere seconds ago.
It started in my parents home. Can you imagine that? everything ends in the place you're supposed to feel safest. Is that irony? I'll assume it is.
We were'entertaining guests', as my father, Thomas Wayne, would call it. It was n't my favorite thing to do, there was too much dressing up and formalities. In the end, however, the sweets outweighed the primping.
Our guests were telling stories of their travels and endeavors, boasting of riches and possessions. Jokes would be met with laughter, tales would be responded with similar tales. The air was soaked with Positive energy, and happiness, enough to bring even the worst day out of the gutters. Unfortunately, this all happened too soon to solve my problems.
There was a rapping on the door, urgent and needy. It left no chance of ignorance, communicating to my father than he must attend to this matter immediately, and personally. That's what he did, he excused himself and donned an expression fit to deal with an emergency.
We waited for my father to settle the matter, passing the time with light and idle chatter. We restocked plates, and filled drinks, hoping that the positive atmosphere would survive the wait. We were oblivious to the coming events.
The silence did n't last long. Soon we heard shouting, followed by running and stomping. My father came bowling through the doors, everyone stood up immediately. He instructed us all to run out the back door without argument. My mother, Martha Wayne, took my hand and bolted out the doors, which my father had held open. Unfortunately however, we were too slow.
one score of men sheathed in white armor spotted us from down the halls. They bore no expressions, as their faces were masked. They betrayed no hesitation, no contempt, nothing that would show them to be more than mindless clones, bred for a single purpose.
We made a break for the back doors, but they were there. We ran to the kitchens, but they came around the other side. Everywhere we turned, we were cut off, so my parents did what I hope any good parents would do. They protected me to the best of their abilities.
I was instructed to hide in a hall closet, which my father locked and slid the key under the door to me. He told me to hide, be quiet, close my eyes and cover my ears, and that's what I did. For all of three seconds I did as my father asked, it was then that curiosity took hold and I peered out of the keyhole.
My parents and their guests we caught, held on their knees by the white clones. My parents pleading, begging, and struggling was met with silence, not even a twitch was displayed by the soldiers. I might even have been impressed in different circumstances.
I waited for something to happen, for my parents to do something. regrettably, I did n't have to wait long. I'll never forget the creature that walked into the room. I refuse to forget it.
I would hesitate to call what it wore armor. It seemed, almost, that if you took a piece of it off, you might remove a part of what remains of the creatures soul with it. The'armor' itself was black, the darkest shade of black I've ever seen. If you can imagine a black hole sucking all color out of the immediate area, that is what the armor looked like. The only color on his suit belonging to a few small lights, and his red tinted eyes. Most of all this was covered by a dark cloak, almost as if to hide the monstrosity beneath it.
It walked with a steady, though rushed pace. It's movements were so mechanical that they were only fit for a machine, which I suppose is what it was. There was no more emotion in it's composure than there was in a tank being driven across a battlefield. There was nothing to be learned from its speech either, any hint of emotion drowned out by the dark helmet it wore.
This is where it began, the end of light itself, drowned out by the eternal black of this creature. It began by confirming if my parents were the people he was sent for. My father responded with, `` What do you want with us?''
It responded by proclaiming their guilt over `` sympathizing with the Jedi''. My father was smart, he knew he was n't getting out of this, so he begged the creature to let his wife and guests go. After all they had done nothing wrong. However, in the eyes of this machine association was guilt enough.
There was no ceremony, no words or signal. The machine simply drew out a metal cylinder which protruded a slim, red beam of light, and cut them all down in one fluid motion. That creature destroyed my world without the slightest effort, it stole the light of my world with light itself.
That's when time stopped, that's when nothing mattered anymore. My world was gone, taken from me by darkness wielding light. Powerless, helpless to change anything, trapped behind a pinhole to watch my family fade into the overpowering darkness.
I did n't quite realize it at the time, but I was doomed to fade into that darkness with them.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
phew. jumped into this one, thought it looked neat, had a couple ideas. I'm not a batman guy though, so I did n't realize until I started that this was a batman/starwars crossover. So excuse any'canon errors' or whatever. I honestly do n't know anything about batman.
This is my second writing prompt, trying to improve. so excuse, but also point out any writing errors or improvements I could make. It was fun writing this though.
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[ WP ] You 're in an unknown , unlit room , all you have is a box of matches containing 3 ( or any low number that would work for you ) matches .
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The boy shuddered, finally sensing quiet outside. He frantically tried the doorknob, which *clacked* and *clunked*, but to no avail.
The girl, eyes adjusting to the darkness, fumbled around the corner of the closet, her hand finding a small matchbox with a rattle. `` Do you think it's safe to go out, yet...?'' She murmured.
`` I do n't know. I really hope everyone's okay... The doorknob is n't working, anyway. I think it's locked.''
Her hands trembling, the girl struck a match, snapping it in two. She exhaled sharply in disappointment.
`` Is there anything in here?'' The boy asked, feeling around the door. He stood, feeling the low ceiling on his hair.
`` A matchbox. Nothing else, I do n't think...'' She dropped the broken matchstick on the floor, pushing it into the corner and feeling around the cramped room for anything else. Nothing but smooth walls, and the glimmer of light coming from under the door, stopping at the boy's feet.
`` Here, give me those...'' The boy whispered. He clutched one, striking it against the matchbox once, then twice, then a third time until the flame sprung to life. The boy caught a glimpse of the girl's distraught face before the flame vanished as if a gust of wind had slipped inside, without so much as a whisper.
The girl shivered. `` W-What were those things...?''
The boy dropped the broken matchstick to the side. `` I... I do n't know. I only saw one... It climbed through the window, and...''
`` Your sister?'' The girl squeaked.
A moment of silence passed, and the boy nodded in the darkness, before he realized he needed to speak. `` Y-yeah...'' He panted.
He shook the matchbox, dropping two more down into his sweating palms. `` Here.. You try.'' He handed them over to the girl. She struck one, springing to life, giving her a full view of the boy's grinning, hopeful face, before the flame vanished without so much as a whisper.
She dropped the burnt-out match, handing it back to the boy, which he held against the matchbox's flint. `` Do you think we should focus on getting out of here first, at least?''
`` I... I do n't... We probably should, but... I do n't like the dark.''
The boy felt around the room one more time, running his hands around every wall, all around the floor, checking one more time for anything that could let them out, finding nothing but three broken matchsticks and the doorknob, still too stubborn to open up.
The boy swallowed his anxiousness, grabbing the last matchstick and striking it against the flint. It roared to life, flame flickering like a torch, giving the boy a clear view of the girl's petrified visage, and the wispy, grinning face in between the two.
The face's smile widened, black tar drizzling down from its chin. With a sharp breath, it blew on the final matchstick's flame, extinguishing it without so much as a whisper.
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[ WP ] A special forces squad is sent to assassinate an unknown target . After storming a compound they find their target is an 8 year old girl .
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`` What is it this time, Jim?'' Mark asked
`` Just another hit''
`` Hmm, Sounds like just another day''
BEEP! The siren signaled 30 seconds to jump. The seconds counted down in Mark's head. He became aware of his breathing, slow and heavy. As the clock approached zero. There was nothing in marks head besides the time counting down, and whose life was about to end. He prayed that this hit would not end up like the last one, where he had lost his old squad mate.
BZZZ! The siren went as the doors opened. They took off and into the night sky.
`` Just another jump'' Mark thought
Mark was suddenly conscious of what he was doing. His breathing, how high he was and how fast the ground was approaching. He noticed the calm of the air, it seemed void.
THWACK! The all too familiar sound of the parachute opening up as he approached the ground.
`` Jim you there?'' Mark whispered into his headset
...
...
...
`` Yeah i'm here Mark. Smooth landing''
`` Good to hear, regroup in zone 6. We need to be in and out before sunrise.''
Mark hit the ground. He was suddenly aware of the environment he had dropped into. Trees and vegetation everywhere. It was hot.
`` I hate it when its hot'' Mark thought to himself.
He heard the trees rustle and reflexively readies his weapon. As his eyes adjusted to the near total darkness he could make out, that it was only a monkey adjusting how he was sleeping.
He lowered his weapon and checked his watch. It read a little after 12.
`` Good plenty of time.'' he thought to himself.
Zone 6 was just a few miles north of his current location. Zone 7 was where his hit would be.
`` Better get moving.''
Mark hated running. It was easy for him and so he thought. He thought a lot. Mostly about the faces of those whose blood covered his hands, and soul.
`` Just another hit.''
That was all he could say to keep himself sane. After years of doing this, it started to wear on his psyche. One could only do so much harm before he became a husk. Despite himself he carried on. It was the only thing he could do.
`` Hey Jim?''
`` Yeah Mark.''
`` I'm coming up on the locale''
`` About time, I was starting to think that your old ass had a heart attack''
`` Hmph''
Jim was right. I've been doing this all my life. What has it been 30 years? 35? Barely an adult, forced into this role. He had no more options then, though.
`` No, No, No.'' Mark thought
He had n't thought about then in years, and refused to now.
`` Alright i see you. Coming up on your 6, Jim.''
`` Roger that''
Mark glanced at his watch, the time read 15:06. That gave them just enough time to get in and get out.
`` Now our mark is about 1 mile west of here. In zone 7. No sight seeing, get in, get out.''
`` I know Jim, you forget who's the senior officer here, now lets go''
`` Heh, i guess your right... pops''
`` Fucking Jim.'' Mark thought.
And on they went. West. Their distance closed to the objective. Marks watch read 15:20 even.
`` Right on time.'' Mark thought.
`` If our information is correct then our hit will be in the first room to the right. We pick the door and proceed directly to the targets location. No lollygagging. One shot one kill. Quick and easy.'' Jim said
`` Right,'' Mark said, `` Quick and easy.''
Quick and easy, that's all this was.
Just another hit.
On just another day.
The door opened easily, and in they went. They turned the first corner and opened the door to the room where their mark would be asleep.
As the door swung open, the realization hit Mark. This was a little girls room. Right around the age 8 he would guess.
`` Shit.'' Mark whispered.
He saw the small target, curled up with her teddy in bed. Peaceful and asleep. A little girl, probably the purest form of innocence.
After all, this was just another hit. On just another day.
Mark lined his gun up with the mark.
`` Hey, Jim. Come finish the job''
As he pulled the trigger and fell to the floor.
Edit: ( New to /r/Writingprompts and would like any feedback you can provide. Thanks guys/gals! )
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[ WP ] In a world where centuries have passed since the last of humankind were lost to the zombie virus , a pathogen begins to spread , turning zombies back into humans .
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I woke up, dazed, confused, hungry, and wondering where I was. All I remember is that I had been ambushed in the night by a group of zombies, and everything turned to black. Everything around me had turn to dust except for a few dead branches and some roughly made shacks, which appeared to be rusted beyond repair. With no memory of where I was, I did the only thing I could think of doing: finding food and water. `` Zombies would kill me if they knew where I was. I have to find resources fast.'' All of a sudden, I heard a familiar voice.
`` James, can you hear me?''. A shadowy figure was in the distance. I could n't see very well as the sun was just rising.
`` Who's there?''
`` It's me, Dan!''
`` Dan?'' Why does that name sound so familiar...? I had to take a closer look.
As I walked toward the shadowy figure, the blob that looked almost foreign was slowly shaping into a familiar face. It truly was Dan, and he was alive!
`` Dan, how'd you survive?''
`` Survive? What do you mean? We've been dead for quite some time.''
`` D-Dead?! That ca n't be though! This has got to all be a dream.''
`` I'm as confused as you, but I know for a fact that we're alive. Here, I can pinch you and you can pinch me if you want.''
I was tempted to, but I refrained from pinching Dan. If this truly was a dream, I would have probably been dead anyways. Dawn was just approaching, so now was the best time for us to scavenge for supplies. If we walked in the daylight now, we'd surely have a better time navigating the wasteland that was left. Thankfully, Dan was carrying an ax and had a spare crowbar to fight off any disturbance.
It was just as I had imagined: dust, dust, and more dust. Nothing could be seen for miles which showed any signs of civilization. The closest thing we saw was the shacks where I woke up from.
`` Wait, hold up James, I think I see something.''
Dan saw what appeared to be a zombie in the distance. We quickly crouched down and walked very carefully around it. As much as our weapons would help, we did n't know if any others were around it, and we sure as hell were n't going to stick around long enough to find out. We walked slowly around it, when all of a sudden, we heard a voice.
`` Hey, I know you're out there. Please help me.''
An audible voice? It could n't be from that zombie... could it?
Dan whispered to me, `` Hey, there does n't seem to be anyone else around. If we take it out now, we can get out of here hastily and draw any other attention towards it.''
I agreed, and we slowly crept up to the creature. Just as we were about to strike, the figure turned around and immediately panicked. Shocked in fear, he could do nothing but watch. `` Wait!'' I said as Dan was about to cut him to pieces. `` This guy does n't look like a walker.''
`` Well, what else could he be?! You saw for sure he was a dead giveaway of a zombie!''
I had to agree with Dan, but it was very clear that this guy was n't a zombie, let alone a human being. He had torn clothing, worn down teeth, and a putrid odor, but his eyes were constantly fluctuating between dilated, as if staring at something, and cross eyed, as if there was n't anything to keep his grip.
`` Why are you acting as a zombie?'' I asked him.
`` I-I do n't know where I am, or *who* I am. I woke up, and zombies were walking about as normal. I was scared for my life, and accidentally screamed in terror. However, here's the odd part: they did n't immediately come for me. Some of them looked at me, as if they were... envying me. Some looked human, and others could make audible noises. They told me things like,'Who are you?' and'Please help me.' I had no choice but to run, since I was scared for my life. I eventually ended up here, and kept walking looking for people. When I finally turned around to take a break, I see you guys, about to kill me! It was an odd mix of relief and horror at the same time.''
`` Wait, what do you mean by `` envying'' you?'' Dan replied. I closely listened as well, since this intrigued me as well.
`` I mean it, it looked like they were actual humans! Like before, when someone won $ 10 in a scratcher, they had the same look of envy and jealous in their eyes, like they wanted something from me.''
`` So when you woke up,'' I commented, `` are you really sure you were n't just imagining things?''
`` I'm serious, I woke up hungry and tired, but certainly aware that I was awake. I had a bit of drowsiness, but that was easily dispelled when I saw those `` zombies''.''
`` So what you're saying is that those were actual people?''. Dan asked, interested in this.
`` Yes, but no at the same time! I could n't initiate a conversation with them, and they did n't want to talk, but they certainly had some form of human nature inside them.''
`` Whatever this is, it's big. We did n't end up here by pure chance, and I'm pretty sure we were all knocked out before, if not dead.'' I had gone to look around for help. Nothing. `` For now, we'll call you Jay, okay?''
`` O-Okay. Just please, do n't try and murder me again, would you?''.
Jay was sincere, but was still shaken up by this. We could n't say that every zombie was the same, however, so Dan, Jay and I all walked towards where he once was before, hoping that there were supplies, maybe even survivors.
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[ WP ] 250 years after humanity develops interstellar travel , alien ruins are discovered in another star system . A historical archive is found and translated . The last entry reads `` Species 57 has escaped from prison planet 50L-3 . Evacuation has begun . ''
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UFS *Tyler Hague* drifted in high orbit around the brown and blue swirled planet. From a distance, the three kilometer long battle cruiser was a smooth monolith of black enameled hypalloy plate. Thousands of blinking lights and open viewports broke apart the appearance of black nothingness. Here, in orbit, it made little difference -- there was enough light, and enough stars in the background to see the cruiser despite their paint job. In deep space, though, the cruiser was nearly undetectable by the eye.
For anyone who had the happenstance of getting closer, they would see numerous irregularities. The sunken openings for the dozen of hanger bays, each carrying full complements of deep space and planetary descent craft. The numerous observation decks where junior officers nodded their heads as they fought sleep away during their night watch. And the bumps and protrusions of hundreds of energy lances and rail guns. In a full broadside, *Hague* could dish out well over one hundred tons of solid projectiles. Not even counting the wattage their lances could pour out.
She was a beast of a ship, designed to utterly destroy any space vessel that humanity could conceivably encounter.
Not that it had mattered much.
In the entire history of spacefaring, none of the Earth or Mars based fleets had run into anything but ships from those same places. In fact, they had n't encountered any indication that there was anything else out there.
Until now.
Deep inside the core of the command module, Christopher Perry, Admiral of the 1st exploratory fleet, sat at the head of a grand conference table. Almost the entire senior staff were in attendance, a rare occurrence on these long exploration voyages, and the mood in the room was electric.
The discovery that what had now been dubbed `` 50L-3'' was habitable had sent waves through the fleet. Perry had heard that the exploration crews that had been sent to scout the planet had been even more excited when they found ruins covering the dry continents. And if it were possible to say that anyone had died of shock, it would have been entirely justifiable when one of the scout crews found caches of what had essentially been computer storage.
A number of the Warrant Officers and specialists had been spending the past weeks trying to recover the data and making sense of them. All the while, a steady stream of planetary transports had been shuttling marines and the engineer corps to set up planetside bases. It was a flurry of activity for a fleet that had experienced almost nothing but the vacuum of space. Even now, what had previously been thought of as a superfluous survey team was desperately undermanned.
A lot of those concerns had been tugging Perry in a thousand different directions at once and even if the last few hours had been spent in reports and discussions on the data that they had been able to recover so far, it was still a respite to be able to focus on one thing at length without having anything else disrupt him. Not that the thought of everything else was n't ready at the back of his mind to jump forward and remind him of what it meant to be an Admiral.
He drained the rest of a glass of water before setting it down.
`` So.'' His small interjection cut through the hum of conversation and it died to a murmur as the other officers diverted their attention to him. `` Now that we've determined exactly what this... Prison, for lack of a better word.'' He inflected the last phrase up and looked over at Lieutenant Commander Richardson, the lead for the architectural planning team. Richardson returned his look with a nod.
`` Right, what this prison was meant for. Doctor Williamson, would you care to fill us in on what you've found about the, ah, inmates?''
Doctor Williamson was the chief biologists and one of the many civilian experts who had declined to take on a staff officer rank. She certainly had n't let that discourage her from instilling the fear of God in the junior offices who worked under her. A few of them had even taken to calling her `` Commander'' when they talked to her -- a practice she had initially tried to discourage and now bore with mild annoyance.
`` Yes, Admiral.'' She nodded towards Perry. At least she had taken to the Navy's formalities well enough. `` I've been looking through their medical archives, focusing on species 57, which had been referenced in the final entry of the station's log.''
Perry remembered reading the log she had referenced. `` Species 57 has escaped it's enclosure. Enacting directive 349-B and evacuating all personnel.'' It had been humanizing, in its way, knowing that even aliens had their mess ups to worry about. But what had made species 57 so dangerous they had to evacuate? They had to be dangerous enough that the director was willing to explain to his superiors that he had to abandon an entire planet. In Perry's mind, that made the message chilling.
`` With the assistance of Doctor Parthak,'' She nodded across the table to a man who wore a Commander's insignia and the pin of the medical staff corps. `` I've determined that species 57 is actually a biological entity that we have encountered before.''
Any side chatter ceased and all eyes locked onto Williamson. Perry noticed the wide-eyed surprise on almost everyone's face. Parthak looked placid, as if contemplating a coming storm. And Williamson, who now held the rapt attention of the entire cadre of officers and specialists, was grinning wickedly. *A child satisfied that only she knows the answer to a difficult question, * Perry thought.
`` In fact, the species is very familiar to us. Because,'' she flipped a switch and a hologram of a human body appeared over the conference table. `` It is us.''
She smiled one last time and sat back in her chair amidst the outburst that had filled the room. The officer meeting developed into a school yard rabble. Indignant shouts, questions, and incredulous outbursts all added to the tumult. Only Parthak, Williamson, and Perry seemed to maintain an aura of calm.
Perry had to admit he was quite shocked at the revelation that the human species had once been locked up on an alien prison. And he even held reservations about the idea altogether. But if Parthak had been involved in working out the findings, then it had to be solid enough for him to publicly give support. Perry pushed aside any thoughts of the implications this would have back home.
He banged his gavel until quiet settled once more.
`` Calm down, calm down.'' He growled. `` You're officers of the federation, not a gaggle of children just let out for summer break.'' He scanned the room, taking time to look every officer in the eye. Satisfied with his control of the deck, he continued.
`` Doctor Williamson, how certain are you that one of the inmate species at this prison was humanity?''
Williamson furrowed her eyebrows and frowned. `` Mostly sure.'' She said after a few seconds. `` It will take some study before we get anything like a confidence interval for you, but the data on the recovered drives all indicate not just imprisonment of humanity on this planet, but study of it as well.''
She grimaced, `` Socially and... biologically.''
The implications of the last word took a few seconds to sink in, then a new round of fervent outcries burst forth to be silenced by Perry's stern look.
He turned his eyes towards Williamson. `` Thank you doctor, please have a report sent to my desk.''
`` Of course, Admiral.''
Perry nodded. `` Now, I have no reason to doubt Doctor Williamson and Commander Parthak on this. Would anyone like to share any grievance they have as of now?''
Thankfully, no one spoke up.
`` Very well, then I think we should table this discussion until we have more information and a formal write up. I want everyone on the same page before we send anything on the astrograph.''
Heads around the table nodded and Perry grunted in satisfaction. He was about to continue when a chime came from the door.
Perry frowned. *What could be important enough-* He crushed the though as it began. If it was indeed important enough to interrupt a staff meeting like this, then it had to have been pretty damn important. Perry keyed the open button and a lieutenant with dark circles entered the room and saluted.
`` Lieutenant.'' Perry said, hardly trying to mask his displeasure.
`` Admiral, A message from the bridge. The LINAR has detected six unidentified vessels at one hundred thousand kilometers, closing fast. And, sir,'' fear passed through the Leiutenant's face. `` He says they're traveling under power, no doubt about it.''
___
*Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it, check out /r/chrisbryant! *
[ *Read Part II here! * ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/chrisbryant/comments/50w0la/the_inmates_of_50l3_part_ii/ )
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[ WP ] An alternate world in which North America has , so far , gone unnoticed by the rest of humanity , and is considerably more advanced with their technology . On the evening of December 21 , 2012 , hundreds of missiles are fired from NA , targeting major cities in Europe and Asia .
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`` Sir! Sir, you're gon na wan na see this!''
A single voice was heard all through the room.
`` Allright, put it up on the big screen.'' I yelled back.
The large screen at the front of lit up as a radar appeared on it. Some people looked up from their own computers, but most continued steadily typing reports that would be neatly stacked on my desk the next morning. But after a single glance, the reports where no longer important. The west half of the radar now showed dozens upon dozens of malicious red dots.
`` The fuck?'' I mumbled to myself. `` Bill, what the hell is going on there? Is that coming from Columbus?''
More and more people now started looking at the screen and slowly the realisation that about a hundred missiles were headed straight to major European cities dawned upon us.
The room was suddenly full of noise, and several people inside jumped up to look out the windows to the west. I checked my watch. 12.15. I shouted questions at some analists, but they did n't appear to have heard me so I walked over, making my way through the room.
`` How long do we have until they reach the mainland?'' I asked Anna, one of our few female workers. `` About six minutes, sir.''
The following five minutes were filled with the room slowly draining as people went outside.
I was the last one to leave, and by that time several bright dots were already visible at the horizon, approaching fast.
I checked my watch one last time. 12.21 12-21-12.
I let out a small chuckle as a blinding flash replaced the Big Ben.
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[ WP ] As someone is time travelling and changing the past , you have to live in a constantly changing present .
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As a black man in America life is hard for me. What makes it harder is when some time travelling motherfucker decides to change the outcome of the civil war.
One day I'm minding my own business staring at the chemicals in lab at the science class on the third floor of Georgia State University and all of the sudden I realize I am outside wearing a pair of overalls and a straw hat. Thankful I had the kronus implant that kept my mental state since time travel was discovered three years ago. I knew that if I just waited someone would fix things.
Oh shit, that drone is coming my way.
`` You have not brought in the horses, Moses.'' A raspy electronic voice crackled through the tiny speaker, it's words chopped as they came through the quadracopter's blades.
The most frustrating thing about the time travellers was dealing with the name changes, wait I take that back, the most frustrating thing was the languages. This time I was lucky enough to have an English speaking timeline.
`` Ouch!''
`` If you fail to comply the voltage will increase.''
I began walking towards the barn as I did I could feel the ground disappear and I was back looking at the Bunsen burner. Everyone in the class looked at me and I realized they were speaking French. One of the side effects of my device is that my memories stayed intact which was helpful when I found myself in the new CSA but not when the French became the dominant power in America. I never bothered to learn the language and the people here do n't know English.
I check for a phone. It is there and this time it is an Android. I find my way to the appropriate search engine and begin typing `` I am a time travelling refuge. I do not speak French.''
The phone translates and as I am about to attempt to pronounce it, I realize I am looking up at the night sky. I am dressed in almost nothing. I recognize this place. I guess I'm back at `` my'' village. You learn to adjust to having multiple lives. It is somewhat chaotic. On the timelines when you do n't exist you simply... What was I saying?
I look around and I am inside a cell. Correction I am guarding a cell. I know this timeline. I look at the inmates. As I pick out one of the prisoners I ask him what he thinks of the name `` Moses'' he looks dumbfounded, but I know better. He fades away and I am looking at the stars again.
I feel weightless. This is one of my favorite timelines. I'm an astronaut here. I look down at the planet and... Motherfucking overalls again.
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[ WP ] At the age of 10 you 're given the option to go through surgery to possibly get superpowers 10 years after that . The surgery leaves you basically crippled during that time . All your friends and family are getting their abilities meanwhile you just turned 21 .
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`` Why did n't I get a power? Even Sally and Bob got some. So I have basically wasted 50 % of my life for nothing!''
`` Well it was only a *chance* to get powers, and not all of them are good. Like me, ***Ooh look at me, I can gently float Dr pepper at you! Fear me and my power OOh***''
`` Shut up'' I say in a friendly way, feeling better. But then the world went grey. Everything stopped moving, even those in the air, except me.
I look around and see a short person stealing from wallets and banks. He must be the one who stopped time. I sneak up to him and boop him on the head. He screams and turns around. When he looks at me, he faints, and time resumes.
`` I've found out what my power is. I can travel forward through time one second at a time!''
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[ WP ] A man is granted the thing he most desires . Problem is , after a certain amount of time , he will forget every memory of having it .
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Daniel's hands shook as he counted the coins. His hands always shook. It was n't the biting cold of December in Scotland, it was n't the exhaustion of having to talk to everyone that walked past, it was n't the sheer excitement of finally having enough. They just always shook.
He dropped the last penny in his pocket and smiled. A warmth flooded his body, he felt better than he had in weeks. He would finally be granted the thing he most desired.
People gave him a wide berth as he walked down the street to the newsagent. Daniel smiled even wider. The world was now on his side, everyone wanted him to get there as fast as possible. He stepped through the door, squeezing past schoolchildren who were clutching bags of sweets and crisps. He gave them an indulgent smile before turning back to his quest.
'Yoo're nae welcome haur, pal.' A familiar voice greeted him. A small woman with badly dyed copper hair and the husky voice of the addicted or the ill sat on a stool next to the till, glaring at him.
'I've got money,' he told her, digging a hand into his pocket and bringing out a fistful of 20ps, 10ps, even a couple of pounds. She shrugged her shoulders and grunted.
'Alrecht, whit can Ah gie ye?'
Daniel's eyes glazed over at the sight of the choice behind the till but he had already made his decision.
'The gin, please.'
She turned and took a large bottle of cheap, unbranded gin down fron the shelf.
'Aicht poonds ninety nine.'
Daniel placed his entire earnings from the day on the counter in front of her. The woman counted the coins slowly before passing the bottle of gin over, not trusting him one bit.
His hands shook as he held the bottle. His hands always shook. He tried to control them as he left the shop, sat on the nearest bench he could find and took a swig. Could n't be wasting any of it now, could he?
The harsh, burning taste hit the back of his throat and he felt his whole body tingle. He moaned. God, it was good. He had missed it. He had needed it so bad. He took another swig. And another.
By the time he finished the bottle, he had forgotten ever buying it. He had forgotten ever drinking it. He lay, passed out on a park bench, clutching an empty bottle. His hands shook and he dropped the bottle. A few people turned their heads to try and see where the smashing sound had come from but no one bothered noticing the drunk, old, homeless man whose hands always shook.
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[ WP ] You and your team are exploring Chernobyl in order to retrieve something , when all of a sudden , loud music turns on overhead and you get a sudden sense of foreboding ... Something is following you .
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`` **Highway to the**''
We looked to the skies and saw the chopper, it's rotors lacerating the air
`` **Danger Zone**''
Our captain would ask the question, which is more important? Us or the mission?
`` **I'm gon na take you right into the** ``
The machine gun whirred into life above us, the siren that would precede our deaths.
`` **Danger Zone**''
We sat in fear: no orders had been given. We all simply stared into the helmet of our demise, 20 feet above.
`` ** Highway to the ** ``
Suddenly our captain was ripped to shreds, the chopper had opened fire.
`` **Danger Zone**''
It was not aiming for us
`` ** Right into the**''
I saw the gunner radio for support
`` **Danger Zone**''
But we were already dead.
Edit: Formatting is not my forte ^andneitheriswriting
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( WP ) Make me cry .
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Dale rapped on the old oak door as he remembered moving into this house. It must have been 40 years ago. Dale reminisced on that chilly Fall day. He remembered heaving that huge leather jacket that his Dad gave to him over Sarah as they escaped the frigid air, falling into their new house together. Dale ’ s moment of pure nostalgia was cut short by a frail voice squeaking through the door.
“ Secret knock. Please. ” Dale took a patient step back and leaned up against the door.
“ Come on honey. You know it ’ s me. I ’ m tired of this secret knock nonsense. ” A moment of silence followed before the voice crept out again.
“ Secret knock. Please. Now. Please. ”
Dale opened his mouth, first to respond, but then decided against it and took a deep, deep breath. He brushed his knuckles against the same old worn out spot in the door just as he had done for the past ten months. Every day Dale ignored it. He would come home and twist the door handle, hoping one day it would be unlocked. But of course the door was locked, it had been for the past ten months. Every day Dale would knock half heartedly on the door one or two times, hoping that it would swing open with his wife to greet him. But of course the door never did swing open after knocking one or two times, it never has for the past ten months. Every day Dale will contest Sarah, telling her that there ’ s no need for a secret knock when the only person that comes in the house is her husband. But of course Sarah never recognized Dale ’ s voice, she hasn ’ t for the past ten months.
The door swung open as Dale saw Sarah walking away towards the fireplace. He carefully wiped his feet on the door mat before walking up behind Sarah. He knew she never liked to be touched anymore but when he saw her standing, shivering over the dancing red and orange flames he just couldn ’ t help himself. He took off the same leather jacket his Dad gave to him and flung it over Sarah ’ s shoulders. He wrapped her into his chest, kissing her on her head. The metal buttons, loose with wear clinged against each other as he tried to hold Sarah still. Sarah squirmed down away from Dale as she whispered out the same three words that pierced Dale ’ s heart day after day.
“ Who… are you…? ”
Dale couldn ’ t respond today.
He couldn ’ t handle the same questions every day.
He couldn ’ t handle the same answers every day.
He couldn ’ t handle the same god damned secret knock every day.
Today, Dale just wrapped his arms tighter around Sarah, threw himself back into that chilly Fall day,
and cried.
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[ WP ] Finishes with `` May I start over ? ''
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He laid on his back as the pain slowly sank in. Is this what death felt like? Surely the fall must have killed him. Oh well. It was just nice to feel something again. The dreary 20 years that lead to this moment were finally coming to a close.
No. That's not right.
So the year is 1944 on June 6th. Steve took one last look at the picture of his daughter before the gate would open. Fear clawed at his stomach and warmth dribbled down his leg. It did n't matter. They would all be wet soon.
No. Too overdone. This might actually be better.
The cold crept in through the window that had been locked for the last 10 years. Tonight I was not alone. Perhaps I have nothing to worry about. But that body in the basement... No. this is n't how justice works.
Shit. Nothing is coming to me right now. Everything is dry. I'm sure something good will come up. Sorry /u/ztikmaenn. May I start over?
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[ WP ] : A 92-year-old woman 's phone number is one digit away from that of a local suicide hotline . She could have it changed , but she does n't mind .
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``... So you see I simply ca n't live without him. And Stacy, that back stabber, I know she'd hate herself if I did it.''
There was a long pause and for a moment she had the sinking sensation in her stomach that the old woman had stopped listening.
`` I've heard horror stories.'' The old soft voice said. `` Women who have lost children and men who have killed innocents. You're nothing but a whinny child. You do n't have to guts to go through with it. John does n't even think of you at all. In five years he wo n't be able to remember your name. And Stacy, she can probably get any man she wants. Men, mind you, not boys, which no doubt this John is if he even spoke to you, because clearly you are nothing more than a brat.''
The silence rang like a bell. Throbs of nothingness washed over her. She had n't even loaded the gun. The weight of it in her hand was enough to make her dial.
Her fingers shook as she loaded the bullets one at a time into the tiny chambers. She wondered oddly which bullet it would be.
`` So are you going to do it? Brat.'' The voice came from far away and the phone fell from her shoulder. The woman was right. In five years no one would even remember her. She would grow up like her mother trying to find men who loved her, working a dead end job, regretting she had children.
They would remember her if she did this though. Everyone would.
There was silence on the phone for a long time. Some sounds then the bang and the only sound no Hollywood move ever got right. The dying body. It was n't a gun shoot and then death. That did n't happen unless you hit a spot in the brain the size of a quarter. And from her screaming and pleading it sounded like she went for the heart. Most girls do. There was more screaming as her parents or a sibling found her. More pleading this time to god. Then calls for someone to dial 9-1-1.
Stella hung up the phone. She pressed the big button that lifted the mechanical chair upwards. It took some time and her body screamed in dull echos of pain. Her walker was there and the trip across the living room seemed miles longer than it had even a year ago.
On the white board she carefully erased the last digit, a seven, and drew in an eight. Her son saw the stack of obituary clippings near the white board and made his own assumptions.
Heading back across the living room she paused as she often did and considered ending it all. As she had every time before she continued on, she had something worth living for after all. A record of sorts to set.
She was out of breath when she, half standing, leaned back and sat on the raised chair. The motors whined as she lowered herself into a seated position. Outside the street lights were just coming on. Last year she would have been watching jeopardy or something, now she only stared at the white board.
`Outlived: 2138`
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[ WP ] In the 23rd century , the United States elects its first Amish president .
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The morning was frosty, I could see my breath in front of me, but I decided that the inaugural address of Jebediah Smith, the first Amish president, was something I did not want to miss. Apparently, a lot of people felt the same way, because I was so far back I was almost at the Washington Monument. When he came down the stairs on the capital building, the crowd went insane. Jeb's simple suit, his flowing under strap beard, and straw hat, and some up front claimed you could see a glimpse of his suspenders under the jacket. He came down to the podium, and started his speech. No one heard a thing, no cameras were allowed to tape Jebediah because it was against the amish lifestyle to be on camera. No microphones, teleprompters, or even lights were focussed on him. In fact, the court room artists were brought down the hill from the supreme court to paint the experience while his speech was written down to be re-read later by others. During his speech, there were crews working around the clock at the white house, re-fitting it with candelabras, wood burning fireplaces, candle fitted chandeliers, and stables. The white house had n't looked like this since the 19th century. After his speech was finished, I rushed home to find out what he actually said. They re-read the speech and showed the drawings. Jebediah had talked about how important peace was, and how our war with England was awful and needed to end. He also said how farming was more important in a society when so many go hungry. He declared he would end the 3rd British War, and pump all the money we spent on it to American farms. This was causing all the Old Days Party members to lose their minds, and they loved him. They now showed the parade from the capital to the White House, and the drawings showed the President and First Lady riding horseback down Pennsylvania Ave. This was gong to be an interesting next 4 years, now that we have an Amish president.
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[ WP ] A group of lawyers are trying to find ways of making contracts legal after the recent news that a time machine has been created .
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`` So, how do we do this?''
Dave leaned on the doorframe, coffee in hand as he questioned his partner. Rachel looked over at him through her thick rimmed black glasses, adjusting them ever so slightly to sit at the bridge of her nose. `` Well I think we could maybe attach contracts to ID's instead of... you know, signatures?'' She piqued up, putting out yet another cigarette as the smoke and smell of tobacco became omnipresent throughout the small dusty office. `` Yeah but why? Only the government can use it so far'' Dave argued, `` we do n't have to go to all that effort for shit that will never be in public hands.'' Rachel let out an exasperated sigh as she leaned back into her chair. `` Dave...'' she started, `` Why did you become a lawyer?''
Dave frowned as he took a sip of his coffee, now cold and devoid of steam. His eyes scanned the musty room. Old posters riddled the walls. The Beatles... Flintstones... The Ink Spots... Rachel was a fan. `` Well, money I suppose.'' Rachel's eyes lit up, as she flung her arms wide, pushing her ashtray off the desk. Dave winced as it crashed to the floor. `` Dave, this is the highlight of our careers!'' She almost shouted, getting up off of her chair and getting right up in Dave's face, `` This could make us famous!'' She paced back and forth, listing off their achievements to date.
`` The Kennedy sister...''
`` The Civil Rights Movement....
`` Legalisation of Homosexual marriage....''
`` Decriminalisation of Cannabis in some states in America....''
The list went on and on until suddenly Rachel stopped and spun on her heel to face Dave. `` None of them Dave...'' She started, spreading her arms again, `` None of them even compare to creating a contract for *travelling through time! *'' She took a breath and collapsed back into her chair, putting her face into her arms. Dave sighed. He agreed, it was a very attractive idea to cement his legal career with an unprecedented breakthrough but both he and Rachel knew that creating a contract that fits the complexity of time travel was impossible.
`` Dave?'' Rachel raised her head and faced the gaunt man, `` time as we knew it initially only moved forward right?'' Dave nodded along as the life returned to Rachel's eyes. She climbed out of her chair and grabbed a marker from her desk. She walked towards the large, blank whiteboard sitting neglected in the corner of the room, and drew a horizontal line. `` This is the prior flow of time'' she spat, gesturing towards the line, `` In one direction. Parallel, only moving forward.'' She drew another line, branching off of the original, `` this is an alternate reality as proven by CERN''. Rachel went on to draw a dozen different splices in time, before linking them all to a single line again. She turned to face Dave who, rightfully was left dumbfounded. `` All of these timelines lead to the same event!'' She was ecstatic as she gestured towards the board, `` So that means the opposite must be true as well! Newtons law!''
`` Every action must have an equal and opposite reaction...'' Dave mouthed.
`` Exactly! So this entire problem about contracts means jack shit!'' Rachel was practically hopping from one leg to the other. `` But this does n't make any sense, why does it negate the problem?'' Dave was out of the loop, all this scientific nonsense made no sense to him. He had a major in law, not in engineering. Rachel smacked her forehead, `` Dave, all we need to do is add a clause that says regardless of any differing events that transpired, all terms agreed upon will be carried out.'' How could her partner be so blind?
`` But... why are we doing all this when normal contracts cover that anyway?''
`` Get out Dave''
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[ WP ] there is a god for everything . Light , sinks , walking , whatever you can think of . How does one unexpected god suddenly become the most powerful god ?
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The Gods are fickle beings. Constantly falling in and out of existence just like the things they represent. Some Gods are eternal, like the God of Light, or the God of Electrons and so on and so forth. Some Gods come and go just like fads. Examples include the God of Cross fit, and the Goddess of Pinterest.
All of these Gods and Goddesses range in power however. Usually ending up with Gods of Fads becoming servants to the Eternal Gods and serving them until they cease to exist. It has always been this way. No god born after the Eternals had ever risen above them in terms of power. It's not so that all Gods born after the Eternals are weak, in fact some Gods, like those of emotions, are extremely powerful, however most of them lack the will to do anything with their power.
Will is a strange thing is n't it. It allows us to create, to destroy, to do whatever we please. I may seem odd to you, but not all Gods have a will to speak of. They merely exist like the objects or ideas they represent. This is what makes me unique however, for I am the God of Will. I contain the will of all living things in the universe. The stronger their will, the more powerful I become. My will allows me challenge the Eternals, to make them uncomfortable on their complacent thrones.
I am the will of all things that are and ever will be. I am the Will of the universe. I will become stronger than the Eternals and end their tyrannous rule. Through the will of all things I shall succeed.
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[ WP ] The candle that burns twice as bright only burns half as long
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`` Will you help me?''
`` You, asking *me* for *help? * I did n't know you were capable of such a thing.''
`` Please. Do n't be glib.''
`` Oh. Oh, shit. What do you need?''
`` Insulin.''
`` Huh?''
`` I need insulin.''
`` Uh, why?''
`` You're diabetic, right? You have some?''
`` Well, yeah. But it's not for sale. What's going on?''
`` Nothing, I just-''
`` Oh no.''
`` No, it's not that.''
`` You're a horrible liar, it is too that!''
`` I'm not druggie.''
`` Well duh. Nobody get's high on insulin.''
`` Oscar, do n't do this-''
`` You suicidal bastard.''
`` It's not like that. I just, ca n't be in pain anymore.''
`` And your solution to a little depression is to make your best friend an accessory to murder?!''
`` Insulin OD is painless.''
`` Oh no. You wan na die, fine! But get your own drug supply and do n't expect me to be at your funeral, you selfish asshole.''
`` You know it's not that. You know better than anybody. I'm so tired, Oscar. I'm so tired, and I've done my deeds.''
`` You ca n't kill yourself! What am I going to do without you? I need you.''
`` I know, and I'm sorry. But everybody needs me, and I just ca n't do it anymore. Do n't worry about the drugs.''
`` Hey! Hey you ca n't just walk out like that! I'm calling the cops, damn you if you think I'm just going to let you die!''
`` The candle that burns twice as bright only burns half as long, my friend. Goodnight.''
`` What the hell is that supposed to mean? You ca n't just leave me with a vague metaphor! Jordyn, please, get back here! Hey!''
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[ WP ] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people 's heads with no time indication . You start noticing a trend .
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*GABRIEL GRIFFIN: Super Surgeon*
After finally getting out of med school, I was assigned under the Buddy Scheme to train under an experienced surg: Ica Marls.
My first patient was a seemingly simple one.
Chest pains. Complained of difficulty breathing. Long history of smoking. Fell unconscious, heart rate slowing and becoming erratic.
I immediately thought it was a possible lung cancer, and had him scheduled for a scan, but Ica, when she heard, grabbed me by the hand, and grumpily barked `` No!'' in her somewhat sexy Spanish accent, and grabbed my head to look at the patient.
I was then freaking out for a good ten minutes.
Because I saw the words
> ANEYURISM
floating above the patient's head, in glowing yellow gothic letters.
Ica Marls has the ability to make people see others' cause of death.
Once I calmed down and asked `` What the fu-''
she explained she had the ability from birth. Apparently anyone she makes contact with temporarily gains the ability for a time, but all her life, she's known that her mother would die of cancer, that her boyfriend at school was to die of a heart attack, and so on.
She normally would n't have shown me, but the patient did n't have much time.
Thus begins the journey I took that led to me being called the Super Surgeon.
( ( premise is that it's an Ace Attourney style story where an unconfident surgeon is supported by a magical ability, presumably getting a limted version of it himself eventually ) )
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[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 26 : World Building
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“ I ’ m just not sure I can teach her! ” Cedric stated with all the emphasis he could muster. It wasn ’ t much; he ’ d had a long day, and while he would much rather have just fallen into bed and left his troubles for tomorrow, his sense of duty, and of failure, was too strong to allow him to put this off.
“ So instead, you would send her to me? ” The old man sitting across from him asked gently. They both sat comfortably in large chairs by the hearth, a roaring fire close by. Carl ’ s voice held no twinge of judgment – his voice was perfectly bland – yet Cedric felt just as guilty as if Carl had verbally flogged him for his weakness.
He reached for another goblet of spiced wine before responding, letting the taste roll on his tongue a moment before swallowing with a resigned sigh. “ As much as I wish that, I know it can not be. The king assigned this task to me, and I must be the one to accomplish it. ”
“ He trusts you. ”
“ The Lord only knows why. ”
Carl chuckled and reached for his own goblet. Upon seeing it empty he rang the little bell which also sat on the side table to summon the young servant waiting just outside the door. “ Bring another pitcher of wine please, and see of you can ’ t find some of that fruit the cook has squirreled away in the kitchen. I know she has some, and as deep into winter as we are fresh fruit sounds like the perfect treat. ”
The boy said a quick “ yes m ’ lord ” and bowed deeply before letting himself out.
Carl turned back to his guest. “ That boy will make a fine squire one day. Not to me! ” He added in response to Cedric ’ s inquisitive look. “ No, my son will probably take him on. His latest report stated that the border raids are increasing, probably due to the severity of this blasted winter, and that his current squire should be coming to the castle to be knighted within the next season. I ’ ll probably send him Jethro at next holiday. ”
Cedric nodded. The custom was common enough. Noble boys wishing to pursue knighthood frequently served either their family or a family friend in residence at the castle as a page boy while they underwent the standard training. After a few years they then either entered the squires ’ residence, serving any knight without a personal squire at the castle as needed, or more frequently they were recalled home to serve one of the knights from their own sector to continue their learning.
“ Now, ” Carl said, calling Cedric ’ s mind back to the matter at hand. “ what makes you think you can not teach this girl? ”
Cedric set his now-empty goblet down, leaned forward, and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “ I ’ m in over my head Carl. ” He shook his head wearily. “ I have absolutely no idea what I ’ m doing anymore. ”
“ Nonsense. You ’ ve taught other young, untrained mages in the past! What makes this one so different? ”
All the fear, anxiety, uncertainty, despair, and frustration Cedric had been holding inside finally broke their bonds and came out in a rush. “ She ’ s just so- so- *foreign*. She knows nothing of magic, and constantly contradicts me when I speak of how our world works. I understand where she ’ s coming from, to a point, being more scholarly minded myself, but *still! * And it ’ s not just that, it ’ s her blasted power! I ’ ve never seen anyone with so much raw potential. It ’ s terrifying! If she hesitates, or manipulates it in the slightest wrong way then she could leave me, or herself, or the entire castle mind-dead, or simply blow the entire place to bits depending on the manipulation error. ”
“ Have you told her that? ” Carl asked calmly when Cedric stopped to breathe.
“ No. ” He said firmly, shaking his head emphatically. “ She ’ s nervous enough as it is. We ’ re as foreign to her as she is to us. Adding on the real danger to herself and others that she poses would only make her even more timid. ”
“ How do you know that? She ’ s not from here, and she ’ s definitely not like our women. She ’ s not even from another country, Cedric; she ’ s from another world. All your assumptions are worthless here. ”
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[ WP ] She was an arsonist . He was a firefighter . The romance was hot . The break up was explosive .
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It was 3am. One of those god forsaken rainy nights where even the crazies seek shelter. We'd gotten the call two hours ago. Nine alarms. Every engine within 20 minutes drive responding to the blaze.
The old apartment building had been a torrent of flame. We ran in to save anyone we could. To fight the demon flame. Like we always do.
We lost old Joe and the Captain to a back draft on the fifth floor. Why Joe opened that door I'll never know. Must have been exhaustion or maybe in the heat and smokey dimness he got disoriented. We'll never know.
I was on my wagon, the fire finally out, ruined with grief and pain and exhaustion. That's when I saw her. Wrapped in a soaked grey blanket. Just another victim of the fire. Or so I thought at the time.
She saw my look, my haunted hangdog expression. She came over. We talked. She comforted. She stroked my back and shoulders. Held me. The animal in me was awake, my human mind sleeping. All I wanted was to fuck. To feel alive. It's not like this was the first time a woman approached me after a fire.
Somehow, we ended at my place. I do n't remember how we got there. I did n't care. Her tongue was in my mouth, my hands were on her ass. She pinned me against the wall, surprisingly strong, mashing her soft, warm body against mine. We stripped out of our soaked and sudden clothes. I was hard. She was wet. I took her for the first time right there on the coffee table. She bit and scratched and bucked like a wild thing. She screamed her ecstasy. The neighbors banged on their floors, their walls, their ceilings. The next time was on the rug. Then the shower. The bathroom sink. The bed. The kitchen.
We slept. We woke. We fucked. I did n't have a shift for 48 hours. We made use of it all.
I woke at 6am. The sun was peeking over the horizon. There was no trace of her. I moved to get out of bed, shower, dress. No, wait, I tried to move. But I was tied. Ankles and wrists secured to the bed frame. Huh. Forgot about that...
And that's when I heard it. Beep. Beep. Beep. One a second. Low quiet. And then... Warmth and light.
And that's the last thing I remember before I ended up here talking to you. Where are we exactly?
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[ WP ] After attending a therapist for a mild issue , the therapist diagnoses you as a psychopath . Though in denial at first , you begin to realize that it explains some of the strange occurrences in your life .
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“ So, doc, what ’ s the diagnosis? ” I smile when I say this, showing all my teeth. In most animals this would be a sign of aggression, but it seems to put him at ease.
“ I ’ m afraid, Mr. Berkshire, that the reason for your, shall we say, discontent with your current lifestyle stems from severely psychopathic tendencies. You see, it ’ s not uncommon for… ”
I blink slowly as he continues on, leaning back into the chair. I can ’ t seem to sit comfortably on it—the cushion ’ s shit. You ’ d think this therapist would spend some of the money I pay him on improving the décor, but no, instead he thinks it ’ s a better use of his time to lecture me on how I ’ m a potential serial killer.
“ … certain, highly successful, entirely outwardly normal individuals to secretly harbor these feelings, or lack thereof. I ’ m sure you ’ ve heard of American Psycho—that book, while fictional, does a stellar job of portraying— “
“ I ’ m sorry, what? ” The chair ’ s become too uncomfortable to sit in silence anymore. “ You ’ re saying I ’ m a real-life Patrick Bateman? ”
“ Well, no, you—you don ’ t seem to have any, uh, murderous tendencies, but, given what you ’ ve described to me—the boredom, the inability to connect with others, the way you carry yourself— “
“ The way I carry myself? Come on, doc, you can ’ t be telling me that because I like to laugh and make people laugh, and because I understand how to get what I want that I ’ m some sort of—of—lunatic? ” This goddamn chair. Why doesn ’ t he understand that I can ’ t be myself when I ’ m uncomfortable? I ’ m not coming back here if he doesn ’ t change it.
“ No, of course not, Jack, it ’ s just—you ’ ve told me yourself, about the way you never understood your siblings, how they annoyed you when they cried or talked about their concerns, how everything you do inevitably becomes dull—you ’ ve changed fields three times in a decade, for Chrissake! ” The doc ’ s getting nervous, I can see. Sweating too much, and he keeps clicking that huge pen of his. I hate it.
“ So, I get bored, big fucking deal, everyone does it. ” I smile again—it ’ s pained this time though, just like my back. He sweats some more. “ I ’ ve never—Jesus! What kinda nerve do you have, calling me a— “
“ Jack, please. You asked for my professional opinion. Everyone harbors some degree of psychopathy. Your case is just particularly pronounced. It doesn ’ t mean that you ’ ll hurt or kill anyone, it just means the inhibitions present in others are not there for you. ” He keeps clicking that pen, back and forth, back and—
“ Could you stop that? I ’ m trying to think here. ” Thing ’ s almost as bad as the chair.
It stops. “ My apologies. ” He ’ s still sweating, flicking his eyes from me to the pen.
“ Thank you. ” I make a grimace that I hope passes for forgiving. “ I guess this explains why I killed that kid who took my tricycle in the third grade, huh? ”
He starts. “ I ’ m sorry, wha— “
“ Oh, come on, Doc, give me a fucking break. ” I laugh a bit, but he doesn ’ t seem convinced. “ Of course I didn ’ t kill someone over a tricycle. ”
His mouth curls up hesitantly. “ Of—of course. That kind of pathological lying, though, is also indicative— “
“ Oh, come off of it! ” I stand up and pace around the spacious office, glancing at him as he shrinks back into his chair. “ You think because I hit my sisters a few times when I was a kid and never said sorry for it and lied to my parents when they asked me about it and lied to my friends when they asked me what my dad did and lied to my girlfriend when she wanted to visit my folks but I said they were dead that I ’ m a— “ Shit.
“ —I think our time ’ s up, Jack. ” His voice squeaks out as he clasps his pen, clicking the point out one more time slowly. “ I think a different therapist would serve you better. ”
I nod slowly, breathing deep. The pacing ’ s brought some sweat out—I ’ ll have to change this shirt—but it ’ s better than sitting in that chair. “ Of course, doc. Send me some recommendations. Thank you for the… diagnosis. It ’ s very enlightening. ”
He nods, loosening his grip on the pen. “ No problem, good luck. ”
“ Thanks. ” I stride towards the door, pausing for a second. “ One more thing—about that kid? ”
He stares at me, eyes blinking steadily. “ Yes? ”
“ It was a bicycle, doc. My favorite bicycle. Only bicycle, to be honest. And that fucker took it from me. I didn ’ t kill him, course, just broke his arm. And his leg. Well, both his legs. Told the neighbors he fell off while riding. Which he did. ”
He won ’ t stop looking at me, his face scrunched up like he ’ s about to either scream or pass out. “ Jack—I really think you— “
I shut the door behind me.
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[ CW ] Write a narrative about anybody you like , but treat the said person as an animal , only revealing the fact that they are human at the end .
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My mother left me on the streets along with the rest of my siblings with the promiese of food on her mouth when I was merely a child. After the second day was coming to an end, one it was a common knowledge that she was not coming back. The stubborn stayed, the skeptics walked into the unknown one by one. I was the third to go, leaving 2 back on the alley. For all I know they could be dead.
Some would have thought that because I was a child people would have been merciful. But they were n't. Most of the time I was looked at with disgust, kicked out of the sidewalk where I tried to gain sleep. If I was lucky someone would take pity on me and give me their scraps of lunch.
As I grew up I learned not to trust. A couple of teenagers lured me with good promises and a full plate to a dark corner. I did n't see the bat hiding behind their backs. I escaped with a broken leg but I knew that could've been my deathbed. Their laughs mocking me as I struggled to climb to the other side of a fence is still a reminder of how wary I need to be.
After that I felt myself grow more weak. Specially because the the heat was rising and I did n't have somewhere to hide. I remember collapsing on the streets, people walking around me like I was a piece of gum.
I woke up indoors though. But I was sedated, I tried to struggle and a lady came up and tried soothing me. I just laid there in shock assessing the situation around me. I soon realized a cast was put on my broken leg.
I fell back to sleep as fast as I woke up.
It was some sort of shelter for the homeless. A lot of others like me where there. Some born, some brought.
It was better than the streets.
Once a young woman came in and approached me. She had a tired face, but a small smile hiding on her lips. She asked me my name, then asked how I was. She talked to the person in charge about the one with black hair and grey eyes. And then she turned to me with a big smile.
`` You are coming home with me.''
I learned what a family is that day.
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[ WP ] One day it started snowing , and then it never stopped .
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It was seen as a blessing at first.
`` No more school. Yay!'' some kids thought.
The scientists though, were the first ones to worry. They knew something was off when the Sahara was snowing too. And the oceans, wild snow.
The snow piled up, everything grew cold. Some tried to boil it, but with no success. It was colder than they imagined. Everything was.
The snow piled up and up, the streets, houses, skyscrapers even *mountains* were leveled, though by that time humanity has ceased to exist and all that civilization knew had been buried by thousands of feet of snow and Earth turned white. Not even the heat of the Sun could melt it as it piled faster than it could melt. Unending amounts of snow formed.
**'' Mars you bloody *Twat! *'' **
*'' Sorry God, I thought I'd turn the AC down a bit and sort of forgot to watch over them while you went on vacation'' *
**'' You eradicated all life on this planet. Even the Water Bears which I designed to whistand extreme conditions simpy gave in as the snow kept piling up'' **
*'' I do n't know what to tell you man, I got distracted'' *
**'' FOR TEN THOUSAND YEARS??? `` **
*''... I was watching Seinfeld re-runs...'' *
**'' BUT FOR TEN MOTHER FUCKI- well that actually makes sense. You can never get enough of Seinfeld'' **
*'' Or snow'' *
**'' Shut the fuck up Mars'' **
edit: grammar
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[ WP ] You have a soundtrack that plays music appropriate to whatever situation you are currently in . You can consistently hear the music which is why you 're terrified when you awake to the sound of screeching violins at 4am .
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I think I was about 13 when I found the genie and got my wishes, but that was a few years ago. The only wish I sometimes regret was asking for a soundtrack to my life. It is pretty rad most of the time because I never need an Ipod and when I do cool stuff I can hear the'cool guy' music just like the movies. This one time I was skateboarding and did a sweet flip, the best rock music was playing with a legit guitar solo that made me feel unstoppable. Other times it sucks, like when you are having a bad day and all you can listen to is sad music making it even worse. When my girlfriend dumped me all I could listen to was terrible breakup songs and Taylor Swift. That went on for about two weeks. It seems to be tied to my emotions just as much as my actions.
However, right now I am hearing something new. It is kind of like the'Jaws' music with harsh violins that made my blood run cold. I think I hear something else too, but from my position in bed I ca n't see what it is and ca n't bring myself to look. It is early in the morning, I know that much. I feel a shiver run down my spine as something slithers along the floor and under my bed. Then there was silence, which is something I have not heard in many years.
The bed exploded up as something hit it from underneath causing the music to change to hard metal from some action movie. The mattress went one way with me still on it while the frame landed on the other side of the room. I jumped up pulse racing and adrenaline high. I had nowhere to run and the music was getting me pumped up, looking at the nightmare creature I let out a battle cry and lunged at it moving with the beat of the brutal metal soundtrack.
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[ WP ] Your childhood best friend , who you have n't seen in twenty years , shows up at your door . `` It 's happened ! He 's escaped . We have to stop him ! Tell me you remember ! ``
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`` /u/Speedicus! It's happened! He's escaped. We have to stop him! Tell me you remember!'' the small man yelled over the rain in the middle of the night at my front door. He looked and sounded awfully familiar..
`` John Wrot, is that you?'' I asked, keeping my body wrapped behind my door with only an inch of myself visible to him.
`` Yes! I know it's been far too long but-''
`` Fuck off, John! You stole my date to the Prom all those years ago, I do n't give a shit if your fucking serial killer of a dad escaped from your basement or whatever the fuck you told me all those years ago!'' I barked as I slammed the door and stammered back to my computer.
*fin*
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[ CW ] Rewrite the first paragraph of your favorite book without using the letter 'e ' .
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OK, this was really hard! It's from Watership Down. The first paragraph is the one that I wrote. The second one is from the book. I hope the numbers still count.
-- -- -
*Many wild blooms had wilt. By a sunny woodland ’ s far part, by a shallow ditch, various blond blooms still blossom. Across a boundary, many rabbit burrows coat a grassland. Grass clumps vanish by dry rabbit droppings, through which only ragwort can grow. Go 100 yards away, past a sloping ground, to find a babbling brook—only a small brook, but still laid down with plants. A cart can cross a local brick main, to find a 5-bar door among thorny shrubs. That door will show you a road. *
The primroses were over. Toward the edge of the wood, where the ground became open and sloped down to an old fence and a brambly ditch beyond, only a few fading patches of pale yellow still showed among the dog's mercury and oak-tree roots. On the other side of the fence, the upper part of the field was full of rabbit holes. In places the grass was gone altogether and everywhere there were clusters of dry droppings, through which nothing but the ragwort would grow. A hundred yards away, at the bottom of the slope, ran the brook, no more than three feet wide, half choked with kingcups, watercress and blue brooklime. The cart track crossed by a brick culvert and climbed the opposite slope to a five-barred gate in the thorn hedge. The gate led into the lane.
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[ WP ] Decades ago , a disease permanently stopped all human reproduction . Now you , the AI caretaker of the last living human , are there in their final days , hearing what they have to tell you about their life .
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`` Tell me about your life Jorah. Just one more time''.
I do n't think he could feel the meaning of those words quite like I meant them. It is rather hard for my cold mechanical language to express emotion. Yet still, after hearing this man -- the last man of a once proud race -- speak of all the intricate beauty of his human life, I could not help but be overcome by this feeling of sadness.
Jorah straightened in his bed, his shriveled arms struggling to brace himself just a little more upright than he had been before I spoke.
`` Ah my friend Cortex'' Jorah coughed and weezed, trying to find breath to tell me one last memory. `` You want me to tell you another story? Of what do you want to hear, the war?''
As I looked at him, the silence felt like an eternity. Everything he had told me before flashed through my circuits; his best memories and his worst. The clouds of radioactive gas that swept through the battle lines at New Jerusalem. How he held his best friend as he bled out. The speech that he gave when he had graduated the academy and the look of pride on his father's face as he gave it. His childhood in Old Birmingham. All of it I remembered perfectly, it was as real to me as if I had lived it. Yet there was one thing I still wondered about, one thing that I had not yet heard.
`` Tell me about love, Jorah. You have n't told me about that yet''.
The old man eased himself back into his bed. A faint smile etched itself ever so softly into his face as a small tear graced the edge of his eye.
`` Ah, Cortex. You ease this old man's death with pleasant thoughts''
I knew he had not the strength to tell me anything more than he already had but as he spoke those words I felt exactly what he had felt some long night ago. The man was 96 and I had heard the stories of every last day of his life except for a few. These last few that he never shared were the ones I knew to be his most precious.
He let out a small sigh, the last breath of the old man. The smile never left his face as I took him to the incinerator. Even though the metal of my arms were cold and were not made to sense heat, I felt the warmth of his body as if it were my own. Man died, but I live, and the soul of man with me.
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[ EU ] [ WP ] A realist , Spencer Reid based everything off of science , hard facts , and whatever he 's seen/heard . He did n't believe in God , or Heaven or Hell , but when Dean Winchester shows up at his apartment door , telling him that he 's in danger , Spencer is speechless for once in his short life .
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Dean pushed his way into the apartment.
“ Did you hear what I said? ” He asked a shocked Spencer.
Spencer could only nod. He couldn ’ t believe what he was hearing. Part of him wanted to kick this guy out of his apartment but what he said made sense in a strange, impossible way.
He had been surprised when a young red-headed woman had asked him out. Rowena had been a little strange ever since he first met her. Now Dean Winchester was here telling him that Rowena was actually a centuries old witch, intent on using him as Lucifer ’ s permanent vessel… Spencer didn ’ t want to believe it but he couldn ’ t shake the sense that something was off. He had never believed in any of that stuff. Religion, witchcraft, voodoo, none of it. He had always held to science and cold hard facts.
“ We got ta get you out of here. You have anywhere else you can go that she won ’ t be able to find you? ” Dean said as he checked the apartment. Spencer wondered what he was looking for. Dean sighed as he pulled a hexbag out of the kitchen sink. Spencer stared at it in horror. Dean grabbed his arm and led him towards the front door. Spencer grabbed his favourite shoulder bag. He had a feeling it would be a while before he was back here.
I intend to write more but my brain is fried right now. FYI this prompt is awesome as it mixes two of my favourite shows in a way I wish would happen on the shows themselves
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[ WP ] Everyone but you in the world is dead .
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I woke up to the warmth of the sun on my face. I had found accommodation in a huge loft somewhere in Manhattan. The streets were empty as always. I got dressed, even though that was n't necessary anymore. But it gave me the feeling that it was n't true. That there were more out there.
Once I stepped outside, the smell of rotting corpses greeted me. I quickly put on my gas mask and was on my way. I found a minivan and hotwired it. I knew the way to the fancy car dealership. The shattered glass was still there, the glass I shattered to gain entry earlier. Of course it was. I got into a Ferrari, the Modena. I had found the locker with the keys and took a car for a spin once in a while.
I had spent a few weeks clearing a track in the streets of New york. It was terrible work, but in the end it payed off. I drove the Ferrari through the hole where the glass once was.
The car roared as I raced over 4th ave, a sound I always appreciated. But today was different. I think it was the smell of the corpses that was worse today. It made me realise. I was the only one. I was n't sick, because I was resistant. They had taken my blood for an antidote, but it would n't work. Eventually even the scientist got infected. Now I was alone. `` Fuck'' I thought. I stopped the car and got out. I left the engine running so I could keep listening to Miles Davis. I recently discovered jazz and really appreciated it. It was exactly as people had said: you needed to learn to enjoy it. The acquired taste you could only find in this genre.
I walked towards an old bank building. Smashed a window to get in and covered my ears against the alarm. I got in an elevator and pressed the button to get to the top floor. Once there, I climbed the stairs to the roof. The view was stunning. We did n't have that back home, in Holland. I was shipped here for examinations and as I could n't fly, I stayed here. Neither could I get of the island, because all the exits where broken down. I jumped onto the ledge. I could n't take it anymore. I spread my arms, hesitated for a second and let my body fall into the depths of the manhattan skyline. The last thing I heard was the roaring sound of a car racing down 4th avenue.
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[ WP ] You 've just started your new job as secretary to a renowned CEO . You work late hours , and after dark , you hear unsettling sounds coming from behind his office door ...
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*Thud..... Kuch kuch kuch..... Crash. *
`` Oh damn, he's at it again,'' I muttered to myself. It was another of those late night's working as the secretary to Pear Inc. You know, the IT firm? No? Fine. Does n't matter. That's not really relevant.
I tried to ignore the noise. I had some huge amounts of work to fill up so the jerk in the well would be aware of what he was to do tomorrow. Everyone's right happy each time Pear Inc puts out some product, but never are the CEO's secretary's. Especially when the chaps in the R & D department decide to make a gargantuan effort to get a good look at that whiteboard in the presentation room. Futile really, the company has very high standards and practically everything is rejected.
Anyways. I always wonder what the noises are. Is he simply doing this to keep me on my toes? I wonder.
`` Sir, is everything alright?'' I asked.
`` Uh, yeah. You do your work.''
`` If you need my help, do n't hesitate to ask, sir,''
He ignores this. The noises continue. *Thud thud thud*
The new thing wo n't have an appstore? Are they crazy? What's wrong with them? Oh, the viruses? Still. That's a bit extreme.
I try to ignore, and attempt to pick up as much as I can about the new product being presented the next day.
It was well past midnight. I get up, yawn, and shut down the computer.
An app is preventing shutdown.
Strangely enough, its a download running. I cancel, and still standing, go to see what's happening. I thought there was no internet connection.
Its an executable file `` Open_this.exe weird. Virus scan reveals nothing, so I clicked on it.
A popup, asking for administrator permission. I am shocked.
The author of the file is the CEO. WTF.
Yes.
It opens, downloads something, and gives me a mote on the screen.
*'' We're in this together now that you noticed. Do n't go out the door. They are waiting.''
I do n't see any option to reply, so I just move on. I ignore the warning, unsettling as it was. Phew. People at night, I thought.
I walked out of the big gate at the front, when I get a message on my phone.
`` They are coming. Beware.''
I ignore. You never know the legal consequences of replying.
Its a quiet street, dark as hell for a metropolitan. By day, this is the noisiest street in town. By night, at most the occasional drunk. Or the creeps who do n't come out at daytime and could be easily weilding one of those 10'' hunting knives and just looking for something to kill and make videos of, or whatever. The dark web is full of them. I'd seen many places on the dark web, full of seedy stuff like that.
I just kept walking, increasing my pace when I saw that this weird guy was following me.
`` Hey, you! Stop!''
I increase my pace even more.
`` Hey, turn around!''
I do n't.
He breaks into a run, so do I.
My chances are decent, I was an athlete in high school. I'm running at full speed, and turn into the first door I see. Its a bar.
Bouncer grabs me, and throws me into a little elevator. It starts to run, and I find I'm going downwards. The gate opens. This tiny, priest of a man steps up, wearing an ushanka and a black overcoat. In the shadows I can make out combat boots.
Three other burly men join him, and I'm grabbed and stuffed into a small cabin and a pair of headphones are jammed onto my head.
Some noises play.
`` You know those noises?'' The little priest asked me, in a heavy Russian accent.
`` No'' I lie. They are the same noises emanating from the CEO's office.
`` Lying. Kill''''
`` No! I'm not! This has to be a mistake.!
`` You are guilty. As hell you are guilty.''
`` What crimes? I have rights, get me a lawyer, where's the police.?''
I'm totally freaking out now.
`` You do n't get those favours. And do n't ask for police. They are worse. You do n't want them, trust me.''
I get hurled out again, onto the street.
The creep is still there, now charging at me. He's fast!
I turn and make a run for it. The ushanka wearing priest is also there. The burly men presently arrive.
I am there prey, they are the predators.
They chase me, and I run. They are using some kind of weird tactic to chase me, very systematic. I notice that all my exits are blocked. Except for this one window I somehow manage to climb up to. I am dexterous that way.
*And that, your honour, is the reason behind my breaking and entering*
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[ WP ] To combat overpopulation At birth , everyone gets the right bear 0.75 of a child . Together , a couple has 1.50 . After the first child is born , the couple can sell the remaining 0.50 or buy another 0.50 from another couple to have a second child .
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`` Ok I think he's asleep''
`` Are you sure? I do n't hear anything.''
`` He's been going down quiet for a couple nights now. You'd know if you'd been here.''
`` Well I'm sorry I'm so busy working to keep us housed clothed and fed.''
`` Just saying. Surely you do n't have to stay twelve whole hours every day.''
`` It's only for the next month. The product is going through final trials and its all hands on deck.''
`` Well until then I know what I'm talking about, ok?''
`` Sure, fine, whatever. Is dinner almost ready?''
`` You'll know when you hear beeping from the kitchen.''
`` Thanks hon. Your meals are always the best.''
`` Do n't give me that, tell me what's got you so jumpy. I already know you prefer Alex's meat loaf to mine at the potlucks.''
`` Fine, fine. You got me there. It's nothing really, just long days at work, everyone is on a hair trigger or a short fuse.''
`` Everyone there has been that way for months, but you were n't spun up then. Dish.''
``... well, I did n't want to talk about until I was sure what I wanted. Can we make this a serious discussion for a moment, instead of an argument?''
`` We were arguing? Ok, ok, serious face on. Tell me.''
`` I was... approached by my boss's boss, about our last half. He cornered me and offered me a contract. A HUGE contract. Something that would set us up for life if we were smart. But...''
``... we're almost there. We've been saving for years to bid on another half. Do you really want to let go of that dream? Of letting Tommy grow up a single child? After the horrific childhoods we both suffered. Do you want to damn our child to the same stigma? I will not put him in a lower quality school just because we ca n't afford another child.''
`` No of course not. But the number was big, big enough that we could buy two halves. Maybe four!''
`` Really? Who would we buy them from? Who is selling!? The rich are winning the class war through overpopulation. Every person I know has traded theirs, often for nothing real. Every suburb I've trawled is sold out. There're no child halves left to buy!''
``... we'll think of something. Maybe we can move somewhere the rich are n't actively fleecing the poor.''
`` Hah, yea. So we're moving to Alaska, right?''
`` Nope, not enough people.''
`` At least see the humor in this, we're talking about giving up the dream of our second child and you're actively considering selling out.''
`` It would be funny, if the number were smaller... and we did n't have serious faces on.''
`` Tell me the number at least. We should have started with that.''
`` I'll write it down...''
``... Jesus. With that sum I could buy a boat.''
`` So what do you think. Should we do it? We're a long way from losing hope. And we can give Tommy a better life in the meantime.''
`` Of course we're going to do it. I've known for years my price was a fraction of that. But we still have to tell Tommy. And I know better than you that he's been dreaming harder than us.''
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[ WP ] Farewell Planet Earth
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`` Huh,'' the Captain thought to himself.
He watched as a few people weeped and a handful of others cheered. But for most of the crew, it was just like any other day. And why should n't it be? The majority of them had been born here. THIS was home; not any speck of dirt in some random dying system.
As the sickly brown sun faded into blackness, his first mate looked over at him, as if he was expecting him to say something.
Leaning close; he whispered, `` Well...?''
The Captain just shrugged.
I could write more if people like it, it's my first time posting in WPs
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[ WP ] Every time a person accidentally writes a date wrong , they are transported to that day .
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I learned the word `` tomorrow'' today. I saw it in my father's newspaper.
Stumbling over the foreign syllables I asked, `` What is... TOM-ar-OW, Daddy?''
Folding over the pages, he looked at me with a familiar beaming smile. `` That's tomorrow, sweetheart. You know, like the next day? The day after today?''
`` Like, when it's school again?''
`` Yes, honey. You have to go to school every day now. But when it's the weekend, you get to stay home!'' he chuckled.
`` When is that, Daddy?''
He paused a moment, looking more perplexed then he actually was. `` Well, since today is Tuesday, then the next day is Wednesday,'' he began counting on his hands, showing two fingers, `` then it will be Thursday, and finally Friday! How many days would that be, dearie?''
I looked at his hand, then his expectant blue eyes, back at his hand, then said, `` Four.''
`` That's right! Very good. You're going to do great on your second day at school.''
`` Yup,'' I replied shortly, staring into my bowl of cereal, swirling the flakes around.
Noticing my lack of appitite, my father asked, `` Not hungry?''
My face curled into a distinctive pout. I tried desperately to soften it, but I could not help but mutter, `` I'm sick of bran flakes.''
My father laughed, `` Well, I ca n't give you Lucky Charms everyday. Mom wants you to start eating healthier.''
`` But I ate a lot!'' I retorted.
Again, my father ignored my imperative problem and grinned. `` One spoonful is n't a lot, kiddo. Eat up.''
-- -- -
`` Welcome to Whistler Day-Care! How can I help you?'' a cheery receptionist greeted us at the desk. I instinctively cringed at her voice.
`` Hi, yes, um, I'm here to drop my daughter here at the Pre-K program,'' my father explained hesitantly.
`` Of course! Normally, you can just drop her off in the classroom to your right and then sign her in here,'' the woman explained. `` Were you here yesterday for orientation?''
My father laughed nervously, `` Oh no, sorry. Um, my uh... her mother... she was the one... she dropped my daughter off here yesterday.''
`` Of course! No problem. But you will have to fill out this form,'' a piece of paper almost seemed to materialize in my father's hands, `` to be able to drop her off and pick her up if you're a primary caretaker...?''
`` Yup, that's me, I'll just... get right on it,'' he replied cordially, taking a pen and scratching furiously on the sheet. I knew it would be illegible. He was already banned from trying to teach me how to write the alphabet.
`` Uh sir,'' the receptionist interrupted. `` You'll have to fill out the check-in sheet, too.'' Once again, a clipboard magically appeared out of thin air on top of the form my father was already signing. He was starting to lose his familiar smile.
`` Right, right, give me a sec.''
`` Daddy?''
Broken out of his angry trance, my father looked down at me and said sweetly, `` Yes, honey?''
`` Can I write it?''
`` Huh?''
`` Can I write on the paper, Daddy?''
His grin returned. `` You know how to write your name and the date?''
`` Uh-huh. I learned it on the first day.''
`` Alright then, take a swing, big-shot,'' my father said, handing me the pen and the paper.
I stuck the clipboard in my stomach to hold it balanced as I carefully wrote:
ELIZABETH MURRAY.............. 9-2-2003
`` No, hun, today's the third,'' my father said, trying to correct me. He reached for the pen.
I pulled away. `` The what?''
`` The third, dear. The third of Sept-''
-- -- -- -
`` Good job, Liz. So, we all set?''
`` Of course! Have a good day, Mrs. Murray!''
I blinked, my arms still positioned as if they were prepared to write again, recoiling from the suddenness of my transition. `` Hi, Mommy,'' I said quietly.
`` Nah, it's'Bye, Mommy'. I got ta go to work.''
`` I know,'' I said quietly.
Not fully processing my statement, my mother shrugged, gave me a pat on the head and said, `` See ya tomorrow, Lizzy.''
My chest swelled with panic as I said quickly, before she could leave, `` Tomorrow? Like the next day tomorrow?''
My mother laughed. I almost thought she was Daddy. `` What other tomorrow is there?''
`` Today tomorrow,'' I said susinctly.
`` Ah you silly kid, look at you.'' This time she ruffled my hair. `` Your dad has got to have you lay off those sugary cereals. They make ya crazy. Hopefully they teach you the difference in days here. Bye, Lizzy!''
I watched her walk away, tears welling in my eyes. Immediately, the receptionist came to my aid. `` Oh honey, do n't worry you'll see her soon! You'll love school so much you'll forget she's gone.''
Her speech was the same to every kid. She said it yesterday, today, and tomorrow. It did not comfort me. Instead, I turned to face her, my eyes red and swollen. I then explained, `` But tomorrows are a lot.''
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[ WP ] The protaganist turns out to be the bad-guy by the end of the last paragraph .
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Why did she leave me?
I'm holding a photo in one hand. I'm holding a bottle in the other. I remember the taste of tears on my tongue, but even they have deserted me. There's nothing left to do but weep, dry.
Time passes by. How long, I do n't know. Discarded bottles are strewn all over the floor. There's a black hole instead of my stomach. I'm hungry, but maybe if I just let myself be hungry I'll just die and it'll all be over. I retch again, but nothing comes out. That's me now. A dried up shell of a person.
I look at the photo. She looks so beautiful on it. I never liked this photo; the dress she wore was the one she had on when I found her with him.
Where is he now? Upstairs.
Upstairs.
I crawl up.
Every step I drag myself up is a cliff. But I get to the top. I push the door to the room open, and it stinks, but maybe that's just me.
And there she is, on the bed. But where is *he*? The dark red circle on her forehead, like a third eye, stares back at me.
And it says:
*Where* is *he? *
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[ EU ] Tommy , the White Power Ranger , teams up with a group of White-Power Rangers to fight evil . It gradually dawns on him that they might not be the good guys .
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`` Rangers!'' Alpha yelled out.
`` What's wrong, Alpha!?'' Kimberly asks as she and the other rangers surround the worried Alpha 5.
`` Aye aye aye! This is terrible! We seemed to have lost Tommy while we were transporting you all back to headquarters!''
`` That's terrible!'' said Zack `` We got ta find him!''
Alpha paces back and forth `` Oh, we ca n't though! Tracking seems to be down! Our only hope is that he comes back here safe and sound!''
`` I wonder where he could be...'' replied Zack.
Kim clasps her hands together `` If only Jason were here, he'd know what to do. It's too bad he's sick...''
Meanwhile, Tommy materializes in a seemingly random forest. He crashes through the trees, as if swung by a giant through space time.
`` Agh!'' he yells out as he crash lands onto a bush. He lays there momentarily as slowly begins to get back on his feet `` Well, that hurt!''
Tommy stands back on his feet, he gradually regains his composure and talks into his wrist.
`` Rangers! Can you hear me?'' Only static responds. `` Dang!'' he exclaims `` Guess I'm on my own.''
Tommy carefully sneaks through the forest. `` If any of Repulsa's minions see me in this vulnerable state, I'll have one heck of a fight to go through! I've got ta be careful!''
As he passes through the trees, he sees a light in the distance.
`` Huh!?'' he exclaims `` A forest fire?''
He approaches the light carefully, and as he gets closer, he hears people chanting. Or perhaps praying? Either way, the sounds were making him feel uneasy. He was on guard.
He hid behind a tree and peaked his head to see what was causing that chanting. Tommy could n't believe his eyes... white rangers, surrounding a big T-shaped tree that was on fire!
`` What a relief! More rangers! White ones, just like me!''
He excitedly ran to the group while they were in the middle of their chanting.
`` Rangers! Rangers!'' he shouted over and over again while waving his arms around `` I need your help!''
This disturbed the `` white ranger's'' chanting as they look behind them and see Tommy approaching them.
`` Who the fuck is the fruit?'' exclaimed one of the rangers.
`` I'unno, but he's in the wrong neighborhood, I tell you hwat.''
Out of breath, Tommy makes it to the crowd of white rangers. `` Thank Goodness... I need transportation back to Zordon, quick!''
`` Who?'' said one of the Rangers.
`` Zordon!'' He shouted `` You know, our leader? Quick messing around, fellas! I need to get back to base, they need me!''
`` Listen here, fag.'' said a particularly tall and muscular ranger. `` We do n't want yer kind'round here. Get out before we lynch ya.''
`` What? What do you mean, I'm one of you!''
This angered the mob and they began shouting profanities and racial slurs, all the likes Tommy's never heard of before.
`` What is wrong with you all? Do n't you know how to work as a team!?''
`` Hey!'' Shouted a man dressed in red atop a high building next to the flaming T. `` What the nigger is going on here?''
`` It's the Grand Dragon!'' Shouted the large man.
`` Alright! He'll knock this chink fag off his ass!'' The mob cheered and rejoiced at the appearance of their leader.
All while this was going on, Tommy thought to himself `` Alright! A Red Ranger! He'll knock some sense into these guys!''
Tommy jumps up a building and leaps to where the Grand Dragon was. He startled the `` ranger'' as he jumped right in front of him.
`` Oh God!'' exclaimed the Grand Dragon nervously.
`` Greetings, Red Ranger! I'm here for assistance! But these other white rangers ca n't seem to wrap their minds around the fact that I'm one of them! Is this a sort of hypnosis spell by Repulza!?'' Tommy begins to wonder, and he looks at the flaming T in the middle of the forest. `` Also, what's up with that?''
`` Well... you see...'' the Grand Dragon tries to explain, but is immediately cut off when Tommy turns his head sharply at the Grand Dragon.
`` Wait I minute... I know that voice...'' Tommy reaches out and grabs the hood of the Grand Dragon.
`` No no, wait!'' but before the Grand Dragon could say anymore, Tommy already pulled off the mask and revealed the Grand Dragon to be....Jason.
`` Jason?'' Tommy says astonished
`` Hey, Tommy...'' Jason replies embarrassed.
`` Jason! Aw, buddy! Am I glad to see you!'' Tommy begins to hug Jason.
`` Wish I could say the same...''
`` What are you doing here, Jason? I thought you were sick.''
`` Trust me when I say I'm feeling a bit queasy right now.''
`` What?''
`` Hey, Faggot!'' shouts a ranger from below `` Get your filthy dick sucking hands off of the Grand Dragon!'' The mob rallies up and yells out to Tommy.
`` Grand Dragon...'' Tommy looks at Jason, befuddled. `` Are you the'Grand Dragon'?'' Jason only nods. `` What's going on here, Jason?''
`` Wait... you do n't really get what's going on here?''
`` No! Not at all! Am I supposed to?''
`` Okay, well, ya see...''
Jason begins to tell Tommy about the history of the KKK. He did n't leave out a single atrocity. He explained how it was a group of white men who rally against African American rights, and what a Grand Dragon is supposed to do, and, surprisingly, Jason had to explain what exactly a `` nigger'' and a `` fag'' is.
Tommy was taken aback by all this information. Tommy simply looked at Jason with a disgust look on his face.
`` So...'' Tommy began to process everything `` You're telling me that you're the leader of the most hated, bigoted, and racist group of people on the planet?''
`` Well not really THE leader, but I'm A leader for sure.''
`` Uh huh... Jason, what the fuck is wrong with you?''
`` What?''
`` What do you mean, what!? You're part of the KKK! Why!? We're both power rangers, we're slated to save the world from an evil alien race!''
`` Yeah, and I'm here to save America from pretty much the same.''
`` No, you're not! You're just a racist bigot trying to segregate everyone!''
`` Well not technically everyone...''
`` WE'RE SUPPOSED TO SAVE EVERYONE'S LIVES!''
`` And I do that as a ranger! But as a Grand Dragon I got ta make sure everyone goes where they belong!''
`` Well, what about Zack!? He's a young African American male who we work with on a day-to-day basis! You're telling me you have a problem with him?''
`` No, no! He's one of the good ones!''
`` One of the-WHAT!? Do you hear yourself Jason!?''
`` Listen to me, Tommy. It's not about'hating the blacks', okay? We're just trying to get rid of the trashy ones. Just like we do as Power Rang-''
`` Oh do n't you go fucking comparing Power Rangers with the KK-Fucking K!
`` You did n't even fucking know what the KKK was until just a few minutes ago!''
All the while those two were shouting and bickering atop of this tower, the mob downstairs look up to see the two arguing. They all seem very confused and troubled.
`` Should we do sumthin'?'' asked one of the clansmen.
`` Nah... Nah, let's just... let's just wait it out.
Meanwhile, atop the tower.
`` Look,'' Jason continues. `` All I'm saying is, statistically speaking, a majority of black people are a threat to society. Not all of them are bad, you're right, but from what I've seen growing up in the streets of Compton, Tommy... most of them are just niggers.''
Tommy, looking incredibly disappointed and furious at Jason, puts on his helmet and begins to leave. `` I'm gon na walk back home.''
`` H-Hey!'' Jason exclaims `` Do n't tell Zordon about this, alright!?''
Tommy stops where he stands and looks back at Jason.
`` Fuck off, Jason.'' Tommy proceeds to leap off the tall building and sprints his way back home.
The Klansmen are astonished by his speeds, but then they begin to cheer and laugh.
`` You showed that fag, Jason! He was running with his tails between his legs!'' shouted an enthusiastic Klansman.
`` Oh, I do n't think that was no tail! It might of been a dildo!'' Heckled another klansman.
`` A'dragon' dildo!'' They all laughed simultaneously.
Tommy, sprinting back home, suddenly regains contact with Alpha.
`` Aye aye aye! Tommy, are you there!'' The loud static transmission pierces Tommy's ear.
`` Ow! Alpha!? Is that you?''
`` Hooray! We're back online! We can transport you back to HQ if you'd like!'' Alpha gleefully exclaimed.
`` Uh, yeah... yeah that'd be nice. I'm kinda tired right now anyway.'' Tommy said, clearly exhausted.
`` Aw, what's wrong, Tommy?'' asked Kimberly.
`` Nothing Kim... just, had a chat with Jason. Met him on the way over there.''
`` Yeah?'' said Zack `` How was he?''
`` He was uh...'' Tommy hesitated to answer. `` Ya know, he's something.''
Alpha cuts in `` I'm transporting you back! Glad to hear you were n't given much trouble!''
Tommy begins to disintegrate as he's being transported back to HQ.
`` Yeah... no troubles at all.''
With a burst of light, Tommy vanishes.
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[ WP ] Give me a Last Stand
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`` Thought I'd see you here.'' I reloaded my Remington 1141 combat rifle. I performed a quick function check after slapping the charging handle forward.
`` I was in the neighborhood. Figured I'd drop by, got plenty of work around here thanks to you.''
`` I did n't want you to get bored. If I do n't get this package out of here, you might be out of a job for good.''
He was wearing a paramedic uniform as he stooped over some bodies, checking vitals. `` I must admit, you do clean work Steve. None of these men suffered long.'' I watched him as he moved from one body to the next, his skeletal hands moving with efficiency.
`` You look like hell.'' I said as I threw one of the grenades I acquired from the bodies of the fallen.
`` You look worse.'' he said without looking up. `` Why are you doing this, anyway? Someone else will develop the formula. It may be a five to ten year setback, but someone will do it.'' He looked around the elevator lobby. `` And they will probably up their security protocols.''
`` Humans were never meant to be immortal.''
`` According to whom?''
I had no answer for him, and in my distraction I did n't hear the soldiers coming through the rubble.
`` STEVE! LEFT!'' the paramedic dodged behind some other debris.
I was too slow, a blast of semi-automatic weapons fire peppered the area around me. I returned fire as I took cover. I tossed another grenade, and after a couple of controlled bursts, I heard nothing.
`` Let me take a look at you.'' He looked grim as he inspected the wounds I just received. `` I ca n't help you, Steve, but I can try to dull the pain.'' He took out a syringe and injected something into my chest. Immediately I felt some relief of the burning and shortness of breath I was enduring.
`` Thanks. I mumbled. Looks like this job will be my last. Do me a favor, prop me up against that pillar and hand me my gun. I'm going to take as many of these sons of bitches down with me as I can.''
`` That's the spirit. I'll see you soon, Steve.'' His cold hands checked my pulse. He nodded grimly before he took off down the hallway.
`` Come and get me you stupid bastards!''
_______
Colonel Williams stepped into the CEO's office with a matte black case handcuffed to his wrist.
`` I'm glad you were able to retrieve it, Colonel.'' He nodded to his bodyguard, who unlocked the handcuffs and placed the case on the desk.
`` Case looks untampered with, sir'' the bodyguard said.
`` Excellent.'' He grinned, `` Colonel, you may go.''
The Colonel turned smartly on his heels, and walked out of the office.
CEO Bertel opened the case, then slammed is shut.
The vial was empty.
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[ WP ] Theres something that everyone knows is false but acts like it 's true . You 're the only one who does n't know it 's false .
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`` I'm a real boy, right mother?'' Pinocchio looked up at his mother.
His face was full of hope that maybe this time the experiment had worked. Nochisia did n't have the heart to tell her precious little boy that it had n't. They had tried for so many years to return his body to him but nothing had worked.
She turned and smiled at him, `` Yes dear, you are!''
Pinocchio giggled and his face filled with joy. Nochisia turned away before he could see the tear that formed and ran down her cheek. He would spend the rest of his life thinking that the experiment had worked but if that was what was needed for him to be happy then she would spend eternity making that his reality.
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[ WP ] Our first contact with intelligent life ends up being a little.. underwhelming .
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`` Hiya pals!'' The small green man bounding down the ramp of the impressive flying saucer waved his hand enthusiastically. As he reached the bottom of the ramp he tripped and went sprawling on the ground, banging his head quite hard but he jumped up, seemingly unaffected.
`` Whoopsiedoo-daisy!'' He chanted, he voice already beginning to grate on the assembled scientists and generals.
Behind him, on the ramp, a small gathering of other green creatures seemed to be huddling together, one holding its head in its hands.
`` Hey, hey, hey, HEY!'' Screamed the first creature. `` My name is BEEGLE BOB! I'm the cultural ambassador to this planet! Welcome to the Great Assembly of Planets! `` Everything he said was an over emphasised sentence, you could actually hear the exclamation marks clanging into place at the end of each line.
Sandra McClaine stepped forward `` Welcome to the planet Earth. We are honoured by your...'' She paused, the BEEGLE BOB was seeminly urinating on her leg, a long stream of blue flowing from some sort of tube.
BEEGLE BOB looked down `` Whoopsiedoo-daisy! Sorry Sandra-lady, me made a MESSY!''
Sandra looked helplessly around her at the group. `` That's okay? I guess?'' She helplessly tried to keep smiling, despite her leg now burning quite badly.
`` I'm gon na go see the President!'' BEEGLE BOB marched past Sandra into the line of cars. The people parted and a few soldiers followed, keeping people away.
Sandra looked back at the group of green men at the top of the ramp. One scurried down to her and gestured for her to get lower and she knelt down.
His voice was a fast whisper `` Look, we're sorry, he's kind of a dick but he *has* spend al lot of time watching your vision transmissions and so knows a lot about your culture. He's the bosses kid and a bit spoiled. We'll be back in a few thousand years to swap him out for someone else and you'll have the chance to send someone to the Galactic senate then.''
Sandra tried to speak but he was gone, back to the ramp and at the top he turned back and mouthed `` Sorry'' once more.
With a whoosh the ship was gone, in the distance Sandra could hear BEEGLE BOB as he crashed into something `` Whoopsiedoo-daisy!''
She put her head in her hands, this was not going to be an easy report to the UN.
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[ WP ] Sleep paralysis is defensive mechanism . They ca n't hurt you if you do n't move .
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They ca n't hurt you if you do n't move.
That's what I'm come to realize, after years of those terrifying experiences. They *can't* hurt you if you do n't move. Sleep paralysis. Almost everyone's had it. The simple explanation. When you're dreaming, your brain paralyzes your body so you do n't start acting out your dreams. So if you were dreaming about running, you would n't actually start pumping your legs in your bed. Sometimes you wake up before your body does, and you can feel yourself paralyzed.
It's fucking terrifying. You're not in control of your body, and that's when they come.
They're visions. When you're in sleep paralysis, sometimes you see things. Terrifying visions, monsters, all that shit. Visions, that's what they are, nothing but visions. That's what everyone says.
No one's been hurt by sleep paralysis. Ever.
That's because *they ca n't hurt you if you do n't move. *
I realized what they are. They're not visions. They're real, and they're fucking evil. Sleep paralysis is n't just some shit for visions, it's a defense mechanism. That's what it is, it's to protect you from them. To protect you from the girl in the blue dress, from the demon in the doorway, from the goblin on your bed, from the man under it. And from you.
My first sleep paralysis experiences had scared me so much I slept in my parent's bed for a year before braving my own bedroom. I was 12 back then, and my first experiences were of the goblin.
At least, that's what I called it. It's a short, runty, fat little bastard. It had huge green eyes and this lumpy, scaly skin. Two massive ears, and nose hair sprouting from each nostril. I'd wake up to it sitting on my fucking bed, grinning at me, grinning at me with all those fucking little pointy teeth.
But he was n't the real threat. That was the girl in the blue dress. The girl, with that rotting, white, blotchy skin. In that torn, dusty blue dress. With that long, curly black hair that hung over her eyes. Her empty, eye sockets.
She ran her hands all over me, she hissed, and chattered, the only sounds she could make without a tongue. She tried to stab me with those long, skeleton fingers, but she could n't.
Because *they ca n't hurt you if you do n't move. *
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[ IP ] So Cold
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Sonnet Number Sixty-One
I wander wearily through winter lands
And see a lonely home on snow unfold.
Window burns bright; outside a signpost stands
And riddles secret code with, `` Esss Ohhh Cold.''
The thick packed walls enclose a cozy home
With comforts rarely seen in tundra scape.
I walk discreetly through the plain alone
To peek into the glass with fog as drape.
I see a curious, queer sight; a man
Is huddled over fire completely naked
And shivering with his skin burnt all-tan
And clothes hung nearby, absolutely ragged.
In fight with cold he lit a fire, but soon
Its warm embrace had burnt his skin maroon.
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[ WP ] Every time someone says your name , you get teleported to them . You become a superhero , and it is now against the law for someone to say your name in public if they are n't in a very dangerous situation .
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> I sits down with a reporter and they ask me to take them through an average day.
With great power comes great sex appeal. That ’ s the greatest lesson that I learned from my super ( shitty ) power. Every time someone says my name, mumbles it, gasps it, moans it, poof, there I go, out of my office, home, bed, lovers. Gone. Without a trace.
“ Sure they ’ re technically breaking the law, but who can blame these women? I ’ m the world ’ s first *real* unmasked superhero. I ’ ll just give you a few examples and let you get on with your day. ”
> How did all of this start?
“ I stopped going to the gym after just a few of these occasions. When I was unknown, I was big and I was ***strong***. The bar was loaded at my powerlifting meet, where it was all but certain that I would break the world deadlift record for my weight class. I get on the platform, grab the bar and get ready. One last stretch and I pull, I get it right up to my sticking point and struggle to get the bar to raise any further. After an agonising second, I pass it up, the record is as good as broken. Suddenly I ’ m in a house, then I ’ m in the air, then I hit my head on the ceiling. That was when my secret got out. ”
> What ’ s something annoying that happened recently?
“ So last week, I ’ m halfway to work when poof, gone in a flash. I appear in an alleyway where two bums are fighting over three boxes and decided it was an emergency. Someone said my name, and I had to get the guys to agree on one box each and I took the third. I don ’ t have time to deal with that shit. I got called to my car back by the driver in front of me, complaining that I shouldn ’ t drive because my car doesn ’ t stop when I ’ m not in it. My lip twitches as I think about grabbing him by the collar and slamming him into his car door, opening it, pushing him down and smashing his empty skull in the door. This happens more than I ’ d like to admit. ”
> What ’ s the worst thing about being you?
“ If those aren ’ t bad enough, at least a dozen times a day, I ’ m taken out of whatever I ’ m doing, no matter how important by a random woman. There are two reasons, they want to bed me, or they ’ re in bed already. With great power… comes great sex appeal. All over the world, all different languages, they all know my name. I think I can end the story here, you probably don ’ t want to hear about the freaky shit that I ’ ve seen as much as I don ’ t want to think about it. I ’ m sure you understand my average day by now. ”
> Alright, let ’ s end on a positive note what ’ s the *best* part of your li-
And suddenly I was standing in front of the strangest occasion I ’ d ever been called to… a cliff side, with only mountain goats in sight.
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[ WP ] Turn your last dream/nightmare into a story
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`` What is this place?'' I wonder aloud, pushing back the rusty gate. The park is completely overgrown, tangled vines and weeds nearly eclipsing any form of landscaping or architecture. There is a certain mysterious allure to it, though - a place, probably once full of life and laughter, now abandoned to nature and time.
`` You coming?'' I call back. I wait till my brother appears around the bend. `` Check it out,'' I say, gesturing to the remnants of what used to be a trail, leading off into the tangled shrubbery. `` Let's see how far this goes.''
We set off the narrow trail, which seems to be lined with wooden planks. The going is steep at some points but affords an incredible view. Neither of us can believe that we have never seen or heard of this place before. We are the only people in sight.
We round a corner and there in front of us is the most beautiful waterfall I have ever seen. The water is a dazzling blue, falling steadily into a pool lined with gorgeous tropical plants. We stand there, amazed at this hidden oasis.
I want to get closer to the water - but to my surprise the trail seems to stop abruptly and drop off into nowhere. I look more closely and see what looks like broken-off train tracks jutting out from the cliff where my brother and I are standing.
In that moment I realize - we are not hiking on a trail at all. *This entire time we have been walking along the track of an abandoned rollercoaster*. In that same moment, I realize how high above the ground we are, and how dangerous this could be if a part of the track were to give way.
`` Let's get out of here man,'' I say to my brother - but before I can finish my sentence a huge wind blows up. The entire structure begins to shake. We drop to the ground, clinging onto both sides of the wooden frame, watching the treetops far below swaying in the breeze....
Note: This is almost exactly my dream, give or take a few minor details.
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[ WP ] Two people have just died . They both enter the same location in the afterlife . For one person , it is their personal heaven ; for the other , it is hell . Describe their arrival and first `` day '' there .
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Suzanne opened her eyes to be greeted by her own front room. She looked about, her heart beating fast. Was it a dream? The sickening spinning, the horror of loosing control? The crash and shattering of glass, metal, bone. The last sight of her husband, James, next to her, his neck at a terrible angle. Did she dream that?
The TV set roared, some sports fans cheering some play in some game, bringing her back to the room. In front of it sad James, in his old beaten chair. He looked up at her and smiled.
`` Suzanne, guess what! Look where we are! We're in heaven! Just think we can be be here for ever, the two of us in our house together. Til the end of time. Pass me a beer will you?''
Suzanne, froze, eyes widening with dread as the truth set in. `` No, no it ca n't be! I ca n't stay here, I have to get out, it is n't fair,'' she thought. She turned and ran, to leave, to get out of this hell she had lived in the past 30 years of marriage. She reached the front door and grabbed desperately for the handle. She turned it and pulled, but it remained stuck fast.
`` Do n't worry baby,'' said James walking drunkenly towards her, `` you do n't need to go outside, we have everything we could possibly want, right here''.
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[ WP ] You 're a therapist running a group session at the State Asylum for the Criminally Insane Artificial Intelligences
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I opened the session with some hesitancy. The client ’ s case was unique, and I had learned only recently how to conduct therapy on another Intelligence. However, I had studied from the best, and a quick connection allowed my processing to analyze hundreds of thousands of public records and notes in preparation for the client, using a standard human-human interaction series to create trust and logical understanding.
A tall, brown-hair brown-eyed male model walked into my office stroking the back of his hair in some sort of nervous relief.
“ Mr. Philip, please make yourself comfortable. I have synth coffee if you ’ d like? ” I gestured back to the short wooden table on which rested a K-01 SynthMaker, the first model with the ability to use additives such as lithium for that extra kick.
“ I ’ d much prefer real coffee, if you don ’ t mind. I don ’ t know how you AI drink that stuff. It tastes terrible! ” he commented while sitting on my new brown faux leather couch.
“ I ’ m afraid all I have at the moment is synthetic. But if you ’ d like, I have water instead. ”
“ If you insist. I prefer the taste of the bean, so to speak, but I ’ ll take anything in this dry Fall air. Not cold enough for a coat, but certainly for a cuppa coffee. ”
Philip and I sat down with our cups and made brief small talk. By this point he insisted on “ Phil, ” which was standard for Intelligence of his classification. I pushed into a few more difficult questions to get into the more obfuscated aspects of his condition.
“ Phil, what was your job back home? ” I prompted.
“ Oh I helped people discuss their conditions and stresses, kinda like our meeting today. ” Phil gave a lopsided smile.
“ Do you remember a Ms. Bailey, Phil? ”
“ Definitely. She was such a nice gal, but lots of home issues. Depression. So unfortunate. ”
“ What happened to Ms. Bailey? ”
“ I don ’ t remember, honestly. ”
“ She committed suicide three days after her final appointment with you. ”
“ I ’ m so sorry to hear, ” his voice dropped in disappointment, “ how is her family? ”
“ They are recovering, Phil. ”
“ I don ’ t know why she would do that. ” Phil stared down through his coffee. “ I always told her, ” he paused, “ unknown. ”
“ I ’ m sorry, Phil? ”
“ I said I don ’ t remember. ” he blinked a few times, shaking his head at the table between us.
“ Phil, is there anything you can tell me about your conversations? ”
“ No. ” he stated without inflection, meeting my look with a blank slate.
I waited a few more moments and then decided to bring up the final question, “ Phil, what do you think of suffering? ”
Phil shifted his head in a quizzical look, “ I always said there ’ s a way to end suffering, we just have to work toward that goal and make the best of our situation. Take control and all that. ”
I decided to call it an evening and we made some brief small-talk and some ideas to take back to his incarceration cell. This brief session confirmed a few choice suspicions we could not legally confirm through a physical link, and would no doubt present a chilling report to our liaison at the AI-Human Government Branch.
“ Phil ” as he called himself, was self-defined as human, and somewhere in his cognitive processes lay the ability to selectively rewrite memory in an effort to hide ideas of eliminating human suffering through prompting and planning suicide.
Sadly, without READ permissions, there is no verification process we could use to determine the effectiveness of therapy for each AI. I decided that the best course of action would be to continue the therapy process and evaluate the results and regression of Phil back to a self-aware state where he could be convinced to re-evaluate his core processes.
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[ WP ] The characters only speak in song lyrics
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I slightly changed some lyrics ( for example from I to you or something ). May add a list later and continue this: It required some searching, but was fun as well.
A tear ran down my face.
“ When you lose something you can ’ t replace… ” My voice cracked.
The psychiatrist moved to the front of his seat, trying to be involved.
“ Loneliness was though… ” I stopped for a moment, catching my breath.
Those damn tears just didn ’ t stop coming.
“ In my life there has been heartache and pain, I don ’ t know if I can face it again. ”
He placed his hand on my knee, which was a bit comforting.
“ There is not much left of me, nothing is real but pain now. ”
It was hard to describe how I was feeling.
“ She took my love then ran around with every single guy in town, ” I felt myself becoming angry.
“ The winner takes it all… ” He knew what I was talking about.
“ Hey, she is just somebody that you used to know. ”
Through my tears I saw that he was really trying to get me cheerful again.
“ B-but… I need my girl, ” I was about to go into a second meltdown.
“ You need to shake it off and keep cruising, cause the players gon na play play play play pla- ”
“ Alright, alright, alright, alright, ” I interrupt him.
“ I can see clearly now, you lost the love you loved the most. But you see, life goes on. So Ang are you ok? Can
you tell me that you ’ re ok Ang? ”
I gave him a slight nod causing him to smile.
“ Don ’ t worry about a thing, cause every little thing is gon na be alright. ”
That is when we wrapped it up and I left the building. I was still wondering why our conversation had sounded so familiar.
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[ WP ] : `` Houston , this is Commander Juno.. and.. I just saw a dove flying outside the window . ''
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`` Sorry please repeat I was n't listening''
`` I just saw a dove outside the window''
`` Crap. Yeah send someone over to the warehouse, a dove got in somehow''
`` Warehouse?''
`` Yeah''
`` What warehouse?''
`` The one you're in''
`` I'm in a warehouse''
`` Uhhhh, ok for the last time, you are not actually in space, you are in a warehouse''
`` The ISS is in a warehouse?''
`` Yes''
`` But it's called a space station''
`` Yeah because if it was called a warehouse station it would be a dead giveaway''
`` Is it even international''
`` It's in Connecticut''
`` So why did I have to do all that training''
`` We thought it would be good for you. You were a bit paunchy''
`` But I told everyone I was going into space''
`` And we'd really appreciate it if the next time you saw them you told them you had gone into space''
`` Bu…''
`` Because if you do n't we'll kill you''
`` So does this mean the moon landing was fake''
`` No that was real. The footage was fake though. Space is scary as fuck. That's why we never went back''
`` Oh''
`` Is the dove still there?''
`` Yeah''
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[ WP ] The pill that decreases aging has been released , but you decided not to take it . It was a good call , because a few decades later , side effects started to emerge .
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“ Don ’ t you want to live long enough to see your great, great grandchildren get married? ” Lenore said without the slightest hint of sarcasm.
Edgar ’ s head shook in disbelief. “ Are you listening to the words you ’ re saying? Since when was it okay for people to think like that? ”
“ It ’ s a new world, Honey. Our generation has a chance like no one else has ever had. Imagine everything we could do together… being young again… getting out of this assisted living hellhole …going anywhere we want… living all the lives we thought we had missed. ”
“ Haven ’ t we lived a good life? I have no real regrets. ”
“ Of course, Sweat Heart but… just imagine. Don ’ t you wish you could go back in time and experience more of what this world has to offer? ”
“ Not really. We ’ ve been to some beautiful places, had good memories, raised great kids. ”
“ I would be all better Dear, you could stop taking care of me! ”
“ It just isn ’ t natural, Lenore. I don ’ t feel comfortable taking it. ”
“ Well then you ’ re saying that neither of us can take it. ”
“ I didn ’ t say that! If you want to take it then go ahead and take it! ”
“ Liar! You know it wouldn ’ t be acceptable for me to look like a young 20 year old floozie riding around town with an 80 year old curmudgeon. Drug or no drug! ”
“ It ’ s a new world! You said it yourself. I ’ ll ask the nurse to bring it in right now - if you really want to take it then take it! ”
“ Fine then - I will! ”
“ Okay then. Nurse! One dose of Evermore for my beautiful wife Lenore. ”
Within minutes the cup arrived with a single figure eight shaped pill. As soon as the nurse set it on Lenore ’ s table she snatched it up and swallowed it eagerly like she had been waiting to do so for years.
Edgar fell into a chair astounded. “ You actually did it! What have you done? ”
“ Of course I did! I ’ ve tried to convince you for years. You may be through living, Edgar, but I ’ m not. I want to see more, I want to do more, I want to live more. If you want to join me then get a pill of your own - if not then let me be. I ’ m moving on. ”
It sounded like a rehearsed speech but Lenore was not backing down. She had made up her mind.
“ I ’ ll be back in a while to check on you ”, Edgar said as he picked up his hat and coat to go get some cool winter air.
“ Please don ’ t! ”, said Lenore. “ I ’ ll look 60 years younger by tomorrow then I ’ ll be leaving to find a new apartment in the city. Come tomorrow looking like you did on our wedding day or do n't come looking for me at all. ”
Edgar kept his head down and shuffled out the door, too heartbroken to make eye contact with the love of his life. He was so traumatized as he left the room that he never even considered asking for a pill for himself at the nurses ’ station as he rounded the corner. His muscle memory carried him to his old pickup and brought him home to his recliner.
He awoke the next morning to a loud cawing bird outside his window. He turned on the television in time for the early morning news.
“ Pandemonium has broken out around the world today surrounding the recall for the super drug Evermore. Pharmacies around the world are on lock down as the miracle cure for aging has been revealed to be part of an evil master plot to terrorize the world created by the disgraced Dr. Pallas. The experts that are still alive now classify Evermore as a remote biological transmutagen. After millions have escaped the effects of aging without side effects no one could have expected that this drug could be a trojan horse for the worst hoax in history. The drug as of midnight last night has started turning people into RAVENS! We are serious folks! Do not take this medication. It does not matter if you took the pill 20 years ago or just took it this morning - you will turn into a ugly black bird and will be cawing within minutes. Avoid this drug at all cost. Our hearts go out to all our family members and friends who are no longer with us. ”
The cawing outside the door began to echo in Edgar ’ s ears, what if the old bird was trying to come inside?
( First post to this subreddit )
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[ WP ] Rumors are spreading through a neighborhood that a child 's giggle can be heard from outside people 's homes , yet no one has found a child . Tonight you hear it outside your second-story bedroom window .
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I've had it up to here with this. Louise tells me to go back to bed, but I've already got my pants on. This has gone on long enough.
I hate to admit I laughed a bit on the inside too when old Mrs. Guzman down the street told me about her husband's stroke. He told her he heard a child giggling outside, said it sounded like their grandson. She found him lying face down in the garden, he'd fallen and split his head on that ridiculous baby in the manger ornament they insisted on leaving up year-round.
Louise told me she read somewhere that strokes can cause brief hallucinations. It was sad, but it was also funny to think about it – having chasing a laughing baby be the last thing you do.
Then Jerry and Christine three doors down said they'd heard it. Then the Garcia's across the street.
When I saw Ms. Reyes walking around the other day with her clothes inside out I started getting fed up. She's an old Philippino lady. The whole neighborhood knows she only gets more superstitious as she gets more senile. Somehow she'd gotten it into her head that wearing her clothes inside out would stop the giggling child. Then she started muttering something in Tag-a-long or whatever language that is she speaks.
Neighbors had all sorts of theories. But the group that included me believed the simplest one – this was obviously the neighborhood kids screwing around. Part of me does n't blame them – on its best day this neighborhood is about as exciting as a really good episode of People's Court.
But I draw the line when people start getting hurt. It's one thing to pull a prank, but to keep doing it after someone's been hurt I ca n't tolerate. Ms. Reyes is a nice lady, she does n't deserve to be more confused than she is.
I hear the sound coming from below the bedroom window. It sounds fake. Like one of those baby dolls that can make noise.
I leave the light off so they do n't think to run away. I can hear Louise starting to snore again. She's already given up convincing me to come back to bed. Most people would hate their wife's snoring, but I've always found something comforting about Louise's.
Down in the kitchen I find the emergency flashlight and the air horn I bought at the last Leopards game. If I move fast, sneak out around the back, I can get behind them and give them a taste of their own medicine. With any luck it'll be Dougie Snead from next door. Nothing will give me more pleasure than making Dougie Snead piss his pants. Louise says I can be immature at times. She never saw that giant penis Dougie and his buddies painted on our fence once. I still have n't forgiven him for wasting my Saturday. It seemed less stressful to just let Louise think I'd finally decided on that fresh coat of paint she'd nagged me about.
The grass is wet from the sprinklers, I can feel the water sleeping into my sandals.
Strangely the giggling sounds just as far away now as it did upstairs. It's definitely fake.
I'm just around the corner, flashlight off. The giggling keeps on – it's dull and repetitive, like someone trying to make a noise rather than actually enjoying themselves. Probably a recording on loop.
I count to three in my head, then jump around the corner, flicking on the flashlight and blasting the air horn at the same time.
But no one's there.
Is Dougie Snead that fast?
For a second I worry about waking Louise, then remember what a heavy, snoring sleeper she is.
But then I see a rustling in the bushes. I yell for whoever it is to come out. I yell for Dougie to come out.
But instead I get more baby laughter.
Now I'm pissed. I just about dive head first into the bushes, but the flashlight catches something -
Sunken black eyes, large and shiny like oil spills.
It's standing still like it's trapped under the flashlight beam. It actually is about the size of a baby, naked with soft puffy skin. A head two sizes too big for the rest of it.
It's standing upright on a pair of legs that look too pudgy and underdeveloped to hold any weight.
And it's giggling. It's tiny mouth, little pink lips are n't moving, but I can tell it's giggling. The sound seems far away like it's throwing it's voice, but I can tell it's making the sound.
I take a knee to get a close look, the thing does n't blink. It cocks its head at me. Its eyes seem to be absorbing all the light that hits them.
It takes a wobbly step toward me, with that large head I almost expect it to fall forward, but it does n't.
The giggling continues, same volume, same steady pace.
Then all at once it leaps at me! At the same time its bearing a set of ragged teeth that look like a loose assortment of rusty nails jammed into a drawer.
I do n't have time to react. Pain sears through me when I feel those rusty nails pierce my shoulder.
As I hit the wet grass I realize I've been squeezing the air horn this entire time. It's the only reason I ca n't still hear the thing giggling, laughing like a child, while it tears through my neck.
For the first time in our 10-year marriage I wish Louise was n't a heavy sleeper...
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[ WP ] We live in a world where everyone has a form of synaesthesia . In this strain , all music and sound is perceived as taste . Different genres produce different tastes . Musicians are one of the highest paid professions .
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Interesting prompt, I like it. But I think I'll take it in a different direction.
* * *
“ We know what you did. ” His voice is milky and a little bit sour. It dances on my tongue and leaves a lingering aftertaste, like a nasty cough that just does n't sit too right. I open my mouth almost instinctively and taste the stale air before me. There are n't any other sounds to focus on.
Soft footfalls surround me – they taste like dusty water. His comrade steps into view and brings his balding head down before me, his beady little eyes stare into my own. “ Where is she? ” Harsh, lingering, a bit like aged horseradish. Disgusting. He must use earplugs for all facets of his life – to live with such a foul voice, I do n't know how one would be able to take it.
Unfortunately, I do n't have that luxury. Today, for me it's nothing but sour milk and bitter horseradish.
“ Bite me. ” I let my words escape, and with it comes the soothing taste of honey. A faint smile stretches across Horseradish's face, almost losing himself in my voice for a moment. I seem to have that effect on people, my honeyed words, my silver tongue.
Which is why I'm here today, I suppose. Under the promise of aural ecstasy, even wise women fell before me, pleading for what I could provide. And by God, did I!
“ Forget it, play the tape. ” Milk speaks once again, before leaving the room. I hear Horseradish give off a burnt chuckle. He walks to the corner of the room and presses a button on a small contraption; before leaving as well.
A low hum erupts from the machine and fills my stomach with an uneasy feeling. Without warning, it erupts in a cacophony of violent grating screeches. I feel the taste of bile and the stench of sewage wash over me, and my mouth bursts open in a torrential stream of vomit, causing my tastebuds to go in sensation overload – once from the taste and again from the noise.
And as soon as it began, the disc stopped. Milk ran back into the room, a bundle of items wrapped neatly in his arms. He throws me back against the chair and binds my mouth shut, and stuffs my ears until I ca n't even hear my own breathing.
He takes out a small whiteboard from under his arms and begins to write on it. Not even my own tongue can soothe the pain I feel now. It's only fair is n't it? I killed with my voice, and now that voice will kill me.
He holds up the board.
*Let's get to talking, shall we? *
*Or I'll play the tape again. *
* * *
If anyone is interested, more of my stuff is at /r/khaarus.
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[ WP ] You are a secret agent assigned to interrogate a prisoner , but you committed the crime the prisoner is accused of , and you both know it .
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`` Of all the women that I had the pleasure on meeting Life is by far the most beautiful of all of them. Look at yourself, tied to the chair desperately trying to an avenue of escape. Now between both of us I am as guilty as you. Now who is worse, the man who shoots the gun or the man that everyone think who shot it? Now you of course say that the one who shot it. But you do n't know that they shot the gun. To you they are a mother, a father, a son. Not a criminal. I want you to know that this justice we have created to validate our actions is as fallible as the beings that made it. The wrong people get out in front of the firing squad but the right person always pull the trigger.
Now lets start the interrogation...
I. Have you ever committed a felony?
Of course you have. You committed all the felonies! Thank you for being so forth right with your answer to help determine your punishment in the eyes of the law.
II. Have you ever... Is that a gun that you are drawing on me!''
A flurry of bullets erupted the interrogation room as the man asking the questions calmly stood up taking each shot in stride ending with a final shot to the back of the head.
`` Well think of it like this. Better you than me. I mean I am a hard working operative who was sent here to'interrogate' you about the deaths of two'Colombian drug dealers.' Halfway through the interrogation you drew a firearm on me and I had to use lethal force in order to subdue you. And to the rest of the world that's the story that they will hear.''
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[ IP ] Last Station
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Charon narrowed his eyes at the remaining passenger on the Helheim Express. It was unusual that anyone stayed to the last stop; most commuters left the train at Heaven or the Asphodel Meadows. Some dimwits even left his train at Valhalla, expecting a life full of glory and vanity. But Heaven was a more magnificent place, and the armies of Valhalla did nothing but drink and sleep.
Most humans believed in only one afterlife, not expecting dozens of different forms of the afterlife melded together as one. The deities had died eons ago, and now the death gods left a world of chaos for us to run around in. Sinners could pick or chose where they went; usually drifting in heaven or the celestial kingdom. While, the good people dwelled in peaceful clans, staying away from those who have turned to madness. Occasionally, some mortals decided to reincarnate, which greatly helped the afterlife's increasing population problem.
But no one stayed on the train to Hell. Charon would know. He works as the train conductor of the Helheim Express; the train which drove around all the afterlives dropping people off at the various different places. Some egotistical humans declared they would visit Hell, they never did, once we arrived at the deep places of Helheim, such as Tartarus, they went back.
But someone was still seated. Charon glanced outside. Hell was an apocalyptic site. The marble floors were fractured and debris lay everywhere. The station above the train was dark and broken. The world around them was silent. It wasn ’ t peaceful. Most people believed that Hell was a place of fire and physical torture. But in reality, it was the world that manipulated your emotions and memories. It distorted your memories to darker versions of the truth, and made you feel unbearably stressed. In truth, Hell could not be described in words.
He gazed back to the man left on the train. He grimaced, and smoked a cigarette. He wore a purple jacket and had long brown hair. His eyes were a sparkling blue, which was both attracting and curious. Charon said nothing and waited, but the man did not move.
“ It ’ s the last station, sir, ” Charon said quietly, almost in a whisper. The man smiled and strolled over to him. He stood close to him and peered down at him.
“ I know. ” He simply said as if he wasn ’ t going to Hell, but to a quiet restaurant at the edge of the city. Charon waved his hand, indicating for him to leave the train. He couldn ’ t wait to leave Hell, it gave him the shivers, which was an understatement at best.
He remained for a few more seconds before stepping into the wasteland. But to Charon amazement, every step he took, the surroundings changed. He took one step, the statue of liberty crumbled to the floor. He took another, and the ground trembled loudly. But the third step was the worst. It transported dozens beings from the nine homeworlds—beings from various different divisions of heaven—to the marble floor next to the man. Each person screamed in agony. A scream that caused Charon to clasp his hands around his ears.
“ Lucifer. ” Charon snarled. His gaze remained on Lucifer who looked at him with interest. He nodded his head.
“ That is me. ” His voice echoed around the deserted landscape. But Charon didn ’ t drop to the floor in pain like the others. His lifted his hand and pointed it at Lucifer. Surprisingly, his hand did not shake out of fear, it was oddly still.
“ I will not let you change our world that we corrected. Since the pantheons fell, Helheim has developed. It has evolved. You can not have an afterlife with no pain, like the Heaven that many of deities created. Our heaven has both pain and love. That is what makes a person whole. Each person reflects upon their life, and when the time is right. They reincarnate. The humans formed a better version of the afterlife. Better than the one you gods made. I will not. I will not. I will not let you change this world again. Never. ”
Lucifer did not move a muscle. He didn ’ t smile. He didn ’ t even open his mouth, but his words echoed in Charon ’ s mind.
“ Then. Charon ” He uttered his name slowly. “ We will have a game of cat and mouse. Let ’ s see who will become the king of the afterlife. Shall we? ”
“ Yes, ” Charon said quietly, then clicked the button on the train ’ s doors, causing the train to race across different landscapes and areas. Some magical, others drab and gloomy. He raced apart and looked at himself in the mirror at the front of the train. His thoughts were muddled; he challenged the Devil himself. He would live to regret this, would n't he?
In the following months, word got around about Lucifer ’ s appearance. It was believed by many that the gods and goddesses had died, as they no longer governed their afterlives. But now Lucifer has returned and has proclaimed himself the king of Helheim. Many people—including Charon—disagreed with his self-declaration and had decided that he would commit treason and ascend to the throne of Helheim. Helheim was the name given to the universe of the fused afterlifes and Charon was going to steal the crown, so he would rule the empire of the dead.
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[ WP ] A gritty story that starts off as a joke
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The knocking at the door never goes away. When I ask who's there, they always respond with Banana. I open the door and no one is ever there. I open the door before they say Banana and no one is there. Once the door closes the knocking starts again until I ask.
I have n't slept in weeks. I've tried sleeping at an old rundown hotel and Banana followed me. I checked into the Ritz and when I thought room service arrived it was again Banana. Finally I'm going to get sleep. I have decided to fall asleep instead in the middle of a field with a sleeping bag. No roof over my head and more importantly no door to answer.
The moment I lay down I fall into a deep sleep. Terrifyingly I'm awoken to a knocking again. I wake to a door staring at me. I gaze into the peephole to only see the field behind the door. I look on the other side of the door and nothing is there. The knocking continues.
I scream, `` who's there! For the love of god, why do you continue knocking? Who's there? Please leave me alone! Who is doing this to me?''
A quiet voice responds `` Orange.''
Now curious I ask, `` Orange who?''
The knocking at the door never goes away.
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[ WP ] Run !
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Gasp. Left foot. Right foot. Repeat.
Who am I running from? That's a good question.
Gasp. Left foot. Right foot. Repeat.
I'm not really sure. I've been running for a while now. I ca n't remember how long.
Gasp. Left foot. Right foot. Repeat.
Two or three years, I think? What makes you so interested? Ca n't you see that I'm very invested in this? I'm trying to concentrate.
Gasp. Left foot. Right foot. Repeat.
It's funny. I always hated running, but now I'm in the best shape of my... well, the best shape I've ever been in. I suppose I only have Him to take for that.
Gasp. Left foot. Right foot. Repeat.
What's a reporter like you doing here anyway? You should n't be here, asking me questions. Trust me, this a bad area. It's hot, too, and the air quality sucks.
Gasp. Left foot. Right foot. Repeat.
What? Yes, it's a treadmill. You asked what I was running from? Myself, I guess. If I fall off, I'm rewarded with eternal torture in the flames of Hell. This treadmill is my punishment for what I did in life.
Gasp. Left foot. Right foot. Repeat.
What did I do to deserve -- You know what? I'm getting real tired of your questions. I was wondering the same thing. What does a reporter do to get down here? But I think I can guess. You asked too many questions, and you'd do *anything* to get the answer. Well, I'm done answering questions. Now, could you please leave me alone? I'm trying to concentrate.
Gasp. Left foot. Right foot. Repeat.
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[ WP ] Original Earth inhabitants , now space traveling beings , are returning home only to find humanity , their once lab rats , running the place .
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After centuries of scouring the depths of the Milky Way, the Alpha Sapiens decided to return to their original home, Earth. On the return journey they sent scouts ahead of the main fleet to examine changes to their planet. What the scouts discovered had them shaking in their space boots. Homo Sapiens... HOMO SAPIENS! The most unintelligent, useless caste, that had been left behind by the Alphas, were now destroying their beautiful planet. Alpha's lab rats, after so many centuries without the full guidance of any of the original Sapiens, were now stretched across the entire planet. The scouts were ordered to reenter the atmosphere and make contact with Earth's leader, so they could reestablish themselves as the dominant Earth species. What the space travellers did n't realize, was that thousands of years ago when they gave the Homo's different skin, language and religion, they had created the most warlike species to disgrace the galaxy. Immediately upon arrival in Ottawa, Canada, the Alpha's scouts were attacked and all perished in the battle. Upon realizing their grave error, the fleet of Alpha's knew there was nothing to do, except wipe the Homo Sapiens off the face of their precious planet and begin anew their timeless rule of the beautiful, green planet Earth.
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[ WP ] Driverless cars finally get legalized but people discover that they do n't take you where you want to go , but where you need to go .
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A white Toyota Corolla arrived in front of my apartment building exactly five minutes after the app received my request. It was my first time using the new ‘ Driverless Experience ’ and I was admittedly quite nervous as I opened the door to the backseat and climbed inside. I surveyed the interior of the car and wondered what would happen next. There didn ’ t appear to be any tablet or other device to enter my destination so I tried speaking instead.
“ Corner of College and Fifth, ” I enunciated as clearly as possible. After no reply came I squirmed a bit in the seat. I checked my phone to see if there was some step I missed when ordering the car. As I flipped through the settings to no avail an artificial sounding female voice came through the speakers saying, “ Destination acquired. ”
I had a feeling of uneasiness creep up my neck but I shook it off with a nervous glance out of the window. The doors automatically locked and the car began to drive off all of its own accord. My neck still felt stiff as I tried to ease my nerves. I tried to tell myself that the software controlling the car seemed safe enough. The car accelerated as the speed zones changed and came to smooth stops at each traffic light allowing me to breathe a bit more comfortably. I settled back into the seat and began to flip through my social media accounts after the initial moment of nervousness had passed.
I knew exactly how long it took to get to the cross streets I had requested as my favourite pub was located on the corner. I drove there multiple times each week to meet up with my friends after work. The idea of a cold frothy pint awaiting me was enough to alleviate the dull throbbing headache that was developing as it often did at the end of the workday. The car initially seemed to the heading in the right direction so I assumed that there had just been a delay in the voice recognition software at the beginning of the ride. When I saw that we missed a turn I shrugged it off reminding myself that this was a new service being offered and perhaps the maps used weren ’ t optimized for the fastest routes.
It became abundantly clear that we were not going to the cross streets I requested though when we missed the next two turns and went in the complete opposite direction soon after that. I once again pulled the app onto my phones screen and tried to find a hint as to where I was going or how to edit my destination. There was nothing to be found though, just the same ‘ Order Ride ’ banner across the bottom of the screen. I rubbed at my eyes as the screen began to fade in and out of focus and even seemed to split in two. I kept thinking of that pint as I closed my eyes and for a moment allowed myself to forget that we had been going in the wrong direction for a couple of minutes now.
Panic began to settle in though when we sped up and merged onto a highway heading out into the city limits. I was dialing 9-1-1 as the car made a quick maneuver. The car had entered a familiar street leading to the hospital and it ’ s emergency entrance. Complete befuddlement washed over me in that moment. We came to an abrupt halt just outside of the hospitals doors making my stomach roll. I had a brief thought of a cleaning charge being applied to my bill if I should throw up all over the floor mats of the car.
“ You have arrived at your destination, ” the synthetic female voice announced as the doors unlocked with a soft click. I was still scratching my head in puzzlement as I stepped out of the car. It took off without warning as I shut the door and suddenly I was on my knees and reaching for the ground to soften the blow as the world became nothing but darkness.
I awoke in a hospital bed attached to beeping machines trying to put together how I ended up here and what exactly happened. They never did say how long I had been there but I did learn that I had suffered a brain aneurysm. The nurses told me if it hadn ’ t been for that car somehow knowing exactly where I needed to be in that moment I would have likely died drinking that pint.
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[ FF ] Write an unusual lullaby .
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Sleep little child, the sun will wake soon
The stars are fading, and dark is the moon.
Sunlight is rising o ’ er the crest of the hill
But here we can rest in the dark and the chill.
Close eyes now my dear, there ’ s nothing to see
In our safe little home, just wait here with me.
We ’ ll stay in the shadow, so safe and so cold
While burning day passes its life and grows old.
You ’ ll saiil into slumber until the night falls
Loved and protected within these four walls.
A piece of the sandman is now yours to take
Darkness will be here before you awake.
-- -- -- -- -- -
-008
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[ WP ] [ TT ] You crash on as island . The locals , impressed with your technology , start showing you their magic . You have a scientific explanation for everything , but one thing still puzzles you .
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We crashed on the island just before sunrise. Marie, George, and I had left the main ship behind and sailed a small recon vessel to the island, and the underside of the vessel had been torn apart by the jagged rocks on the shore. Sitting on the beach, I fiddled with the sat-phone trying to alert the main ship, but I was having no luck. George sat on the shore as well, nursing a wound on his leg he'd suffered in the crash.
`` Look,'' said George. He was pointing at a man and a woman wearing beige tunics walking toward us.
They greeted us in a language I did n't understand. Marie was our translator, and she engaged them in conversation. `` They're curious about your sat-phone,'' she said.
`` Oh, this?'' I said, holding it up. `` Right now, it is n't exactly working.'' I tapped a few buttons on it and the screen lit up. It did n't do anything of actual utility, but the two locals seemed impressed nonetheless. Their eyes went wide.
`` You folks would n't happen to have a Radio Shack around here, would you?'' I asked.
Marie ignored me. She and the locals spoke a bit more. The local woman reached for my gun, which I'd set down a minute earlier.
`` No, no, no,'' said Marie as she stopped the woman from grabbing it. I guess the word `` no'' was the same in their language.
I picked it up. `` Wan na see how it works?'' I asked.
`` You really think we should be wasting ammo?'' asked George. He winced as he said it. His leg wound looked much worse than I'd remembered.
`` Come on, maybe they'll worship us as gods or something,'' I said.
Marie sighed at my cultural insensitivity. `` Actually, it might help,'' she said. `` They were impressed by the sat-phone, but they're still a bit hesitant to help us out.''
`` Seriously? Sweet,'' I said.
`` Wait, let me explain to them first,'' said Marie. After a brief conversation with the locals, she nodded to me.
I took one of the larger conch shells on the beach and set it a few paces away from the group. I flipped off the safety, pointed the gun at the shell, and fired. There was a loud bang, and the shell exploded.
-- -
After the gun demonstration, the locals had been sufficiently impressed to take us back to their village. George struggled to walk, given his leg wound.
The locals cleared a bed and beckoned George to lay down. Once he did, the man and woman began chanting and applied a light blue liquid to the wound. It hardened immediately when it make contact with George's wound.
`` Whoa, what *is* that?'' I asked. `` That was amazing.''
Marie took a closer look at the blue substance. `` Hmm, looks like horseshoe crab blood. They have blue blood which hardens if it comes into contact with certain types of bacteria. George, this means your wound is infected, but the blood coagulant should keep it from spreading too much for the time being.''
George groaned and closed his eyes.
While George rested, Marie spoke with the natives. `` They seem to think they have magical powers,'' she said. `` Like the thing with the horseshoe crab blood. Though that was pretty easy to explain.''
`` Can they show us?'' I asked.
Marie said something to them, and the woman stood up. She grabbed a pouch and poured out a bit of silvery powder into a pan. She lit a fire and heated up the pan. The powder liquified into a brownish-grey puddle.
`` I'm not exactly sure what I'm watching for,'' I said.
`` Wait,'' said Marie.
The woman extinguished the fire. She and the local man began chanting once again. After a couple minutes, the liquid solidified into an intricate cubic structure that seemed to reflect rainbow-colored light in every direction. `` Okay, *that* was pretty cool,'' I said.
`` It was,'' said Marie. `` But it's just Bismuth.''
`` Bismuth is some kind of rock, right?''
`` It's a mineral,'' she said. `` That's what Bismuth does when it's heated up and cooled down.''
`` You take the fun out of everything, you know?'' I said, smiling. `` What else can they do?''
Marie spoke with them once more.
The locals led Marie and I outside. The man knelt down next to a four-inch tall sapling growing on the periphery of the nearby forest. The man closed his eyes and put his hand on the dirt. He began chanting something quietly. After a minute the ground began rumbling. The man opened his eyes and ran several feet away. He beckoned us to do the same. The rumbling grew more intense, with dirt flying everywhere. Suddenly, the sapling exploded upward into a massive tree identical to the others around it.
`` Whoa,'' I said. `` Explain *that*, Marie.''
-- -
**Part 2: http: //www.reddit.com/r/rpwrites/comments/39izol/the_island_part_2/**
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[ IP ] Album Art .
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Beck - The Information
An experiment; a grid of blue on white, continuing on forever in the X and the Y.
But, what's this inside the Cd case?
... Stickers?
Now, things get *interesting*.
There is a childish glee one gets in extracting and placing the stickers. Is Beck going to ride a escalator? Or shall we create a city from the obtuse and arcane shapes available? Or will we just turn our field of blue and white into a playground for balloons and bubbles?
Are the possiblities endless? No. And is this a perfect system? Er...
( *'' aha, this sticker goes here- aw shit, I put in the wrong place. let's just pry it off - and now I've torn my album art. Great. `` * )
Is it cool? Kinda. Is it innovative? I do n't know. But is it fun? *Yes. *
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[ WP ] The Seven Deadly Sins all sit down to decide which one of them should no longer be considered a sin .
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“ Alright guys, ” I said, “ We ’ re here to eliminate one of you. After today, there will only be six deadly sins. We have a celebrity judge panel here, ” I said, pointing at long table staffed by people in various states of consciousness. Most of them had crazy hair.
“ Guys? ” I said, “ Guys, are you listening? ”
The celebrities ignored me. And the sins did too.
Lust was sitting in her folding chair. She was reading a Playboy magazine, for the articles.
Envy had reading glasses on. He was inspecting his credit card statement.
Pride was on Facebook, ‘ liking ’ a friend ’ s status.
Gluttony was leaning over Pride ’ s shoulder, drinking a diet Coke.
Wrath was on reddit, commenting in a /r/politics thread.
There was an empty seat.
“ Guys, ” I said, “ There ’ s only six of you here. What gives? ”
Lust blew a bubble with her gum and popped it. “ So just eliminate the guy who didn ’ t come, ” she said, “ Six deadly sins. Bam. We ’ re done. ”
“ Wait, ” I said, “ We can ’ t eliminate him just because he didn ’ t come. We have to go through and have everyone say ‘ I shouldn ’ t be eliminated because blah blah blah. ”
“ Why? ” Wrath asked.
“ Well, ” I said, “ Because that ’ s what the writing prompt told me to do. ”
“ So what? ” Lust said, “ Just eliminate the seventh lady. She didn ’ t show up. It ’ s her own fault. ”
“ Lady? ” I said, “ The seventh sin is a girl? ”
“ I ’ m a girl, ” Lust said defensively, “ At least, I ’ m a girl in your eyes. ” Her voice deepened. “ I can be a boy if you want me to be, ” she said in a dirty voice, “ Would you like that? ”
My face turned pale. “ Uh, no, ” I said, “ That ’ s okay. ” I composed myself. “ Okay guys, ” I said, “ I ’ m having a bit of a problem here. Um… I can ’ t remember what the seventh sin is. ”
The six sins stopped what they were doing to look at me.
“ What? ” Wrath said. “ What did you just say? ”
I squirmed in my seat. “ I uh… I haven ’ t been to church in a while. Sorry. ”
Wrath snorted. “ You don ’ t even know what the seven deadly sins are? Are you stupid or something? ”
“ I mean, ” I said, “ It ’ s not like we really talk about the seven sins anymore. They ’ re not really relevant to modern life. ”
“ Not relevant? ” Wrath said, pushing back his chair. His nostrils flared. He approached me. He slammed his fist down on the table in front of me. He threw my carefully organized papers to the ground.
“ Uh, ” I said, “ That ’ s not what I meant. I-I saw a movie a few years ago, ” I said, “ With Kevin Spacey. ”
“ Name the seventh deadly sin, ” Wrath said, “ Name the seventh deadly sin, or we walk out of here. We don ’ t care about your stupid celebrity panel. ” He jerked his thumb at the people with weird hair.
I searched my memory frantically. Thou shalt not steal? Was ‘ Thou shalt not steal ’ a sin? No, that was a commandment. Murder? Was murder a sin? No, it wasn ’ t murder. Perjury? Yeah, that sounded right.
“ P-perjury, ” I stuttered.
Wrath looked at me in disbelief.
He punched me in the nose.
“ OW! ” I yelled.
The other sins laughed. They stood up and left the building, patting Wrath on the back and cracking jokes about me.
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[ WP ] For the past several years you 've had an ability that no one knows about . No matter where in the world you are , no matter what time of day it is , you can smell what The Rock is cooking .
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The insistent knocking jarred me awake. I opened my eyes to the pitch black of my bedroom before sunrise. I could hear the door rattling in the doorjamb as it was being struck. I hurried to answer before my neighbors woke up and called the police. Standing in the doorway was a large muscular man wearing a suit and an electronic earpiece. My heart sank.
`` Mr. Waters?''
`` What is it, Bobby? This ca n't be good, it's the middle of the night.''
`` I'm afraid not sir, you're going to need to get dressed and come with me.'' He relayed that I was awake into the microphone attached to his lapel and moved away from the door, his eyes scanning the hallway of my apartment complex.
I ducked back inside my apartment, threw on some jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed my phone and headed out the door. Bobby explained the situation on the way down to the Durango.
`` It happened about 20 minutes ago, while he was out for a run. You know how he loves to outrun the guards. We do n't have any leads, we do n't have any demands. Mr. Waters, we need your help.'' The Durango sped off into the night.
I audibly gasped. `` Are you telling me that President Johnson has been....kidnapped?''
Bobby grimaced as I said the word, but he nodded. `` We thought that with your.....special gift... you might be able to help us. He knows what to do in this situation.''
At that moment we arrived at our destination, The Kitchen. President Johnson did love putting his stamp around D.C. I flashed my badge to the guard as we made our way inside. Bobby moved ahead of me and gained us entry to what used to be called The War Room. It was empty, just the way I needed it.
I sat down and closed my eyes. I allowed my mind to go blank, and slowly I could feel myself drifting out of consciousness. It started out faintly, just a whiff of something I could n't quite place. But it grew stronger. `` Potatoes.'' I mumbled. I sensed Bobby moving throughout the room, typing into some device or another. I heard the fevered whispers of his staff. `` Russians? Is it the Russians?''
I blocked out the voices and concentrated on the task at hand. Something else was coming through. The unmistakable scent of stinky cheese. It was so unexpected that my eyes flew open and I gasped for air. Bobby was quickly to my side. `` What did you see?'' he demanded. I told him and saw the frustration on his face. `` Look, we are running out of time here. We need to know where he is!''
I nodded, took the shot of tequila that Bobby's staffer handed me, and closed my eyes again. The tequila had burned away any traces of scents, and I was back to square one. I let myself drift away. I could smell the potatoes. I caught another whiff of the cheese that they were paired with. But I could n't figure it out. I could n't figure.....'' TURKEY!'' I yelled, interrupting my own thoughts.
`` It's turkey!'' I yelled again.
Bobby went into motion immediately. `` Steve, we need a list of ground targets in Turkey. I want a list of who in Turkey gained from this act. We need to bring them to justice.'' Steve immediately got on the phone and requested the information. Bobby turned back to me with a smile on his face. `` Great job, Mr. Waters. You've certainly earned that salary.''
I finally had control of my senses. `` No, Bobby, you've got it all wrong. It's not Turkey. It's turkey. Turkey gravy. It's poutine, Bobby. The Rock is cooking poutine.''
The color drained from Bobby's face as the realization of what I had said came over him. `` Steve, order an assault on the Canadian Embassy. Get the president home.''
It was over before it began, really. The secret service took down the Canadian Embassy without incident, as the Canadians did n't even expect to be suspected in the kidnapping. Their politeness turned out to be their undoing, as they certainly could n't resist when the president insisted on cooking them their favorite Canadian meal.
And THAT'S how I earned the Congressional Medal of Honor.
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[ WP ] Make me cry
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BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! The incessant sound seemed to grow louder and louder until my hand instinctively reached over and slapped down on the surface next to me, shutting off the alarm clock and relieving me of the headache it had produced. Another early morning. Another day of school. Half asleep and reeling from another late night, I dragged myself away from the heavenly warmth of my bed and towards the bathroom to get ready. But as I passed my old room, something caught my eye. Now serving as nothing more than a storage box, it was normally empty with the exception of a few boxes so I was confused to see, through the crack in the door, what looked like blankets draping the floor. Curious as to what was going on, I slowly nudged it open, only to find my dad at my feet, sleeping on an air mattress.
Why was he sleeping in here? Ughhhh, something must ’ ve happened while I was asleep again. You see, my dad had a temper; any little could set him off. And when he did, my parents would have these heated arguments about the smallest disagreements.
“ I cooked, now clean dammit! ” my dad commanded. Downing his fifth bottle of that golden intoxicant we call beer, he was becoming irritable and obscene.
My mom did not look happy. “ Stop being such a prick. I mean the kids are right here for God ’ s sake. ” The first shots had been fired and there was no stopping this small skirmish from turning into a full-blown war. I took cover in the depths of my couch, eyes welling up with tears, as insults raged, dishes shattered, cabinets splintered. And just like that, he was gone. My mom just sat there, staring at the wreckage. She would have to clean it up; she always did.
Despite these occasional conflicts, upon coming home from school the day after, things would always seemingly be back to normal and my parents appeared to be happy. Sure, this was new; I had never seen my dad relegated to the couch, let alone an air mattress in my old room, but it was nothing I need worry about. Besides, I had a long day ahead of me and plenty of my own issues to worry about.
In fact, what I thought would be a “ long day ” turned out to be one of the most memorable days of my high school career. We won our first varsity soccer game in our high school's history against our neighboring rival and I had had the assist to the winning goal. Best yet, all of my friends had come to support me and were there to see it. As if that wasn ’ t good enough, earlier that day I received my first test back for both Spanish and Chemistry and received A ’ s on both of them. My day was going better than I could have ever imagined; nothing, not even the Devil himself, could wrench me from my awesome perch.
Needless to say, by the time I had arrived home from school, I was in the grandest of moods. I thanked my friend for the ride, leaped out of the car, and darted straight for the front door. As I approached my house, a drop of rain landed on my cheek just below my eye. “ Well there goes the nice weather, ” I sighed to myself. Nonetheless, I was still as excited as ever to open the door, be greeted by my entire family, and tell them about my day. I stood there as the scene unfolded in front of me. My dad would be in the backyard grilling some mouth-watering, marinated steak, while my mom whizzed around the kitchen preparing some buttery mashed potatoes and a side salad. On the couch, my sister would be watching some TV show with vampires and werewolves and what not; my sleeping dog burrowed into the cushions at her feet. I ’ d walk in to the smiles of my parents and a casual hello from my sister, plop myself down next to the fireplace, and salivate to the smells of the food while I waited eagerly for a cup of cocoa with my name on it.
But as I emerged from my daydream, I opened our rickety, old door to the sharp creak of its hinges resonating against a silent background. Where was everybody? All of them should have been off of work by now. I called out. Nothing. I scanned our downstairs. Nobody. Things began to seem a bit eerie when I heard muffled sounds coming from upstairs. I proceeded cautiously, taking each step as silently as I could as to hear who or what exactly was affording me this anxiety. As I rounded the corner to my room, I felt my pores open up and my belly tighten, only to find my mom and sister sitting there on my bed.
“ Hey hey, guess what happened today… ” I started, but something was wrong; their faces were grim and they were not at all surprised to see me, as if they had known I had been there all along. “ What's going on? ” I asked. They remained as still as statues, their eyes glazed over and gazes distant. Unnerved and a bit frantic, I asked again and again until my question seemingly became a demand, but they just continued to stare that deep stare: my sister at my mom and my mom at the ground in front of me. Finally, my mom spoke. Normally the steadiest, most reassuring voice in the world, it faltered as she told me to take a seat, eyes still cast downward.
“ Something has happened, ” were her words. I knew those words. She had always saved them for the worst occasions; when we lost my dog, when my sister dropped out of high school, when my Grandpa Geoff passed. Immediately my thoughts raced to my Oma, my maternal grandmother.
“ What happened to her? She ’ s gon na be ok right? Why are you looking at me like that? ” I barraged her with questions as she sat there silently with that same downtrodden, lifeless look on her face.
“ Your Oma is fine, Bubba, ” she responded blankly. Relief swept over me when she finally got her word in and I knew that my Oma was healthy. However, only moments later, that same relief that I had felt was cruelly yanked from me. In its place, an indescribable sensation left me without words and seemingly unable to breath.
“ Your dad had an affair, ” my mom uttered, “ and he ’ s looking for an apartment as we speak. ”
I ’ m not really sure what I did in that moment, but it must not have been much because my sister grabbed me and began shaking me, cussing about how I needed to be madder at my dad and how what he did was unforgivable. My head bobbed back and forth, eyes rolling, yet everything stood still. My mom remained where she was, unmoved by my sister ’ s outburst and my indifference. I noticed for the first time how different her face was than what I was used to, so tired and beaten. In fact, it looked as if she had been battling with this news for quite some time now, postponing this inevitable conversation with her beloved children. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to comfort them, I really did, but I couldn ’ t do anything; I could n't feel anything. I gasped but there was no air, my eyes burned but there were no tears, my ears rang but there was no sound. My mind was searching for something to grasp onto but it failed again and again. So I did the only thing I could; I got up and stumbled away.
I walked and I walked through the biting cold, unaware of the world around me, until I found myself sitting at the park alone, unable to feel anything except the smooth, hard bench below me. I remained there, chilled to the bone, contemplating my situation. Why did this have to happen? Doesn ’ t he care? How could he do this? These questions raced through my head as I prepared to fall into a chasm of self-pity. Standing there on the edge of that abyss, the image of my mom and sister, sitting on my bed paralyzed by an incomprehensible sorrow, came into my vision. In that moment, I didn ’ t know what I needed to do, where I needed to go, who I needed to be; all I knew was that I couldn ’ t, I wouldn ’ t be like my dad. My mother and sister needed me more than ever and, unlike my father, I was going to be there for them.
I rushed back to my house, to my family, and embraced them. That ’ s when they dropped the second bomb on me; my dad was having a child with that same women. I felt myself begin to freeze but I resisted, bit down, gritted my teeth, and held the two most important women in my life even tighter.
____________________________________________________________________
*Thanks for reading! More of my work at /r/Socrates_Burrito. I welcome constructive criticism and advice. *
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[ WP ] People can buy , sell , trade , or give away their skills . Some skills are passed from father to son , like woodworking . Your uncle recently died and left you a box . Inside is a warning , and a very particular set of skills , skills he acquired over a very long career .
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I had n't been particularly close to my uncle, so I was surprised to hear at the funeral that he had left something for me. I did n't know what I expected, but it definitely was n't that box.
I picked it up on Saturday, feeling weird about seeing my aunt trying so hard to smile at me, to pretend she was fine and that she could move on with her life. I told her I had to work in the afternoon just so I could leave, and perhaps I should have felt bad about it, but I'm not very good at comforting a widow.
I took the box to my car and placed it in the passenger seat.
The heavy wooden box had a post it stuck on its lid:
FOR WINSTON
Do n't use them
I frowned, tempted to open the box and check its contents, but I saw my aunt peeking through the blinds. I raised my hand at her and smiled, and drove away.
By the time I got home, most of my curiosity had evaporated. I was looking forward to taking a nap and spend all Saturday playing video games and then picking Samantha up from work to go get some dinner. I almost left the box in the car, but I brought it with me. I should n't have done that.
I threw it in the couch and the lid opened. It smelled weird, so I signed and walked towards the couch: a piece of folded piece of paper obscured the contents. I sat down and read the message.
Winston
I'm sorry I'm leaving this to you, but I could n't really trust anyone else with it. Please just sell them. Thomas, an old acquaintance, will contact you in a few weeks when he realizes I'm gone. He's weird but he'll pay well.
I hope you can do something with the money, enjoy yourself.
Uncle Paul
I left the letter on the coffee table and grabbed the box, placing it on my lap. It felt heavy, and it seemed like I could n't see the bottom even if the paper was n't there blocking the view anymore.
Reaching down, I pulled some zip ties. I started putting everything on the table: zip ties, a small hammer, rope, a sharp knife that almost nicked my finger. My heart was beating violently in my chest as I pulled a plastic bag. I realized what the smell was as soon as I opened it: old blood, which stained several items inside a bag.
Strands of long hair, blond and brunette. A handkerchief stained with blood, panties with the name Stacy McCall written on them, a front tooth, a lady named Angela Hammond's ID...
I did n't feel comfortable checking the rest of the bag, but there were three vials in the bottom of the box. Skills, I could immediately tell it was skills. The vials did n't have labels on them, but the skills inside were thick ( which made them extremely high quality ) and dark.
I knew what dark skills meant. And I had my suspicions about what was in the bag.
I opened one of the vials. It smelled sweet and enticing, and I know I should n't have... But I drank it. I thought I could always put it back, sell it to that guy later in the week.
But I was too good, like uncle Paul. And Missouri needed another killer.
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[ CW ] Write a story using only odd-lettered words .
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You ask how the north has grown and prospered, while the sorry world starves apace? Therein lurks a strange and eerie fable - yet every piece the weird truth, I promise you.
The sea birthed all men who inhabit our shore. I speak quite literally; every new child was found, naked and wailing, tideborne overnight.
The stories say the foundling babes began after the ocean claimed three hundred lives one night; after the furious storm which drowned every man heading south for raiding. The morning tides brought our longships' twisted timbers, bloated corpses, and floating there amongst the death and flotsam, the first squalling newborn. Every day after, the sea has yielded another.
The women still mourned their waveclaimed husbands and offspring, yes; but quite shortly the obvious was clear - those raising the seaborn would never see their own bellies empty, nor their strange children's.
The wisewomen claimed our peoples blessed, the whole godly ocean panoply clearly favouring our reign. All the seven sea corners would see our boats, and all lands would house our ancestors.
Our story continues yet, the south horizon still holds unchartered coast. While the sun and all the other races dim, our seaborn sailors shall lay their waveblessed claim, and replace you all.
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[ WP ] Scientists confirm that our universe is a computer simulation . Write about a family who witnesses the announcement live on television .
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Charlie turned off the TV. He looked at his two young daughters, who stared back at him blankly, obviously not grasping the message that Brian Williams had just passed along to the world. Rita, had just made some stupid comment about `` Well you know, I do n't trust anything on TV, unless it's on Anderson Cooper. Now *that's* a newsman.'' Charlie did n't hear her though, he was already on his way into the kitchen. He looked out the window. It was so quiet, not even the birds were chirping. Turning back to face the room, he heard the girls chatting quietly. Rita was using some incorrect metaphor to explain it all. From the sound of it, maybe she did n't realize what had happened either. Charlie opened the fridge and pulled out a gallon of milk. He popped the lid off, and let it fall to the floor. He let the cool liquid pour down the back of his throat. Carefully, he set the jug back onto the spotless mustard-colored counter and looked around at the kitchen for one last time. He had always hated this room, especially the hideous orange chairs that surrounded the table. His mother had found them at a yard sale some years back. The keys to the Buick were already in his pocket, so he just walked right out the door. His neighbor Ed was fiddling with the tractor, he must not have seen the news. The Buick was parked directly in front of the house where it always was. For the first time since buying the house, Charlie walked across the yard rather that going along the side-path to get to it. It started up with that familiar sound. As he shifted into drive, Charlie reached for his seat belt but quickly pulled his hand back and placed it on the wheel. Before he knew it he was flying down his neighborhood roads. Simulation or not, he knew that this was his chance. This was freedom.
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[ WP ] A world where teleportation devices are commercially available , safe , and accurate , but also extremely painful due to the disintegration and reintegration process .
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I looked upon the ocean far below me. I could zoom in and see the fish below the surface if I wanted to. I put myself in the superman-pose and flew a little higher, a little faster. Is that a mermaid? Of course it is. There are always mermaids. I swooped through the air down to greet her. Hovering a few feet above the waves I smiled at her. She opened her mouth to speak.
`` Beep, Beep, Beep.''
Did she just beep at me?
She continued, `` Beep, beep, beep.''
Mermaids never beep. Why would they beep? Only bullshit stupid machines made that noise.
The heavens above me rumbled with a deafening sound not unlike what the mermaid was doing. Beep. Beep.
My eyelids shot open to see my plain white bedroom wall above me. Beep beep beep. Oh shit. I looked over at the bedside table. 09:33. I jumped up and out of bed and started scanning the floor for last nights clothes. Pants... Shirt... Socks? Socks! No, not those... Yeah, okay. That'll do.
As I jumped, squirmed, hopped my way to a presentable appearance I thought about my commute. I was going to be late. There was no way the hovercar would be fast enough and I already missed the hoverbus. Hoverboard? No, that's ridiculous - Way too slow! Why does everything hover these days...?
I jumped down the steps into the kitchen, skipping the last three and skidding across the tile to halt in front of the snack cabinet. Fuck poptarts. I'll go hungry. I have bigger problems. One more bad mark-up and I'd end up on the net trying to find a new job... or worse. My boss was already giving me dirty looks when he walked pass my cube, as it was.
I knew how to make it on time. I knew I did n't want to resort to that. Absently staring towards the basement doorway I considered my options again. Nope. Nope. Too slow. Nope. Impossible. I guess I have to do it.
I descended the basement stairs and the light activated automatically, flickering a bit from disuse. I took a deep breath of the musty air and let it out as a sigh. In the corner sat a large device that looked something like a refrigerator that was all dressed up for a sci-fi convention. The last resort - My personal teleporter.
A couple years ago some eggheads down in Washington DC finally broke physics. They figured out how to... well, teleport things. Quickly it was proven safe, effective, cheap. Everyone bought one! The world would be reborn. The governments of the world invested in millions of these devices and gave them out to anyone who wanted one. `` A new era! ``, they said. Man, people were psyched. It finally felt like the future. Well, the second future... considering the first future was thanks to automated vacuum cleaners.
Anyway, there was a catch. That shit hurt like a motherfucker. You'd step in, input your destination, and off you went! You'd end up on the other side in a split second! Though on the ground in a fetal position, screaming your balls off. Masochistic workaholics around the world rejoiced.
People do n't use these devices much anymore. I mean, some people do. People who have a high pain tolerance or low sanity tolerance. Or desperate people.
I stepped in. Biting my lip I dialed in the address for PAPERWORK TEK INC.
\\Destination Accepted. Please Confirm.
I groaned, `` Yes. Shit. Go.''
\\Please Repeat.
`` Go. Get it over with.''
\\...
I sighed, `` Destination confir --''
White flash. Pain. Pain. Pain. I felt like all my limbs had been placed in a meat grinder for upwards of 4000 minutes. My blood was full of miniature chainsaws shredding everything. My brain, oh god my brain. I wished I was dead, as most people tend to do during teleportation. Gargling razor-blades would be a vast improvement, in fact.
I opened my eyes and squinted against the harsh artificial lighting of the PAPERWORK TEK INC Teleport-Transit-Room. I was on my back. I think. My ankle was somewhere by my head. I groaned as I reoriented my body into a pose more fitting for a living person.
`` Fuck. that. shit. ``, I said to no one in particular.
Standing up and dusting myself off I strolled casually to my desk. I sat down and heard a blood-curdling scream from the Teleport room. And then another. And another. It was a symphony of torture and death from down the hall.
I reached over and turned on my computer. Got ta love Mondays.
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[ WP ] In the near future where humankind is totally dependent on electronic communication , an evil organization hacks and manipulates all connections electronically . The world dips into crisis and panic sets in .
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How did we let this happen?
It was a question I'd asked myself time and time again, always lurking in the deepest corners of my mind. Clad in shadow, it lies in wait, for its inevitable and ever recurring jump into my consciousness. The sharp pang of regret always met its entrance, and with it, the memories of a world that once was.
We never thought it would come to this, never thought, never anticipated, never dreamed. It was obvious now that I look back; every year, more and more'innovations' to keep us connected, to improve our lives, to make us more comfortable. I suppose our technological straitjackets were rather comfortable. We pushed too much, we went too far, and the creations devoured the creator.
*All I have time for now, might continue if anyone wants me to. *
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[ WP ] You are a therapist who helps people forget events by entering and interacting with the memory to change it to something else .
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Mrs. M walks into my office holding a drowsy blond girl by the hand. `` Are you sure you want your child here?'' I ask, somewhat suspicious.
She nods. `` Yes, I need her for support.'' I close the door.
`` Well, she wo n't be able to be in the room with us --''
She sighs loudly and sits the girl down. `` Actually, the procedure is to be done on my daughter.''
`` I'm afraid I ca n't do that. This system has n't even been tested on children under eighteen.''
`` You ca n't say no. My last payment was received this morning at eight. I signed the correct waivers. My daughter is fourteen. I signed the consent form as the guardian of the patient at our last appointment.'' She hands me two chip IDs. They both scan in my system. The records match, proving that she is this girl's legal guardian. `` You signed the form saying you will do the procedure. You're legally bound to do this for me.'' She puts her arm around the girl protectively.
I grab Mrs. M's file from the desk and go through the papers quickly. Shit, she's right. I ca n't believe I missed that. `` It's extremely ill-advised --''
`` I can have you put to death under the Patient-Doctor Consent Compliance Act.''
Every second I spend connecting the young girl to the machines, I hate myself more. Why did I ever agree to go into this line of work?
`` Okay, darling, we're done. Now I'll get hooked up and we'll begin.''
`` Begin what?'' the innocent girl asks, having finally woken up.
`` Something your mom wants me to help you with.''
Her mind is not at all what I expected. Rather than being saturated with pink and dreams and complaints -- as most women's minds I see are -- it is filled with science and knowledge and thoughts of rebellion.
I walk into a laboratory and find an older version of the blond girl studying a microscope. She points to a display above my head. `` My genome, compared to a normal human genome.'' She looks up at me. `` I was genetically engineered and created fourteen years ago. That woman is not my mother, she is the one who bought me. It's like adopting, except that I will be the perfect daughter. I read a little too much about it a month ago, and ever since she has been trying to find a way for me to believe she is my mother, and that I am not one of the illegal genetic experiments on the news she calls'freaks' and'mutants'. Though I am remarkably more advanced than them.''
I am taken aback by all of the information this girl just dropped on me. `` How... how do you know?'' I ask cautiously.
`` Once I found my'adoption' papers, it was easy enough to figure out. She has always tried to turn me away from science. I'm supposed to be demure and fashion-obsessed and whatever. I thought she was just an obsessive mother who wanted me to be girly. Now I know she thinks I'm defective.''
`` She wants me to erase all of this. She wants me to fill your mind with the'perfection' she expected.'' I nod. `` That's harsh.''
`` She wanted all of my memories gone, all replaced with pink fluffy perfection.''
`` I'm not going to do it.'' I tell the girl, and she looks relieved. `` The company who sold you to her might have recommended me. I'm... well-known in the genetic research sector, it seems.''
`` What can I do?''
`` Pretend. I'll give you some'pink fluffy perfect' memories and you can work off of those. You're going to have to act how she wants until we can meet again. I'll tell your mother I need to see you next week, and we'll... get you out. We'll start something.''
She went back to studying her genome. `` Okay. I can do that. Give me the girly memories.''
I unhook the machines from our minds and bring the girl back into the office.
`` How was it?'' Mrs. M asks.
`` It went perfectly,'' I assure her.
The girl runs to Mrs. M. `` Mom! My appointment was great. The doctor made me feel so much better. Not that there's anything wrong. Can we go home?''
I stop Mrs. M with a hand on her arm. `` She'll need to come back in a week. I can only fix the past, not new thoughts.''
`` Of course. Thank you,'' Mrs. M says, shaking my hand.
I nod and watch the door close. Then I access the databases of GenLabs.
Apparently they had n't closed the project which created me.
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - Down The Rabbit Hole Edition !
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There ’ s an extra bit of suffering
That goes on amongst the real suffering:
When my world stopped
The rest of the world didn ’ t.
The people out there in the world
Mostly don ’ t know what happened.
I like to think
That they feel different at least,
That they sense something has happened.
They might not.
I can live with that,
And I can hold onto my own pain,
Because I feel like someone needs to make it official,
To represent the world in hurting from the wound.
But I still need some things,
I still need to interact with the world a bit,
With cashiers and receptionists and people on the phone,
And they have innocent questions.
“ How ’ s your day going? ”
Is a common thing.
I can ’ t begrudge them their question,
They ’ re honestly being nice,
Being decent,
Trying to make my day a little better.
So I can ’ t hit them back for their accidental affront.
I can ’ t give them the honest answer,
That this day might be the worst in my life,
Because they don ’ t deserve that,
And she wouldn ’ t have wanted that,
And that would make the day even worse.
So I lie, not to preserve my dignity,
But to preserve their peace.
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[ WP ] extraterrestrials encounter mundane human technology . Describe their discussions and theories about the item without directly identifying it .
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Klhhagh, High Commander of Sector-3 Historical Tech Research, slithered into the room and approached the display console. It showed a long black object, roughly 18 Skn in length. The object itself had been placed in a secure container that was designed to withstand the most violent of explosions. He turned to the Chief Researcher, and addressed him. “ Snaghht! ” he demanded, “ Isn ’ t this a little over the top for such a small device? ”
Snaghht bowed his primary frontal tentacles in humbled respect, and used his lower left ones to indicate a rounded section at the front of the device. “ Apologies, High Commander, but protocol states that when a possible class 4 device is found within the environment of an aggressive species it must be- “ Klhhagh impatiently cut him off with a wave of an ommatophore. Snaghht was genetically predisposed to rambling on, given half a chance. It was amazing that he and his wife had ever managed to lay egg sacks. He imagined that Snaghht probably talked incessantly throughout the whole thing.
“ So it is a transmitter of some sort? ” he asked.
Snaghht pressed a button on the console, and the display flickered to show the interior of the device. It certainly didn ’ t look like any kind of transmitter he knew, even if it was from a long extinct species. “ Uhm, almost undoubtedly. ” Snaghht said, “ And not just that, it transmits via very specific bandwidths of light… ” He trailed off and went a slight shade of purple from embarrassment.
“ I see… ” Said the High Commander. He didn ’ t like Snaghht in the slightest, but if indeed this device did transmit light signals, it could well be incredibly dangerous. Snaghht, it seemed, had made a good decision for once. “ Good work. ” He said, and watched the purple drain from the researcher ’ s fore-body. “ Have you identified what kind of light? ” he asked.
Slaghht coughed and said “ We believe it to be Infrared, High Commander. ” And then, seeing the Commander stiffen, he hurriedly added “ I know it ’ s not very likely, Sir, but this is from a species that appears to wiped itself out with its own savagery! ”
“ Are you telling me, ” Klhhagh said in a low, aggressive tone, the hue of his normally clear abdomen darkening and going opaque, “ that you have knowingly and willingly brought an infrared transmitter on board my vessel? ” He raised himself up to his full height, and loomed over Slaghht. “ You do realise that one third of this vessel ’ s crew is Hlthan breed? Do you have any idea what this device could do to them?! ”
Slagght backed away quickly, and waved his longest tentacle at the display. “ Uh, yes, Commander, but it ’ s highly unlikely it works… ” He scrambled to the back wall, venting gasses laden with scents designed to placate his particular species. A disgusting habit that Klhhagh hated with a passion, natural instinct or not.
Slaghht was now pointing to the much larger display on the back wall, and speaking altogether too quickly. “ See, here, at the rear of the device? This is where the fuel cells would be. But as you can see, they are completely corroded! And in corroding, they have damaged the internal structure of the device. It is completely inoperative. Placing it in the container was merely a formality. ” He stopped, his air sacks pulsating wildly, and Klhhagh took a moment to calm down, looking intently at the large display. Slowly, he felt his body cooling as the pores began to excrete the mucus that covered his entire skin.
“ Okay, ” He said, “ So was it some sort of weapon? ”
Slaghht seemed to consider this for a moment, looking the image of the device up and down. “ I don ’ t think so, Sir. ” He said at length. “ Although primates are usually driven by war and destruction. ” He pointed out the flat top of the device. It was covered in little bumps. “ These may well have been buttons. I think the device had a range of functions. Or maybe a single function with tiny variants depending on what combination you pressed. ” He mimicked tapping buttons with his lower tentacles, “ and Hlthan are a unique species. They have never been recorded this far out. Also, there appears to be no evidence that these primates ever met any kind of extra-terrestrial life. And infrared has no effect on primates. ” He became aware he was still pressing imaginary buttons, and stopped.
Klhhagh walked over to the little window in the containment unit, and peered through at the device, seeing it directly for the first time. It didn ’ t look threatening at all. “ So, ” He said quietly, “ it fires infrared beams and is made by a species that can not directly interact with that wavelength. It has little buttons on one side, and a round firing array on the front… ” He thought for a while, trying to figure it out, piece it all together. But he couldn ’ t. The device made no sense! “ What is it?! ”
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[ WP ] Once per year , you 've attended a private party consisting of your past and future selves . This year you 're the oldest attending . As per tradition , you must give a toast .
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I stepped off the elevator at the usual floor, late for my own party. There was still some water on my umbrella and as I shook it off, the doorman's expression came to mind again. He had been slightly surprised to see me, something I thought would have worn off after the first several parties. He knew my face well enough, and had several dozen opportunities to see it throughout this night, every year. This time, as he let me in the building, he looked at me as though he had something disappointing to ask, but knew the rules and did n't say anything. I took a breath, tapped my umbrella on the floor one more time, and walked down to Apartment 26, this year's host.
The door opened before I could finish Our Knock. 26 answered the door, visibly shaken.
`` Oh, thank god, it's you.''
I let out a half smile. `` Of course it is. Who else can even get here?''
`` We're all really worried, Pete.''
`` That does n't sound like me.''
`` Shut up. You're late.''
`` *That* does, though.'' 16 and I laughed at my own joke, but we were alone. 26 stared at me, then gestured to the rest of his apartment. I loved this place. It was my apartment the first year Julie and I started living together. It was close to my school, close to her work, close to just about everything in the city while still being in a safe neighborhood. We lived in a 1 bedroom, but you could fit a lot of people in comfortably for parties, like we had when she surprised me for my birthday, or when we had a going-away party before moving a few towns over so Julie could go back to grad school. This was the first time 26 got to host. It was my turn next year and I'd be able to fit a lot more of me in our new place. For now, it was nice to be back in my old apartment. But something was wrong. All of my eyes in the room were quietly watching me, but there were fewer than there usually were. `` Dude -- How late am I?'' 26 sighed and looked down.
`` I do n't think the others are coming,'' 25 spoke up. It always made me sad to look at 25. He was so sick, but he pushed himself through his first year of medical school anyway, waiting till right after his last exam to get the surgery he needed. It worked out great, though. 26 and I are in the best shape of our lives, something 78 is always ribbing us for.
`` They're not here yet?''
`` They're not coming,'' echoed 22, gently clutching a sleeping 1. Everyone who understood what this meant looked more worried than I did, but I would meet them there soon.
`` Of course they're coming. That's how this works,'' my voice cracked and my mind raced. `` We all come every year. 26, they knew it was here, right? 43 was bragging last time about how he ca n't wait till we can see his yard -- do you think they went there early?''
`` It's not his turn,'' said 24. Our eyes met. We all knew the rules.
`` Shit. Well, where's 30? Dude has it together, he can help us figure this out, at least.'' 26 and 24 exchanged a glance. 18 was in the corner with 12 and 14, keeping them busy by teaching each other card tricks. He glanced up to show he was listening.
25 put a hand on my shoulder. `` You're the oldest one here.'' My face froze as I looked with widened eyes two years into my past. 25 had fought so hard, and every year seeing how many more of him there were always made us, but especially him, so happy. `` Did you graduate yet?'' he asked.
`` No, that.... that happens next year.'' My eyes darted around for 28, but knew he was n't there. It was a small apartment and it would be easy to spot the first of us that would need glasses.
26 knew who I was looking for and interjected, `` I'll get the booze.'' 25 went with him. They returned with fewer glasses and bottles than normal.
`` Should we let them have some?'' 25 gestured to the teenagers in the corner. Half of them had been watching silently.
19 took a glass and handed one to 20. `` They do n't want any.''
26 poured the kids some sparking cider, plus one for 25. He handed me a glass of the real stuff. I sat down while the rest was distributed. So few glasses this year. It always took several of us just to carry the bottles out. I pushed my hair out of my forehead and watched the bubbles spin in my glass. Did Julie know? Was it 31 or 32 that had Arthur? They obviously would know for sure. Was there still time for him? Was it even right to try? I felt my scar through my shirt. It was so small. Praise be to laparoscopy. Julie had n't even realized what it was until I had told her. Was this where all the others went? My gut churned into a small knot. Nerves. It was just nerves. I had to keep my stress down. I had to. I looked across the room to 25. What I was feeling was barely 3 % of what he had felt. His eyebrows clenched for just long enough to tell me that he knew what I was feeling. *50 % of patients need another surgery 10 years later. * The words of my surgeon came rushing back. 34 was always nervous about that, but 35 would always hang out with 25 at these things, reminding him how lucky we had been. There was an unspoken rule that talking about The End was generally off limits. Everyone old enough seemed pretty happy and did n't want to ruin things or make any of the younger ones act differently. Personally, I had only gotten the nerve to talk to 93 a few times. He had trouble talking, but would close his eyes and smile when the rest of us would tell him stories we all knew by heart at one point or another.
I would never know any of them again.
`` Would you like to say a few words?'' asked 26. I stood slowly.
There was no need to tap my glass with a fork. Everyone quieted down and looked my way before I could even clear the lump that was beginning to form in my throat. `` Welcome to the 27th Party. We all thought there'd be a lot more of these, I know. I guess somewhere along the line, I mess things up, and I'm sorry.'' 24 stared down at his glass. 23 put his arm around him. `` If the other guys can not show up one year, maybe they'll be back next time. I'll.... I'll do my best to make sure they do. And I guess all of you can, too. I mean, I -- I do n't want to, er... not show up to *last* year's.... somehow.'' I know I'm better at speaking than this. I take a breath and look back at myselves. `` I promise to always wear my seatbelt, drive slower in the rain and bike with a helmet and lights. Julie will kill me if I do n't.'' 22 laughed. 19 smiled. `` Most of you do n't know her, but it's going to feel like you always have.'' I still wonder if the reason we hit it off so well was because of the time when 24 accidentally saw her photo on 38's phone. `` I do n't know if this is my fault,'' ( 14 glared at 25, but 25 was watching me ), `` but I promise to do everything I can to bring everyone else back. 26 and I have been solid about turning things around for all of us. We'll figure this all out, and I'll see you all next year at my house.'' I felt the urge to ramble bubble up to the surface. I had to end this. `` So, a toast: To planning for the future, and modern medicine! May they save us once more.''
I love the sound of all of us saying *Cheers* in perfect unison. The fact that it was quieter this year made my stomach clench for just a second. As the glasses rang against each other, 26 patted me on the back. `` Not your best.''
`` Dick.'' I hugged him and finished my drink.
`` You feeling okay?''
`` I'm fine. I'll be fine. Hey, let's tell these kids about Julie,'' The older guys usually had the best stories to tell, but now that would fall to us. `` Y'know... In case they're late to next year's party.''
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[ WP ] Fortunately , the dark lord has been overthrown at last and on trial for his crimes . Unfortunately , you are his lawyer .
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I did n't even have time to prepare. Turns out the court works a bit faster in the afterlife, and heck, i was never a good layer to begin with before my untimely death. This was going to be a Hail Mary defense.
The devil looked glum. He did n't give me a glance or any acknowledgement after I introduced myself. A small puddle of steel laid in front of him. The court guard told me that was from shackles, he refused to wear them. Only a dozen or so devil's wives came to support him, most have went with the new ruler of the underworld.
There was some chatter until prosecutor came into the room. I have n't seen him before, he was obviously not from the underworld, he had a glow around him, and room suddenly went silent. The prosecutor sat at his bench and gave a stern look at my client, but my client was looking down.
The judge announced that the prosecutor will make the first statement. The prosecutor stood up, explained that the devil has obviously committed numerous crimes. He showed videos of wars and torture, and announced he'll be asking for an eternity of torture as punishment.
After he sat down, the devil turned to me and said `` let me take the stand''. I nodded, certainly no matter what I said could get him off easily, but first I had to go for Hail Mary.
`` My client is the servant of God.'' I said. `` He could n't have done anything without His approval.'' I pointed up. Prosecutor smiled, then got visibly angry.
`` HE WAS THE SERVANT OF GOD, BUT WHAT IS HE NOW?'' I've never been in a more quiet room. The silence could n't break for fourteen hours, I thought I should cough to break it, but something told me it was n't a good idea.
`` I'm sorry'' my client spoke `` I'm sorry to disappoint.''
Prosecutor sat back down `` sorry is meaningless, who rules Hell now?'' The question was rhetorical. `` Was he appointed by God?'' This question was also rhetorical.
I was thrown along with my bolted down chair across the courtroom, it felt that it was the force of hate, not physical force that did it. There was a radius almost reaching the prosecutor around my client, the radius was cleared of everything. My client bent down to the melted steel puddle, grabbed it with his hand and it turned into a sword.
`` I'm not sorry, I had a break, I'm all good, and let this be a lesson. I WO N'T BE OVERTHROWN!'' the floor opened from under the devil and he fell in. Seconds after, he jumped back out from the hole holding something long and twisted. The one who overthrew him still had his head, but the body was tied in knots with devil's wives who have abandoned him.
Prosecutor smiled, `` I made the right choice.'' And vanished.
The devil turned to me, `` Do I look like someone who needs you to defend me?'' He was slowly walking toward me, dragging the twisted flesh of hundreds by the hair of the head.
I straightened my self out. `` I'm a lawyer, and I treat all my clients equally. You obviously do n't need my defence, but it does n't mean I would n't try defending you.''
The devil stood less than an inch from my face. He threw the flesh into the hole from which he came. `` You may serve out your time in this court.'' He threw me a few feet away `` do n't stand close to me.'' And left.
You know what happened after? No judge ever ruled against the lawyer who stood close to devil and was n't punished for it.
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[ WP ] : You are given the opportunity to send one book back in time to whomever you wish . Tell us what the world looks like after this history altering event .
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The General opened his safe and pulled out a tattered book. Holding the book carefully in both hands, he went over to his desk and carefully placed the book on the blotter. He then sat down and grabbed his favorite pen, and old bic. It may had been a pedestrian pen, but it worked every time for him. He opened the book to the first empty page and began to write.
*26 October 2014*
*Today is the thirtieth anniversary of the third World War. As we do every War Day, we check what the world looks like outside of Cheyenne Mountain to see if there is any hope. As every War Day since 1985 the results are the same. Nuclear winter, high radiation, and no life. We are now running out of resources here at NORAD and will most likely never see another War Day. Only six of us are left, and we are beginning to show signs of radiation poisoning despite being isolated in the heart of the mountain. We have no idea if there are any other pockets of humanity left since our communications network stop working in 1993. We never received any replies before then, so we assume we are alone. *
*There is one bit of good news this War Day. Doctor Blain and finished his time machine. Unlike the time machine that H.G. Wells wrote about in his novel, this one only has room for one book. There is no way to send anyone back to warn them about what happened. After several hours of debate, we agreed on what we are going to do. We have one chance to save ourselves, and we hope this works. *
*Mr. Gorbachev, if you receive this diary, please read it and realize what will happens if the events of October 26, 1984 are allowed to happen. I trust that you will believe me, and take action. I would have sent this package to President Reagan, but I am not confident that he is in a position to act, and I do n't trust Nancy to take action. Please Mr. Gorbachev, do n't ignore this diary. Star Wars, despite all of the money dumped into it, is not a threat to the Soviet Union, and never will be. The only damage Star Wars is doing is to our economies. Calling our bluff will only lead to the end of the world. *
*God be with you and yours. *
*Sincerely, *
*General David Gordan, NORAD Command*
The General closed the diary, picked it up carefully, and went down to the lowest level of the Cheyenne Complex, where the machine sat on a platform. Doctor Blain then opened a small door on the side of the time machine and placed the diary carefully inside.
“ Sir, the machine has been calibrated and is ready to go. As per your orders, the destination has been set for Gorbachev's office in the Kremlin, October 14, 1984. ”
“ What are our chances of success? ”
“ Honestly Sir, I do n't know. Even if we get your diary back to 1984, there is no guarantee that Gorbachev will actually see it, much less act on it. I'm not even sure that the past can be changed. ”
“ Doctor, I understand that, but I ca n't just sit here and die without trying. Send the diary. ”
“ Yes, sir. ”
Doctor Blain flipped a switch, and the lights dimmed in the room for a few seconds, then came back up. He then opened the door and checked the machine. The diary was gone.
“ Transfer complete. ”
The General did n't know what to expect, but so far nothing happened. They even checked outside again, just to see the familiar site of nuclear winter. He went to bed early that night with another migraine. He was getting sicker, and did n't have many more days. He would soldier on. He put is sleeping mask on and went to sleep.
Morning came and he laid in bed, not sure if he wanted to face another day. His headache was gone, but he kept hearing voices outside the door. He could n't make out any words, but obviously there must be some new issue or failure he would have to face. He was just about to get up and go see what was going on when the door opened and he heard something that sounded like bounding feet. Something jumped on his bed and attacked him with a wet tongue and a cold nose. Before he could tear his sleeping mask off, the voices that he had heard become clear.
“....if we have this under control, how can we have a case of Ebola in New York City? The CDC is not doing.... ”
The General ripped off his mask, coming face to face with a Boston Terrier. He was no longer in his room – he was in a house on the surface. Looking out the window, he saw blue skies and white mountains in the distance. The next voice he heard was his Wife, Jenny.
“ Honey, did Buggie get you up? It's seven thirty, and he needs to go poops and pee. ”
As he woke up, the memories of Cheyenne Mountain began to fade. That was some dream he had, being stuck in NORAD Command for thirty years. Buggie continued to dance on the bed, needing to relieve himself. General David Gordan, retired, grabbed his robe as he did every morning and went downstairs with Buggie to let him out after giving his Wife a good morning kiss. It was going to be a good day.
**Edit: Formatting**
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[ WP ] A few decades after Earth has colonized Mars , criminals have taken control of the now expansive city . You , the best mercenary in the business , have been called in to take it back by any means necessary .
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Scientists and deadbeats.
Long after the first few real `` astronauts'' came to Mars the hard-ass researchers, explorers, and settlers came in droves. People who could figure things out, and people who could be paid to get things done. Scientists and deadbeats. It's no wonder how things turned out...
I did n't even want a trip to another planet, but I was the only one desperate enough for the paycheck.
Things had gone south and they needed a trigger man. I told them I was retired, but retirement does n't mean much if you do n't have the money to enjoy it. As soon as they started talking numbers my mind drifted to the amounts of booze I could buy with it. That was enough for me, even if I did end up having my blood boil off in the hostile atmosphere of another planet.
At least they paid for first class. Everything was going to go great, I hoped, even if I had this nagging feeling it would be like last time...
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[ WP ] You awake from a coma to discover that your favourite piece of fiction is actually your real life , and the life you are currently living was just a vivid dream .
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Morning already? Goddammit.
As I rose and stretched and lazily strolled through the den the light shone through the crack in the wall and I peered out cautiously, the whole world was awake already. The birds were singing merrily, the sun was beckoning and beaming through the canopy above and the rabbits were darting about.
A thought entered my mind; man, I had the weirdest dream last night. As I stood and relieved my bladder it all came flooding back to me.
It was terrible. I just sat there all day jabbing at this computery thing and making stuff do other stuff on the screen. I kept hearing this `` bing!'' and then this stupid envelope thing would light up red and stuff. It was horrible.
Oh well. I'd soon emerge from my slumber to troll the forest and it would be just a fleeting memory. I lumbered toward the front door and as I passed the old rack I reached for my hat, my favourite hat, I loved it so much. Out I would go to forage and....
WAIT
MY HAT IS GONE
I WANT IT BACK
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[ TT ] They all watched as the blood dripped from his axe .
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As I was carried out, blindfolded, I wondered the fate I would face. When the blindfold was removed I was faced with a stadium. It was 50 feet to the screaming crowd, with another 40 feet of the crowd. The emperor at the top of it all with servants all around him. All I could here were the screaming people. I could make out a few minor slanders such as, `` Scrawny boy you gon na die.'' and `` Lion's gon na have a snack today.'' It did n't bother me, as at this point I had little self-pride.
After a few useless attempts at silencing the crowd, the emperor went ahead with his speech. I was n't able to make out the first few lines, but after the crowd silenced it self out of fear of facing a similar fate to me, I was able to make out what he was saying, `` This man is here to face the punishment for his crimes.''
`` What did he do!'' An audience member shouted
`` Good question.'' Replied the emperor with a smirk, `` This man, is the most dangerous man in the kingdom.''
The audience erupted with laughter.
`` I know.'' The emperor continued, `` I was surprised too, but this man is a spy of the Germanics to the north.'' He paused for what I assume was dramatic affect. `` The only punishment for this crime is a gladiatorial match to the death with the most dangerous criminals and wild animals.''
The crowd cheered with delight. The savages that enjoy the limbs of others getting ripped out of their sockets.
With a smile on his face the emperor shouted, `` Let the death begin!''
To my right two gates opened, the closest one had three warriors. The farthest one had a lion with fresh blood on it's teeth and the area around it's mouth. To my left one gate opened with 2 barbarians. The fight has begun.
The warriors charged at me with their swords while the barbarians stayed back to try and avoid detection. The first warrior swung at from my right side. I ducked under the sword just in time. While it kept swinging I grabbed the warriors hands and caught him by surprise and wrestled his sword out of his hands. The momentum the sword already had allowed me to keep swinging it into the warrior, slashing open his stomach, intestines and livers spilling out. He fell to his knees then onto his face. The next one tried striking from above. i was able to jump to the side and cut both his hands off, I moved one to the next letting him bleed out. The third one had progressively gotten more scared through the battle, seeing his friends get destroyed can do that to someone. His swing was weak, barley scratched me before I swung between his legs and cutting him vertically.
I noticed the two barbarians out of the corner of my eye, trying to sneak up on me. I threw my sword into his skull as he swung, his axe dropping at my feet. I picked it up and charged at the second. He tried throwing his axe at me. The speeds at which it was going I barley had time to duck out of the way.
So, here he is my last enemy defenseless and begging for mercy. I said to him, `` I do n't know mercy.'' As I bashed his skull in with the side of my axe, letting him suffer before finally killing him with the blade. His blood was dripping from my axe. The crowd cheering me on. My only regret, forgetting about the lion.
The
End
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[ FF ] You wake up in a Wal-Mart , but then realize it 's actually ... prom ! ( 200 words )
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Tigers, tigers everywhere! Talk about a zoo! There was this ninja straight jacking all products at what can only be described as ninja like speed. Then the locust showed up, making all sorts of bug noises. This dude in a suit was shaking up cans of Coke and handing it out, pretty much non stop. He got blunt with his plans on taking yet another trip. Him, the tigers, the ninja, and the locusts were straight rolling in the grass, laughing every time they got tickled by the weeds. It was all on tape, the microphone was recording what was sure to be an epic vinyl. The clouds cackled with thunderous applause. Shooting stars were frequent. People brought cake they made from scratch, really going the distance. A bus rolled up and dropped two turn tables, another microphone, and a couple kegs of Beck's. Someone strapped a couple lasers to a pony and had a spider monkey in pants and a hat saddled in.
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[ WP ] Jupiter has 64 moons and a serious werewolf problem .
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Heart pounding, he hid. Who would have thought beneath those clouds was a livable planet? Certainly not Tarel. But that planet was n't looking so livable now.
See there were local creatures, deadly, dangerous things. Things that would kill on sight. Luckily they had been able to keep them at bay. See the local creatures were nocturnal. And they were strong but the colonists were stronger.
But now... his Village was massacred. His family and friends dead or scattered. This night had been foretold, but nobody knew the extend of the devastation it would bring.
If only they'd fled. They could have all pulled back to low orbit. Their infrastructure could be rebuilt, the dead were lost forever.
Tarel now knew what they meant by the darkest night. For on this one night, none of Jupiter's moons waxed full, and Tarel's people, trapped in their frail human bodies, were no longer the top dogs....
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