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[ WP ] A single man declares war on the entire world . One year later , the leaders of each nation gather to discuss their surrender .
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They were all gathered around a long, boardroom-esque type table, in front of each of them was a phone with a direct wire to each of their respective countries. 200 men and women, the most respected of their homelands in a dumpy office complex on the edge of Madison, Wisconsin.
Mortar fire thunders like a growing storm on the prairie. A hot wind of approaching change blows across the room, humid, hot and sticky. Sweat oozes out of the wool suits, boiling them like helpless lobsters.
Many of them have already taken poison, more of them still have paid assistants to do the grisly deed after the negotiations are done.
Finally an orderly comes to the head of the table, a look of udder joy on his face. The looks he receives could slice through diamond. But, it is n't the orderly's fault, it's really nobody's fault, nobody could have expected that after all the years of posturing that he could have done what he did. It was really amazing, it was n't bullshit after all.
The Orderly breathes in, `` And Now, the supreme leader of Korea, Kim Jong Un, the greatest military strategist of all time, the greatest leader of all time graces you with your presence.''
And there he was, in all Five-Feet-Nine-Inches of his pudgy glory, standing in the doorway to claim his greatest prize.
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[ WP ] A gangster who took a blood oath to avenge the death of any fallen member of his crew goes after cancer .
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“ You ’ ll make sure they take care of my ma, right? ” The man in the hospital bed seemed to be fighting against his eyelids, desperately trying to keep his eyes focused on Vince, “ Right? ”
“ I ’ ll make sure, Al, ” Vince went down on one knee so Al didn ’ t have to look up at him, “ Your ma is gon na live like the Queen of Egypt, Al. I promise. ”
“ Thanks, Vin, ” Al ’ s eyes closed, but the machines continued to slowly beep in response to his struggling vitals.
Vince didn ’ t leave Al ’ s side. He gently grasped his child-hood friend ’ s weak, pallid hand in his own, kissing the back softly as the machines continued to sound the call of impending death. Al had been fighting Leukemia for almost a decade, now, and Vince had been with him every step of the way. They ’ d sat up almost all night after the first treatment watching Scrubs, since Al really hadn ’ t taken the session well at all. He ’ d been vomiting for hours, but the two of them had loved to watch that show since they were kids. It ’ d become a ritual to watch Scrubs during the chemo sessions, since it kept Al ’ s spirits up to see their hospital antics, and their placebo when the aftereffects left Al up into the nights.
Before Al had started all this, the two had been an intimidating sight; burly, tall, and both sporting spikey stylized hair, they ’ d been perfect muscle for the growing Chi-Berian gang in the heart of Chicago. They ’ d been picked up as wayward teens that were big enough to throw their weight around and get things done, back in the early days, but as the gang ’ s influence grew and the duo along with it, they ’ d become the chief enforcers and eventually the head of security for the whole outfit. The gang even put them through college, as it did with all the bright and important members, because they would then be on-paper-proficient members of society.
Al had a Master ’ s in Business Finance, surprisingly enough. Vince had ended up the route of a Master ’ s in Chemical Engineering and a Doctorate of Medical Science. Strangest part their lives together, they ’ d often joked, was the fact that they ’ d actually been busting legs and knocking heads between finals. But both the men had taken their academic careers seriously, mostly at the not so subtle urging of the gang boss, Santorini Tarrasco.
“ We have the capitol to make our guys smarter than the folks that are gon na be coming after ‘ em, ” The fit old boss had said to them over lunch a long time ago, “ And that ’ s what makes us better than everyone. And I mean everyone, boys. Better than the cops, except *our* cops. Better than the politicians, except *our* politicians. Better than the schifoso tesa di cazzo small timers peddling meth and all that stronzata! We don ’ t deal small time, boys. We deal big. There ’ s gon na be a day when Chi-Beria owns the Illinois. Then there ’ s gon na be a day when Chi-Beria owns the Midwest. Then there ’ s gon na be a day when Chi-Beria owns the Senate. You get the picture. We. Deal. Big. ”
“ Vin, ” Al ’ s eyes opened again, a little less than last time, “ Vin? ”
“ I ’ m here, Al, ” Vince gently squeezed his friend ’ s hand, “ I ’ m always here. ”
“ Vin, I don ’ t think I can win this one. ” A tear slid down Al ’ s cheek, “ I think this is my last round. ”
“ You won, Al, ” Vince began to silently cry, big, angry, desperate tears, “ You made it to the end of the fight and you won, Al. ”
“ Ain ’ t the winner supposed to walk away, Vin? ”
“ It ain ’ t about walkin ’ away, Al. It ’ s about not giving up. ”
“ Vin, ” Al took a rattling breath, pain creasing his eyes as they closed, “ Vin, you got ta promise to do me right. Like we did after they got Quarter-Pounder. ”
Barry'Quarter-Pounder' O'Donnel was the first of the pair ’ s friends to get killed, the bright guy being gunned down by a political assassin while running for the Senate seat of Illinois twelve years ago. Vince and Al had drawn blades across their hands and sworn to hunt down every last whoreson in the outfit that had sent the assassin out. More assassinations had followed, and it had merely added to the growing list of blood-oath killings the bright pair of gang security musclemen had to fulfill.
Since then the pair hadn ’ t gone a quarter without killing someone in the anti-Chi-Berian coalition. Things were different in America, now. After the races started going sour in the teens, the rise of Chi-Beria with their sharp leaders and masses of followers had almost had it easy sweeping in the political scene and bringing a sort of vicious peace to the tumultuous land of the free.
A land where blood begets blood, and power begets peace.
Al ’ s hand went slack in Vince ’ s gentle grip.
The heart monitor went flat.
Vince lowered his head.
“ I ’ ll do you right, Al, ” Vince raised his head and kissed his best friend ’ s lifeless hand.
“ I ’ ll do you right. ”
*~*~*~*~*
“ Are you ready? ” A bright eyed news aid straightened Vince ’ s collar and brushed at his jacket ’ s shoulder.
“ As always, ” Vince smiled at the girl.
“ Just be confident and answer honestly, ” She stepped back and closed one eye, pantomiming a square with her fingers as she comically focused in on him, “ You look great. Mr. Roberts is a really nice guy, and there ’ s nothing coming out of left field. You ’ re a hero, after all. Nothing bad could come up. ”
“ I don ’ t think I ’ m a hero, darlin ’, ” Vince rolled his neck before starting out to the plush chairs facing one another between the bright lights beyond the doorway, “ But I ’ m sure something else. ”
He strolled to his chair. He straightened his tie, the same blue and gold checkered tie he ’ d worn to Al ’ s funeral almost twenty years ago, then sat in the cushioned leather chair facing it ’ s still empty companion. There were the usual steps still being taken by news crew for the final prep; ensuring the light showed up correctly, testing mics, final makeup, all that jazz, then Mr. Roberts walked into the room with a smile on his face. Vince rose, grasped the offered hand and pumped twice before sitting back down, Mr. Roberts mirroring him.
“ How are you, Dr. Piscatelli? ” Mr. Roberts crossed his legs and set his hands on his knee as he waited for the crew to signal the interview was about to begin.
“ Well, ” Vince massaged his palm with a calloused thumb, “ And yourself? ”
“ Fantastic. We ’ re about to immortalize history, Dr. Piscatelli, ” The man flashed a grin at Vince, “ And I ’ m about to go down as the first man to interview the doctor who cured cancer. Helluva thing. ”
“ I ’ m glad it will be a boon for your career, Mr. Roberts, ” Vince continued to massage his palm, “ Truly. ”
“ It ’ s a boon for yours too, Dr. Piscatelli, ” The man leaned forward and covered his mic, gesturing for Vince to do the same, “ We ’ re in this together, after all. Chi-Professionals, that is. ”
“ Stream about to begin, ” The director shouted from behind the camera, “ Go in five! ”
A small timer appeared in the camera housing, perfect for a seamless transition with the folks on set looking exactly where they should. It ticked to zero and Mr. Roberts began.
“ Good evening, America, and good evening all. I, Allen Roberts, welcome you to join me as I sit down for the first official interview with the man who will forever be remembered in our shared history: Doctor Vince Piscatelli, the man who cured cancer. Dr. Piscatelli? ”
“ Good evening, Mr. Roberts, ” Vince gave a slight tilt of his head in acknowledgement of the interviewer.
“ Please, ” The man smiled again, “ Call me Al. ”
Vince felt his throat tighten and his jaw clench in reaction, as it had every time someone brought up the name Al, “ Alright, Al. ”
“ Now, before we get into the nitty gritty of this interview, I just want to begin with something a little off the scheduled path. Would you mind? ”
“ By all means, ” Vince gave a casual wave.
“ Thank you, ” Al Roberts nodded, “ Dr. Piscatelli, I scoured the medical world for people to interview leading up to this to find out what drove you. Every person, be it colleagues working with you in the weeds to get to this amazing end down to orderlies you had on call in any satellite medical station and hospital across the globe over the past eighteen years, said you worked obsessively on this cure. You would work while you ate, and really only stopped for the barest sleep you could manage. Not a person I interviewed said anything about your personal life because, so far as I ’ ve found, you have none. You have dedicated every moment of your life to beating cancer for almost two decades, and nothing anyone said has stopped you. There ’ s no wife, no kids, and so far as I found no friends. We know nothing about you, personally. ”
There was an awkward silence as Al Roberts seemed to expect a response. Vince raised an eyebrow at the interviewer before taking a deep breath and saying, “ There ’ s nothing personal that would relate to what has been accomplished, Al. We ’ re here for a victory. We ’ re here because I ’ ve walked out of the ring with a heavyweight disease and can claim the belt by knockout. ”
“ We all acknowledge that, Dr. Piscatelli, ” Al Roberts chuckled, “ No doubt, you will hold the title belt, as you say, in medical history for some time to come. But what I should ’ ve asked is: What drove you so hard that you dedicated so much of your life to a miraculous cure for mankind? ”
“ Well, ” Vince cleared his throat, feeling it start to tighten again. He knew what drove him. He knew the why. He ’ d only explained it once before. When Santorini Tarrasco had asked why his chief security lieutenant was stepping down just as the Chi-Berian organization was getting on the international stage.
‘ *Because I swore on my life that ’ d I ’ d do Al right, boss, * ’ Vince had said, ‘ *I swore on the blood in my heart that I ’ d do him right. I swore, boss. * ’
Tarrasco had been quiet for a few minutes before he ’ d nodded and said, ‘ *I understand. We ’ ll support you every step of the way, son. But you got ta swear again. To me. * ’
“ Well, ” Vince cleared his throat again and tilted his head until an audible pop issued from his neck, “ I made a promise, Al. And I never break a promise. ”
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[ WP ] You sit at a bus stop and ask the person sitting besides you when the last bus is due , ( s ) he simply laughs ...
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God, I couldn ’ t wait for this bloody day to be over. Meeting after bloody useless meeting. There was a problem that wasn ’ t. In fact, the “ problem ” the upper executives had been discussing was nothing more than speculation—about as likely to happen as Jesus coming down from heaven to give me a blowjob. But what could I do? They wanted to invent a solution to an imaginary problem, and I was along for the ride whether I wanted to be or not. That “ ride ” lasted until eight thirty when we finally retired. Was anything accomplished? Not a damned thing.
During the meetings, my mind wandered towards the downstairs bar. It was the kind of dive bar one expects to find in “ lower class ” neighborhoods in the north end of the city, not at the base of a respected office tower in central downtown. I don ’ t drink often, never during the week, but after this futile day all I could think about was a strong Gin and Tonic and a bloody cold beer. The kind of cold that makes your fingers stick to the bottle. I decided tonight was going to be an exception to my rule: never drink during the week.
I had more than two drinks, four actually, and each tasted as wonderful as they had in my wandering mind. I left the bar with a nice buzz clouding my head, mostly relaxed, and ready to go home. My car was in the parkade, where it would stay for the night. No way in hell was I going to even contemplate the idea of driving home. That left either a cab or the bus, either would be fine. Hell, I could walk if I wanted to, but I didn ’ t. Deciding on a cab, I called the three main companies ( the only numbers I knew ), and each one of them warned of an extra-long wait time of forty-five minutes at the earliest.
Bus it was.
The stop was a block over and across the street. I crossed and noticed a young woman sitting on the far end of the bench wearing a pretty floral sun dress with her brown leather purse snug against her far hip under her smooth white arm. Her brown hair was long, at least down to the small of her back, sadly her bangs hid her face. Despite not seeing her face, she reminded me of someone. It was her posture and the way she held herself. I reached up and rubbed my chin, scratchy with a healthy dose of five-o ’ clock shadow, and tried to remember. When nothing came to me, I told myself it was the alcohol and let it go.
As I approached the bench, the lady turned and smiled at me. She was young, I ’ d say eighteen. Maybe a year older or maybe a year younger, but somewhere in there. God, she was pretty! Her hair framed her slightly rounded face perfectly, her baby blue eyes seemed almost too blue to be real, and her slightly toothy smile showed white, perfectly shaped, teeth. I smiled back and gave her a slight nod before sitting down on the far side, giving her some room. She turned from me to the hill further down the road, where our bus would come from.
I couldn ’ t help myself. I had to look. And I did. Her breasts were small and perky, beautiful. Immediately feeling giddy, I turned away to look down the other end of the road and tried not to blush. I ’ m an adult now and I ’ ve slept with my share of women, so why feel giddy about it?
Because she reminded me of someone.
As the minutes passed, while we waited for the bus in silence, I tried to scratch that itch and figure out who she reminded me of. I went through the list of my ex-girlfriends, nieces and other family members to no avail. Even though I couldn ’ t pinpoint her identity, I became more and more convinced I knew her, but from where?
I checked my watch, almost forty minutes had passed since I left the bar. Where was this bus?
I turned to her, brow furrowing on its own, my fuzzy mind was still hard at work trying to figure out the identity of the girl she reminded me of. “ Excuse me, ” I said. “ Do you know when the last bus comes? ”
She turned to me, a slight smirk on her pink lips. The smirk grew into a smile, then into a grin. Unexpectedly, making me furrow my brow again, she started laughing. She tilted her head back and laughed to the sky filled with blazing oranges and reds as the sun set. It wasn ’ t a chuckle nor a full-belly roar, but somewhere in between. A hearty, amused laugh. A chill rushed down my spine. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I knew that happy, slightly high-pitched, laugh.
I knew it well.
She calmed herself and sighed, tilting her head and giving me a look of pity.
I felt my jaw drop and my whole body go limp.
I remembered her.
It was just before the end of grade 12, days if I remember correctly. She was a friend-of-a-friend, Jenna Stone. I wanted to be friends with her, but I also wanted to be more than that. Finally, I found the nerve to ask her. It was at an end-of-school party in Fish Creek Park and somehow I managed to get her alone.
‘ Jenna. I, uh, I…I know we haven ’ t been, uh, friends all that long. But I was wondering if…if, maybe, you ’ d like to go out to a, uh, movie with me sometime ’.
She gave me the same look back then as she was giving me then: a sad sort of pity. ‘ I can ’ t. Sorry. ’
Two days later, her parents found her in the bathtub dead. None of us, not even her best friend, found out how she died. All we knew was that she had taken her own life.
“ You can ’ t be… ” My voice fell to nothing as I stared at her.
“ Yes, ” She whispered. “ I can be. ”
I felt my mouth working, but nothing was coming out. Her piteous look softened until a very slight smile touched her beautiful lips. She reached out and touched my cheek. “ You ’ re different. ”
“ It ’ s been twenty years. I grew up. ” My voice sounded small, far away and insignificant.
“ Not that way. ” She whispered and glanced towards the hill, only to return with a slight frown. “ But are you ready? ”
I was confused and scared. “ Ready for what? ”
“ Why don ’ t you tell me? ”
“ I..I..I don ’ t— ” I stopped, my whole body went cold. “ I ’ m dead. ”
Jenna ’ s smile warmed as she reached up and gently caressed my stubbly cheek. She looked into my eyes, and though I was terrified—how could I be dead? —all I could see was happiness and relief. “ Finally. ”
“ I don ’ t understand. ” I whispered, numb.
“ Sometimes it takes a while for us to realize we ’ re dead. ” She whispered, her eyes bright and cheerful. “ But now you do. ”
“ Now what? ” I asked.
She looked over her shoulder to the hill. At the crest was a bus, still a ways off. She turned to me and smiled. “ We go home. And you can finally take me on that date. ”
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[ WP ] Two ex-lovers run into each other after many years ... they both have Alzheimer 's .
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`` You ever wondered how grandpa and grandma met? ``, said my sister as she passed the french toast mom had made before leaving for work.
It never really occured to me. It's been about a year since grandpa died, and grandma has n't been the same since. Grandma always talked about this man she had met at the retirement home. She did n't really remember his name, or what he looked like. But she always mentioned of the beret he wore.
`` You know grandma never stops talking about that veteran she met at the retirement home. It's like she does n't even care or remember grandpa. I mean, she's already 72 but still, would n't you think grandma would at least remember at least one thing that grandpa did for the family?''
I stayed silent. The relationship between grandpa and grandma was n't the best. What's worse was that grandma stopped recognizing grandpa after her 65th birthday. After a while, grandpa could n't take it anymore and eventually gave up. He had died in his sleep, I guess he could n't take the pain of being with someone who did n't even recognize him. To grow old and die, knowing that the person you started a family with has no recollection of you, seems like a fate worse than death.
`` Well, you know that grandma's alzheimers is already at that point,'' I said to Lily as I took the last piece of bacon.
`` It's not exactly the best feeling when the one you love ca n't love you back. No matter how hard you try.''
`` True.'' Lily said as she looked at grandpa's picture on the shrine.
`` If anything, today's grandma's birthday so just be ready before we leave for the retirement home.'' I got up and cleaned up the table. `` You start your new job today and I do n't want you late, especially on the first day.''
Lily nodded.
`` Just remember to pick me up after while I stay with grandma. I'll send you a text if plans change'', I said as I grabbed the bag that mom wanted me to bring to the retirement home.
`` Wow this is heavy'', I thought to myself. I looked inside the bag and found an old book, some of grandma's clothes and an old box photos.
`` Mom said she wanted us to bring those things to grandma, hopefully it would'jog' her memory.'' Lily ran upstairs to grab the flowers to replace the ones we gave during the last visit. `` Hopefully these help too.''
( Ugh I want to write more but it's getting late, continuing tomorrow. I'm actually into my own story. Stay tuned though! You're gon na love how this continues. )
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[ EU ] Squidward finally sues Mr. Krabs for years of worker 's rights violations .
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Squidward imagined himself painting in a brand-new studio, lounging in the sun, finally having the time and resources to play clarinet full time. He could already see himself sitting on a barstool in a cool jazz-club, a titled beret on his head, and audience enraptured and utterly silent in the wake of his performance.
He would soon have everything he ever wanted. It was so close he was practically hallucinating it, seeing it in his dreams in a finely-rendered, infinitely-detailed vision - far beyond the simplicities of his crude animated existence.
As he prepared to return to the court-room, he put on the foam neck brace and added a little more purple make-up to his black eye. He wanted it to look fresh to the judge. He was determined to make the judge break down and weep at his story, so that he had no choice but the award to the suit to him. Against a shrewd businessman like Krabs, he needed every advantage he could get.
No, he hadn ’ t taken any real damage to the neck when he slipped on the wet floor at the Krusty Krab, and his black-eye ( caused in an unrelated accident ) had faded weeks ago. But after all these years of minimum-wage servitude, like some medieval serf, didn ’ t he deserve something? How many years had he tolerated the plague of Spongebob and his imbecilic side-kick, Patrick? How many years had toiled under that tyrant Krabs?
He peered out his window, saw the driver, and walked outside. Soon the legal headaches would end, he told himself. From that day until the day he passed into syndication, he would relax into a simple paradise of painting and artistic appreciation. He would move far away from Bikini Bottom, Spongebob and his retarded companions a fading nightmare in his mind.
He had only taken five steps before the spear-guns hit him. Three high-speed, underwater missiles lanced through his torso, driving him back into his front door.
No, he thought in those final moments before death, as he ejected black ink the way a dying man loses control of his bowels. He could not believe his eyes.
Plankton stood atop his new mech suit, its spear-gun launchers already reloaded for another salvo. Squidward understood it all. His lawsuit had inspired Krabs to turn Plankton into an Ally. Improved labor laws would create problems for both of them. Their corporate greed had surpassed their old feud, and they recognized Squidward as a common enemy. They had killed him to end the suit in its tracks and to send a clear method those would be union-organizers.
No, Squidward thought as he died, he could not accept the reality. Blood spilled out of his wounds. He felt himself go lightheaded, a strange but peaceful confusion taking over his mind. He felt sleepy all of the sudden. He imagined himself in that smoke-filled jazz bar, blowing with the likes of John Coltrane and Miles Davis, and for a moment everything felt okay.
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[ WP ] Humanity left Earth thousands of years ago . We return to find something else has taken our place .
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The gentle electric shocks woke me from my resting state. The lid slid off of the tub and I sat up, chemical nutrients sluicing off me. The computer system immediately told me it was four in the afternoon, Terra Novus time.
I stepped out of the tub and shivered in the cold of the ship. I thought to the computer to turn on the heat, and it told me it couldn ’ t.
“ Why not? ” I asked, testing my voice box and hearing.
“ Administrator 3, as you know, you won ’ t die from cold. ” The computer explained, as if I were a child.
“ I know, but my skin can still crack, or my joints freeze in place. I ’ m not asking for a tropical paradise, but maybe you could bump it up to 20 C ’ s? ” I said though some more shivers. The computers social sub routines made a sighing noise as it complied.
“ Very well, sir. Do you want your weekly nutri-tab now or later? ” it asked.
“ I ’ ll take it in the command module, as usual. ” I told the computer. As the computer set about doing that I walked to the locker and dressed in a large grey coverall and sealed boots. I always thought the sealed boots were a bit superfluous, they had never issued me a helmet or gloves to complete the seal.
As the computer began to vocalize the reason, I shushed it. I knew why, it still was silly. Just because I was a cybernetic Humanoid doesn ’ t mean I can ’ t think things silly. I walked to the command module, a mere hundred meters away, and grabbed the nutri-tab to munch on.
“ How ’ s Erin doing? ” Monica, the crew chief for the humans, asked. Erin Alvarez was the name of the donor for the brain tissue I had, and Monica always seemed to ask about her- uh, it.
“ The brain ’ s fine Mon. ” I lied. Just before I entered the last rest state I actually began to confuse myself with Erin. Most brains donated to synth-hums had the memories wiped, the brains were just for processing. Erin Alvarez, oddly enough, hadn ’ t had this done to her, so often enough my memories would conflict.
“ Well, let me know if it gets all buggered, we can fix it somehow. ” Monica was showing more care than she did for her human crew. Of course, that was because she and I had copulated with each other, many times. Humans had the oddest way of attaching emotions to actions where there need not be any, though I couldn ’ t say the feelings weren ’ t always returned.
That was the price of being a synth that ‘ lived ’ this long, I started to develop human aspects, and that could be troublesome if I managed to live a few centuries more. I might go insane, and that always ended bad for synth ’ s.
“ So, Mon, where is Higher telling us to go? ” I asked, ignoring the option of asking the computer because it didn ’ t have a sexy voice.
“ Higher says… we ’ re heading to the Sol sector. ” Monica sounded confused, the name was not one often said nowadays. “ Earth? ”
“ It would appear so, that ’ s the only thing of interest in that system. ” I confirmed.
“ Weren ’ t you made on Earth? ” Monica asked, eyebrows rising.
“ Yes, I was, just before the general evacuation was called for. ” I said, recalling the sunny beaches and the apple orchards and-
No, wait, those weren ’ t my memories. I stayed in a white room, hooked into a computer not that different from the one on the ship, and learned the collective knowledge of humanity. Most of it was retained in my head still, though recalling it was always annoying. Just like my mom said, it ’ s always at the worst of ti-
I grunted hoarsely and shook my head, literally trying to dislodge the thought. I tick I knew Erin had, but it worked wonders every time.
“ You okay? ” Monica asked, moving close enough to grasp at my shoulders.
“ Fine, the memories are just so sudden. ” I partially admitted. Monica moved in, looking up at me with unanswered questions.
“ The best memory I could give you is the air tasted different. It didn ’ t have the metal taste of the ship or the… ” I motioned with my hands, hoping to grab a thought from the air. “ it didn ’ t taste like apples. In some places, it still tasted clean, just like… like clean itself. ”
Monica smiled, practically experiencing the taste herself. “ What else do you remember? ”
“ Being born. ” Truthfully, that was it. The only time I actually stepped out of the complex was to walk to the ship that bore me to the stars, and that was so long ago. “ By the way, what exactly is the date? ” I asked.
The computer intoned the numbers, “ 58th day of March, 1508 AE. ” The longer months of Terra Novus still messed with me sometimes. I had been made… 1,602 years ago, Terra Novus scale. Earth years were shorter than that so… a whole two thousand years, on and off of course.
“ Are you excited to be going back? ” Monica asked, leading me to my seat in the module.
“ Part of me is. Are you? ” I asked, to which Mon shrugged.
“ For part of me, it ’ s just another job, but the rest of me wants to see where we started. ” She admitted. I nodded and sat down in my seat. Where Monica needed to used controls, I simply let the electrodes insert themselves into my body to read what I wanted to do.
The landing was smooth, nothing of interest happened anywhere.
“ Computer, what ’ s the atmo like? ” Monica asked.
“ Perfect for human consumption, and radiation readings are normal as well. ” It said. I looked to Monica with a grin. It was good that the world had reverted to a cleaner state.
“ Life forms? ” I asked.
“ Readings indicate yes. ” Monica read from the console. “ And scans show some radio signals, and some other kinds too. They might be intelligent. ”
I stood from my chair and nodded. “ Let ’ s go meet the natives. ”
Monica gathered some crew members, two security personnel and a doctor, and followed me.
“ Computer, open the door. ” I ordered, but a negative beep sounded.
“ Administrator, several of the life forms have gathered outside and are- “ I interrupted the computer with a long string of numbers, an override code. “ Yes, sir. ” It lamented.
As the loading door opened, the unfiltered sun poured through, catching the humans off guard, but I adjusted quickly. I stepped down the ramp and started up some linguistic programs, hoping to quickly translate what the new species wished to speak, and when I reached the bottom I saw them.
Nothing would ever be the same, for either species.
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[ IP ] The man with green eyes
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In the world of the blind, the one eyed man is king; the words rotated through Simon's head over and over as he soundlessly walked in the surrounding green mist. He had found it comforting that while there was no moon to aid his night vision equipment, it also meant that there was nothing to aid the enemy either.
He felt a vibration on his arm, his GPS watch had just triggered to advise him that he was close, but Simon had already seen the markers. He already knew he was there; slowly Simon crept closer into the bushes quietly disappearing like a ghost. From his hide he had the perfect vantage point, just close enough to take his shot, far enough away to be completely hidden, it was perfect.
The hours moved by as Simon watched motionlessly through the scope on his rifle, there had been little movement on the road he knew the target would be walking on in just a few minutes. He mused on how dark everything was and it occurred to him that once he did pull the trigger and its bullet penetrated the target, even if someone was standing right next to him it would be too dark to see, that would give the perfect confusion for him to get out quickly and unseen. There wouldn ’ t be many times where he could take such an easy shot and get out so easily and regardless to all of his discipline Simon allowed a smile to creep onto his face, this would be prefect.
Without a sound there was suddenly blinding pain in his chest and it took a moment for Simon to register what had happened, he had been compromised. A knife had had been slammed into his back puncturing his lungs, Simon tried to scream but no noise would come, as he rolled to his knees in an act of survival a second knife was thrust into his throat.
As his blood and lift flowed out of him the final words he managed to hear were the ones spat from his assailant,
“ Filthy green eyed devil ”.
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[ WP ] You dig up a time capsule you buried years ago . Instead of memorabilia , you find a modern phone . It rings .
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The land of opportunity.
Half a year and half a million dollars of blood money later, I finally left my initial skepticism behind, and alongside it the lifestyle that allowed me to amass my fortune. That, and one dull, metal box of memories.
Five more years passed. Quiet years. I had, for the first time in my life, enough peace to truly concentrate. Five years to prick a long-calloused conscience.
`` I killed people. Smuggled people. Sold people.'' Words once used to describe life in the Old Country. Five years it had taken me to realize the life I had built in America was no less superfluous than my troubled youth that had been wasted in the Merchant Navy.
My downward spiral did not take long to compensate for five years of delaying the inevitable. Five months saw me out of four apartments, eight cars and one group of dear friends.
I roamed he streets of Liberty, more imprisoned by my own depression than I had been by any enemy, any hostage situation, any dark cell.
When the last dollar had been spent, I became aware that I had plenty of sober nights left to spend instead. Quiet nights. Peaceful enough to concentrate. To remember I had one more possession. One dull box, with one last bottle of vodka, one last handgun and one last clip. Enough for one last night.
Or, as it turned out, one last realization that things would not be as I expected. But rather, a cell phone.
`` Cousin, it is your cousin. Let's go bowling!''
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[ WP ] Following a chosen deity has real world benefits , much like perks in a videogame . The more obscure gods offer more interesting gifts to those that find them .
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Deep beneath the earth, the little altar slumbered for uncounted years. The moss-coated stone did not shine, did not hum, did nothing to offer any hint of the amazing power contained within. But then, neither did any of the ones on the surface.
She stumbled upon the tiny chamber deep within the caves behind her house. Her parents would be furious if they found out, she knew; people had died down here, it was n't safe, they said. But she was fourteen years old, she could take care of herself. So she'd crawled down through the dark and gloom, a flashlight duct-taped to her sleeve. She was a good climber, and small for her age; if anyone could get this deep, it was her. But here, as far beneath the earth as anyone could go here, she'd found something she'd never imagined – a Forgotten One.
Oh, people told stories about them. The gods of ancient tribes, lost to history after who knows how many holy wars that had wracked the world, just waiting for some unsuspecting priest-to-be to stumble across them and receive their power. But nobody actually *found* them. They were *lost. * But maybe… maybe…
She reached out and touched the altar.
The flashlight went out.
She stifled a scream, scrambling away from the altar as fast as she could across the smooth floor – wait, smooth? Before, it had been rough and coarse, scraping her knees and hands. Now, it reminded her of the countertops in her house – smooth, cool, almost pleasant to the touch. She did n't have much time to think about it before something moved in the darkness.
Her eyes tried to find the point of movement, but the darkness was absolute – there was nothing for her to latch onto. But she could hear it, swishing along the smooth stone. A warbling, musical sound came out of the darkness; the thing in the darkness moved closer. It sounded light, airy, like a piece of silk being dragged across the ground. The warbling came again, but this time, it carried words – `` I am known again.'' The voice was joyous, excited. `` Melchazak is no longer silent.''
`` M-Melchazak?'' She extended a hand, curiosity overcoming her fear. It brushed against something very much like the stone beneath her, but moving, breathing. `` You're a god, right? A real god.'' It seemed mad, but… what else could he be?
`` Yes.'' Its voice sounded… nervous? `` A god. But not a mighty one. The god of these caves. Here and here alone, I reign.''
`` …Oh.'' She'd always heard that the Forgotten Ones offered amazing and terrible powers – but that did n't make much sense, when she thought about it. How would gods like that be forgotten? `` Well, it's nice to meet you, Melchazak.''
`` A great pleasure, child,'' it warbled. `` Winter and summer have come and gone seven hundred and ninety-four times since last I could make myself heard. I owe you my gratitude.''
She opened her mouth to object, but, suddenly, the light returned – no, it began, flowing out of the figure before her in a blinding torrent. `` Child of man,'' the cave-god intoned, `` so long as you keep my name alive, so long as you recall me, this place shall shelter you. It will hide you from your enemies, it will guide you where you need, it will grant you riches beyond your wildest dreams.'' In the light, the deity's form was visible – a great crystal, bursting up from the rock, moving through it like the fin of a shark. `` The worms and lizards and moles shall cleave to your will, and the very soil will obey your commands. Go forth,'' it proclaimed, `` and speak the name of Melchazak to those who you choose.''
And suddenly, she was back in the cave, and the blinding light was gone. Her flashlight briefly fizzled to life, then died again. At first, this concerned her, but suddenly it struck her – *she could see. *
Or know, at least. In spite of the perfect darkness, she knew where every stone was, where the tunnels went, the fastest way to every end of the caves. She looked up, knowing as she did every tunnel in between her and the surface. It was so far away… she'd just have to fix that.
The earth above her split, and the ground below her rose.
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[ WP ] As vampires get older , they forget their human lives bit by bit . You arrive at your home town from when you were among the living , and a flood of memories come back
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Leaves rustle in the soft breeze, dappling my ash-grey skin in moonlight. The underbrush barely makes a sound as I move through towards my new feeding grounds.
As I reach the edge of the woods and look upon where I've ended up, a faint tugging pulls at my mind as I look out at the small town with a single dirt road running through it. Wooden houses, a single church, and a single store all tell of a town that's clinging fiercely to a bygone age.
**Bright sunlight shines down from a cloudless sky-blue sky. A gaggle of people stare at me, my back against the lantern post in front of the store. **
My lips draw back in a snarl as panic and despair well up inside of me. *By the dark, what was that? * Shaking my head in the hopes of ridding myself of that memory, I continue forward. The church though... something about it feels so... familiar. And unsettling.
**A loud male voice rings out, `` Just look at her skin! The color of night, of the devil! Clearly it's her that's causing our failing crops!''
More voices join in, most mumbling, though snatches of words can be heard, all ruing the day they took in this strange girl. **
Eyes wide, I realize that is n't unease I feel, but terror. The terror of being driven out of the only safe haven I had know, the terror loneliness. Still moving forwards I touch the church and my hand blisters as it comes in contact with the consecrated building.
**The ground rushes by and branches snap beneath and behind me. The cries of a fear-ridden mob chase my ears as we all crash through the woods. As I pass out of the most recent brush I realize that my feet are n't on the ground anymore and my heart lurches. The air in my lungs seems frozen as I plummet down. Water fills my lungs and roaring fills my ears, shortly after that blackness takes my thoughts. **
*Pain* and the smell of burning *flesh* pulls me from my waking nightmare. Smoke trails waft of my hand in the breeze, and blackened flesh covers my palm and fingers. *Those bastards will pay for this. *
Face tight with rage I approach the store and smash the window in. A quick search reveals matches next to some flashlights and canisters of kerosene. Around each house I pour the fuel, and when I'm done, one by one, they all go up in flames.
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[ WP ] The Best Paragraph You 've Ever Written
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while it may not be my best, it's one of the few i've written recently that i kind of like
Before I ever had the chance to stop him, the vacuum cleaner salesman was inside my house. As soon as the door had opened a crack, before I could even get out two measly words, `` no solici…'' he was pushing me inside my own living room and sitting me down on my own couch. He wheeled his vacuum around, a monstrous contraption that looked like it had been relegated to relic status in the early nineties, and parked it beside my coffee table. I noticed that the wheels were covered in some sort of black ooze, which he'd managed to track across the ( freshly vacuumed, I might add ) white carpet. This is absurd, I thought to myself, who does this guy think he is? `` This is absurd!'' I tried to shout at the man, but all that I managed to get out was `` Thfmpf,'' because no sooner had I opened my mouth than he was throwing himself upon me, flailing his hand in the way of my words, crying `` Shhhh!!! SHHHHHHHH!!!!!'' His fingers were stained with the same black stuff that coated the wheels of his vacuum, reeked of gasoline, and left a taste like rust and tuna fish lingering on my lips
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[ WP ] In the future , a group of scientists have developed a machine to detect dark energy and have been working on the project for years with no results . One day one of the scientist has a heart attack in the lab and dies immediately . 5 minutes after his death , the machine begins to go off .
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I woke up to the beeping of the machine. Its shrill and unpleasant alarm echoed through the empty lab, under the night-dimmed lights, over the tables full of dirty cups. The sound annoyed me at first, but once I understood its significance it became the sweetest thing I've ever heard. Finally, after years of work, we found something.
I needed to check the numbers and call the crew. I looked at the screens -- and the numbers were right. A locus of dark energy was close. It was compact like a ball lightning, very stable, and utterly imperceivable without our machine. It was a breakthrough.
But there was something wrong. I could n't place it at first, but when I thought about the breakthrough, about us being right, about the awards and grants, something was missing. In all the excitement, my heart was n't beating any faster.
In fact it was n't beating at all.
I remembered pain, stronger than I could have imagined, growing and grabbing and exploding in my chest. I remembered falling, the world spinning between my eyes, faster and faster. And then, darkness.
I did n't turn around. I knew what I would find there, on the floor. And if I did n't look, I could pretend it was all a mistake, that I had time to work another day, and apologize to Jane, and take a vacation, and visit all those places I wanted to visit.
Instead, I looked up.
And there, the lights went dark and the ceiling dissolved, opened to the night sky. A different sky, alight with stars, billions more than I could ever see before. The walls disappeared, and cold wind blew through the lab, rustling the papers. And high above, between the stars, I could see dark energies flowing through the sky.
I could hear them singing.
And up and up I fell.
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[ WP ] Humanity has accidentally achieved a hivemind state , allowing people to know everything about each other . Now everyone is working collectively to end the hivemind because other people are , quite frankly , annoying .
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The worst part is n't even that Ryan fucked my wife. Do n't get me wrong -- it's definitely up there. But that's a small agony compared to being acutely aware that literally everyone else knows, too.
I also know how many guys think they'll take a crack at Alexandra now, as well as how many of them she's given serious consideration to. I know exactly how she and Ryan fucked: doggy style in the side parking lot of an Applebee's; when they'd fucked: Saturday night, in the span between my 8:38 text `` When do you think you'll be home?'' and her 8:57 response `` Sorry, babe! Candice is maybe getting divorced, and she really needs someone to vent to right now! ``; and how long they fucked: twice my average, as Alex had inadvertently broadcast to *everyone* we know.
If I have to take another week of this, I'll probably check myself out, permanently. Plenty have, already -- suicides are up 650 % since the comet passed by Earth last Sunday, at least according to the newspaper ( and the thoughts of the gal writing the article ). The prevailing egghead theory is a'telepathic frequency shift' knocking the energy of our thoughts down a couple psychic octaves until they reached a spectrum audible to human ears.
It's been hell.
But I have solution, I hope.
Enough people feel the same as me: best friends who actually ca n't stand each other; victims of dead marriages that've been given an unpleasant, ever-present voice; sons and daughters now fully cognizant of their parents' disdain for their various fuck-ups... the list goes on and on. I've been tuning to a specific thought spectrum lately, led by some Sanford researcher who claims she can make it stop: Kari Richardson, or something like that.
Who am I kidding? I definitely know her fucking name. We *all* know each others' names at this point...
Kari's directly us mentally now, actually, instructing us how to position our screwdriver ( or knitting needle or railroad spike ) just so, right below the base of the left eye, angled upward 45 degrees.
One quick push, she assures us, and everything should go silent again. I hear the world ( or my slice of it, anyway ) steel itself, counting backward from five.
4...
3...
2...
1
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[ WP ] A man creates a clone of himself only to fall in love with it .
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I looked at him as he floated in the tank. It was the first time I actually saw him since I put him in there. His naked body already filled with rock hard muscles. He began to stir as the fluid that keep im alive for the last year and a half began to drain away. Once the tank was clear and I made sure that he was breathing I I dryed him off and let him come to his senses. I wondered how much of the knowledge that I had rogrammed into him would stay and how much was lost. I was roused from my thoughts as I heard a gurgle coming from his smiling face ( he may ony have been 25 mintues old but he had the body of a 20 year old, a body that if all went according to plan he would have forever ). The next few weeks where spent getting him to speak and figure out how to move his muscles. It was an amazing success he had reained almost nintey percent of the things that I eft for him to learn in the tank ( just like me he had a little trouble with the math appartly his favorite book is moby dick ). I admit I was attrachted to him who would n't be he was smart funny hot and I guess the attraction was mutal because during dinner one day as I cleaned up the mess he made ( his fine motor controls were still a lttle shaky ) he kissed me full on the libs ( he knew what he was doing to he had the biggest shit eating grin I ever saw ). Lets just say that it was a fun day. That was almostg three years ago. We are getting married tomorrow I am so glad that he is gay having to find another home for a straight clone would hae taken ages.
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[ WP ] Every human gains a special power that helps them for whatever job they are destined to be when they grow up in the ages 12 to 18 , you will be 19 tomorrow , and you still have n't discovered your power .
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T*here is no concrete evidence that proves how the Awakening first occurred. *
*Nothing about it is recorded in history books and no myths or legends talk about who were the first people to Awaken. The only thing that the world certain off, is that one day, people woke up. *
*No human knows when another person gets their gift. There is no visible mark, no big flashing sign. Only the intimate knowledge of understanding, of having woken up. *
*Adulthood is measured differently compared to the past. Adults are defined as ‘ People who have Awakened ’, and Children, or Minors, are defined as ‘ People who haven ’ t Awakened. ’. *
*Furthermore, despite studies being done on this phenomenon, there is no proven relation between status of the Awakened and the gifts that they received. *
*The only thing that people know is that everybody Awakens during the age of 12 to 18, and that those who do not usually perish before they turn 19. *
*An excerpt from Awakening: * ***An introduction to the waking world***
-- -
You stare at the ticking of the clock before you, each second counting down to your demise.
No person has receives their gift will die before the age of 19, and conversely, those who do not have a gift will perish before their 19th birthday passes by.
You have three hours, twenty minutes and seventeen seconds before your 19th birthday passes by, and you do not wish to die.
Nobody does, not in this world where those who Woke Up are truly happy with their lives. But as for the rest, the ones that are still sleeping and will never truly Wake Up, it is a source of agony.
-- -
*There are many who believe that the Awakening is something to defied, as it strips away choice and forces people onto paths that they are ‘ destined ’ for. These people, who do not use the gift that was given to them when they Awoke, refer to themselves as the Ascended as according to them, they are beyond the Awakened State. *
*The most common argument used by the Ascended is that if a person, according to the gift that they received during their Awakening, was meant to do harm to people, it does not mean that they needed to do so. *
*Instead, they maintain the worldview that people should be free to choose what they want to do, and that they do not need to follow the path that was laid down for them. *
*This is still a very uncommon view, and many others believe that the Awakening was sent down by a higher power, or came about through human evolution. *
*An excerpt from Free Will and the Awakened: * ***Nature VS Nurture***
-- -
The clock in front of you continues to tick.
Unlike the others, you would rather spend the rest of your life alone, away from their pitying eyes and words.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
The clock ticks away in front of you, and you have twenty-one seconds before your 19th birthday passes by.
Before you die.
But, like all living things, you do not wish to die.
But it is destiny, and all your shown this: destiny can not be denied. Only delayed.
The clock ticks away in front of you, and you have ten seconds before your 19th birthday passes by.
You do not cry. You have no tears left to do so.
The clock continues to tick.
Tick. * ( Five. ) *
You take a deep breath in.
Tock. * ( Four. ) *
You breath out.
Tick. * ( Three. ) *
You close your eyes.
Tock. * ( Two. ) *
And you wait.
Tick. * ( One. ) *
-- -
*When each person Awakens, they receive a gift that helps them in whatever role they choose have in their future. No two living humans have identical gifts. The gifts that they receive might be similar, but not identical. However, it is possible to receive a gift that belonged to someone who died. *
*The gifts a person receives when they are Awakened can be categories into a few major categories, gifts that affect the people themselves, gifts that affect the surroundings, gifts that affect how the surroundings affect a person. These categories can then been broken down into even more categories, and in turn, these categories can be broken down some more. *
*However, these categories are not absolute. Sometimes, a gift would fall into more than one category. An example would be a gift reading impressions left by inanimate objects. Such a gift would be able to affect the surroundings by dragging out the impressions upon inanimate objects, as well as affect the Awakened, by allowing them to read the impressions. *
*It is, however, not possible for a human to have more than one gift. Although the above example seems to be two different gifts, it is not so, as both factors of the gift are necessary for the gift to work. *
*Furthermore, despite what many may think, the gifts gained during the Awakening are not Supernatural in nature. The gift gained during the Awakening are all possible by human standard, which means that an Awakened human would not be able to fly, walk through walls, or breath underwater as these are not feats capable by the human body. *
*An excerpt from* ***Awakening: An introduction to the waking world***
-- -
Fin.
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[ WP ] A strange family heirloom has been in the family for generations . Your dying father sits you down to explain its importance .
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It had been a long drive and my nerves were already frayed from worrying all the way to the old farmhouse.
I had n't spoken to my father for over eight years now; the details of the falling out are something best left to another story, but it was justifiable and he was the one who had erred.
Under any other circumstance I probably would have told him to go to Hell, but the hand-written letter in shaky, spidery script, convinced me that I should come.
*I'm sorry, * the letter had begun, then *and I'm dying*.
Mortality has a curious effect on family feuds; I remember my sister forgiving our adoptive mother after the death of another family member. At the funeral they hugged, cried, and all the pain and hatred washed away. I suppose I was feeling a similar thing with my father.
The house was overgrown; the long, winding driveway up the hill was choked with leaves and over-hung with branches that needed to be trimmed. A fit, active old man, my father had clearly been telling the truth - there was no way he'd let the place go like this if he had a choice.
The dog barked from the other side of the fence as I drove up to the garage and put the handbrake on.
In rural areas like this, you can hear a car coming long before it gets to the house. My adoptive mother was standing at the car port, a cup of tea in her hand for me.
Ignoring the peace token, I brushed past her, pausing to let the latest border collie sniff my hand. He whuffed excitedly - he could smell I was family.
`` Where's dad?'' I asked, keeping my tone neutral.
`` In the front room,'' she said.
I guess there was going to be no reconciliation between us; I was n't my sister.
The kitchen was the same; dad's OCD nature meant that every dish was washed after every meal, everything put away afterward. Obviously he still had some mobility left.
The absence of my cat, Sega, clawed at my heart for a moment. He'd died at age eighteen and I had n't got to say goodbye due to the family feuding. His cat bed still lay beside the pot-belly stove, cleaned of all his fur.
Dad's grey head could be seen just over the top of his armchair and a swathe of blankets covered him.
Pacing around and sitting on the couch beside him, I gave him a wan smile,
`` Hey dad.''
His face was whey-coloured and his eyed red-rimmed. He's always been a thin man, but his wrists looked like bird's legs and his pulse beat visible in his almost translucent throat.
`` Hey Deana,'' he said, his voice cracking with the effort.
`` Jesus, why are n't you in a hospital?''
He shook his head,
`` This is the end love, no hospital can help now. I'd rather be at home with the dogs and your mother than hooked up to machines. Did you see the poplars in the drive? They need to be trimmed, maybe you could do that for me?''
Tears were pricking my eyes now,
`` Sure dad.''
`` And the cattle water trough in the back paddock - needs a clean.''
He had a thin grin on now; he knew how much I hated farm work.
`` No problem dad.''
`` I'm sorry,'' he whispered.
`` I forgive you.''
Swallowing, his other hand moved under the blanket,
`` I'm also sorry for keeping things from you.''
Now I was lost. My dad was an open book; an'honest bloke' with the complexity of an anvil.
`` Dad?''
His frail hands pulled a small box from under the blankets; rosewood and brass, beautifully made.
`` This was left by your mother,'' he said.
Impossible. My mother had vanished after I was born and died in an'accident' a few years later. Nothing of her had survived her suicide; she'd destroyed everything.
Pressing the box into my hands with his shaking digits, tears slid down my father's grey face.
`` Open it.''
The box had a tiny brass key which I turned, hearing a tiny *click*. Lifting the lid I saw a bundle of raw silk cloth and a folded note.
Opening up the note, I scanned the neat handwriting,
*To my daughter, *
*This box and the one for your sister may never reach you. After your father took you away from me, he changed his name and I could not find him. I searched for you for many years and never gave up hope I might find you. These boxes were left with his oldest friend, in case he ever made contact again. *
*I want you to know that I never stopped loving you and I have never stopped trying to find you. Please find me as soon as you can. *
An address was scrawled at the bottom and inside the silk was a ring - a huge, heavy, gold ring set with rubies.
`` Her grandmother's ring - she wanted you to have it for your wedding.''
`` I have to go see her.''
He looked away, into his lap,
`` I'm sorry,'' he whispered again.
Realisation dawned as I groped for a reason behind his third apology.
`` She's dead, is n't she? She was alive all this time, but now that I have her ring and the letter, she'd dead.''
As he nodded, angry tears spilled down my face,
`` Fuck *you* old man. How fucking *dare* you!''
As he wept and reached for my arm with those once-strong hands, I snapped the box closed and got up from the couch.
There would be no reconciliation.
I guess I just was n't that kind of person.
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[ WP ] You wake up again in your time loop , forced to live out the same day over and over and over again , but today you are going to make it special , today is your one hundred thousandth day .
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The trick with staying sane in this time loop was to plan big, and plan smart. You could micromanage people, push one person on the way to the subway and a whole new chain of events would unfold that day. Steal one man's plane ticket, and you'd have another September 11th on your hands provided you picked the right person.
Today however was a very special day. I had been planning this one for years, and it required exactly enough time as I had in a day to pull off properly. I felt I had gotten things together just perfectly after the last few practice loops.
I have exactly enough time to get dressed in a disheveled but presentable manner and pick a couple things up off my table. The computer having been printing several dozen papers while I quickly gave myself a sink shower.
I mentioned to my neighbor about how I was having car trouble, and my wife, who unfortunately had been sleeping with another man while pretending we needed to live in separate places because her job needed her to move, was having our baby early. I do n't tell my neighbor of the actual relationship issues of course. My neighbor's a beautiful woman, and a good lay when I'm feeling needy and let that story out, but she's one of those people I've talked to so often I can manipulate perfectly. She's so sure she can spot a liar. I feel really bad for the boys in blue given she pulls out her cop siren and calls in some favors, resulting in me arriving at the airport perfectly on time to run in, carefully bump into a pilot, grab his pass, and walk past the more lax security the pilots must go through, tossing a greeting over my shoulder at the security man, who does n't bother to look up at me after hearing my casual sounding greeting, just simply accepting I'm a regular and letting me by.
The plane is in the air on schedule, despite the co pilot sitting passed out, propped up in his seat. The stewardess not thinking anything about the matter given he tends to sleep off hangovers for the first half of many flights, even though I'm a different pilot then the bird's regular. By the time the issue of the missing security pass has been radioed in I'm already descending. Picking an international flight that has a flight path over my target is key after all.
The plane lands. The stewardess and many others confused as I come over the intercom with a simple explanation of an unexpected mechanical failure. Given the temperature outside where we landed few take the offer to leave the plane with me for a'smoke break'
So now here we are, I quite calmly snap the neck of the serviceman returning home who walked off to take a piss in the woods, put on his uniform, and make my way into the woods. Working on a small project along the way. When I reach my destination the guards pointing their guns at me quickly drop their weapons to a relaxed position after seeing my clearance papers, and I am given an escort into the secure location for a surprise inspection.
Once I enter the silo my plan is finally ready. I act as is normal for the inspection, answering several coded phrases properly. Getting shot in several non lethal but very painful places makes you pick up quick when a solider is stupid enough to gloat the proper response.
As is knowing exactly when and how to strike to secure a knockout. Well that comes from looping time, and spending almost three hundred years getting to know a 20 something body that has n't changed for over two thirds that time. Neo has nothing on my kung-fu.
One quick burst from the man's own rifle, and a shot from his sidearm for his partner. The men in the silo control room have no chance to react before I hit both with a double tap, laughing slightly at my reaction cutting Jenkins off mid way through calling in trouble.
That mean I just extended my time window by another 10 minutes of reaction time. My target window had just expanded a good deal. Still last time I had been greedy and that was why I failed, this time something closer to home seemed a good choice. I pulled the four sided die out of my pocket and rolled it, grinning.
`` Looks like I'm aiming for Canada today. Hmm, got food poisoning three times in Toronto''
I entered the cordinates, and put in the code 00000000 laughing to myself about how they had upgraded the security, but left the old launch mechanism in place underneath.
That was how I found myself, wearing borrowed sunglasses, and watching the ICBMs launching from the other silos. The first bright flash of many off in the distance. I had always wondered if I'd ever get to see one up close, and if this loop went as I planned chances are my eyes would burn out right as the clock hit midnight.
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[ WP ] Tell me an emotional story about a man , using only what he would type into Google search
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April 22, 2000 – Is Canada cold?
April 22, 2000 – Is baseball like cricket?
May 1, 2000 – Ontario sports leagues
May 1, 2000 – Recreational baseball tryout
August 12, 2000 – Academic sessions Ontario
January 13, 2001 – Google maps: Alternate routes home
February 14, 2001 – Fun single person activities
May 1, 2001 – Competitive baseball tryouts
June 30, 2001 – The psychology of sports
August 19, 2001 – Good books on making friends
September 11, 2001 – New York plane crash
September 13, 2001 – Practicing Islam without anyone knowing
September 16, 2001 – Insurance claims on stolen/vandalized property
September 23, 2001 – Rehabilitation for broken ribs and shoulder
October 10, 2001 – Are surgeries covered under Canadian healthcare?
December 28, 2001 – When to stop taking painkillers
February 13th, 2002 – Real estate listings
April 6, 2002 – British Columbia
May 1, 2002 – British Columbia baseball tryouts
May 3, 2002 – Unable to throw baseball without pain in shoulder
July 9, 2002 – Painkiller addiction
August 13, 2002 – University applications
February 14, 2003 – Effects of depression
May 21, 2003 – Alternative routes after high school
June 10, 2003 – Job posting sites
September 1, 2003 – Cam shows
December 25, 2003 – How to celebrate Christmas without family and friends
December 31, 2003 – New Year's resolutions: defeating painkiller addiction
January 6, 2004 – Cam shows
January 19, 2004 – Cam shows
February 14th, 2004 – Redemption and Islam
May 1, 2004 – LD50 of common prescription drugs
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[ WP ] A computer program selects the three best candidates for world leader from the entire population and the world votes without knowing who they are until inauguration day . You ’ re starting to suspect you ’ re one of the candidates .
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It was the 56th Earth election day ever since world peace was created because of our massive technological advances. Of course, that is what the history books say. It is an quiet rumor that the system is even more corrupt than it was before. All of the World Leaders in the past turned out to be corrupt politicians or power hungry elitists. I felt that I always knew better than to put hope into the Selection Program; I was forced to vote, but I did n't care who I would vote for. I always voted for the last option on the ballot, not usually even reading the information about the person.
I want the world to be simpler and less corrupt. Maybe I would have less apathy and hopelessness for humanity.
Like every election, I stood in line and waited my turn to sign in and then fill in that third bubble on the ballot. Finally, when the lady signed me into the system, I walked over to the booth and closed the curtain behind me. Before you select the option you want, you need to scroll through the dense paragraph about the person and some basic information. I ignored that and was about to click option C, but I hesitated. I looked back in the paragraph for something that threw a red flag in my mind. I found it.
*Glennmont High School* I read to myself. *That is where I went to high school. * For a moment a scary thought came into my mind that I was candidate C. I had just turned 32 three days ago, and the required age to become a candidate was 32. The likelihood that I was candidate C was slim because so many people had gone to Glennmont High School. I scoffed, *I'm not surprised someone from my high school turned out to be a power hungry monster. * A lot of rich kids had attended my high school, and I did n't like most of them. *Good lucky whoever you are. * I selected option C and have it to the machine to enter in my selection. The day continued like any other, mundane and somewhat depressing. I did n't bother to watch the results get turned in through out the night because it was irrelevant to me and I had work in the morning.
The next morning I got dress in my uniform to go to my work as a receptionist at an office. I could n't find my name tag so I left without it and drove to work. When I was halfway to work my cellphone was ringing in my purse several times, but I did n't bother to reach it until I got into my workplace parking lot. It was getting increasingly annoying, but eventually I guess whoever was calling me gave up. Once I got into the parking space, I took out my phone and marveled at how many unknown numbers were trying to contact me. Odd day.
Once I opened my car door I was ambushed by two people wearing a ski mask. They both grabbed one of my arms tight while I struggled. `` Who are you? What the hell?'' I raised my voice, `` WHAT YOUR YOU DOING?''
One of the masked people must have been female because her voice was a higher pitch, `` Shut up! You need to come with us if you want to live.''
Taking a deep breath to scream, I bellowed, `` HEL-'' I was hit in the back of the head with something. I instantly blacked out.
When I opened my eyes again I was in an unfamiliar place. Maybe it was a old warehouse. A woman and a man sat across from me, my hands tied behind my back. My mouth was n't taped, so I yelled, `` Help! Someone!.'' I struggled, `` What do you want?!''
The man folded his arms, `` That will come later. Right now it is more important to update you on what happened on election day.''
Confusion and anger crossed my fearful expression, `` I literally ca n't give a fuck about the election! So what the hell did I do?!''
The woman looked at me with distaste, as if she was sick of me, `` You won the election.'' She was satisfied with my bewildered reaction and silence. Pulling out her cell phone, she continued to speak, `` They announced it at 2am in the morning. The secret service was dispatched to retrieve you from your home.'' She showed me a video on her phone of a news anchor announcing my name joyfully and with surprise. It was unreal; apparently I won by a land slide. `` Oh, by the way, we left *your* cell phone back where we took you from because they are probably trying to track you right now.''
``... This is in-insane.'' I managed to say, `` First, how is it possible that I won? That is impossible. Also, did you both kidnap me to just to get randsom money?''
She replied, `` It's possible, and no. We are not interested in money. We just want to save your life and prove to the people that our'World Leaders' were merely a distraction from who really pulls the strings and make the decisions.''
The man added, `` There is no computer program that selects the best candidates. It's all fake. They just use it as a way to choose their unsuspecting scapegoats.''
`` What? No... all the leaders we've had were... I guess... Wait... tell me who you both are first.''
The woman and the man glanced at each other, as if to ask each other if they should tell me their names. The woman replied, `` We will tell you who we are AND safely release you only if you give an answer to these questions...'' She leaned closer to me and her face was grimly serious, `` What kind of world do you want to live in? Are you as sick and tired of living under corruption as I am?''
I knew who I was talking to now... These people are part of a reborn rebellion. They did n't give themselves names.
Anonymous.
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[ WP ] Murder victims can be brought back to life after the murderer is caught and convicted .
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Four prison guards escorted Linda down the dimly lit hallway toward the Trading Room, her chains *clink*ing with every step they took.
Once they reached the door one of the guards, Jones according to his nameplate, swiped her prison I.D. through a card reader and stepped back. They waited.
After an endless moment the door buzzed and the round light above it changed from red to bright green. The door swung open, welcoming them inside.
Linda hesitated. The two guards behind her pushed her through the doorway, causing her to stumble and nearly fall. Half of the room was an exact replica of her bathroom at home, down to the spider webbed crack in the mirror from when she had had a “ bad day ” and thrown the blow dryer. That hadn ’ t been her worst day, of course. No, her worst “ bad day ” had gotten her here.
The other half was her nursery room. Two small animal mobiles spun lazily over two silent cribs.
Linda could see the bathtub was already filled to the brim with clear, foreboding water.
“ Get in. ” The guard who had swiped her keycard commanded.
“ I… I ’ m not ready. ”
“ Neither were they. Get in or we put you in. ”
The other guards moved closer, surrounding her. With nervous apprehension Linda lowered herself into the cold water.
“ I ’ m not ready, ” she pleaded again, but the guards were already at the tub.
Jones pushed her head underwater while the others held her flailing limbs. She thrashed violently for several minutes until finally the last bubbles floated to the surface and popped with a loud *GLUBBLUBGLUB*
A sound of deep inhalation came from across the room, and then another. Suddenly the two infants began crying from inside their cribs. Jones pulled his arms from the bathwater and stood up. He made his way across the room and gazed appreciatively at the two twin boys who were no longer inanimate and lifeless.
“ Inform the husband that her sentence has been carried out successfully. And tell him his children are alive again. ”
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[ IP ] Bansky 's Drunken Angel
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Flying around above everyone was a sight to see. But being a guardian angel was no easy task. You had to, day in and day out, take care of a list of fifty people. Each angel could see each other, so in places like London or New York City, life was hell. Last week, one of my assignments died. He was a lonely old man who plead for death each night. Each night, his wails were heard, and many of my friends wanted me to kill him. But he was a friendly man who never did anyone harm intentionally. He was always nice to me too. Old people can see us, only when the reach the age of 90, and only then if they still have a child immaturity to them. This man was one of the nicest people I knew, but after his wails of pain go to be too much for my fellow angels and even God himself to bear, I had to put him down. My replacement is a 23 year old drunk who beats his girlfriend and snorts crack. And my job is to make sure he is okay, day in and day out. I only hope he turns to a better lifestyle, because I do n't want to be a drunk too.
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[ CW ] Write about anything , but in the style of Dr. Seuss .
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The rain on my face was trickling down
My eyes were all puffy as I stumbled through town.
There were people I passed by
but I saw not a one
as I thought over that phone call
of my friend and a gun.
He was screaming at me,
quite so enraged
when suddenly the sobbing
was what was engaged.
He was desperate and alone;
nobody was there.
That's when I went running
to greet him and show that I cared.
But time was running short
and I heard a loud slam.
The next sound I heard
was a cock and a **BAM**.
Silence was shouting
deafening my ears
for I was too late
to tell him - *I'm here*.
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[ WP ] While cleaning your basement , you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie . You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes .
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`` Your not going anywhere till you clean that basement Kevin!''
I was livid, the basement was a wreck and now I had to clean it. It had to be a good 10 years worth of junk and dust down there and god knows what kind of insects.
My worthless father had been dumping stuff down there for years, spending money our family did n't have on junk we did n't need, then allowing it live out its last lonely years gathering dust in our basement.
`` It better be spotless down there or I swear to god you will clean the attic as well''
`` That's totally unfair mum it's a wreck down here and I.. I''
`` I do n't give a crap Kevin, I said spotless.''
It was pointless arguing, I knew well there was no way around mum when she was in this mood, so I go to work.
After tireless lifting rotting cardboard box after cardboard box, I had decided that if I was going to be forced to clean this basement I was at least going to make something out of it, I had began sifting through the boxes of junk to seize anything valuable enough to make a few bucks on and dumping all the stuff that was quite literally useless junk.
After what seemed like an eternity I had cleared a somewhat modest amount of room in the basement, and I had a particularly hefty loot pile that I was certain would at least buy me a new bike according to my extensive knowledge of the history channel's'Auction Hunters'. It mostly consisted of old ornaments and some in tact toys and sports equipment.
I hurriedly finished what I could for the day, shifting things into corners so to my mothers eye it looked like I'd done a lot more, I grabbed my loot and placed it in one of the in tact boxes that was leftover and brought it up to my room.
I had decided that if I was going to sell this lot, i'd probably get a lot more if I cleaned them up a bit first, so I grabbed some kitchen roll and furniture polish and began buffing up my ill gotten gains.
It did n't take long to bring them all up to a reasonable finish, I packed them into the box and sneaked out the house and headed for the pawn shop which was about an hours walk away.
`` Urgh I wish I did n't have to walk with this stupid box'' I muttered under my breath as I was walking, the box still smelled of damp and was pretty heavy and difficult to carry. Suddenly a car stopped next to me, it was my mother. `` Shit'' I muttered.
`` Get in the car'' She exhaled in a breathe of pure fury.
I climbed in and placed the box on the seat in the back next to me, there was absolutely no way I was getting in the front to get a face full of the spit my mother was about to exhaust at me.
`` Where the F*** do you think your going?'' She fumed.
`` The pawn shop'' I whimpered.
`` WHAT DID I SAY, you were not to leave the house till the basement was clean, now you CAN clean the attic aswell.''
`` I wish you were n't a bitch all the time'' I said in the briefest of whispers so slight that it was incomprehensible to my mother.
`` What was that?'' She asked, in a somewhat reasonable tone.
`` Oh, nothing I just wanted to make a few bucks on these things so I could buy myself a bike, I thought i'd make use out of the junk down there if I could you know'' I proclaimed, in my youngest of voices.
`` Fine, I'll take you to the pawn shop'' She replied.
This was unprecedented, it usually took mum 3 to 4 days to cool down, and in that time every conversation would be met with bitter anger, now she was actually doing me a favour and giving me a lift, this was weird.
We arrived at the pawn shop and I headed in, while my mother waited in the car, I waddled up to the desk with my box and dropped it down on the counter.
`` Hey man I was wondering how much I could get for this stuff?'' I asked
`` Sure, bro'' he responded.
I started to hand him item after item each getting a puny valuation but with all the items so far I knew I had enough for the bike. I reached into the box to grab the last item the one you saved for last because it looked'old' the oil lamp, made of brass or some other shiny metal.
`` What that you got there?'' The shopkeeper asked
`` Think its an oil lamp.'' I replied
`` Maybe it's a genie lamp'' He snorted.
`` Haha, I wish.'' I chuckled in response.
`` $ 60 for it''
`` done'' I exclaimed.
I snatched up my money and hopped into my mum's car.
`` What a mug'' I chuckled to myself `` I've seen thousands of them things sell on auction hunters for like $ 5''
My mother started the car and we headed for home so I could continue cleaning the basement and now the attic, but what do I care, I got a brand new bike out of it.
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[ TT ] Ghosts are delegated haunting responsibilities based on seniority . Write about a new ghost 's first assignment to haunt a very , very small house ( doghouse , outhouse , dollhouse , etc . )
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Typing this on mobile, bits at a time
My name is Chris and I've been dead for what feels somewhere between 10 minutes and a year. It's hard to tell here.
I've always been ambitious, driven and smart. Not a brag, just a description. What I could n't do quickly through sheer intelligence I powered through with a work ethic bordering on the obsessive.
I blazed through the gifted classes in school and graduated high school at 15. From there I went straight to college, determined to learn everything I could about robotics. I was there for a few years before the rigidity of the degree programs proved too slow, so I left to start my own robotics company.
You could say it was successful. I made my first million within 2 years, featured on the cover of Forbes and Time by the third. My inventions are all over the world, from the microscopic robots augmenting your gut bacteria to keep you from getting fat to the completely automated ocean liners cleaning up plastic and Mercury from the sea. I even have a small swarm of self assembling miners on the moon preparing a site for the first permanent moon base.
I'm assuming the world was stunned at my death. 25 years old is pretty young for a toilet heart attack, even for a global tech tycoon. Even my personal assistant could n't revive me when he found me, which would lead to an investigation on the effectiveness of the medical programming on those units. The internet probably had pictures of my naked ass with paddle burns on it within a couple minutes of dying.
All that aside, I was surprised when I ended up floating in a white void with a small tablet in my hand. It had a flashing message on it saying `` You are dead. Touch to continue''
Naturally, I assumed I was dreaming, so I tried to conjure up my normal lucid dreaming techniques. There's a treehouse hotel I like to go to with a wispy little brunette I met briefly at a cafe. I never did find Camille again, and I admit it's haunted me a bit, but I've got other things to focus on. Ca n't run a multi billion dollar enterprise that's changing the world while I'm distracted by romance. Money ca n't buy love, but it can help fill the void it leaves.
The normal techniques did n't work, so I became curious and touched the tablet. It shifted to show my death. There I was, reaching back to hit the bidet button, pained expression on my face, dropping my phone in the toilet bowl as I clutch my chest. I pitch forward onto the tile, my ass in the air. Here comes my assistant, fingers flipping back to uncover the shock paddles that he promptly applies to either ass cheek ( I really need to look into the anatomical recognition algorithm. Either that or my chest is flabby enough to look like butt cheeks ). Alarms going off, he's automatically calling 911 and the image zooms out. I see a shadowy specter in the mirror that seems to break the fourth wall for a second before the image fades to black.
The tablet ( honestly, there's no manufacturer logo on it, who makes this thing? It's sleek! ) shifts to another message, stating simply `` touch to continue''.
I touch again.
A white screen pops up, showing what looks like an employment contract. I read through it, looks pretty boiler plate, except for some of the terms. Apparently the Afterlife Governing Committee of Spectral Affairs and Welfare ( hereafter referred to as the AGCSAW ) has reviewed my case and has decided my life has not had sufficient emotional impact to warrant a reincarnation and as such I am now at a crossroads.
By signifying `` decline'' I understand that my consciousness will cease immediately and my energies will be reinstated to the Primordial Energies Storage and Distribution Center for recycling into other projects.
By signifying `` accept'' I understand that I will be remitted to the Regulatory Committee for Plasmic Reintegration of the Corporeal Plane as an entry level entity, charged with providing a spiritual presence at my assigned location until such time that the Regulatory Committee decides that I have garnered sufficient experience or emotional impact ( positive or negative, I still retain free will ) for advancement to a new assigned location or transferred back to the AGCSAW for reincarnation or further employment within the Sphere of Afterlife Affairs. I shall be employed for no less than 2 years with no specified end date, termination or transfer dependent entirely on performance.
So, either take a job that I do n't really understand or be chopped up and recycled for parts. I touched accept.
The whiteness faded to tile walls in grey. I looked around and saw some sinks, a long mirror and some stalls. I guess the universe has a sense of humor. I'm in a bathroom. At least it's not bad. I can see myself, dressed in my normal jeans and flannel. My reflection is n't in the mirror, but I can feel the coldness when I touch it. With a little effort I can push through, but not far. Same with the door leading out. I can make out some commercial carpet on the other side if I crouch down far enough. The toilets are standard, little cubicles and a lack of graffiti.
The only thing that stands out as odd is the tablet floating dead center in the bathroom.
The message on the tablet reads `` instructions'', so I take a look. Just a couple quips about using my location to have an emotional impact on `` corporeal entities'' that pass through or reside there. Positive and negative emotions will be accumulated and weighed for further assignments and final reincarnation. Nothing on HOW to make that happen.
Emotional impact or experience, huh? I can work with that. I guess I'm a ghost now. Now I have to figure out how to do ghost things. Should be easy. Time to start experimenting.
The first thing I try is the door. If I can open it, I should be able to move something else, see out, leave, right? Not so much. My hand passes right through. Same with faucets, also a no go. I can kind of smudge the mirror, but it only lasts a couple seconds. I do notice that if I concentrate, I can make the effects last a little longer, or feel some slight resistance when I try to move something. It was during one of those attempts that I see a slight flicker in the mirror. Not much, but it's a start. I can make this work.
Just one problem. I have no idea where this bathroom is. I have no idea how much time has passed between my death and now. I feel like it's been a couple days, but I have n't seen a single person. This could be difficult.
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[ WP ] A young tech billionaire is approached by an Evil Cabal of billionaires in order to guide the world as they see it .
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The men across the table were shrouded in darkness. The young man only saw the outlines of their heads. There were a dozen of them. The table was big enough for a few more dozens. He felt small as he sat in the leather chair. He had n't felt small since he made his fortune.
`` Do you accept our invitation into the Cabal?'' the man in the middle said. His voice echoed across the large chamber.
The young man shifted in his chair. The sound of the man's voice made him anxious and uncomfortable. `` Yes,'' he said. `` I accept.''
He could see some of the darkened figures across the table nod. The man in the middle spoke again. `` Do you understand what we do?''
`` I have some ideas. Political bribery, of course, to rewrite the laws in our favor. Destabilization of foreign governments, to ensure a supply of cheap labor and resources. Buying out companies that could produce better stuff at a lower price. Probably assassinations too. Am I close?'' the young man said.
There was a silence for a long time, such as he never heard before. Even the dust in the air seemed to be holding still.
`` What the fuck?'' the man in the middle said. `` Dude, we just fund reality TV shows so poor people are too distracted to do something about their lives. The fuck is wrong with you?''
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[ WP ] There 's a law when you divorce , the children from the undone marriage get killed
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15. I'd only be 15 when I die.
This was n't right! It was n't fair. I did n't ask to be born into this family, but now that I'm here I want to live! But that's not going to happen.
Not while my redneck daddy kept cheating on mama till she was so hurt that it did n't matter if I lived or died. Tonight She said it.
Divorce.
Which means I'll end up dead. They were so happy they did n't have to stay together any longer. Daddy was just pleased by the notion.'You asked' he said,'I never, so it ai n't on me.' He was happy they were done, and did n't give a care on me. It did n't matter if I got killed. They were horrible, mama and daddy.
Well, good for them, it's great knowing just how much your worth. And I ai n't worth nothing. Not worth trying, not worth staying and working it out. I did everything they wanted, I learned to hunt, I cooked, I cleaned, all while they drank their stupid heads in. They were drunk now, passed out in the trailers parlor, as mama said, trying to be fancy.
Both of them.
Drunk.
I'm 15, I do n't know much about much. I live in a trailer park. But something I do know. You ca n't divorce a dead person. And juvie, was hella lot better than dead.
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[ WP ] Earth is known to be the only planet in the galaxy suitable for growing coffee . You 're a friendly alien who has only ever tried cheap inter-galactic decaf . You save up enough money for a trip to Earth to experience real coffee ...
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'So besides the solar eclipses you come for the coffee?'
The LCU'Bemused Indolence' chuckled as much as a Mind could.
'Yes.' replied Mebra Ambrosek.
'You could just gland charge or focus you know.'
'But I ca n't gland pumpkin spice lattes'
'Well that just requires suitable genofixing.'
For a second Mebra seriously considered it.
'Anyways there is an eclipse today passing over Europe. Can I be put down in, oh Vienna? Best of both worlds coffee wise. I mean hideously complicated chain drinks and nice little cafes. And an eclipse'
'Ok. You know the rules right? Earth is limited contact. Enjoy your trip. Keep your terminal on you. Do n't stick out.'
'I'm gon na tell them it's an iphone 8...'
'please do n't...'
'You're no fun'.
'Anyways it's morning soon. So displace or I can float you down on a lifter'.
'Fuck displacement' was her curt reply. Always made her nauseous.
Mebra walked to the small bay and saw a strange blue box about 8 foot high with a blinking light on top.
'What is that?'
'A police box. Just get in. They wo n't see you. I'll drop you down in a camo field in some industrial park.'
Mebra walked in and closed the door. It was rather cramped inside. A strange grinding whooshing noise filled the small box as the'Bemused Indolence' began to lift it out of the bay.
'What the fuck is that noise?'
'Oh trying to keep it authentic.'
The noise stopped and the rest of the trip down was quiet, with Mebra finding herself in an abandoned carpark on the outskirts of Vienna.
The'Bemused Indolence' turned its attention back to South Africa. The Arbitrary had scanned everything back in 1974 but time had moved on and it had n't been looking for lost episodes.
If it could sigh, it would. At least the'Bemused Indolence' had some place to start. Such is the life of a fan.
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[ WP ] A child raised by a single father begins despising his father . Make me sympathize with both of them .
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I remember her the way she never was.
She lay in the cot that Suzie and I had put together, staring up at me with blue eyes that followed me about the room. I hated her. I loathed an innocent child with every fibre of my being, because she had taken my wife away.
`` Daddy, wait!'' She was trying to catch up with me on the busy pavement, mittened hand outstretched. I did n't wait. Not for her.
`` Daddy, please help me.'' She looked like an angel in the blue school uniform some other PTA mother had provided for her. Her hair was a mass of blonde curls, because I'd be damned if i knew how to brush and braid little girls' hair. She stood, holding out her little shoe, a lace up thing i did n't remember buying, and looked at me with desperate eyes because she'd found something she could n't do herself.
I know that she hates me. God, she looks so much like her mother now I have to stop every time she swans into a room. Often i have to leave. More than often I have to visit Suzie. I do n't tell her about our daughter. She's got a job. She does n't come to me for money. But I know she cries about me on the phone to her friends.
I wish I'd been better.
I took her out shopping, because one of the PTA mothers suggested it. We spend an hour awkwardly looking at clothes I do n't want to imagine her in, then go for lunch. She tells me about her school work, and her drama and her friends. I do n't know what to say. I do n't understand what she's learning about. The play seems modern and abstract and I think all her friends are older men. I nod and smile and play along, but there's nothing there.
We both know. We go home in silence.
The next day she kills herself. I get the call from school where she started vomiting up blood. I drive slowly on the way there. I feel like a father now.
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[ WP ] Write in first person the story of the life of Perry , a pear from his life of splender on the pear tree , to his inevitable ( horrifying ) demise being eaten as a snack . Bonus points for packing in as many bad pear related puns as you can .
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I awoke one warm summer morning, a light breeze ran up my little brown thing... that little stem thing that held me to the tree I had come to know as `` home''. Upon the hill I could see an apple tree were my one love Annie ( the apple ) lived, how I miss her big red face in these times of utmost uncertainty.
I always knew my fate would be me being sliced with a knife and shoved down someone's throat, as you do. Well we did, as a pear it was expected of me to go willingly, I did n't want to. I tried to make a daring escape with Annie but it only brought our demise sooner than it could have been.
Have you heard the phrase `` The apple never falls far from the tree''? Well that was true. Our plan was to cut our stems and roll, or kind of go round in uneven circles because of my circular booty, away into the sunset. Annie went first, she was ripe and ready for picking and we knew that her time was almost upon her. She cut her stem and fell to the ground. Then I cut my stem but during my fall I saw that bastard farmer pick up Annie.
She begged for mercy, cried, pleaded but still he carried her away. I knew I could n't save her but I would always have the memories of the night we made fruity love. Well that' a lie, it was a fantasy because we never actually touched one and other due to the fact that we were on different trees.
Anyway, I digress, I fell to the ground and rolled down the hill but before I knew it was being taken away by a small child ready to stick their teeth into my face.
The farmer stopped them and said something in human I did n't understand. Then they took me away and now here I sit, recording my last thought in a diary, well it's actually a slice of plastic cheese and I'm writing it with an egg shell. They plan on chopping me up and putting me in a `` Sa-Laad''. I have no idea how much time I have left but I want my final thoughts to be of my beloved Anni --
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[ WP ] Tell me the story of humanity . How did we come to be where we are today ?
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**RECOVERED**
*This month: an excerpt from the February 23rd 2039 Washington Post interview with Sean Kostoff following his return from the first Martian landing. *
[ WP ] Your remark as you exited the lander has become something of a cultural touchstone around the world. Can you give the readers some further explanation of just what you were thinking and feeling in that moment?
[ SK ] Well, sure. Yeah. But it's hard. I do n't suppose it was anything terribly different from what [ Neil ] Armstrong thought, or what—I do n't know—what [ Charles ] Lindbergh thought. [ Kostoff is quiet, reflecting ] In one sense I hardly did anything at all.
[ WP ] Hardly anything at all?
[ SK ] [ Smiles ] There's nothing inherently special about Mars rocks.
[ WP ] Yet, you spoke as if you thought that you were indeed part of something very special.
[ SK ] Yes. I was. That's why it's hard. The... the vastness of it is immediate and transcendent. Maybe more so than in space just on account of having a horizon to look to... a foreground to examine. Space just does n't make sense to human senses. [ Chuckles ] There's twenty-one thousand kilometers ahead of you on Mars before you see a single human artifact and it's the ship you're standing beside. No desert on Earth could ever be that lonely. Dying in Antarctica or something, you still know that somewhere in the world there's a person who cares about you. Up there these sorts of things are very tenuous ideas. If something had gone wrong you could maybe remind me I have a family waiting on Earth but what's that, really? An evening star? They might as well be waiting in another dimension.
[ WP ] And you believe this loneliness is fundamentally different from that of explorers and sailors before you?
[ SK ] Yes. The metaphorical connection is obvious and very powerful but I think only the Apollo astronauts could really understand the experiential break between the two concepts. I do n't want to sound snobbish, mind you. I appreciate what opportunities I have had.
[ WP ] Perhaps it was n't what you expected?
[ SK ] It was n't what any of us expected, no. You know, I remember someone once said to me—someone close to me, a friend—that they did n't believe in the Moon landings. On account of it being “ too difficult ” at the time. And it's false, but on one level it makes a kind of intuitive sense. You look at the trouble we had just getting *to* Mars, not to mention staying alive there and getting back; it boggles the mind to think a bunch of cowboy test pilots and engineers with slide rulers got to the Moon in the nineteen-sixties. But this friend's not a very technically interested person. When you look at the problems they were facing, they were difficult but not especially so. The physics involved were laid out in [ Issac ] Newton's time. It was a manufacturing problem more than anything. [ Another pause, nodding to himself ] Mars, on the other hand, the challenges of radiation and life-support notwithstanding, it's pretty much the same—a matter of aim and timing as much as anything. What makes it so different is the real challenge. The... the disconnect.
[ WP ] Disconnect. Can you go a little further into what you mean by that?
[ SK ] It's... now I'm flailing for words. The words that are coming to mind seem cheap but something like the concept of Gaia. Or God. But bigger than that. Our brains evolved not just on Earth but they *are* Earth. We make a massive industry out of convincing ourselves that we are different or exceptional here but it's like fish arguing about who's higher on the food chain while the entire ocean is this enormous, ancient cycle. These fish, specifically, do n't exist. They're flashes. Illusions. They're just... statistical likelihoods one might notice if the system is observed over a long enough period. It's not that they just have n't had the thought to look beyond their ecosystem, it's that they are so much a part of it it they ca n't see it.
[ WP ] So you were, pardon the pun, a fish out of water up there?
[ SK ] No, no you miss my point. Even that, that first step. We're just swimming to a different part of the ocean.
[ WP ] Ah, I see what you mean. A kind of existential crisis.
[ SK ] Sisyphus. But instead of a boulder it's a man, lifted up with millions of tonnes of fuel and countless manhours of work—as if, perhaps if we lift him high enough, he wo n't necessarily have to come back down again.
[ WP ] But this seems to downplay the tremendous harvest of scientific data made possible by these missions, namely [ Cassandra ] Haddock's geological work and the revelations that brought.
[ SK ] Sorry, you're absolutely right. Again, I'm trying to answer your first question, what was it, about what I was thinking at the time. We were all, in one way or another, dealing with difficult isolation depression by that time. Even in the midst of that fanfare... I want to be very clear that I do n't think this mission was pointless, or fruitless, by any means. Just... well, that's why it's hard to answer.
[ WP ] Of course. And for the record do you then not believe in the value of eventual colonization of, say, Mars and other worlds out there, in time?
[ SK ] Colonizing is only making a place more like Earth. There was some resistance to the manned mission from certain scientific circles because—and this is very likely true—we could n't ever be one hundred percent sure that no Earth microbes would n't be inadvertently deposited into the Martian environment. [ He is silent for a while ] It's the same as when we tried to put our stories into constellations, way back—whatever we could have imagined at our most creative only reduced the universe to a funhouse mirror of our human desires and fears. That's colonization already. Everywhere we ever go, it'll be the same thing. ☆
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[ WP ] Writer 's Block .
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Suddenly ninjas come in through the porthole of the space ship and... um... do ninjary things. Silently. On the radio.
Right. Bath time.
...
Rocks fall, everyone dies. Except in a galaxy, far, far away where... um...
It is a dark and stormy night.... On the space ship...
...
Dear diary...
... the bath I took was especially long and fragrant. But it did n't help.
Our protagonist is still considering... I forgot now. Why did n't I type it out. Let's see...
...
Once upon a time, there was a writer who got very, very drunk. And it did n't help the writing. And now I am trying to write while hung over and the deadline is twelve hours closer.
...
Another bath, and now the deadline is eighteen hours closer but I am clean.
Why ca n't I be a robot? One that does n't need baths. And writes.
Because if I was, I'd probably be some sort of depressed robot.
... called Marvin or something.
... with a pain in the diodes all down his left hand side.
Marvin the paranoid android makes his way down to the bridge of the Heart of Gold. Clunking, wheezing noises. When he talks, it's in a very down tone of voice, but still obviously robotic.
Marvin:'I think you ought to know, I am feeling very depressed.'
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[ WP ] In an alternate universe , language holds magical power . However , the more speakers there are for that language , the less powerful the magic becomes , making languages like English nearly powerless . You are the last speaker of a dying language .
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This is a roughly translated story from 4016 AD. This was my best attempt at translating the *dank swagger*. Please do not down vote.
-- -- --
I speak an ancient language having origins *be-going* back to 5000 years ago in the days of Augoestus. It was *used-to-be* spoken by 2 billion people but now falls to the hands of what used to be German, but is now Doethpraeche. In 4000 AD, my native language Igloeyescaede is viewed as vulgar Doethpraeche even though they are as distant as Millennial English and Vedic Sanskrit.
I was bullied alot because of my dank swagger and -541 downvotes on Raryet ( Reddit? ). A kid named Jouqneisse would always bully me and became more successful than me after years passt. He would always condescend me as if I was a ***Djoezeebipfen***^1. My language could do marvelous things. Not as marvelous as Ithkuil though. That language could do wonders quickly. And I'mean vry quickly.
When he pushed me infront of my crush and told her about my love for her, that was the last straw! I walked up to him and hollered in Doethpraeche, ***'' Duussen miskewor reewo!'' ***^2. He said back to me, `` What are you going to do about it? Huh, Ted-Accounting-From-Little?''
Now I was even more mad...
***'' LE VOESHAEWES VARIYOO, BIDADAEYESUE EN HOER LOEVEV LAFAEMA! `` ***^3
And with that final verse, I decided to end this bullying once and for all.
`` A bi datbö. O sciet wöröp.''
-- -- --
**Note 1: ** Djoezeebipfen < Millennial English `` Justin Bieber Fan''
**Note 2: ** `` Duussen miskewor reewo!'' means `` You little s**t'' but translates to `` You inhuman-jerk little''
**Note 3: ** `` LE VOESHAEWES VARIYOO, BIDADAEYESUE EN HOER LOEVEV LAFAEMA!'' translates to *'' With this ancient verse, I announce you dead and her as the love of my life!'' *.
Try to guess what *'' A bi datbö. O sciet wöröp. `` * means...
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[ WP ] You die and are given the opportunity become the next Grim Reaper , as the current one getting tired of his role . You take the job , but it 's not quite what you expect ...
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The last thing I remember is is staring up at the ceiling of a speeding ambulance, oxygen mask over my face, and the beeping of a heart rate monitor growing weaker and weaker. I had been stabbed multiple times in a mugging gone wrong, but as I look down, my shirt is in tact and I'm not bleeding. I take in my surroundings and I find that I am standing in a large chamber with enormous marble pillars holding up the roof. Stained glass windows with imagery of great and terrible moments from human history let sunlight come in, somehow from every direction.
`` Welcome, Simon,'' said a voice from behind me. I turned around to see a man standing there. He wore black jeans and a white t-shirt, and he looked very familiar to me, though I could n't quite place it.
`` Where am I?'' I asked.
`` This place does n't really have a geographic location. Long story short, you're dead. Normally you'd be standing in a line for a few more decades while waiting to be judged, but I pulled you out of the line to give you another option.'' said the man. That's when I realized where I'd seen his face before, it was the last face I saw. The man standing before me was one of the paramedics from the ambulance.
`` You-,'' I began.
`` Allow me to explain,'' he interrupted, `` I know that I look familiar, and that is because I am the last face that you, and everyone else, ever sees. I have many names, but you may call me Death.''
`` Nice to meet you,'' I said, not sure how else to respond, `` So what's this other option you have for me?''
`` Well, Simon, I have been around since the very beginning, and I must say that it has taken a toll on me. I have grown tired in these past few thousand years, and have essentially sent in my resignation. I'd like to offer you the position.''
`` Me.''
`` Yes you.''
`` You want me to...''
`` Take my place as Death. Should you accept, you will live forever, under the condition that you do your job. That job is to be a shepherd, guiding the souls of the recently dead here, to await their judgement. You yourself will not be doing the killing, save for a few extreme cases.''
``... What the fuck?''
`` I have an assignment in three minutes and fifteen seconds. Join me and you can see what it's like.'' Before I could respond, I blinked and we were n't in the chamber anymore, we were in a hospice somewhere. By my side was Death and we were standing at the foot of a bed in which an old woman was lying, hooked up to a number of machines that would n't shut up. Around her were family members all of them crying, not knowing what to say.
`` Marianne Roberts, 89, born in Leeds, death in two minutes and thirty-five seconds, cause is going to be multiple organ failures starting with the liver.'' said Death, in a calm voice, as if he were reading off a clipboard, `` In ten seconds, a nurse is going to come through the door and I am going to possess them for a moment. Do not be alarmed, he will never know what happened and there are no lasting effects.''
I counted and sure enough the nurse came in and as soon as he passed the threshold, his features switched to those of my companion. I looked to my side and Death was no longer there. I zoned out as I watched Death working his way passed the family members to get to Marianne. He talked with them as he examined the machines. Suddenly the heart monitor beeped sporadically. Death put on the stethoscope and reached for the woman's wrist. As soon as he touched her, she flat-lined, and the same woman appeared next to me standing upright and seaming to be healthy as she watched her family weeping over her dead body.
Death appeared next to me, `` I'll take her to find her place in line, wait here.'' As if I had a choice. I watched as the nurse that Death had possessed turned off the machines and pulled a blanket over Marianne's face. He pulled a walky-talky from his belt and called for another nurse to help him.
I blinked and I was back in the chamber with Death.
`` What do you think?'' he asked.
`` Is that what it's like every time?''
`` No.''
I thought for a moment, `` So I will live forever, and I will meet everyone? What if we do n't speak the same language?''
`` As soon as you take the job, you will become fluent in all languages.''
`` What if-''
`` Simon, I have been doing this for thousands of years. I will give you a book with everything that you need to know, and if you need any help you can always talk to me if I'm not busy.''
`` Will I ever meet God?''
`` Only if she needs to speak with you.''
I thought for a moment, `` Ok. I'll take the job.'' The room shook and Death let out a sigh.
`` Hail the new lord of the dead.'' said the former Death in a sarcastic tone, `` You should be feeling anxious right about now, check your wrist.''
I had a watch on my wrist that had a countdown, a place, and a number.
`` One minute, a set of coordinates, and 327. What's that supposed to mean?''
`` You have one minute to get to those coordinates. That is your next job.''
`` What about the number?'' I asked. Death gave a forced smile before disappearing. I wondered how I was supposed to get to those coordinates. Apparently all I had to do was think of them and boom I was there. I was in a corn field in bumba-fuck nowhere. I could n't see anything for miles and considered for a moment that something had gone wrong until the watch beeped. Five seconds left, it said. Then I heard it, a roar from above. I looked up to see a plane falling from the sky. First day on the job is always the worst.
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[ WP ] You 're a curator at a gallery and someone 's been staring at the same painting for the last 30 minutes .
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It's close to closing but the way his feeble arms lay slack at his sides dissuades you from approaching. Who are you to interrupt such a moment? But when you hear the rustle of the janitor behind you rummaging through the broom closet, you know you'll have to say something soon. But perhaps not quite yet. You go to your office to do something inconsequential, just to buy him a few more minutes. When you come back his head is hanging low and from the irregularity of his breathing you can tell he's begun crying. His wrinkled hands now lie in his lap. He's looking at them.
You turn around when a light squeaking draws your attention. The janitor has turned the corner and is approaching the center of the gallery with his mop bucket. You look at your watch. 11:02. Tasteful Replicas is closed. You take a breath of manufactured confidence and approach the man. As you get closer you see that he's holding something in his palm. An open fob watch. You're right next to him but he does n't seem to notice.
You turn to the painting. The Starry Night.
`` No need to be upset. It'll still be here tomorrow,'' you say, reassuringly. You take another peek at the fob. The metal is worn and discolored, the swirling designs faded. Then you notice the time is n't right and that he does n't even appear to be looking at it. His old, blue eyes are on an extremely faded photo of a very familiar face set in the left side.
Your eyes widen. `` Is that Vincent?''
His fingers close, the face of the fob with them.
`` I promised we'd always be together but he did n't trust it. He thought our happiness was only momentary like every other beauty in this world.''
You turn back to the painting. Even as a replica, the swirling winds could still sweep you away. You hold in a whimper causing your words to come out slightly distorted. `` How very wrong he was.''
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[ WP ] An unsuspecting teenager is put into the scared stright program by his parents . The inmates and wardens soon find out he is more terrifying then anything the prison holds .
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The prison air hung stagnantly around me. A smell of sweat, dirt and urine seemed to linger on the inmates as they jeered at me from either side. Some were black, some were white, some mexican, some asian. Tattoos covered the majority of skin as far as I could tell, did they mean anything to the inmates? I guess I will need to ask later. My feet were moving forward, following behind other teens as we shuffled down the laneway like cattle to the slaughter. The others seemed so afraid, that these men with their tattoos and muscles would hurt them, but why be afraid of meat and bones, there are much worse things to be afraid of.
The guard leading us forced us to a stop, he started yelling instructions of some sort, I have never been very good at listening, only watching.
We were led to small rooms, divided into them as were to spend some time to reflect on our actions. Perhaps the night if we were bad.
I was partnered with another male, he seemed nervous in this environment. He was trembling as the guard yelled at him to start making his bunk. The guard glanced at me, then acknowledged my bed was made. How uneventful, truly, I wish Jeremy would allow me to have fun.
The tour continued rather uneventfully, prisoners telling us how we could be in here if we werent careful and how it's the end of the line. It was n't until another member of the group started acting tough did things get interesting. The boy began cursing and saying crude things to an inmate and suddenly everyone was yelling, oh, delicious chaos, I welcome you. As the fighting began and bodies began to sprawl I could feel it growing inside Jeremy, the underlying need to cause havoc. Yes Jeremy, this is where we belong! Jeremy took the plastic knife from the table and started plunging it into the face of our old roommate. As guards wrestled us to the ground the one closest started yelling.
`` What the fuck is wrong with you boy!? You were almost gone home!''
I beckoned Jeremy within his mind, just as countless times before, drawing him into my realm, my realm of bones and shadow. Jeremy and I are as much one as we are seperate, two entities living within one host, except I am far from human. Humans suffer from night terrors, boogeymen, or whatever else that comes from under their beds. Unlike most children, Jeremy wanted a friend. I like Jeremy, he lets me have fun and I act as his friend, a more than worthwhile relationship.
Slowly I croon Jeremy's name and carress his head between my hands as I sit upon my throne of misplaced limbs, the only light cascading out from the single torch being held from a severed arm as a centrepiece in the room.
I lean over and slowly whisper into his ear. `` Jeremy may I come out and play? It has been such a long time.''
`` Okay Sonny,'' Jeremy whispered back, `` But please do n't play too long this time.''
I felt it grow, a surge of power, as Jeremy remained in my realm of watching I traveled back to his body.
The guards were still holding me down when I returned, still yelling. Why do they make so much noise? I could smell the metallic tang of blood in the air, I could hear the pulse of hearts and they pumped vital fluids to their destination, I could feel the hunger rising within me.
`` What the fuck is wrong with you!?'' The guard ontop of me asked again in a demanding tone.
`` I just want to play with you.''
As Jeremy's body began to crack and twist, changing to better suit my form, the guard's look of horror became encaptured as the last expression he would ever make.
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[ OT ] SatChat : Will you be participating in the novelette contest ?
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Spring break is coming up, and I have a decent idea for one. We'll see if I have the patience for anything longer than Reddit's character limit though, that's the hard part.
****
I live in Georgia, I'm male, and I've been writing on Reddit for slightly more than a year now. I do n't use any programs, I just write here. I write because I love reading, I guess. I feel that if you really like a certain hobby or group, you have to add to it.
Okay, so I want to promote my new sub: /r/TheCastriffSub! Currently there are 126 stories free for anyone to read. I also keep an [ Imgur gallery ] ( http: //imgur.com/a/KqCwD ) in the sidebar for all the image prompt stories I've written.
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[ WP ] Write a thesis on why Moonlight has magical properties not present in Sunlight
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Well, given that the moon is magical, it seems pretty straightforward that something in powerful and overwhelming contact with the moon would experience imbuement. Just take a look at the history of dogs - regular contact with humanity over thousands of years sufficed to dislodge them from the link with the Forest Mother. Considering the sun's output, the age of the universe ( 40kyo? I think the sages are saying right now? I'm not clear on the latest research ) and the regularity of contact it's a pretty obvious result. I mean, even with the First Dark accounted for - that only lasted for a few hundred years, kind of a blip in the grand scheme of things.
Anyway, it's not like I'm a professional nature-reader myself - I deal with symbol twisting day to day - but my understanding is that the souls the First Designer locked into the moon are what gives most of its magical properties. The lion's share are supposed to be kept there until the Final Phase ( delay it to a day beyond eternity, amen ) but they're still trying to get back to Earth - and with the sunlight bouncing off it so regularly, some of the more hungry ones have been trying to hitch a ride. You know, whittling off small bits and pieces of their souls and weaving it into the rays - a little like hitch-hiking, but with translucent, teeth-grinding spirit worms and nematodes. Most of the time they just burn off and get pulled right back to the moon.
But now and then some of them manage to get here - like during a full moon, since the reflectivity is at an all-time high around then. That's why we stay indoors on those days, and keep all our pets and livestock blocked too - it helps keep our souls from being touched and having to call out the Phase-readers to stop us from drowning ourselves in a lake or getting stabby with our loved ones, since you need direct contact with something with flowing blood for the worms to make a jump, otherwise they just end up in the rocks and pebbles and all that, which we can take care of with the usual day-after blessing. Which, in turn, is why it always smells like rotting fish after a full-moon - I do n't know why they ca n't mask that, I never looked into it. I'm sure there's a good reason. I also do n't know why the blessings do n't always work on animals in the forest? I think it's due to the schism, but it seems too hit and miss for that to be it.
But yeah, the short version is the Locked Souls slice off a part of themselves and try to weave it into the sunlight as it bounces off the moon. Hope this helps, good luck on the paper!
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[ WP ] A Numbers Station Broadcast is Finally Decoded
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Sliding a hand nervously across his balding head, Kennedy could n't help but swallow with anxiety. Every day at three PM, after work, he'd sit down at his ham radio in the basement of his small apartment/book store and transcribe numbers stations. It was a hobby he'd had since he was a boy, when'spying on the Soviets' was one of the few things he did with his aging alcoholic father. Each day, it was more or less the same. A buzz. A series of chirps for a half an hour. Another buzz. Today was different. UVB-799, `` The Cricket'' had changed it's tune.
Buzz. An extended buzz. A female voice. `` 19 7 4 20 17 0 11 18 0 17 4 19 7 4 11 0 13 3 8 13 6 25 14 13 4. 22 4 0 11 11 17 8 3 4 0 17 12 8 13 0 17 12 19 14 22 0 17 3 18 4 19 4 17 13 8 19 24. 22 4 0 17 4 13 14 19 0 11 14 13 4 8 13 19 7 8 18 20 13 8 21 4 17 18 4 14 17 19 7 8 18 11 8 5 4.
15 17 0 8 18 4 1 4 19 14 19 7 4 0 11 12 8 6 7 19 24 11 14 17 3.''
Another sharp buzz. The Cricket went silent, for the first time since 1944, and unlike then, it remained so. Kennedy leaned back into his comfortable leather chair and took a slow bite out of his pastrami.
He stared at the computer screen. A series of numbers with no cypher.
There had to be a few he could try. Another bite from his pastrami sandwich caused mustard to dribble down his chin. Leaning forward and shifting to get comfortable in his chair, the man typed furiously into his Dell's keyboard.
A-1 B-2 C-3 D-4. Common letter-to-number cypher. With careful deliberation, he began to scrawl out a message onto a nearby sheet of paper, using a trusty number 2 pencil. After a moment of writing, he planted the paper against the monitor screen to illuminate it-
And got more questions than answers.
Meanwhile, in a field outside of Kungur, Russia, just off of the Ural Mountains, a Russian soldier stared at a hovering disk the size of a football field, his blue eyes transfixed on the pulsating colorful glow on the underside of the craft. Within moments, the squad's commander approached the craft, his arms outstretched inoffensively.
He was approached by the occupants of the craft.
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[ WP ] Two hitmen are in a bar discussing how they got started as contract killers .
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Finnegan and Carbone sit across from each other occupying a booth in a small bar in the middle of town. Few people sitting around, talking. Noises surround them but they paid no attention. Carbone plays with the drink in front of him, using his fingers to outline the top of the glass. Finnegan is making eyes at bartender. He turns his attention to Carbone.
`` How'd you start?''
`` Start? Start what? My car?''
Finnegan laughs. `` No, this. Us. What we do''
`` Oh, this. Money. It's always Money. You?''
Finnegan begins to look around the bar then comes in closer to Carbone, keeping his drink in his hands.
`` Passion.''
`` Passion? Like how them black boys pursue basketball? Passion?''
`` Yea. Like how those black boys pursue basketball. So you do it for just money right?''
Carbone leans back looking up at the ceiling, thinking about his answer. He looks back at Finnegan.
`` Yeah, money. I like cars. I like the fast cars. And those fast cars cost lots and lots of money. And well, I'm good at what I do. So yeah. If you really want to know. Money.''
`` See? There's no passion.''
`` Passion, the fuck does that mean?'' Carbone booms loudly. `` I do it passion.''
`` No, calm down. Calm down you idiot. Try to see what I'm saying before you get all hormonal. See. Your passion is fast cars. So money comes as a consequence to feed your passion. But you do what you do, and you do it well. But it's not a passion.''
Carbone takes another sip of his drink, squinting his eyes as he thinks. He sets the glass down in front of him.
`` Fine. You're right. Cars are my passion. So, how does passion come into doing what we.'' Carbone pauses leaning in closer to Finnegan, he whispers. `` Doing what we do.''
`` It's an art. See, I can tell you something about yourself you probably do n't think a lot of people know.''
`` Tell me what?''
`` How exactly you started, See, you just wanted money. So I bet it was really sloppy at first. You tried to get whatever you could. Let any bozo hire you just to get a couple bucks right?''
`` First, them bozos paid for the food I needed at the time, and help keep that studio I used to inhabit.''
`` Okay, But, you we're sloppy right? You made a couple mistakes in the beginning, you probably fucked up. Forgot to clean something or left a gun behind, something like that right? Something big enough that that's all your brain could focus on was that fuck up for weeks. After that you had to wait another couple weeks to find the courage to find another job, right?''
`` I wo n't say.''
Finnegan grows a smug smile on his face. His eyes staying focused on Carbone.
`` But you're not saying is that I'm wrong.'' Finnegan continues to smile taking another sip then setting his glass off to the side.
`` See, I love art. I've always enjoyed art. I enjoy the time that one has to put into their art. When I was a small boy, like the size of that guy hitting on the bartender. I've always enjoyed the thought of taking life. But what I enjoyed more than the what was the how. I used to think about it even though high school and into college. I thought how I would do it. How I would clean. How I would be creative. How it would send the police into a buzz for weeks as they tried to figure out my methods but, they never could. See, art is time. The more you take your time, the less likely you leave a mess. Less likely you make mistakes, get it?''
Carbone stares at the bartender flattering the man Finnegan mentioned, bringing his eyes back to Brandon.
`` So this. This is art. This is why you take the contracts? Cause the art?''
Finnegan sensing Stephens tone refutes. `` Have you been caught?'' Finnegan begins to usher the bartender for another drink. He turns back to Stephen, waiting on a answer.
`` No. I'm better now.''
`` Do you think you could be better?''
`` What's your fucking point?''
`` Do you think you could be better? Answer the question.''
Carbone brings himself closer.
`` No, I think I'm pretty fucking good.''
Finnegan relaxes leaning back on the chair, leaning out of the way as the bartender setting a drink in front of him, he smiles watching her leave.
`` You're going to get caught, see, this is what I've learned, and you might want to listen to this, these words.''
`` Shoot.''
`` A good artist is never satisfied. They always believe they can do better and better. And for you, you keep that pattern you got going for you, I'm telling you, how you started, it made waves. And it's going to find you in the present. So if you keep trying to do this for the money, These waves are going to drown you and well.''
Finnegan smiles as brings the tip of the glass to his lips, he continues.
`` You're either going to find yourself behind those big metal bars with a nice, big, black friend with even bigger friend in his pants, and, well, you might find yourself'' Finnegan smugly smiles again as he finishes the drink setting it down in front of him, continuing.
`` Let's just hope if, well not if, when. See if you do n't try, try harder to find passion in this, what we do. One day those people with those shiny badges are going to show up on that nice house of yours and take every thing away from you, but in return they will give you time. Lots and lots of time in small space with a boyfriend thinking about those little waves that finally caught up to you.''
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[ WP ] While hiking in the woods , you become lost . Luckily , you come across a set of train tracks and decide to follow them back to civilization . They only lead you deeper into the forest where you find a stalled train ; its boxcars filled with piles of dead bodies .
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I spied the cart shortly after an hour of following those tracks. The rusted red box car stood out like a sore thumb. It's faded red sides like a bullseye against the lush forest background. It must have sat there for some time, I imagined as I looked over the random holes that rust and time had pierced through its' iron belly. Vines had grown up over the large wheels and it sat kind of tilted as if a sudden stop had derailed the old machine and ended what ever forgotten errand it was on.
The storm was n't far behind me now. The clouds were gray like my Grandfathers' beard and the sky flashed brightly followed by a low rumble of thunder. With both my hiking stave and legs pressed to the limit I felt this was a good of a spot as any other to seek cover. I noticed the back door was slightly ajar, but at this distance I could n't tell just how much and some kind of old bag hung from it which spurred my interest. I did n't know how long I would be out here nor exactly where'here' was and what kind of rational man would pass up the opportunity for any potential supplies? So I set it to my mind that this would be home. Well, at least for tonight.
I approached cautiously. Being in the forest any kind of wild animal could of made that car their very own iron cave and I did n't want to be the fool who walks in on some hungry grizzly or snake den. I slid my backpack off slowly and pulled out my canteen and took a swish. The warm water eased my dry throat and parched lips, but unfortunately did nothing for the swarming bugs that now gathered around my head in large clouds. Swatting them was useless and each breath had to be taken with care as to not swallow them as they seemingly flew into any orifice they could, tickling and biting. I just wanted to get away from them so I picked up my pace to get to that car to perhaps strike a fire and smoke these annoying nemesis away and that's probably why I did n't notice the smell at first.
Within five feet to the car the air seemed to grow thicker and pungent. The odor hit my nostrils like a sudden shock. Death. The smell of something rotten, stewing in rank and heat. It was a smell unlike any other and those who knew it would never forget it. That's when I stopped and looked around me. At first I thought perhaps some dead skunk or deer lay in misfortune near me and my misfortune being the one to stumble upon it before the scavengers. I could see nothing out of the ordinary. Just weeds, leaves and grasses. There were some bushes here and there, but the area seemed mostly open. The trees were tall and their leaves turned up as if welcoming the coming rain. Their branches were twisted and long. Their old oak bellies seemed to breath as the dark clouds above started squeezing out the light and replacing it with violent flashes and thunderous roars. The wind was picking up and rushed through the trees with force. A branch broke off one high above my left side and came crashing to the ground with a thud.
It was around then that my attention was moved towards the train cart and the door that swayed in the storms breath. Then I looked to the bag that lay half out of the cart and my heart began to race. It was n't a bag at all. It was dirt stained shirt. Torn and old the shirt was stuffed into a pair of equally spoiled pants. My heart began racing then. Pounding in my chest, blood racing through my body. My legs suddenly felt weak and shook, the way a boys might in terror as his natural instinct to run or fight kick in. I stood still as stone and looked in terror upon the rotting remains of a man still within those clothes. Most of his flesh was gone, but muscle tendons could still be seen wrapping about bones and rancid flesh. Boils dotted a head that was half exposed skull and half mud caked wet hair that hung down into a pool of bile that gathered beneath it.
The intensity of the wind was picking up and the storm was by now directly over head. The swinging and battering of the door had managed to dislodge the body from the door way and it slid from its place down into the pile of its own gore with a squish. I narrowed my eyes upon it in a kind of terror filled wonder. Then it happened, I could not stop it. A sickness. The urge came upon me and my hands went to my knees. My stave tossed to the ground beside me carelessly I vomited onto the fluttering leaves.
Composing my self I wiped my mouth clean on my sleeve and picked my walking stick back up. I wondered how I would explain this if I ever made it back to civilization. Then I began to wonder what this car was doing here, lone, in the middle of nowhere. Who was this man and what had happened? After what seemed like ages of careful thought my curiosity tamed my fear and I approached closer. Just a step at first towards that black opening. It looked like the entrance to a dungeon at this point and with the flailing door and fading light I could not see entirely inside. So inching closer and closer I grew. My eyes tended to fixate on the dead man who laid now on the ground beside me, but then would dart to the door when the wind would pull it slightly open and shut. Then I heard something, a scratching or perhaps the scrapping of small feet. I leaned in to listen, but the sound would stop or be to faint to make out.
I extended my arm and using my hiking step I wedged it into the door. I tried to keep my distance the best I could and slowly, cautiously began to push the door open. It was difficult at first, but after the first foot or so it seemed to just heave its self open. Like a man near death drawing his last great breath of air. The smell now was indescribable as it rushed forth from that stank crypt and consumed my senses in a pungent wretched fragrance of rotted life. It was then, with the flashes of the rampaging lightning that I could see inside and with that the entire nature of the world seemed to change for me. For within my mortal eyes lay witness to a banquet of horror unfit for the likes of men to describe with words.
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[ WP ] New arrivals in eternal Hell may choose either of the following : a small wooden spoon , or a 100-trillion year vacation in Heaven .
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When I first arrived in hell i was surprised at their ability to process so many people at once. I moved up the line with relative speed until finally it was my turn.
`` Name?'' the strange boney creature asked. His voice was shrill yet husky, for a moment i was busy thinking this was an odd combination before quickly replying. `` James, James Smith''.
He gestured for me to place my hand on the counter, and I complied. I'd seen those in front of me pass through this stage, so I knew what was to come and i had mentally prepared myself, or so I though. The boney beast pulled out a hot metal branding iron and plunged it into the top of my hand. I cried in pain even though I tried not to. The worst of the pain subsiding, the beast directed me to pass down the side of his desk and onto the next stage of admittance.
As I turned a corner I came upon a small desk with a weary looking old man. The desk had a plaque attached to it `` eternal decisions desk ”. As I approached the desk, the man began talking in a hardly audible monotone voice “ A small wooden spoon, or a 100-trillion years in heaven? ”.
At first I thought it was some sort of trick, and I was full of questions, but as I was about to ask, he foresaw my questions and answered, “ It ’ s no trick, heaven or a regular plain old wooden spoon ”. While I had no reason to trust him, all things considered, heaven seems the better option. So, as I looked once again over the sign on his desk, I gave him my decision. He looked surprised, perplexed, and slightly constipated as he handed me my spoon. Realising what just happened I began to tremble.
“ I meant heaven, I was looking at the sign and said spoon by mistake ” I explained, but he was having none of it. He gestured for me to move to the side. I stood there limp and in disbelief as what felt like hundreds of other people came up to the weary old man and made their decision to take a trip to heaven. One by one, they were enveloped in heavenly light and whisked away.
Eventually I accepted the fact and proceeded onwards onto the next stage of admission. I take two steps towards the door leading to the next stage, and the door lights up in a wall of blue flames. I jump startled, and my spoon goes flying from my hand and lands right in the fire. I watch it burn.
Feeling sorry for myself, I accept defeat and walk through the door into the third stage of admission expecting to see pools of lava, scorching fires and brimstone, but all there is is darkness, except for a small flickering light in the distance.
I begin to walk in the direction, thinking this was some sort of test. When I finally arrive, I see none other than the devil himself sitting in his underwear on a couch playing an old Nintendo 64. Surprised at what I was seeing, and his apparent total concentration on the game I cleared my throat. Startled he let out a mouthful of fire and just sat there looking at me. “ What are you doing here? ” he asked surprised, “ why didn ’ t you pick heaven? ”.
I explained that I meant to pick heaven, and seeing as though he actually seemed pretty cool I asked if it was possible to change. “ Sure ” he said, “ just give me the spoon and I ’ ll send you on your way ”. Can my internment to hell get any worse, I wonder, as I collapse on the floor explaining that I let the spoon burn up. I was hoping for some mercy, but what I heard was nightmarish “ Without trading the spoon, I cant really send you up there, I guess you ’ re stuck here ”, he said without any sense of remorse.
Resigning to my new life, I asked what I was to expect from now on. “ So where do I go from here? fire-pits? Lava tubes? Rooms full of rusty nails? ”. I was trying to brace myself for what was to come, but nothing could prepare me for what he said next.
“ Eh, You ’ re the first one here. I ’ ve still got 99-trillion years before I have to start making all that stuff – I ’ m a bit of a procrastinator. Tell you what, I ’ ve been trying to get inside this forest temple for over a decade, if you know how to do it, I ’ ll put you in charge of building hell. ”
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[ WP ] The dust settles .
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I've seen his type before. The kind who spends his night on the town looking for women already half in the bag. He's not very subtle, this one; I can see him chatting it up with girls, trying to distract them from their drinks, twiddling a little pill in his right hand under the table while sipping from his own cheap beer. He dresses badly and is pushing too hard. The chicks wo n't dig it and most of them slink off to dance or disappear in the crowd. He does n't take it personally -- if he could talk to people, get laid, he would n't have the pills in the first place.
I watch him for long enough and decide to make my move. I sit next to him and start talking. At first I'm the one doing the chatting but he quickly takes over the conversation and goes into a long rant about his own interesting fake job, gesticulating wildly. He's some kind of desk jockey. After awhile he points across the bar to the wall of pinball machines, thinking I give a shit. I look and he drops the pills in my drink -- I know he does because he's sloppy and I can see it happening in my peripheral vision.
Ecstasy or roofies, it does n't matter. Either way it'll turn me into a slobbering mess if I down another sip of my drink. I turn back and he keeps talking about work. Are n't you the hero of the office, I say, and then nod at the bartender. I take advantage of the scumbag's particular brand of misanthropy and start criticizing the way the bartender favors the eighteen-year-old girls. He looks at them and I plop my own two pills in his beer.
For a moment I think I might get caught. The drink is still swirling with bubbles as the pills disintegrate and he looks back to me. But he has no idea this was a trap, that when the dust of those dissolving capsules settles and disintegrates his fate is sealed. I cheers him. He takes a long pull on his pint, to encourage me to down mine. But I do n't actually take any of the booze in my mouth -- I just let it wet my lips and I make a show of swallowing and coughing a little.
The man nearly finished his drink. I get up to go to the washroom. By the time I get back, a small crowd has gathered by his stool and the music has stopped: he is a small, convulsing form on the floor. I leave the bar among cries for an ambulance.
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[ WP ] Michael Scott was convicted for murder and sent to jail . He now becomes Prison Mike .
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They were all staring at him as he walked in, 20 large men with tattoo ’ s and cold eyes; cold eyes which burned Michael as they pierced his soul.
“ Dementors… ” Michael thought. They might as well be, if they were out of their cages they would surely be as merciless. “ They want to eat my soul! ”
Michael was terrified but he tried to walk tall as he walked past the doors of the other cells, he stumbled once but he was able to make it look like he was trying to stumble.
“ Smooth. ” Michael thought to himself as he grabbed onto the railing to recover himself.
When got into his cell he met his new roommate.
It was a large man with tattoos all over his face, he was sitting on the toilet with his pants around his ankles and no shirt on, his junk was right out in the open.
Michael flinched away at the sight, but managed to say, “ Hello, I ’ m Michael. ”
The cell door clicked shut behind him and he heard the guard walking away.
The large, bald, tattooed man stood up from the toilet without pulling up his pants or washing his hands, and stepped forward to shake Michael ’ s hand.
“ My name is “ Armageddon ”, you can call me Sir and I will call you Mikey. ” Armageddon made his position clear.
“ I ’ ll just pretend you ’ re calling me “ Mike, if that ’ s ok with you, Mr. Armageddon Sir. ”
“ As long as you respond to Mikey, got it, beiotch? ”
“ Yes sir. ”
-- -- -- -- --
Darnell had just sat down at his table for breakfast, he was about to bite into his egg sandwich when Andre elbowed him in the ribs.
“ Look at this fool over here mayne… ” Andre was pointing towards the chow line.
Darnell looked up just in time to see some white dude throw his tray back at the cafeteria worker.
“ I won ’ t eat this gruel, I ’ m Prison Mike yo! I want some pancakes, with maple syrup; butter and some bacon too up in this beiotch. ”
Darnell shook his head and picked up his food. “ This fool about to get tazed actin like he is. ” He thought to himself.
Sure enough the guard was starting to walk over to the center of the disturbance; however one of the bikers tapped him on the shoulder as he walked past and nodded at him. The biker was going over to handle the situation. Darnell laughed to himself as he watched the drama unfold.
The large man in the leather jacket walked over to “ Prison Mike ” and the crowd parted around him with every step he took.
“ Prison Mike.. ” The biker didn ’ t sound like he was about to open a can of whoop ass on this fool, but Darnell had seen some funky shit happen around this place so he kept paying attention.
“ Yeah? ” Prison Mike asked in a funny accent as he turned around to face the biker.
Prison Mike looked terrified suddenly.
“ Why don ’ t you get out of here before you get your shit pushed in. ” The biker didn ’ t make it a question, it was a demand.
Darnell cocked his head curiously, “ What is this fool thinking? ” He thought to himself as he watched Prison Mike puff up his chest.
“ Why don ’ t you… ” Prison Mike was less sure of himself with every word.
“ Why don ’ t you get your… Get your face out of, my face before you… ”
Prison Mike was deflating rapidly.
“ Before you have to watch me back away from you gracefully… If that ’ s ok… ”
Prison Mike seemed to be a foot shorter now.
The biker scowled at Prison Mike as he backed away, 10 steps. 20 steps, at 25 steps Prison Mike turned around as he bumped into somebody else and ran out of the cafeteria without his breakfast.
Darnell and Andre laughed.
“ Pass that ketchup mayne. ”
________
Thomas was only 14, but he could already see this was bullshit.
“ Scared straight my ass… ” He said sarcastically to Morgan standing beside him.
The guards were leading in “ 3 of the hardest criminals in the whole state. ” Thomas thought they looked like clowns.
The last one walked past him with a swagger he must have picked up from some music video and shot him a stare that Thomas figured was supposed to be a “ hard look. ”
“ Boy ’ s, these are some of the most dangerous criminals we have the displeasure of hosting here. You will now get a chance to meet these men and see how you would like to share a room with them for 20 years. ” The guard said it in a threatening tone, but Thomas could only sneer.
“ Who the fuck gets 20 years for taking their mom ’ s car for a few weeks? Seriously. ” He thought to himself, he appreciated the fact he was supposed to play along and he normally would, but he would have found it easier if this was a little more realistic.
Thomas was paired off with “ Prison Mike ” for an hour to share a cell and “ Learn the ropes in the clink ” as the sad man had put it.
“ This, is our… This is MY cell. You get to have the bottom bunk, punk. ” Prison Mike was puffing his chest up and beginning to take a boxing stance. “ You wan na challenge me kid? I ’ ll… I ’ ll break your tail lights with a baseball bat, and then go into your house and have sex with your mother! ”
Thomas frowned. “ You don ’ t talk about my mother. ”
“ Yes of course I ’ m sorry… I mean, I ’ ll talk about whoever I like. All night long while I am sleeping on the top bunk. ”
“ How will you talk all night if you are sleeping? ”
“ I ’ ll be sleep talking.. Having dreams of messing punks like you up, got it? ”
“ Not really… ”
“ Good, and don ’ t you forget it! ”
Thomas smiled, this was actually fun.
“ Yeah, so Prison Mike, listen… Even though I am only here for an hour and don ’ t really need a bunk… ” Thomas walked over and Prison Mike stepped back.
“ I ’ m still going to take the top one, and I ’ m going to sit up here and read your book for the next hour. ”
Thomas stared at Prison Mike hard; Mike looked away so Thomas climbed up onto the man ’ s bunk and grabbed his book, “ Management for Dummies ”.
“ So what do you know about management, punk? ” Prison Mike asked it with an unsure quality to his voice.
Thomas looked up from the book he wasn ’ t truly reading and said, “ I know how to manage you Prison Mike. Go sit the fuck down in the corner and shut the fuck up unless I speak to you. ”
“ Yes sir… ” Prison Mike sighed and muttered something as he turned around to retreat.
“ What the fuck did you say? ” Thomas put an amusing edge into his voice as he asked.
“ Nothing sir… ”
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[ WP ] Year 1002015 , the human race has been dead for thousands of years , except for you . On your 8th birthday , you wished to live 1,000,000 years longer . Well your wish came true , and your 1,000,008th birthday is soon approaching .
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I wonder what it will feel like to die.
This thought has routinely passed through my head over the many millenia I've been alive. Morbidly, I would fantasize about how it might occur; maybe I would fall ill with a strange, fatal disease that only affected million-year old people, or perhaps I would just turn to brittle dust and blow away in the wind.
It's funny; I made that wish so carelessly, so innocently almost a million years ago, and since then, not only have I not aged, I've also been just unimaginably *lucky*. Somehow, I always managed to avoid getting seriously hurt by anything; the situation would just seem to fall in my favor. Of course, once I realized this ( admittedly, it took a couple centuries to hit me ) I took advantage of this; I ’ ve seen amazing things all over the planet, with no fear of death. Basking in the glow of my immortality and seeming invulnerability, I became the most desirable individual of the human race: scientists wanted to study me, armies wanted me to fight for them, religious wars were waged to gain my favor.
At first, I had qualms about so much attention. I did n't want people to get hurt on my account, or to become the Juggernaut of a nation; I just wanted to live and enjoy my life. But, after some time, I simply... stopped caring. I could obtain whatever I desired, and soon I grew restless with even that. People meant nothing to me; I know, that sounds callous, perhaps sociopathic. But consider this: how much does the short, short life of a mayfly mean to you? People's lives finished before I could blink my eye. Entire nations rose to glory and fell apart under the weight of their hubris in a flash, and I paid them no mind.
I do n't remember when humans died out. Perhaps there still are some, offworld; after all, interstellar travel had become possible some time ago. Forgive me, I do n't remember when, anymore; keeping track of things like that became really difficult after awhile.
I have been alone on what remains of Earth ( several asteroids have bombarded it over the past million years ) for a long time now. Few things interest me; once, over several thousand years, I took it upon myself to explore every inch of this planet, from the deepest ocean trench to the tallest peak. After I finished that, I thought I would obtain a spacecraft and explore other worlds, but by then my interesting in exploring had waned. It felt pointless when I had really no one to share it with, no one would remain alive for even a thousandth of my lifespan.
Now all I think about, all I *obsess* over, is my eventual and upcoming demise. I still do n't know how or why my wish came true; interestingly, I do n't know if, given the chance to redo my life, I would make that wish again. I am not depressed, strangely enough; simply tired and ready for whatever may come next, if anything.
I wonder what it will feel like to die.
____________________________________________________________________________
*Liked that? More stories [ here ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/ )! *
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[ WP ] - Humans turn out to be the hideous monsters feared by the protagonists
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They came slowly.
At first, we thought them no different to us. But then, things started to change. Soon they began to distance themselves from us. And then... destruction. Our homes, things we had built or gained were snatched in a frenzy of destruction. But that was not all. They took us, one by one, using us for their own personal gain. They even took us into their habitat, forcing us to live below them as a sub species, and making us work ourselves sometimes to death, just so they can live. Some see the pain they cause, but only few. They have a new life now, one gained by sacrificing ours to satisfy their gluttony and violence. And now they are set on destroying the last traces of what we had, and in the process, themselves. The age of the animals is coming to an end, and without it, these humans can not prosper.
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[ WP ] You 're the person who keeps mowing lawns during the zombie apocalypse of The Walking Dead .
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They laughed at first. They are n't laughing now.
First I did it to feel normal. To keep some sort of sanity I kept my yard trimmed, was always a great way to eliminate stress. At first, I only mowed my lawn. Soon, the whole neighborhood was tripped. Kids made fun of me, they called my neighborhood haunted because it looked good.
Slowly this expanded to taking care of the neighborshouses. Cleaning out their rotten fridges to find compost. Fixing broken doors to keep out looters. I've seen how the others live, like scavengers going from city to city destroying what is left of the old world. I do not want to be one of them. I do not want them to even see me.
Soon I was building my own stores. Always had gas. Always had fruit. Always had veggies. Always had weapons. Some people started leaving offerings to me.
First time one of the walkers crept up on me while mowing I thought I was a goner. But then, I managed to use the mower to defend myself. To attack the walker I reared up my mower and shaved him a little. Until I caught an arm and finished it off. I went back and forth over the walker, as it screamed, until my job was down, slowing grinding it down to goo.
Sweet sweet compost.
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[ WP ] You are Death , and you 're starting to realize you 've killed the same guy a lot of times , but he never really died and keeps coming back to life .
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`` H-have n't I seen you before?'' Death stammered as he looked Slippery John perplexed.
Slippery John smiled at Death, a wide smile showing his gums.
`` Slippery John knows he's seen you before. It's been awhile this time, though, nearly 5 years. If Slippery John were you, he'd keep better track of who comes through here but Slippery John is n't you, so it's none of Slippery John's business what a minion of darkness such as yourself does.''
Death stared at the self-proclaimed Slippery John. `` Stop talking weirdly.''
Slippery John tilted his head, staring at Death. `` Slippery John is n't talking weird, manifestation of doom. Slippery John is talking normally.''
Death's jaw was hanging low, he was baffled. Could n't this man tell he was talking in the 3rd person?
Slippery John moved to step past Death. `` Well, Slippery John best be going now, lackey of the void.''
Death put an arm in front of Slippery John. `` You'll do no such thing.'' Deaths voice dropped an octave. `` I'm sick of you dying and slipping out of it at the last second. No, this time, I'm going to give you cement shoes if that's what it takes for you to stay dead.''
Slippery John's face fell. `` Slippery John would prefer it if you let Slippery John, as you put it, slip away.''
Death set his boney face in stone. `` Today. You. Die. Permanently.'' He enunciated each word carefully.
`` Slippery John accepts this, Hells stooge. Let's get this done.''
Slippery John stepped backwards and held out his hand to Death. `` Lead the way.'' He said quietly, not putting his usual 3rd person twist on the sentence. Death started walking, thinking nothing of it. A couple seconds later it clicked in his mind. He spun on his heel to find Slippery John was gone. At his feet was a note.
`` Slippery John pulled a fast one on you, did n't he, corruptions underling. Slippery John gets the feeling that Slippery John will see you again soon, as Slippery John is n't all too careful when it comes to danger. Slippery John hopes you do n't hold this against him and next time Slippery John meets you, you let him go again. Until then Slippery John wishes you the best of luck, apparition of doom.''
Death stared down at the note, then in a fit of rage that was very much unlike him he tore it into tiny pieces. The pieces scattered in the wind that Death summoned for that very reason. After a couple of minutes he had calmed down enough to return to his job. He turned around to find Slippery John staring at him.
`` Hello, minion of darkness.'' Slippery John said meekly.
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If you liked this read my other stories. Thanks. /r/Ceruberus
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[ WP ] The king and queen of a fantasy country want to make a child , but do n't know how . Their servant has to explain it ...
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“ And so, your majesty, you will see that you and your queen differ here and here, ” the servant said, pointing between his king and queen ’ s privates. He ’ d given up on being embarrassed about half an hour ago. He was also doing his best to convince himself that they were just pretending to be this stupid. Alex knew the monarch hadn ’ t exactly been at the front of the line when the brains were being handed out, but he ’ d never seemed *this* idiotic, and his bride had always seemed to have a good head on her shoulders.
But now, after far too long a conversation, he just wanted them to get this through their thick skulls. Alex was beginning to worry he was about to have to position them together.
“ Yes, man, we ’ ve gone over this bit! The queen and I have different pieces, and I must fit mine into hers, and then we shall have a child! I fail to understand why you keep repeating yourself. ”
The servant sighed. “ I ’ m trying to explain the rest, your highness. Once the two of you are entwined, you must…move so that your seed can enter her. ”
“ Move? ”
“ Thrust, sire. You need to stimulate your member ” and Alex was damn sure the king knew how to do *that* “ inside of the queen until you release. ”
“ But I can ’ t reach it if it ’ s inside of her! You ’ re telling me to do the impossible. ”
“ Sire, the idea is that you stimulate yourself with the queen. ”
“ I can ’ t reach her hand in there either! ”
“ Not with *hands* sire. With her flower. ”
“ I am **not** putting a flower inside of me, ” said the queen adamantly.
Alex gave up. “ I ’ m going to go see if I can borrow a turkey baster from the cook. ”
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[ WP ] You 're walking down an alley and hear a voice behind you call , `` Wait ! '' You turn to see a raccoon crawl from under a dumpster and say , `` I need your help . ''
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“ Wait! ”
I began to walk quicker. 10 minutes ago I ’ d left my friend Richie and we ’ d gone opposite directions so when I heard that voice I assumed the worst. The alley wasn ’ t the sort of place I ’ d normally walk through at night but it was cold and I ’ d wanted a shortcut. So, for the fear of being mugged, I ’ d sped up.
“ Wait! Please Sir, hold on! ” the voice called again. It sounded very high pitched, like the voice of a child. I turned around. The dim alley was lit by a single streetlamp. As I peered into the gloom I noticed movement underneath the dumpster about 30 feet from me. A racoon crawled out and started moving towards me. I began to walk away; clearly I ’ d been imagining things. I didn ’ t want to get bitten by a racoon.
“ Please Luke, I must speak with you. ” I turned around as fast as I could to try and see who was calling me. The racoon was stood on its hind legs about 6 feet away from me.
“ Thank you Sir, thank you for stopping. I do not know what I would have done if you had escaped. I must speak with you, it is urgent. ”
“ I…I…you ’ re…speaking? Is this some kind of prank? ”
“ I understand your surprise, not a lot of humans know we can speak. ” I must have looked utterly gormless as I looked at the scruffy creature, now at my feet.
“ My name is Sanjay. My friends and I from the forest need your help. ”
“ My help? Why do you need my help? You ’ re a racoon. A…talking racoon named Sanjay. ”
“ Sir, the evil overlord Zarlon has come into the animal kingdom and taken away all the Tings and… ” Sanjay was speaking at a frantic pace, using his small arms to express great emotion.
“ Slow down little guy. Who is Zarlon? What are Tings? ”
“ Zarlon is the devil. He hates the animal kingdom. Do you see those woods over there?, ” said Sanjay, pointing to the large dark forest some distance away, “ That is our kingdom. Tings are small orbs of magical substance and they give special powers, like the power of human speech, to the creatures of the forest. Zarlon has come from the quarry to steal the Tings because he wishes to use them to bring his own forces to life. He has many horrible demons in the quarry and would use the magic for evil. All of us in the forest would become his slaves, powerless to stop him. ” Sanjay shuffled from foot to foot like he was dancing and kept brushing back the hair on his head. I was unsure if it was a twitch he had or he was just anxious.
“ I ’ m sorry Sanjay but I ’ m not sure where I fit in. I ’ m a human and your animal problems don ’ t really concern me. I ’ d love to help but I have more important things to do. ”
“ Please, you must come. I have only been sent to find you. You must come and meet Arthur, the badger. He will explain in more detail. He is wise and knowledgea… ” Sanjay froze. A rustling was coming from the bush behind me.
“ That is Spork, one of Zarlon ’ s henchmen, ” whispered Sanjay, “ quickly we must go. ” And with that he scurried back the way I had walked, towards the forest. A low grunting sound came from the bush and I quickly followed Sanjay.
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[ WP ] Write an original story that shares the same world of another writer ( s ) ' . Feel free to let you characters meet other writers ' characters and build on each other stories .
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Yellow blue flames licked the pot marked asteroid as it hit the thin atmosphere of a planet reddish in colour and too close to a mercilessly burning star. Sparks flying up from the splitting rock reflecting off a body resting in a kneeling position towards the front of the asteroid. Friction heating up the rock, painting it a glowing orange. The obsidian shell on the body started to crack weakened by the heat. Piercing blue eyes opened with a snap from the figure. Shards of obsidian blown off from the body by the sheer force of impact as the rock hit the ground.
`` Where am i?'' A soft growling voice spoke as smoldering debree set into the ground. Rumbling of sand and rock settled in as the crater started to set. A deep breath resounded from the rubble, rocks moving as the entity started to awake, righting itself.
`` Food, I smell food.'' Whispered but with a deeply grating growl the entity spoke. As his visage became exposed to the air the cracks in his leathery and chitin like skin became visible.
His eyes darted around, looking for the origin of this wonderful smell. As his eyes locked on a crashed cargo ship, his legs tensed and released with a powerful crack as he leapes into a dead sprint straight towards the promise of a meal.
Thoughts raced through his brain, replenish, get off dead planet, revenge.
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[ WP ] You have two hobbies : playing the violin , and shooting crossbows . One day during a performance you mix the two activities up .
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`` Do your best'' Mom whispers to me as i say my goodbyes.
`` Come on Mom, this is my 5th preformance. Theres really no need to worry.'' I reply with, tired of her overprotection, and, before she can say anything, i shut the door and quickly hurry down the street, and into the subway
entrance.
*90 minutes later*
I wait for the speaker to finish his 30-minute long-ass speech. `` Fucking Dingenhoifen'' I say, my voice filled with lividity. `` He told me to get here 45 minutes before the concert even starts! I think ill just take a quick nap while i wait for my preformance.''
I rub my eyes as i manage to pull myself off of the cold, hard floor of the stage. Trying to remember where I am, A loud voice suddenly announces: `` Ladies and gentlemen, now you shall hear how a true violin maestro plays his instrument. Please welcome, Mr.Bret Alberquark!'''Wait a sec... THATS ME!!'i think to myself. I grab my violin case, correct the crookedness of my bowtie, and walk on to the stage, trying not to get blinded by its bright light.
I smile at the crowd of adoring fans that consist of mainly ~50 year old females. I take my seat and pull out my violin, yawning from fatigue. However, instead of reaching for my bow, my hand slips under it and grans an arrow, which i must have left in there after my previous hunting practice. I grab my violin and attempt to play it with the arrow. Instead, the arrow shoots out of my bow and lodges itself in the skull of an old man.
I was sent to prison for assault after that incident. I was disowned by my mother and all my friends drifted away. It may seem like i have nothing left, but i find it to be quite the contrary. I managed to sneak in a bow and arrow. With all the practice i had, escaping armed with this should be a sinch. My name is Bret Alberquark and this is my story.
Okay that was trash plz dont judge and sorry for the formatting
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[ WP ] Retell a Greek or Roman parable through a modern high school setting .
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`` Hey!''
Startled, Theo nearly fell from his stool. He had thought he was alone in the science lab, and let himself become lost in his project.
`` Hey man, you got a light?''
Theo's head whipped about, scouring the room for the source of the voice. He had n't heard anyone come in, and the door was still closed.
`` Over here, by the window, man, you got a light?'' Finally, Theo spotted the top of a head and two dark eyes peering over the ledge near the open window. He walked over to the window. Outside stood a teenager in torn jeans ad a black t-shirt, a single cigarette dangling precariously from his lips.
`` Do n't I have gym class with you? Manny, right?'' Theo asked.
`` Yeah, `` Manny grunted back. `` Yo, you got a light or what? I got nothing for this.''
`` Sorry, I... I do n't smoke. `` Theo glanced around, and spotted a bunsen burner at a nearby workstation. `` We could see if that burner will reach over here, maybe.''
`` Yeah all right man, all right.''
Reaching across the table, Theo grasped at the burner with one hand, and picked up a nearb sparker with the other, then held them both out the window. The line was able to reach, though just barely. Manny had to step in closer to the window, before turning on the gas. Theo clicked the sparker. A bright blue flame erupted.
As Manny touched the tip of his Marlboro Red to the flame, the door to the science lab swung open. “ What are you kids doing? ” screamed Mr. Zeiss as he stormed across the room.
“ Nuh-nuh-nothing! ” stammered Theo, shutting off the gas to the burner.
“ Are you trying to steal science equipment? ”
Manny turned and sprinted in the other direction. Mr. Zeiss hollered after him to stop where he was, but Manny ignored the requests. As Manny fled the scene, the tall science teacher, turned back to Theo. His wispy, white beard shook as he sputtered on about responsibility and taking care of school property.
“ You were always such an exemplary student, I can not you betrayed my trust like this. ”
“ But sir, I didn ’ t… ”
“ I don ’ t want to hear your excuses; this is inexcusable. We will see you in detention indefinitely. ”
“ Indefinitely? How long do you intend to keep me in detention? ”
“ If it were up to me, it ’ d be forever. ”
The school far behind him, and no one on his trail, Manny slowed from a run to a walk, and then stopped altogether. He held his cigarette between his fingers, brought the butt to his lips and took a long, deep drag on it.
The fire filled his lungs.
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[ WP ] A coven of vampires chase their snack , a human child into a closed down Disneyland . Disneyland awakens after sensing the child and the danger it 's in , It would use its magic once more to protect .
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She was here. Somewhere.
Bodaway moved in measured paces, the rain pelting around him as he stalked the woods edge. Removing the cap of a small vial, he drenched a cloth in sticky blood and held it to his face. He breathed deeply and reached out into the darkness. He could feel the instant rush as if he had inhaled lightning. His eyesight focused and the world around him bled into hues of red pastel. His vision stretched out through the empty parking lot, down the path beyond and fell just short of the towering gate. The rain had cooled the pavement enough he supposed and the lamps overhead gave off blinding light. This would prove more difficult than he suspected. He liked a challenge.
The smallest traces of heat blotted the wet cobblestone, but were fading quickly in the rain. He stretched a bit further and could almost taste the blood. It called to him. He shut his minds eye for a moment to listen. The faintest racing of a distant heartbeat. He flashed a toothy smile. He was getting closer. He darted off and out of sight.
****
Bodaway sighed as he bent down dabbing his finger in the thinning blood. His pale gray eyes had lost their vicious red and though his skin felt colder than usual, it almost seemed to flush at the thought of her. He was hungry. His dull black hair hung in wet streaks around his face as he tongued one of his sharp canines. Rain traced ancient tattoos on his bare arms and he sniffed the air like a wolf.
`` They always run,'' He said, licking the watery mixture off his fingers. A slight tingle ran up his spine and he shuddered. Another sensation came over him, this time of dread. Without even moving, he knew they were there.
`` You know,'' a high strung Victorian accent lingered out of the darkness, `` I'm bored with it all.'' When he came into view, the man was thin, almost gaunt and his face seemed to be stuck in a constant smirk. His slick blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail and he wore a scrappy mustache that attempted to curl at the ends. Charles stood as if his three hundred year old aristocratic air had yet to wear off. `` Come, Boddy, let's be done with it.''
Bodaway stood a head taller than Charles. His Chippewa blood boiled a little every time Charles' sickly sweet excuses snaked in his ears. He had never been sure why Danielle kept him around.
`` Pardon,'' a mousy voice came from the shadows ahead of them. A shapely figure stood shrouded in the shadows. Her silhouette betrayed her height that was much shorter, but the bounce of her curly hair was unmistakable. Her pale red eyes pierced the darkness. Danielle sauntered up to the pair and Charles turned his nose up impossibly far.
`` Joy,'' Charles said, `` another to spoil my snack.''
`` I tracked her for many miles,'' Bodaway held up a hand as he stood.
`` And?'' Charles said, `` you are an Indian.'' Bodaway cut his eyes. `` Native American,'' Charles raised his hands in feign surrender, `` still a touchy subject I see.''
`` And, `` Danielle said, wrapping her petite, gloved hands around Bodaway's forearm, `` I tracked you. Now leave...'' She quickly bore her teeth. Charles reacted first, backing away slightly retreating halfway into the shadows. Bodaway snatched his arm away and drew a knife instinctively. He crouched low and glared his teeth at Danielle. The trio stood for several moments in silence.
`` Good God,'' another voice pierced the tension with a Southern draw. It came from above them though none of them took their eyes off one another. They heard a muffled thump and the figure emerged from the shadow near the gate. The mans wide brimmed hat and duster were slick from the rain. He propped himself against the nearest light pole grinding away at his tooth with an iron file. `` If I'd wanted to hear this much bickering, I'd sit in a hen house.'' He tipped his hat up and continued on his right canine.
`` Montgomery,'' Charles said, retracting his teeth back. The others followed suit and Bodaway slipped his knife back in its sheath.
`` Damn this tooth,'' Montgomery spat blood on the ground and as if defeated he tossed the file and licked his lips, `` An Indian, a sissy and damn fine piece of French ass arguing over a little girl... sounds like a joke to me.''
It was lost on them. Bodaway had never cared for Charles but he hated Montgomery. What he hated more is that Montgomery was the leader of their coven. An outlaw who'd killed his people for sport. He despised being bound to him. He wondered if he'd even drain the girl or if he'd toy with her like the others.
`` We're losing her trail,'' Bodaway said, through clinched teeth.
`` Ma'am,'' Montgomery said tipping his hat towards Danielle, `` your Indians broke cause I know exactly where she is. If you'd just follow me.'' Bodaway was taken aback that his crude pass had worked as Danielle smiled and latched onto his arm. Bodaway looked at Charles who was fixing his hair at odds against the rain. `` You boys,'' Montgomery called back, `` get your peckers out of twist. We're at the happiest place on earth! It's time to get some vittles!''
The pair looked at the other and trudged forward. Bodaway prayed that something would happen, maybe there was a little magic in this place. Disneyland, he thought, maybe enough to set him free.
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[ WP ] `` Could you tell me again , why it is you 're trying to kill me ? ''
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`` Sir, please hold still.'' The young nurse with the kindly voice spoke to me as she continued to strap me to a medical bed. I did n't know where I was, but the room was bright, cold, and I was gripped by not only fear but utter confusion.
`` Why am I here???'' I asked her.
She gave me a short smile and continued making sure that I was properly secured to this bed and left the room.
As I searched around I noticed a large window. I could n't see anything in this windows, save for the florescent lighting reflecting strongly across the glass.
I laid in this bed in what felt for eternity. I tried to remember how I got here. I could n't. Actually, I could n't remember who I was. I could n't remember if I had any family. I began to panic when I realized this, and the fear was overcoming my initial calmness.
`` PLEASE! Somebody come help me!'' I begged to the empty room, hoping for some response.
Finally, the door the nurse left through reopened, only this time an older gentleman entered. The top of his head was bald, but he had a line of hair around the sides of his head. He wore a suit and tie, but aside from this looked rather disheveled. He reminded me of someone I saw on television once. A talk show maybe? I could n't remember. His face was wrought with worry, concern, and sadness.
`` Do you know who I am?'' he asked me.
`` No.'' was my simple response.
`` My name is Sal. I'm your lawyer and your life representative.''
I could see the concern on his face, and instantly I felt a pit in my stomach. I did n't know what any of this meant.
`` I do n't know you. What do you mean'life representative'? Please, I beg you to tell me what the hell is going on here!'' I urged. No, I IMPLORED. Why was I here? Why were they strapping me to a bed? Why was this guy here?
`` Friend, I was hoping you would retain more of your memories, but perhaps this is for the best. You see, you were found guilty of a significant crime against our government. Although you may not remember, there was video evidence and finger print analysis linking you directly to the destruction of property. According to the'Act of 3021', these types of crimes are now punishable by death. As your life representative, I was able to persuade the judge to implement the most humane method available.''
He frowned at me, and I could tell he was fighting back any emotion he had garnered for me in the time we had spent together.
I was shocked. Almost speechless. I did n't remember any of this. `` But... I do n't remember doing this. Who am I? Why am I here? Please. I need to know what is happeneing.''
Sal loosened his tie, and cleared his throat. `` Son, your name is John. You are 18 years old, so you were able to be tried as an adult. You spray painted the side of a local convenience store and were caught. I tried to fight for a lower sentence for you, like life imprisonment, but it was not accepted. If it is of any comfort to you, your family is just beyond that window as they were legally able to witness your death in its entirety. I'm so sorry, son. You must know that you are loved and that I did absolutely everything in my power to try to save you.'' tears began to welt in Sal's eyes as he spoke. I could tell this was very painful for him.
`` But how come I do n't remember anything? None of this makes any sense!'' I tried to rationalize.
`` Yes, I'm sure it does n't, Son. You see, as part of the state mandated death penalty process, it was decided that for non-violent crimes those put to death would be at the mercy of their life representative. You were robbed of your memories, so as to ease the fears of what is to come. The first dose has already been administered. Soon, they will begin the other doses, until you have reached the point of death.''
He got up to walk out of the room. But he stopped. He turned around and said `` I just wanted to tell you that you are one of the most pleasant people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, and I hope that what awaits you is worthy of the happiness that you have brought to many lives. I would recommend to you that if there is anything you want your family to remember, even if you do n't remember them, please say it now.''
He quickly left the room.
I looked to the window with the florescent light reflections. I spoke to my invisible, and non-memorable family. `` I love you guys. Thank you for always being here for me. Please know that I am happy.''
I was n't happy. I was so confused. But I knew what was coming and I wanted my family to find peace, even if I did n't know them.
I could feel coldness. My eyes felt so tired. I closed them.
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[ WP ] `` I remember why I do n't love you ''
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I stand beside the coffin, and ready myself. This was n't going to be as easy as I thought, yet there was this feeling crawling up my throat that everyone needed to know.
`` Dear Father, I remember why I do n't love you.'' I said calmly, watching the audience gasp.
`` You drank until you could n't utter a word. You beat mother and I until we could n't move. You stole all the money from the bank, and used it for your own use. You threw me across the room when I got a B on my report card. You lost our house, and moved us into a shitty apartment with low rent so you could spend money on booze and drugs. You made sure mom would n't leave you by verbally abusing her and putting her down. You starved us while you ate. You did everything a man should n't, let alone what a father should.''
`` I remember why I do n't love you, but... I realize now that I forgive you.''
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[ WP ] An asteroid is predicted to collide with the Earth , so a man and woman sit down for their final meal together .
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Oh Margaritte, Charles thought. You look so Radiant tonight. If only we had more time to express our love, alas, it was not meant to be.
`` CHUCK'', a shrill voice shrieked. `` COME DOWN AND HAVE DINNER. THE FOOD'S GETTING COLD''
Charles sighed. `` I'M EATING WITH MY BELOVED, MA'' he yelled back. `` I'VE TOLD YOU A MILLION TIMES.''
`` OH, YOU HAVE TIME TO HAVE ONE LAST DINNER WITH YOUR BLOW UP DOLL, BUT NOT YOUR OWN MOTHER?''
`` SHE'S NOT A BLOW-UP DOLL. GOD DAMN IT MA. SHE'S A HIGH QUALITY SILICON LOVE SCULPTURE. SHE WAS MADE TO BE LOVED AND TAKEN CARE OF.''
`` WHATEVER. NO MATTER HOW MUCH PAINT YOU SLATHER ON THAT THING, A WHORE IS A WHORE.''
`` DO N'T CALL MARGARITTE A WHORE, MA. SHE'S A SAINT AND A VIRGIN.''
`` YEAH, A SAINT AND A VIRGIN JUST LIKE YOU. I WISH I HAD A DAUGHTER INSTEAD. AT LEAST IF MY DAUGHTER TURNED OUT TO BE A CREEPY PERVERT, SHE WOULD'VE GOTTEN PREGNANT BY NOW, AND I'D AT LEAST GET TO HOLD MY GRANDSON BEFORE I DIE.''
`` I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY MA. YOU RUINED MY LAST CHANCE AT HAPPINESS BEFORE I DIE. ARE YOU HAPPY MA? ARE YA HAPPY?''
There was a moment of silence.
`` I'D BE HAPPIER IF YOU CAME DOWN FOR DINNER!''
Charles threw his hands up in the air and rolled his eyes. he then kissed Margaritte and walked downstairs to eat with his mother.
`` PASS THE POTATOES, CHUCK''
`` STOP YELLING, MA, I'M RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!''
`` WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME, CHUCK?''
`` OH FOR GOD'S SAKES, MA!''
Where the hell is the asteroid and why was it taking so long, Chuck wondered.
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[ WP ] `` A watched pot never boils '' , as the old saying goes . Throughout all of history there has always been at least one set of eyes on the ocean . Today , for a split second , everyone looking at the ocean looked away at the exact same time .
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It was n't supposed to happen. We were to be the watchers, the sworn protectors of life on this pale blue dot. We had the power to stave it off. We failed.
Four hundred thousand years ago our ancestors climbed the evolutionary wall and peaked over the top for the first time, but it was not until seventy-five thousand years ago that we realized the danger. That fateful day the Toban Leviathan was unleashed. We did battle, Zeus, Odin, Jehova, Krishna, and so many others. The heavens were blackened from the fires, and when it finally ended nearly all of us were wiped out. We knew from that day that the Leviathan must never again awaken, for it would doom us all.
We made that pact, and a plan was laid by the Almighties Jehova and Shekina. We would obfuscate, lest some evil or foolish soul seek to claim the power of the leviathan. We disbursed the energy of a demi-God throughout the oceans of this world, entrusting the power to man. So long as one watcher remained vigilant we need never fear, for that cornerstone kept the power at bay; disparate.
Throughout the millennia since our ancient order served as a backbone, a last resort. One contingent of sentinels for every hour of every day.
All was fine until Gilgamesh. It was he, Gilgamesh, who united the Sumerians under one banner and pushed humanity to crawl out of blissful ignorance. With the rise of cities came the rise of empires, and from empires grew civilization itself.
Initially this was not so terrible, but over time humanity spread. Powerless, our once mighty order was forced into hiding, no longer protected by the obscurity of our watch.
These final millennia saw our demise, for as we were backed into ever more tiny corners we began to realize that we could not remain separate from human society for long.
So we integrated. We figured, foolishly, that with billions of souls we need not keep ourselves occupied with a simple watch, but instead devoted our resources to letting the humans watch it for themselves.
It started simply: A watched pot never boils. We instilled a love of the oceans, a need for exploration in the hearts and minds of all the great empires through simple stories.
It was n't enough. It was never enough. As technology advanced we realized we must have influence, and to gain influence we sold some of our technology. It started off innocently; a few secrets for weapons to combat the Nazi menace. As we grew in power we began to meet with world leaders at Bilderberg, intent on keeping the threat contained. We sold travel packages to the Caribbean, Alaskan cruises, even sent men into space to keep a watch on the Earth below. One set of eyes, that was all it took.
Yet here I sit, writing these final log entries as the oceans boil and the Toban Leviathan stirs again. Zeus has gone, Odin has gone, Jehova and Shekina have other realms they must protect. We are alone, it is only the order, and our weapons are not enough.
I am sending this message, this final plea across the stars: Help us, for if the Leviathan consumes our world then soon it will consume our Star, and once our star has winked out it will contain more power than even the old Gods themselves.
We shall hold it off as long as we can. It will not be long at all.
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[ WP ] Everyone has skills , and can increase them like an RPG . You just mastered Flirting .
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A bright light flared from my body as I filled out the questionnaire. Pink sparks swirled up from my feet, skittering up my dress before the whole display was sucked into my heart.
`` Wha --''
`` **FLIRTING: MASTERY ACHIEVED**''
Aww no. Hell no. I did not just max out *flirting* by filling out a questionnaire. The applause of the coffee shop was noise that seeped into my mind. I could n't think. I could barely breathe. I ran for it, dashing out the door and down the street. Of all the stats to max, I get *flirting*? You can only have one maxed skill! Whatever gets there first you're stuck with! I'm going to be a damn gold digger the rest of my godforsaken --
My mental train of horror jumped the tracks when I crashed into the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. All I could offer as we lay sprawled on the sidewalk was an awkward smile. But for her, that must've been enough.
`` Hey, gorgeous.'' Oh god, that smile... I could've died happy, right there and then, having seen that smile aimed at me. `` Come here often?''
`` Hbluh.'' So this is what maxed flirting gets you, huh? Thanks for nothing, you stupid questionnaire.
She giggled, and I revised my opinion of my flirting stat. `` Come on. You need a drink.''
-- -- -
Samantha and I soon became the queens of the town. With her maxed finance stat and my maxed flirting, we could get anything we wanted. We had more money than I dreamed existed. Sure, the mayors rotated in and out, but they were always in our pockets, just like the rest of the town. Nobody dared cross us; if I could n't flirt them into submission, it was only a problem of sufficient cash. Daughter needs to go to college? Done. Wan na get with the hot chick across the room? World's best wingman, yours truly. It's amazing how far a little cash and a little love will get you in this world. Just got ta know how to bargain.
'Course, outside our lovely town, things have gone to shit; too much take, not enough give. But hey, when you're atop the world, who cares about what's underneath?
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[ WP ] - Write an excerpt from a book that was never written and make me wish that it was .
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The first time Sam saw Ezra was in the hallway before first period. Him on one side, Ezra on the other. Students filled the space between them, ignoring the intense moment the two young men shared in those brief seconds.
To Sam, he felt the world falling away. He thought he was being sucked into a vacuum as the people and the noises disappeared. He focused on Ezra.
At that point, Sam did n't know Ezra's name. He took in every inch of the young guy's body. He had short, dark hair; icy blue eyes; and puffy, pink lips he so badly wanted to kiss.
Ezra turned away, breaking the connection the two of them shared.
Sam returned to reality, shaking his head to pull him out of the fantasy. When he went to look for Ezra, the young man was nowhere to be found in the crowd.
`` Are you Sam Whittle?'' asked a tiny voice from behind.
Sam turned and looked down to find a tiny, slim redhead. `` Yes.''
The girl gave Sam a once-over. She had to strain her neck to look up at him, something Sam had become accustomed to since he hit puberty. `` I'm Becca,'' she said finally breaking the silence. `` Becca Hall. I was asked to escort you around school until you found your way around.''
Sam looked around the one-story building. He turned to find the exit at one end and found the other exit staring at him from the opposite end. `` I do n't see how I could get lost.''
Becca did n't respond. Instead, she snatched the schedule from Sam's hand and read over the contents. `` Spanish IV with Mrs. Lawson. This way.''
What Becca lacked in stature, she made up for in speed. Sam hurried after her, making strides with his long legs.
He tried ignoring the stares everyone gave him as they passed. A good thing about being over six feet tall was that he saw nothing except the tops of people's heads.
At the end of the hall, Becca stopped in front of a classroom and handed Sam his schedule. `` This is it. I will be here when class ends to show you to your next period.'' Before Sam could respond, Becca turned and disappeared around a corner.
Sam quirked his eyebrow confused, but he entered the classroom without saying another word.
The classroom was tiny. Near the entrance of the room sat the teacher's desk. Twenty or so desks filled the rest of the room for the students. He decided to sit in the very back, furthest away from the door.
As soon as he sat down, Sam knew he'd be uncomfortable. His knees touched the bottom of the desk, even with his legs sprawled out in front of him. He tried to find a way to fix the situation, but his attention moved to the front door.
Ezra walked in, his eyes wide with worry. He attempted to turn and disappear out the door, but a group of students walked in blocking his way. He turned back, avoiding Sam's glare, and sat down in the front of the class as far away from Sam as possible.
It did n't take long for the classroom to fill up. The first and second bell for class to start rang and the teacher entered the room with a cup of coffee, shutting the door behind her. She was a tall, lanky elderly woman with short white hair, big eyes, and a wide mouth.
`` Hola clase,'' she said to her students. `` Voy a llamar a la asistencia.'' The teacher picked up the class roll and began calling names. Soon she came to the last two names on the list. `` Ezra Warden.''
The class became silent. Everyone stared at him sitting upfront while the tension became thick.
`` Here,'' he said finally breaking the silence.
Mrs. Lawson looked at Sam. `` You must be Mr. Samuel Whittle.''
The students moved their gaze from Ezra to look at Sam. Even Ezra tried to be sneaky by looking at Sam out of the corner of his eyes.
Sam nodded while keeping his eyes locked with Ezra. `` Yes, ma'am.''
Sam Whittle fell in love with Ezra Warden the moment he set eyes on him, but he did n't expect that their love would be the death of him.
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[ WP ] You 're a monster hiding under the bed . You 're just about to burst out and frighten your victim when the father bursts into the room and starts mercilessly beating his own child .
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Fear, like blood to a vampire, is what feeds us. Only a little makes us strong. That is why we prey on children. They are so easy, so willing to believe in the fright. This feeding tonight will keep me for weeks.
Only a few more moments to wait. I must catch her on the verge of sleep when she is most vulnerable to belief. I can hear her breathing slowing. The covers rustle less and less as she fades away. I start counting down, calming my anxious heart. `` Three, two...''
A shadow under the door. The footprints are too heavy for another child. Dammit, I will have to wait even longer. I need the fear. I can feel my strength waning.
Suddenly the door bursts open. I can only see the heavy boots covered with mud. The smell of fear is sweet, but the odor of the emotion coming from the girl -- it burns my nose. I can barely keep myself in the room. The stench is unbearable. I've never smelled this before.
Then the screams started. `` No, daddy. Please. Please, daddy.'' Over and over she screamed out. The slap of leather on flesh punctuated each cry. I lost count of how many times that bell tolled.
Tears filled my eyes, and I could stay silent no more. I rose up behind the adult man and grabbed the belt from his hand as he wound up for another strike. He seemed confused for only a moment before he hit her with the back of his fat hand. The meaty *slap* churned my stomach. I put my hands around his throat, and he saw me for the first time. Adults are too jaded to believe we are real, but he really saw me.
I could taste his fear.
As my strength returned, and his eyes bulged from the pressure, I looked at the girl. Her eyes spoke to what I had not known. She only watched the man, and I could see that what was in her was beyond fear. It was complete horror.
Soon the man became too heavy to hold, and I let his body crumple to the floor. The girl's stare never left him. I towered over her bed, the light from the open door casting my shadow over her tiny frame. `` Come with me, and you can learn to feed on the fear. I can teach you to have power over them all.''
Her wet eyes finally broke from the body of the man, and looked up at mine. She slowly crawled to the edge of her bed, hoisting herself into my arms. There was no more fear here on which to feed. It was time to go.
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[ PI ] The Inheritors ( Finale ) - Part III : Redemption
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The room was enormous, the ceilings rising three stories high, all of it brightly lit from the ceiling. The entire place was filled with the hum of electricity.
There were hundreds of desks neatly organized into rows, each with old human computers on them, all of them turning on simultaneously, awakening from a deep electronic sleep of their own like the human just had.
& nbsp;
But that was n't what made Jessrak come to a complete standstill.
& nbsp;
It was the books.
& nbsp;
The books.
& nbsp;
The books, *by the Spirits... *
& nbsp;
Hundreds of millions of them, *at least. * Sitting on shelves that stretched all the way to the ceiling, several stories up, and far into the distance for what almost seemed like forever, all standing like monoliths dedicated to mankind's greatest knowledge. The depository of great human minds. The archive to the chronicles of their species.
& nbsp;
And he knew where they were, then. What this building was, and why Dr. Novach had held out for so long to make sure it was found.
& nbsp;
`` The Library of Congress.'' Jessrak whispered.
& nbsp;
There was nothing but the hum of electricity as Jessrak muffled bootsteps as he cautiously, nervously, took several steps towards the miles upon miles of shelves. Somehow, against all odds, this building, the largest collection of an entire civilization's knowledge at its time, had survived its own destruction. And had been sitting here, out in the open, waiting for them to come find it. All thanks to the efforts of the last remaining humans.
& nbsp;
Jessrak was n't sure what he was feeling. Overjoyed by the find? Giddy with excitement of what untold knowledge lay waiting here? Sorrow for what Dr. Novach must have suffered through for so long so that he and his species could have this?
& nbsp;
For so long they'd had so many questions about the humans, and the answers were all here now, waiting to be read.
& nbsp;
`` Here.'' Jessrak turned around as he heard the human speak from behind him. She was holding out the large metal key that she had used to open the enormous vaulted door.
& nbsp;
Jessrak paused. Was this really it? He was overwhelmed; the last human alive on earth was giving them what was left of the sum total knowledge of their species. All of these books, these working computers, everything in here. It would take years- decades- who knew, *centuries*? - to comb through and decipher them all.
He slowly reached out and took the key, holding it in front of him and looking at it, like a magical artifact. In his hands, he now literally held the key to the history of an entire civilzation. One that had been dead for nearly five-hundred thousand years. And who's last remnants had created his ancestors to survive and thrive in the world they had left behind as their last, final act of redemption.
& nbsp;
And he could n't think of a word to say.
& nbsp;
`` There's one last thing.'' Dr. Novach interrupted his thoughts. He looked up at her, and his blood ran cold when he saw that there was now also a trickle of blood coming from her nose and the corner of her mouth behind the mask.
Dr. Novach turned her head back towards the enormous vault door they came in through.
& nbsp;
`` I would like to take a walk outside. One last time.''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
`` How long has it been?'' Fellen asked, the rest of the team stood gathered near the entrance as Panov kept pacing back and forth in front of the opening into the ruin. The bursts of static that had been interrupting all their radio equipment had finally stopped a little over ten minutes ago and Valanov had finally reached them over the walkie-talkie, asking them all to come over to building C-7. They now all stood ready, though for what, none of them were really sure. None of them knew anything other than what Panov and the others had told them.
& nbsp;
`` Almost half-an-hour, now.'' Alessip said. Panov was still silent.
& nbsp;
He was angry at himself. He should n't have let Jessrak and Nelraha go in alone with that robot. He should have insisted on coming with them. Neither of them had the training or expertise of a hunter, and there was no telling what kind of danger they could have run into. *Dammit*, his job was to protect the people here. What good was he if he could n't even do that?
& nbsp;
`` Can you tell us a little more about some of these planned experiments? Like the one about plant growth in low-gravity conditions?'' The radio spouted from nearby. Fellen and the others had carried it with them, along with several of the folding chairs they'd been sitting in at the original campsite, after they'd been called over. Even now, they were n't willing to miss a second of the broadcast. Especially now that the signal was coming in clear again.
& nbsp;
Panov could n't take it any more. He wanted to yell at them to shut the damn thing off. Jessrak and Nelraha could be in mortal danger, and they were all lounging around out here doing nothing.
& nbsp;
*Damn it all! *
& nbsp;
Panov gripped his spreadshot gun and turned towards the entrance. `` Fuck it, I'm going-''
& nbsp;
Panov's words fell flat as he saw Jessrak and Nelraha come around the corner of the T-intersection at the end of the hallway and head towards the entrance. He felt a wave of relief wash over him. The weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders.
& nbsp;
`` Jessrak! Nelraha! *By the spirits*, what took you so long?''
Then he saw the diminuitive figure walking behind them. Another robot? No, it was too small. Jessrak and Nelraha's tall frames blocked it from view.
& nbsp;
`` What did you find-''
& nbsp;
Jessrak and Nelraha spread out enough so that Panov could get a clear view of the figure behind him.
& nbsp;
There was a muffled *thump* as Panov's gun fell to the ground at the entrance, as he could do nothing but stare in disbelief.
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[ WP ] In order to prevent the end of civilisation , you travel back in time . The event you have to prevent from happening at any cost : Leonardo DiCaprio winning an Oscar .
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I sit in unbroken silence, on the edge of both my futon and my wits. I've been churning through a million different scenarios in my head, trying with hopeless desperation to come up with some sort of plan for when that bizarre young woman returns. The young woman in the yellow sundress, who has given me an hour to come up with the best way to save all of humankind; the best way to travel back in time and stop Leonardo DiCaprio from winning an Oscar.
Suddenly, I realize that by searching for the noteworthy actor's name on the internet, I may find a moment in his life where he was exposed, vulnerable, and ripe for extermination. Yes, I had figured out that much, that I would have to kill him in the past in order to ensure he never received that Oscar. As I type in the letters of the celebrity's name, his Wikipedia article is sent to the top of the suggested search results. I click it, out of curiosity, hoping to glean as much information about the blonde-haired beauty as I can.
And then it happens.
My eyes widen, ears perk up, spirit lifts, joy restores. Clear as day on the page in front of me, the unassuming font of Wikipedia informs me of an astounding truth: Leonardo DiCaprio has never won an Oscar. I smile as I realize that going back in time would be completely pointless, as the event I'm supposed to prevent ca n't have happened in the past. I then remember that the girl in the yellow sundress is actually just my eccentric neighbor, who spends far too much time on Reddit.
Realizing all this must just be some poorly-realized machination of a crazy person, I close the Wikipedia page, and return to my futon, where I discover the pizza bites I had made before the girl came to visit me had gone cold. I gather up all of the courage I can muster, and once again step out of my mother's basement, pizza bites in hand, on my way to microwave glory.
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[ WP ] You are the last person to die as a result of war . What is your story ?
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11:52am.
“ John? John? You said you wouldn ’ t get shot you idiot. ”
“ I ’ ve told bigger lies, ” he sputtered almost smiling. It was obvious as he labored to breathe that speaking was torture.
I never thought I ’ d watch my best friend gunned down in front of me. It was like a bad dream that begged me to wake. I half-expected to find myself in my room back home waking up next to my wife, Keely on a Saturday morning, for us to tromp downstairs and watch her cook breakfast in my shirt. I expected to kiss her one more time, and hear her complain about my chapped lips.
She would get so frustrated that I wouldn ’ t use Chap Stick that she ’ d put extra on her lips and use a kiss to apply it to mine.
I almost smiled.
The entire group went dark when John fell, he was our communication back to camp. Base had been relaying an important message. As I watched his light eyes dim I felt my sanity unravel. I prayed that by some miracle I'd see my beautiful wife and her strawberry lips one more time. The war had gone on for so long and there was no end to the fighting.
John looked up at me, weaker now. He was moving his lips as if to give tell me what he had heard over his radio. I reached into his pack and pulled out his pad and pen for him to write. All he wrote was `` the war is'' before his hand went limp and his eyes surrendered color.
12:02am
I reached for his radio in an effort to reach camp. The radio was marked up as badly as John. I gazed at the strobe-like guns that illuminated the smoke filled field with Morse. I imagined the strobe spoke of death with its flashing fire; it had killed John, was I next?
I gripped my gun tight and tried to breathe slowly, to remember everything I knew of combat but it escaped me. I aimed through the smoke to the cryptic strobe firing in the distance and pulled the trigger hoping for the strobe to speak its last.
But ever persistent the strobe carried on. I was shaking now as its message tainted my thoughts of home, my wife, of John. I raised my weapon again, pointed at the strobe. I peered further outside of my cover and even further out of my comfort zone for the better shot.
I recalled what John tried to tell me, wondering what the point of the message was. It was useless to me now. So I ran into the unknown, the smoke illuminated by the message of the strobe, it was the only message I knew.
4:13pm Two Weeks Later
“ I ’ m waiting for his letter any day now, ”
“ How soon do you think it ’ ll be before he ’ s sent home? ” Mary asked.
Keely pondered the question for moment, and smiled. “ He ’ s coming home, the war is over. I can wait a little longer if I must. ”
She peered out the sun-bleached sheers decorating her living room window at the clear blue sky above.
“ I wonder what the sky is like where he is, I suppose it would be romantic if he were looking at it to wouldn ’ t it? ”
She wore a smile on her face until the black car slowed to a halt in front of her house. A uniformed man stepped out of the car, holding a folded flag.
She didn ’ t want to answer the knock at the door, everything in her body told her not to do it. If she answered the door, there would be no going back, no hope. She felt the hand of a ghost at her shoulder,
Then came Mary's hollow whisper, “ I'll get the door. ”
`` No.'' Keely said with feigned composure,'' This is my home. I'll answer it.''
Keely felt her hand touch the door handle as the man outside knocked on the door again. She resolved to open the door as if ripping off a band-aid to mitigate the pain.
The man stood holding the flag at his waist, and a somber look on his face.
“ Don ’ t say it. ” Keely started, “ the war is over! ”
He stared at her for a moment and said, “ it wasn ’ t over soon enough. I ’ m sorry, he was the last. ”
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[ WP ] There are no stars , no sun in the sky . Fire invisibly produces heat . Light is a very rare element which can be found buried in the earth . The ancient art of extraction is perilous and almost lost . You are one of the last of the lightminers .
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It's easy to see why there are so few of us left. Even with all my training and observance of the rituals, leaving the mine is like walking away from the love of my life. My time in the darkness is spent longing for my next shift, aching to be bathed in its glow. Walk into the light... it beckons me. I know it will be the last thing I ever do, yet it's all I want. The alarms are a faint din in the back of my mind, I've crossed the line and there's no going back. No one will come for me now; it's so close...
I am one with the light.
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[ WP ] Use the phrase `` slabs of night meat '' in a story .
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Slabs of night meat hung in the old garage. Marco walked among them, his hands trailing across the cuts as he wound his to the back. Candlelight shone through the translucent meat making each of them look alive. He could n't help but shudder as he saw them shift in the corner of his eyes. Nightmares had plagued his sleep as a child. Each night he would lie awake, the beam of his flashlight darting around his room as he kept a wary eye. Sleep would eventually win out and he would pass into his dreams.
Children are scared of everything. Nightmares thrive on these fears and twist them together to form horrors that drive the child further into the darkest corners of their mind. Sometimes the dreams changed, sometimes they stayed the same. Marco would always wake screaming, throwing his covers off of him in an attempt to push away at whatever had been haunting him that evening. As he had gotten older the nightmares had not gone away.
Using a dull knife he sawed a piece of meat from the nearest slab. A silver bowl resting over a blue flame waited to receive the meat. Popping noises and a faint necrotic odor filled the air as the meat slid into the heated bowl and began to cook. Marco bent over and busied himself with his pants and boots. Pulling his equipment on, he began to check his weapons. Several dull knives were sheafed in his belt and an equally dull spear leaned against the wall next to the table. As a child he had tried to use a flashlight to fight off the monsters; since then he had refined his methods.
Satisfied that everything was in order, he turned off the blue flame and reached a gloved hand into the bowl. He lifted the charred meat to his nose and sniffed. It had turned less clear, taking on the dull grey color of gravel while cooking. It still smelled terrible. Marco ate the meat chewing as little as possible before swallowing. Pulling the spear from the wall he did one last check of his work table to make sure he did n't leave anything behind. Around him, the hanging slabs of meat shifted and became solid to his sight. He walked back through them and patted his spear against several as he passed. His nightmares had once haunted him, coming for him every night to terrorize and feed.
Now, he came for them.
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[ WP ] Write a love story from its beginning to its conclusion between a blind person and a mute
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To be honest they met in a very boring way. They were at a concert; he bumped into her and she did not say anything he could hear, no one could have really. But both being young and both being a bit inhebriated, they endended up `` knowing'' each other.
Anyway, he tuned music instrument and she played them. Good match really since he could figure out her mood by listenning to her playing. They grew old slowly, as their heart stayed young and led a good life, whatever that means to you. To me, it meant they were happy, making the rest o so much more tragic.
Last week, after her last recital, she dropped her instrument, bending it beyond recognition, in a passionate, silent moment. In itself, that was nor the cause nor the result of a disaster, simply a sign of bad omen for what was to come.
Once outside, they walked toward the car, she would do the driving of course. But she never had to. She signed in his hand that her instrument was missing a piece and him, being a gentlemen and all, went to get. However. As he crossed the road, he never recognised the sound of the drunk driver's electric car. She could not scream his name but she could cry for the years to come...
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[ WP ] As a small child , you walked in on Death taking your great grandmother . You unexpectedly became friends and Death began to visit you often for tea and conversation . You 're now very , very old and Death has become quite evasive on subject of your ultimate demise .
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I was sitting at the table, waiting for him to arrive. It was very old. The very same one that Death and I used to have tea parties on when I was a child. It was filled with scratches and dents, and had paint peeling off the sides. We have n't used this table in years, however I was hoping to butter him up, in order to get the information I need from him.
The black smoke entered the room, and I felt excited. It's been several weeks since we last parted, and I was elated to see him again.
`` Hello, Elizabeth. It's been a while,'' he said.
`` Yes, indeed it has. Please take a seat. I made tea and your favourite pastries,'' I said.
We sat at the table discussing various things. He was very happy that I still had the table, and enjoyed recalling the memories we had here.
We sat in a comfortable silence.
`` Death, we are friends, correct?'' I asked.
`` Of course, Elizabeth. Why do you ask?''
`` I have a question for you, and I need you to answer honestly,'' I told him.
`` Go ahead,'' his voice was kind. If I could see his face, I'm sure he would be smiling.
`` When am I going to die?'' I asked.
He stayed silent for a moment.
`` I'm afraid I ca n't answer that,'' he said.
`` And why not?'' I asked.
`` Because, it's against the rules,'' he sighed.
`` You would think having Death as a friend would have its benefits, but no. Useless.'' I muttered under my breath.
He quickly became angry. I had offended him.
`` You know what?'' His voice was becoming angry, and he spoke in a terrifying way. `` You're going to die,'' he hesitated. `` Right now.''
He grabbed my arm, and I quickly felt the life drain out of me. I looked around the room, and saw my great granddaughter enter. At that moment, while taking my last breath, I realized that he had done this to my grandmother before me. At that moment, I realized my family will forever be slaves to Death, without even realizing it.
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[ WP ] The world is flat . There is no known edge , just wasteland and winds that blow harder and harder against you the further out you go . You 're part of a research expedition trying to make it further out than anyone ever has .
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DAY 98
We've been in the cloud for two and a half months now.
The one thing they did n't prepare you for in training is the noise. Sure, they address all the physical stresses, familiarize you with the Crawler's command system, but they do n't explain to you just what 200 mph winds sound like.
The Crawler is constantly groaning under the stress. I hear it in my dreams now, the weary sound of metal buckling and bending, and the hum of the wind outside. Deep in the ship, in the bunks, it's quiet, almost where you can tune it out, but closer to the airlock it's so loud you can feel it. I do n't know if I'm going to be able to describe the sound to anyone when I get back. It's like the bass in a nightclub, but constant.
Once you're outside, it's a different story.
The first few days were relaxing. The crawler moves slow, so we sometimes went outside and walked alongside, taking in the vastness of the waste as we took soil samples. The wind was just a breeze then. We brought a beach ball with us once or twice, just for shits and giggles. It was so bright outside we carried umbrellas.
Now it's dark, dark all the time. Even when we turn on the blast light, all we can see is a wall of light brown, moving, shifting. The wind has already taken a half-foot off of the Crawler's armor. At this rate, we can last another six months before the ship starts to come apart.
I do n't know if I can last another six months.
Lopez is cracking. Last night, while we were on watch in the control room, he told me he'd heard the wind talking to him. I asked him what it said - he backtracked, told me to forget what he said. I think he could tell I thought he was crazy. I think he's crazy. I know he's going crazy.
Collecting samples has become pointless, impossible. It's almost suicidally dangerous to try to manuever in the dust cloud with the jetpack. Danielson went out last week and was smashed into the Crawler six or seven times before we could reel him back in. He's in the medpod, massive internal bleeding, broken ribs, both arms broken - he's lucky to be alive.
Debbie tells me she wants to turn the ship around. There's nothing out here, she says. We're wasting our lives out here, she said. I told her if we turned around now we'd be court martialed.
I've been fabricating an intake vent in the shop that I can mount as a part of the Crawler's protective armor. If I can get it up and working ( without having the wind strip the skin off of my bones ), I'll maybe be able to get some of the dust in the air to test. With any luck, I'll be able to get some information about where these winds are coming from.
I hope so, at least.
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[ IP ] White Walker by Peter Konig
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No one knew what to make of the Walkers when they first appeared.
The media tried to name them.
The governments tried to steer them.
The religious tried to worship them.
Nothing we did made any impact on the gargantuan creatures. As tall as office buildings, as inscrutable as the heart of night, we could not even tell if they were, technically, alive. All mankind knew was that one moment life was continuing on as it always had, and the next moment, three dozen creatures strode the Earth with an inexorable gait. And when the Walkers came, they brought summer with them.
It was inevitable that some would draw a connection between the alien creatures around whom warm weather blossomed, and the ancient legends of the gods of summer and sun. Soon, the Walkers were even nicknamed by region - Baldur, who first appeared in Norway. Dazbog, who warmed the Siberian tundra. Wi, who appeared in Minnesota, but did n't receive his name until he was already in North Dakota.
And, like the gods of old, the Walkers were a mixed blessing. Some welcomed the breath of summer the titans brought in the depth of winter's grip. Some cursed the damage they caused, for though they stepped far too lightly for any creature their size, they also failed entirely to heed man-made obstructions. When the governor of Texas attempted to have a barricade constructed to steer Hunab Ku back across the border to the south, the Walker tore through thirty foot thick walls of reinforced concrete as though they were no more substantial than gossamer, and then stepped across Route 85 without scuffing the pavement.
Still, nothing the Walkers did, none of the damage they caused was ever anything worse than what might be expected from a run of the mill tropical storm. Buildings were knocked down, but there were few enough fatalities, as the unchanging pace of the titans left plenty of time to evacuate, and their paths deviated no more than a few degrees at a time, each step carrying massive bodies forward, always forward. Within months, the Walkers were becoming... simply another part of life.
And then Surya walked through Mumbai.
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[ IP ] Heavy boots , long wait
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`` Gears! Gears! Get your six-tooth, eight-tooth, and 24-tooth gears right here!''
`` I got lights aplenty, folks! 3 knucks a pop, guaranteed to last six months! Stop by and get the best lights on the market!''
Charlie dodged and wove through the bustling crowd of the marketplace, avoiding the afternoon's hot and sweaty throng of potential victims. The mid-afternoon sun relentlessly beamed down on each bent back, each shaded face, and each sweaty brow. Charlie nimbly dipped and ducked around slow-walking men and women, and he confidently strode up to a market stand. He laid his forearm on the warped wood of the stand, and leaned on it, grinning.
`` What do ya want? I've told ya a hundred times, I'm not going to just give ya the steelheart!'' The shopkeeper growled at Charlie, glaring at him over his bushy walrus-like mustache. His bald head glistened with sweat, and his shirt was darker a few shades around his collarbone and armpits. The shopkeeper slammed a hand down on the counter.
`` And I ai n't gon na haggle ya for it! It's 300 knucks or ya ai n't gettin' it, savvy?''
Charlie's grin got even wider.
`` I got the money, Big Joe. It's right here for ya.'' Charlie slung a sackcloth pouch onto the counter, which landed with an audible thunk. Big Joe raised an eyebrow.
`` Where'd ya get the money, eh?'' He boomed again, unclasping the pouch and pouring out its contents. Small bronze discs bounced out onto the counter with clinks as they collided with each other, and a piece of folded yellow paper floated onto the counter.
`` What's this?'' Big Joe began to unfold the piece of paper with his left hand while his right hand was dancing over coins, counting.
`` That's mine.'' Not even a second passed before the paper has disappeared into Charlie's pocket.
Big Joe's right hand stopped dancing. `` It seems as though ya have enough, boy. I'll give ya the steelheart. Give me a mo'.'' Big Joe lumbered into the back room, and a series of thumps and clangs and rattles followed. Charlie took the paper out of his pocket, folded it up neatly, and put it back.
`` Here ya go, one steelheart. This'll run on a piece o' coal fer about a couple o' weeks an' then ya'll hafta replace the coal.'' He slid a box over the counter top, and swept all the coins that Charlie had given him into his left hand, which he promptly put into a jar.
`` Pleasure doin' business with ya, Big Joe.'' Charlie grinned before sauntering towards the door. The door jingled, and a man in a pristine black suit stepped into the shop.
`` Big Joe, I'm looking for that third-die crankshaft you had for me --'' The suited man stops talking and stares at Charlie in shock. `` You!'' He shouts, and swipes at Charlie, seeking to grab hold of him. Charlie nimbly ducks out of the way, and bolts out the door and into the crowd.
`` Stop! Thief!'' The suited man shouts over the dull roar of people moving this way and that. `` Stop that boy!''
Charlie giggles to himself, and picks up the pace.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Charlie whistles cheerfully as he pulls the key out of his pocket and fits it into the lock of a decrepit, boarded-up shack. He turns the key and frowns, jiggling it and shaking the flimsy door until the key clicks and the door flies inward.
Charlie steps over the threshold of the warehouse, and reaches for the wall, groping for something. A click sounds in the darkness, and a single dim light flickers on in the center of the room, casting a grimy yellow hue on the workbench, tool barrel, and hay pile located around the room. Charlie makes his way towards the workbench, and sets the small box on the workbench with a solid thud. Opening the box, he grins.
`` Hello, beautiful!'' Charlie reaches into the box, and pulls out a delicately-wired piece of ceramic and steel. Making his way towards the tool barrel, he gently pulls out a haphazard contraption which gently clinks as he places it on the workbench.
He grins at the pieces in front of him.
`` Let's get started, shall we?'' Charlie flips a pair of goggles over his eyes, and leans in, peering at the steelheart.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
`` And... done.'' Charlie pulls off the goggles and sets them aside, peering at his handiwork. He checks his timekeeper, which tells him it's an hour till sunrise.
`` Let's see how ya work, shall we?'' Charlie rushes over to the barrel and pulls out a piece of grimy, dirty coal. He runs back to his workbench, opens up a panel in the haphazard pile of metal, and puts the coal in, and closes it.
Charlie pulls a strip of metal out of the pile, and a whirring and clicking sounds. The pile of metal begins to shudder and shake, and the contraption picks itself up and dusts itself off.
Two lights flicker on, and Charlie's contraption blinks and hoots.
`` I think I'll call ya Rolf.'' Charlie leans down, and pets his new automaton's head.
`` Now let's go show ya off.'' Charlie cradles Rolf in his arms, and walks out the door.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Rolf soars around Charlie's head as he proudly makes his way downhill, marching and puffing his chest out pridefully towards the Formal Military engineers already gathered around the forge, pounding away at steel and brass for their next project. The flash of steel in the sunlight causes the captain of the engineers to turn around and shade his eyes against the sun breaking the horizon.
`` Take a break, boys!'' the captain barks, and the engineers sit at their benches, heaving sighs of relief.
`` What are you doing here, Charlie? We've told you a thousand times, you're too young to join the military, even if we do n't see the front lines.''
`` And you said if I created something worth using, that you'd make an exception.'' Charlie stands his ground, setting his jaw as he glares back into the captain's eyes. The captain sighs.
`` Okay, Charlie. What do you have this time?''
Charlie claps his hands twice, and Rolf hoots once, and glides onto his shoulder from the roof of the forge.
`` This is Rolf. I built him myself.'' Charlie grins proudly, puffing out his chest. `` He is a fully-autonomous, flight-capable owl built for less than a thousand knucks. And he runs on one piece of coal.''
The surrounding engineers whistle, impressed. The captain whirls around to look at them, silencing them with a glare.
`` I'll believe it when I see it.'' The captain folds his arms over his chest.
Charlie grins, and points at the captain's head. He whistles once, a short burst, and Rolf flies from Charlie's shoulder in a flash of steel to the top of the captain's head. The owl blinks at the crowd that has gathered, and hoots.
The crowd claps politely, and Charlie takes a bow.
`` Alright, Charlie. I'll admit, I'm somewhat impressed. But can it hold its own in a battlefield?'' The captain takes a swipe at Rolf with his sword, which narrowly misses the automaton. The owl hoots, and lands on the floor in a pile of steel with a thump. Rolf immediately gets back to its feet, and takes off in flight, soaring.
The captain pulls out his pistol, and aims it at the flying automaton, and fires.
Rolf panics and loses control, spiraling towards the field and crash-landing.
The captain blows the smoke off his pistol. `` If it ca n't handle one gunshot, how is it of any use to the military, hm?''
The captain turns on his heel. `` Back to work!''
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[ WP ] Nothing went as planned . Your partner 's in critical condition , the Eskimo is on the loose , and Smokey Joe 's Taco Joint still stands .
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`` Shit shit shit. Shit.'' Lucas paced back and forth. The plan failed horribly and there was no way to salvage another one. He looked at the door, only able to hear faint footsteps beyond the beeping of the many monitors and machines in the sterile darkened room. He looked back to Michelle, his fiance. This was n't her fault and yet she was in trouble because of him. Lucas leaned over and kissed her forehead before he could n't wait for the doctor or nurse any longer. The man quickly left and pulled out his cell phone to see if his friend, David knew where that damned Eskimo had run off to.
`` Sir, no cell phones allowed-'' A blond nurse began to say.
`` Have you ever lost an Eskimo, lady!?'' He snapped and looked up, face all too serious. `` He's probably confused and scared. It's like 100 degrees out there. Do you think he's gon na be in good shape huh?'' He saw no new messages or missed calls and just jogged down the hall to the elevator and pressed the button several times. His palms were sweaty and his heart rate was racing. The plan was to sabotage Smokey Joe's Taco Joint so that his own taco truck could take over the turf. He knew a friend up in Alaska who could send someone down to take some smack about the joint, the Eskimo named Aujaq, was going to pretend to be some old expert who knew the proper way to cook and prepare fish. Aujaq was going to make sure everyone knew that Smokey Joe's was a rip off.
But sadly when it came time to plan the Eskimo, the guy got distracted and wandered off. So of course Michelle being the angel that she was, went to go track him down. On the boardwalk, Aujaq wound up near a stand selling fried food. When he bite into his fried twinkie, it burned his mouth, he stumbled back and knocked it over. Lucas did n't know all the damned details but somehow his fiance ended up getting hit by a vat filed with hot oil. She was rushed to the hospital and the Eskimo ran off while his rival continued to get more and more customers.
It was insane.
Finally in the hospital parking lot, Lucas found a cab and rode back to the boardwalk and began to look for the man who was thousands of miles from his home. `` Aujaq!'' He called out. Several tourists looked at him but Lucas paid no mind. `` Michelle is gon na be fine!'' He called out, though he really was n't sure. He just needed to find the guy and make sure he was okay too. He felt guilty, foolish and a little bit hungry due to the strong aroma of fried dough in the sea breeze air. After twenty minutes David met up with him and as they made their fifth way around the beach front, they saw the Eskimo standing by Smokey Joe's Taco Joint, biting into a fish taco. `` Guess our plan is a bust.'' David patted his friend on the back. `` Sorry.''
`` Nah, it was n't going to work anyway... I still lost thousands of dollars with the plane ticket and-''
Suddenly Aujaq started to cough and choke and threw down the taco. The man behind the counter, dick face Joe asked if he was alright. The Eskimo shook his head and began speaking in another language. A crowd began to form and David and Lucas made sure they were n't seen by Joe. Aujaq pointed his finger at Joe and declared, `` You sully the fish's life by mistreating it and wasting it.'' He frowned, finger trembling. `` You are a disgrace to your ancestors.'' He continued. `` You pile on horrible processed foods and flavors and then you take these people's money to fund your continued crimes against nature.'' He shook his head and looked down at the pile of taco at his feet. `` You have no respect for the food you serve nor the people you serve.''
Then he walked away and David hurried after him while Lucas took a second to smirk before going to catch up with the others. The three then went back to the hospital in David's old red Volvo while they continued to praise what Aujaq had done for them. `` Thanks again, I'm sure I'll be able to set up shop in no time at all.'' Lucas laughed as they arrived at the sixth floor where Michelle was. `` Tonight I'm gon na make a big dinner for you, man.'' As they walked down the hall, voices quieting down, the nurse from before looked up from her computer and had to do a double take.
`` So you found your Eskimo.'' She said in disbelief. `` Is he alright?''
`` He's cool.'' David laughed as they headed into Michelle's room to see how her second degree burns were doing and what the damage was. The doctors said she could have been a lot worse and that it would take a few weeks and special treatment before she could start to feel well enough to go home. Lucas kissed her and that night, the four of them ate in her hospital room while they swapped stories and watched the local news, many people talking about the Eskimo. `` You should do an interview.'' David said as they wrapped up. The Eskimo shook his head and said he would be leaving soon. Lucas was just happy for the help and turned to his friend who would be helping him on the food truck.
`` We'll name it Aujaq and the Taco Truck.'' Lucas said.
The other three just shook their heads as the night faded onward, their crazy plan somehow having worked after all.
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[ WP ] Tell us about a wounded/abandoned hero 's last stand . Make us feel .
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There was blood. Some of it his. The fight here had been incredible. Thousands will weep for the souls of the men here today. But some of the blood was his. Amidst the chaos, someone had finally bested him. Hit him with a sword, or an axe. And so, some of the blood was his.
The warrior thinks little of blood. It's another thing, a fluid, tastes of metal, and stains the linens of countless peasants, clerics, and villagers. It's no good for drinking, no good for dying, quenching, or writing. It's no good for anything. But. Some of this blood was his.
The Warrior, now bested, coughed. Hard. Now more of this blood was his. Though more men were coming, more men to fight, and to kill, too much of this blood was his. Perhaps they would pity him. He would make a valuable prisoner. He was worth many bounties, and had many to collect of his own. An enemy with that knowledge might want him alive. Gold was more valuable that blood.
He staggered. Gripped his bastard sword, too weak to heft it from his shoulder. The Warrior limped, and crawled, and finally came to a rest. In a spot clean of his enemies. A spot where all of this blood was his.
The shouting, banging, ringing sound of the approaching hoard grew louder. Until even his coughs could not overpower their ferocity of volume. Even able to speak, he would not stay their swords. For all of this blood was his, and none of theirs would join him.
`` Let me die by the sword. Let me meet my enemies in death. Let them fight me, and conquer me a thousand times. Let the fight outlast it's legend. And let them come.''
All of this blood was his. And none of theirs would join him.
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[ WP ] Teleportation is now as common as car travel . On your regular morning commute , your teleporter breaks down just as you 're departing . After a hurried cycle to work , a confused security guard stops you at the door , insisting that you arrived by teleporter 30 minutes ago .
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Jim's face was confused when he saw me walking through the front door, instead of the usual Teleporter Lobby. He pointed towards the elevators, then back at me. `` Did n't you just... like arrive half an hour ago? How did you leave without me noticing?''
I slapped his shoulders playfully, as I approached the security barriers. A measure to keep the public away from the offices. `` Good one, Jim. Happy April's Fools day to you too. Now beep me in, will you?''
He stared at me for a moment, seemingly unconvinced, but decided against doing anything. He stepped over to his security console, allowing me to scan my staff pass on the reader. Normally the screen in front of me would flash green and the barriers would lower, but today it beeped in three loud pitches, accompanied by the imposing red light.
`` Uh...'' Jim called out from where he stood, his eyes fixed on the screen. `` According to the system, you're already in the building, Alex.''
I walked over to Jim, feeling rather annoyed. I was already late for my 10.00 am meeting, thanks to the wonky teleporter and the last thing I wanted was further delay.
`` Look, Jim, I appreciate your humour, but really I do n't have the time to-'' I said, but Jim was already backing away from me. His hand held a walkie-talkie, while his colleague beside him looked at me suspiciously. A feeling of panic began rising in me.
`` Jim, what are you doing?'' I asked, trying to reach out to him, but the voice coming from the walkie-talkie stopped me in my tracks.
`` That person is not me,'' the voice crackled nervously. My own voice.
`` Please call the cops, stop him from leaving, anything,'' it further instructed. My eyes caught a glimpse of the guard raising the pepper spray. Panic mode kicking in, my legs instinctively carried me out of the building immediately, despite not having a clue of what was happening.
The only thing different that happened today was me stepping into the teleporter after getting dressed, expecting to be transported immediately transported to the office. There was the familiar flash of white and blue, filling the entire space that I was in, followed by a loud buzzing noise. When the entire thing died down, instead of my office's lobby, I was still standing in my house. My first thought was that my teleporter was spoiled.
As the alarms went off behind me, I suspected something else.
I did not make it far from the building, however, when a dark van pulled beside me. The doors opened in a blink, and two pair of arms belong to masked figures pulled me in before I could even react. The doors closed with a slam and the van quickly sped off.
I tried to kick and punch, but they were too strong for me. The man seated before me stared at me intently, before slowly pulling down his mask. My jaw dropped as I instantly recognized the face. My own face.
`` Hi Mr Alex 531, I'm afraid that there has been a complication this morning, but not to worry, we'll get it fixed,'' the doppelganger in front of me said, before I felt a sharp poke on my neck, and everything gradually faded.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
*Edit: Story flow*
/r/dori_tales
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[ EU ] It is one year after the events of Independence Day . You are tasked with coordinating the clean up efforts to remove the city sized spaceships scattered across the planet . Describe a typical day on the job .
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The worst part is n't the labor, it is n't walking through ankle deep alien blood and guts, no, the worst part... is the smell. It's toxic, it gives you an instant feeling of nausea and you can always spot a new worker... just look for the guy puking his lunch up into the aforementioned alien guts. The mornings are the best, it's not too hot yet and everybody is too tired to complain. If you're lucky, you'll get bulldozer duty and you can just push around huge scraps all day while listening to headphones. If you're on shovel duty, you're either new or being punished. Shovelers do the little work, cleaning up what the dozers ca n't pick up, sweeping, hosing off blood and guts from the ground. The only real entertainment we get during the 16 hour days is watching the scientists sift through wreckage and trying to make sense of the impossible technology. A couple guys died messing around with the shield technology, they accidentally created a shield around their heads and suffocated. For being considered smart, some of these guys are real morons.
By the time lunch break rolls around the temperature here in the Nevada wreck site is around 102°, the on site EMTs get plenty of work treating dehydrated workers it gets hotter for some reason when you're closer to the crash site and people do n't realize they need to drink more water. Food and drinks are always free but they're always terrible, deli sandwiches from a food truck and water from coolers that sits in the shade... better than nothing, I guess. For an hour, we all forget about the shitty working conditions and the terrible pay, and we pretend that this is a normal job. The only thing that keeps some of us here is the people. They're relatable, funny, and we all look out for each other, and it helps a lot.
The second break of the day comes around sundown. At this point, the part timers go home and the overnight shifters come in, setting up for the night crew is how I finish my day. I'm one of the only workers that's been here since the beginning, my reward is about 3 hours of just walking around before I leave to make sure the overnight crew had everything they need to work. Lights, coffee stations, new sandwiches in the food truck, water, and bringing people up to speed on how much we need to move to stay on schedule. I do my job well because I want to stay on schedule, if I do that, then I can minimize the amount of time we all have to spend here. One year in and we've got another year, maybe two, ahead of us. The job sucks, it's thankless, smelly, and a general pain in the ass, but one day, I'll be able to tell people that I helped the recovery effort of the first intergalactic war in Earth's history, and I think that's pretty fucking cool. Long live earth.
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[ WP ] Two suicidal people happen to meet on the same bridge to jump . Rather than joining together , they each try to convince the other not to jump while justifying why they themselves should jump .
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She approached the bridge, the winds singing their eerie night songs. Her legs shook with every step as tears streamed down her pale, young face. Her heart fluttered in her chest; she knew this was what she wanted, had known this for a long time, yet she couldn ’ t help but feel frightened at what would become of her. Thinking of this, she noticed a dark figure in the distance struggling to the bridge ’ s railing.
“ He... hello? ” she called out hesitantly. The figure whipped its head around, wary of its surroundings.
“ Who is it? ” a man ’ s voice called out. The girl stopped walking, keeping her distance.
“ What are you doing? ” she shouted. It was clear what the man had been trying to do, but the girl couldn ’ t think of anything else to say.
“ Who are you? ” the man repeated in a suspicious tone.
“ Emma, ” she blurted out. “ My name is Emma. Please don ’ t do it. ” She rushed towards the man.
“ You go on back home, young lady, ” he said, his voice now sounding tired. “ You ’ ve no business walking around these parts of town so late at night. Go on back home to your family, and let a man do his business. ”
“ I have no family, ” she whispered, more to herself than to the man that now stood mere meters away from her.
“ What? ” he asked.
“ Don ’ t do it, ” she said instead. She looked up at him with her tear-filled, sorrowful eyes and begged: “ Please, get down from there. You don ’ t have to do it. ”
He shook his head, exasperated. *She doesn ’ t know anything*, he thought. She was still young, just a child. She could never understand.
“ Listen, girl— “ he began, then could no longer speak. She had come closer, now standing barely a foot away. The soft streetlight illuminated her heart-shaped face framed by a sheet of dark, tangled hair. For a moment she looked just like *her*, and man could do nothing but stare. Suddenly he began shaking his head, as if coming out of a trance. “ Just leave, ” he mumbled.
“ Why did you look at me like that? ” the girl asked.
It seemed like he would dismiss her once again, then, instead, he said “ My daughter, you reminded me of her. ” He looked away, pain now visible in his aged face.
“ I ’ m sorry, ” the girl said, understanding the unspoken words. “ I... I know it ’ s none of my business, but how do you think she ’ d feel if she saw you right now? ” She looked down to the ground, hiding the guilt that was seeding within. Here she was trying to convince someone not to do the very thing she had been planning to do herself only moments earlier. But then it was different with her, *wasn ’ t it*?
“ That doesn ’ t matter, not anymore, ” he said. “ She ’ s gone now. She was all I had and now she ’ s gone. ” A lone tear streamed down his face.
“ But it *does* matter. She ’ s not gone, not really, as long as you don ’ t do it. ” She couldn ’ t say the actual word: *suicide*. It was too ugly, too real. She continued: “ As long as you ’ re here she won ’ t be gone. She can continue to live through your memories. It ’ s not easy, I know, but you have to try. Have to keep fighting. ” She spoke these last words more to herself.
“ I tried, ” he whimpered, tears now freely flowing down his face. “ I tried, and I tried, and I tried, but it was too hard! Every time things would start to get better something would remind me of her and all the pain and hurt would come rushing back. I ’ d dream of her, and she ’ d be there, so real, smiling in that way of hers, laughing, and then I ’ d wake up and she ’ d be gone. And I would lose her all over again. And... and the emptiness... I can just *feel* it, you know? ” He sniffed and wiped away at his eyes then reached into his pocket, pulling out two photos, one faded from years of handling, the other more recent. Both photos, however, were of a young woman with dark hair and haunting eyes. They looked similar yet not quite the same.
“ You know I almost did it when I lost my wife. I came real close, even came to this very bridge, but I couldn ’ t do it. I couldn ’ t do it because I had *her*. I couldn ’ t just leave her like that, all alone. She was the only reason I kept going, but now that she ’ s gone I don ’ t have to keep going anymore. I *can ’ t* keep going anymore. ” He breathed in deeply and silence fell between them. Each fell deep in thought. It seemed years before the silence was broken.
“ Was it worth it? ” the girl asked.
“ Was what worth it? ”
“ Walking away, not jumping last time. Was it worth it? ”
The man seemed at a loss for words. “ I... yes, I guess. But that was different. I had *her* last time. She ’ s gone now, it ’ s not the same thing. ”
“ It *isn ’ t* different, though, it really isn ’ t. You may not have something or someone worth living for right this very moment, but that doesn ’ t mean things will always be that way. You can jump right now and guarantee that things will never get better, or you could walk away and fight until they do. ” Emma ’ s words surprised her. It wasn ’ t until she ’ d spoken them that she knew she ’ d felt that way. To her astonishment, a small part of her was still willing to fight.
The man slowly eased himself down from the bridge ’ s railing. The girl took a step forward and the two embraced, both crying on one another ’ s shoulder. “ It just hurts *so much*, ” the man choked between sobs.
“ I know, ” the girl responded, crying herself. “ I know. ”
The two stood there embracing for a long time, neither of them wanting to let go of the comforting closeness of another human being from which both had been so long deprived. No more words were spoken as the pain that each of them felt could not be conveyed through words. Neither felt much better than they had earlier but at least now they knew they were not alone in their suffering. When they broke off at last they looked into each other ’ s eyes and an understanding passed between them, almost a pact of some sort.
Finally, nodding to the girl, the man said, “ Now, I ’ m sure there ’ s somewhere you need to be. ” It was spoken more as a question than a statement but the girl nodded.
“ Yes, ” she said. *I need to be starting my new life. *
Looking one last time into each other ’ s eyes, they nodded each other farewell and turned to walk in opposite directions, each returning to fight in the battle that they had momentarily fled.
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[ WP ] In the near future a company holding the only patent to a point-to-point teleportation system in widespread use is exposed as a fraud and the truth is more horrible than anyone expected it to be .
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Lynk, a multifaceted global corporation that made its millions when its CEO Syllus Manning invented the Quantum Distortion Field. A device capable of transporting a single person to a coupled unit anywhere in the world in an instant. Teleportation, like something out of a sci-fi movie or something. Travel became instantaneous, congestion, a thing of the past. Time became more about fulfillment than anything else well, for most of us anyway. For one small device it had a huge effect on us and the way we interacted with the world. Man, were we duped.
`` Hey Jakob, what's up man?'' The sudden greeting pulling me from morning trance. I still was n't fully awake yet, 9 am starts did this to me every time. Dazed and only half conscious. `` Oh hey Darrel, sorry about that''. Darrel was a tall and dark man. Semi-pro basketball player in his spare time and a serious fitness freak. `` Ar n't you bright and cheery this morning'' I went on. `` Ha! you need to get some vits in that scrawny ass body of yours'' he joked. This was our routine. Working with friends always has a way of making the day not suck as much as it normally would.
`` You takin' the QDF to work?'' I asked during the walk from the local Auto-taxi rank to the local station. `` Nah its only a couple of miles and Lynk can handle things without me for an hour or so, I figure its such a nice day why not walk'' Darrell replied a half grin plastered across his face. I glared at him through narrow eyes `` Dude you say that every day `` I said begrudgingly. His grin widened `` That's coz it always is''. `` Urgh'' I noise I thought perfectly emphasized my lack of enthusiasm `` Fine then, But there is no way you are forcing me to join you again'' His lips parted to produce his clamped teeth in an almost sadistic smile.
Not again, why are we running again? We do this every morning. Ever since Lynk opened its doors and we managed to secure a position each on the security teams. We always ran. It would start out as a leisurely walk, and then Darrel would run off ahead and I'd have to keep up with him. By the time we got to the giant glass tower of Lynk global headquarters I felt like my lungs were going to give out. `` Come on Jake, I went easy on you today coz I pushed you so hard at the gym last night''. I stood hunched over, hands on knees, breathing heavily and sweating profusely. `` Why do we run every-freakin'-morning?'' I complained between husking breaths. `` No way your pinning this on me man, I run, you choose to follow me'' Darrel said with that same sadistic smile. `` Fuck...'' A breath ``... You''. `` HaHa!'' two simple sounds had never conveyed so much evil, I remember thinking when he gave his customary short laugh. I always thought it was n't to signify something was funny but he derived great pleasure from causing someone else misfortune. `` Let's head inside man'' Darrel said after I finally stood up straight. `` Yeah'' I replied and nodded.
The inside of the building was almost all white. A circular front desk stood about 20 yards away, passed the security checkpoint, manned by the seemingly ever present beautiful receptionists. `` Hey Jake, Darrel, Head on in guys Chief Mallony wants to see you two'' Karl, the day post guard. `` Thanks Karl we'll head on up now'' Darrel replied for the both of us. After a quick second scanning our I.D.s the gates let us pass and we headed left through the retina scanner protected guard door and into the locker room. `` Whadda ya think the Chief wants?'' I asked Darrel whilst stripping off my jacket and replacing it with my matt white nanotube vest and side arm holster. `` Probably another bullshit assignment in the parking lot of something'' he replied, his voice filled with spite. `` Yeah he does seemed to have it in for us.'' I said, walking over to grab my side from it genetically locked case on the far wall.
We moved through the unseen corridors of the security wards with relative ease now. Knowledge of every pipe and radiator grill ingrained into our minds. When we first started here these tunnels, referred to as *The rats nest* by the employees was a maze but over the years we had managed to adapt and move here as swiftly as we could anywhere. Originally designed for ventilation of the Lynk tower, nicknamed Babel by the security staff, ran the length, width and height of the entire tower and was now used by the security personnel for rapid response to emergencies within the tower. We arrived on the 4th floor and the end of corridor 7 from the security only access port. What greeted us upon our exit was the steel door and blacked out windows of the briefing room across the hall.
`` Reporting, Sir'' Said Darrel upon entering, directed at the chief of course. `` Will you two ever be on time?'' Chief Mallony spat through barely contained fury. `` Sorry Chief'' replied Darrel, surprisingly apologetic `` It wo n't happen again'' an obvious lie, but enough to sedate the chief. I looked around the room. The rest of the squad had already arrived, Mac, Carol and Leon the unspoken leader of our team. `` Ok you guys will be patrolling the basement labs today'' Chief Mallony ordered `` Uh Chief?'' Mallony shot a glance and raised his left eye brow `` What is it Maconahey?'' he groaned still clearly pissed at Darrel and me. `` Well do n't the earthworms- Err I mean- the basement laboratory personnel have automated defenses why do they need us?'' Mac replied with just a hint of insubordination. `` Basement defenses are down for the day while maintenance is done you guys are the eyes, ears and guns down their today'' replied the chief.
The basement levels of Babel were n't much different from the rest of the tower, besides a lack of windows of course. Bleach white hallways interspersed with automatic glass doors leading to all kinds of different labs and offices. As security personnel we did n't have clearance to enter the labs except in an emergency so we had no idea what research was being done here and it was n't our job to know so we did n't care. `` Well is n't this cozy'' Mac said with a smile nudging Carol with his elbow `` wan na go find a quiet storage closet'' he continued with a smirk. Carol shot him a glance through narrow eyes `` I will snap your scrawny neck little man'' at this point me and Darrel burst out laughing `` Give it up man'' I said through tears of laughter `` she gets more pissed at you every time'' I said still laughing. `` Enough!'' barked Leon and the corridor fell silent `` We have a job to do here, lets rendezvous with the lower sector security post'' We all began walking in silence. It was n't so much that we were afraid of Leon but he commanded a lot of respect. Ex-military or so they say. He never talks about it and we're not sure we want to know. All we know is he is quiet, confident, focused and competent and he can take down Darrel in a fight, something we have all seen first hand.
The lower sector security post was, from what we could tell, perfectly normal. Nothing broken, no glass, everything in the right place, no abnormalities what so ever. Besides the fact that it was barren. Not a guard in sight. In fact we had n't seen any security personnel since we arrived down here and the fact that we were sent to relieve another team and that team is n't around, never mind the rotary posted guards, was... odd to say the least. `` Hey Leon, where is everyone?'' asked Mac sounding more bewildered than worried. `` Yeah man its like they just up and disappeared'' added Darrel `` Come to think of it, we have n't seen anyone since we came down here'' I remarked. `` yeah genius we know, that's what everyone is talking about'' said Carol with her ever present sneer `` No I mean, anyone, not just the guards, but there's no staff either'' everyone suddenly looked at me, faces either shocked or in thought `` no techies, no scientists not even a freakin' clerk or cleaner, there's no one down here, not anyone I have noticed anyway'' I went on. `` Do n't be stupid Jake we saw someone earlier'' replied Mac, clearly not believing it himself. `` Oh yeah, where then?'' replied Carol `` there was that, Ah- erm-'' Mac paused `` yeah no one, Jakob's right, this place is deserted'' Carol said turning to Leon `` Boss man, want me to call it in?'' Leon looked up from the patch of carpet in the security office he was staring at and directly at Carol. `` No - No we have to find out where these people are, do n't want to panic the powers that be until we know for certain they ar n't around here'' said Leon as calm and collected as ever. `` Yeah your right, they could all just be a having a tea party on the fucking beach!'' replied Mac clearly rattled. `` come on lets check the other floors'' I suggested `` Mac radio upstairs and ask for another team, if they ask for a reason, tell them I have on site command'' ordered Leon. Mac pressed the button on the side of his ear piece. `` Security main gate this is team Gamma can we get another team in the lower section please''... `` Main Gate?''... `` Main gate come in''... `` No answer Leon, just getting some weird static'' Mac said clearly calming down. `` hmm that's odd, something must be jamming us'' Leon now deep in thought. `` Alright, Mac you stay here and try to by pass the computers'' he said pointing at the security command consoles `` and try to rig up a booster for our transmitters, Jakob you and Carol sweep level B3 and Darrel we will take B4, no one descend any lower than B4 until we get some answers'' we all exchanged glances and nodded. `` Alright team break!''
Part 1 over [ TO BE CONTINUED ]
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[ WP ] A woman falls in love with Death and commits murder countless times just to catch a glimpse of him .
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# # # Part 1
*I just could n't control myself. I loved seeing him. I do everything I can to get a glimpse of him. He is tall, dark, and slender. I have n't seen his face yet, but his figure, it is amazing. *
I was in the line at the hardware store with a woodcutting axe. I had the most giddy smile ever. I knew that this was the way I could see him.
*You just going crazy. * I thought to myself.
*This is worth it. *
*I do n't even know if he really exists. I only saw him once and I was tired. *
*But it must be worth it. He his real. Death looms over us at all times. Just do n't know when he is ready to pounce. *
*You are fucking crazy! Check into a mental hospital! *
*No. You must do this for him. *
My turn finally came up. I was able to keep a straight face. The man behind the counter scanned the axe and asked if I wanted a case.
*A case? What is the point of that? I do n't need a case. But I will to better hide the evidence. *
`` Uhhm. Sure. How much is it?''
`` $ 20. Nearly unbreakable plastic. Well worth it.''
`` Alright them. I'll get it.''
I brought it to my car and put it in the trunk. My heart began to race. Pounding hard out of anxiety.
*Who should I kill first? *
*No! You ca n't kill anyone! You can wait until it is your turn*
*Yes it is! I need him! I need to be able to meet him! *
# # # Part 2
Later that night, I grabbed the axe and went over to my next door neighbor's. He lived alone, and was about 70 years old. Hard of hearing, snorer, and heavy sleeper. Perfect first target. His back door was unlocked. I silently snuck in, and was able to locate his bedroom. I could hear him snore and breathing heavily. I looked at my axe. I lifted it above my head and swung for his chest. The blade running through his body. He suddenly woke up. I lifted it again and swung for his neck. His neck broke off. I then waited for him to come. I got a high like I never have before.
Suddenly, black clouds filled the room. Then he came and took the man's ghost. He did n't even acknowledge me. But, I got to see him. A chill went through my spine. A wonderful chill.
*You got to see him. This should be it. *
*No no no no. More! You ca n't see him enough! Without him, you are alone*
I left and went back home.
*I got to see death. I'm not crazy. *
*Yes you are. Now turn yourself in. *
*No! More death! He must notice me next time! *
# # # Part 3
It has been two days. I have n't found a good time to get an opportunity to see him again. Then, there was a knock on my door. It way my neighbor, who look frightened. He saw the body. He asked if I knew anything about it.
*Oh shit. I got caught*
*Wait, I could kill this witness and then see him again. *
I invited him in and gave him a cup of tea. I started talking about the death.
`` When did you find him?'' I asked.
`` Just now. I do n't know what to do.''
`` Well, I'll call the police. Wait. We should both do it on speakerphone.''
`` Alright.''
I then led him to the garage. He was noticeably confused as to where we were going. He then reached for his phone. I then grabbed the axe and looked him in the eye.
`` Y-y-y-you killed him?''
I nodded. He dropped the phone. I swung and split his head into two. His brains were spilling out. My clothes became covered in blood. I panicked.
*What if they catch me? *
Then, the room filled with dark clouds. Death looked at him. Then at me.
*He noticed me. *
The man's ghost was taken by death, then he left.
I then remembered about the wood chipper in his garage. I pulled it out of his and into mine. I put him through it and into a plastic trash bag. Later the week, I dropped the bag into the rapids.
*Will death notice me? *
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[ EU ] You 're officially part of the X-Men , but the way you discovered your powers was ... unusual
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Professor Xavier was a little shocked, staring directly in my eyes with the expression of amazement and disgust. I knew he was reading my mind like an open book.
-He reads my mind. He knows. This motherfu... No! I did n't think that! Sorry Mister X! I did n't think that! Sorry! Ok, ok, think about something else. Ponies! Ponies riding tricicles! Dammit!
Professor was still staring at me. He knew. He motherfucking knew.
It was a usual day for me. First weeks of college. Finally, living in a dorm with my friends, no parent control, can spend as much time in the bathroom as I want. Soooo.. Oh yeah, Lela Star and Sasha Grey will be entertaining me this morning. Hehehe...
A scene of this latina being ravaged by mexican apple thieves would do.
I went to this shower and got down to business. The scene was especially hot, I was rapidly approaching the sweet explosion. Waaaait, waaait, hhhhheeeere it iiiiiss. Explosion. Literally an explosion.
I wake up with cops and ambulances everywhere, naked, in shock, with multiple injuries and a concussion. Several medics were treating my wounds. And Professor Xavier... just sitting there... in his wheelchair. Staring deep in my soul. And judging.
Several years passed. I underwent vigorous training, learnt to control my `` power'' to an extent. My ability to fire explosive projectiles from my dick comparable in strength to a bomb that erased Horoshima was `` useful to the X-men team'', as Professor X put it. But he never took me to missions. It took me too long to recharge. most I could do is 4-5 shots a day. Having to carry several gigabutes worth of pr0n during combat missions did n't help at all.
I knew why he took me in. He was too afraid to leave me with no control. There was little practical use of me being in the X team. He was just too afraid to leave an 18 year old undergoing puberty with so much power and so little self control alone.
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[ WP ] The laws of physics are just laws , and can be broken . But doing so is a punishable offence .
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I regret it the moment I jump off.
I fall.
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It is idiotic, the way I am going to die.
*I fall, towards the jagged rocks below. It is a stormy day, and the ocean is unruly. *
For what will I be dying?
*I fall. Every second is an eternity. *
I thought I had known. I had nothing to live for. Every day, I exist, and that is all.
I thought it was too painful to exist anymore.
*I fall. There is n't much time left. I think I see a man in a red hoodie, standing on the edge of the cliff.
He looks like he's trying to call out to me. I ca n't make out the words. *
I realize that I do n't care about that.
Even if it is painful. Even if everyday I look at the ceiling and try to muster the energy to get out of bed. Even if I am forced to keep a facade to the people around me, and pretend everything's okay.
How stupid of me, I think. I want to *live. *
*I fall. Not much time now. I can feel a tear sliding across my cheeks. I close my eyes.
And then everything stops. *
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
`` I feel like you might have had a change of heart, darling.''
I gape at the man, who is for the lack of a better word, *standing* next to me.
Floating? Perhaps. But he looks like he's nonchalantly standing on some invisible ledge.
I can see my hair, slowly moving, as through jelly.
He flicks it away from my face. `` Much better, now that I can see that pretty face of yours.'' He laughs at my expression.
`` Slow motion is fascinating, I know. Why else do you think Youtubers with high speed cameras are so popular?''
He zips up his hoodie. `` Man, you picked a bad time of the year to die. It is freezing out here.''
`` Got nothing to say?'' He peers at me curiously and sighs. `` Maybe I was wrong about you.'' He start to make a motion to leave. `` Good luck, sweetheart.''
I can feel the wind around me picking up pace again.
`` STOP!''
He turns around and cocks his head curiously.
There is too much to process.
I say the first thing that comes to my mind.
`` This is against all the laws of physics I know.''
Slowly, a huge grin crosses his face.
`` True enough.'' He winks at me. `` But laws, as everyone knows, are meant to be broken, do n't you think?''
I laugh. For the first time in months, I am laughing my heart out.
For the first time since he came here, he is honestly startled. His eyes widen for a second, then his face creases back into a smile.
`` I knew you did n't want to do it, did you, sweetheart?''
A shadow falls over his expression. `` But, the only way for you to live now is if you break one of them.''
`` And as with any law, there will be consequences. He looks at me intently. Are you prepared for that?''
I nod.
With a smile, he returns to his previous lighthearted self.
`` Well then. Looks like you've gotten yourself in a real pickle over here, ma'am. ``
He tips an imaginary hat. `` Let's get you out of it.''
And with those words, the world around me vanishes.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
*Thanks for reading! I'm rather new here and would love to hear your opinions. Any tips on improving my writing would be much appreciated! *
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[ WP ] When every child is born , their parents write a small moto on their birth certificate that they are required to live by . Yours has a typo . . .
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I spent the first 30 years of my life living to my motto. Day in day out, I spent my time living up to my motto. My parents always wondered why I had n't got married, given them grandchildren as they always yearned for. I told them, I must uphold my vows to my motto. I showed them my recent tattoo of the motto on my chest, the motto as given to me on my certificate. It read `` celibate life''. My parents looked at each other and said `` I guess we should have learnt to spell sooner. Son, that's meant to say `` celebrate life''.
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Write a short story where all of the characters are aware of their part in the story .
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Old Johnny False Lead, they call me. Well, I call me that. No one is supposed to talk about it, but we all know. I'm not allowed to refer to my girlfriend as Kim, The One That Got Away. The closest I ever came was doodling a cartoon of her getting in a taxi, driving away from Nick Protagonist. She saw it over my shoulder. I did n't know whether to hide it or not. She made a strange sound in the back of her throat, but we never talked about it.
See, she knows I know what she is. I know she knows what I am. We just ca n't talk about it.
The thing is, I like Nick. I'm not supposed to, because he and Kim dated in high school and they're supposed to be together for ever and ever, amen. They broke up because she was going to college and he was shipping out to Afghanistan, which I respect.
And he's a nice guy. I met him when he and Kim Ran Into Each Other Five Years Later in a grocery store. I was in the next aisle. I heard them talking, Reconnecting, whatever.
When she said, `` Oh, well, um... I'm actually here with my boyfriend,'' I knew it was my cue to saunter over. Something possessed me to wear sunglasses. I *never* wear sunglasses. I must have looked like a complete asshat.
I guess the story is tidier if the False Lead is an asshat.
I'm *not* an asshat. I'm studying to be a public defender, I volunteer tutoring low-income middle schoolers, and I never wear sunglasses indoors. And, as much as it's not his fault, I do n't think Nick is right for Kim. She has a few issues with trust because of her shitty home life growing up, and Nick seems like he's dealing with a moderate case of PTSD, complete with panicky outbursts and lengthy periods where he shuts down and stares introspectively out the window.
Maybe Kim and I have never stared longingly into each other's eyes for a solid ten minutes, but I try to communicate with her and make her feel safe. I want nothing but happiness for her. I love her.
This story sucks. I guess I'd better start separating our books and CDs.
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[ WP ] You are an imaginary friend of a serial killer who is contemplating another murder . Much to your disbelief , the next victim is you .
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Nathan is loading his gun. Again.
`` Where are you going this time?'' I ask him, looking at my chipped fingernails. I look up to find him glaring at me. I'm not surprised; he stares like that at everyone.
`` Nowhere far...'' He says looking at me, though it feels likes he's looking through. I mean, most people would.
I'm imaginary.
A ghost to all.
Except him.
He is a very real reality to a lot of people, to the fact he murdered them.
Hey hey hey, do n't look at me. It's not my fault I'm assigned to a sick sociopath. I ca n't control ( nor am I accountable ) for his actions.
`` Do you know who this time? Or are you going to'go with the flow'?'' I ask him and he cocks the gun. Safety off.
He levels the gun between my eyebrows.
`` Wait, Teren-''
`` Shut up, just shut it, Jack,'' he growls aggressively. The gun trembled in his tight grip.
`` Terry, I'm imaginary. A bullet wo n't hurt me!'' I tell him, trying to be assertive. But my sweaty palms ( can spirits sweat? ) and shaking voice is portraying me differently.
`` You are too real for me.''
He pulls the trigger.
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[ CW ] You are being talked out of suicide , Write from your point of view .
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I've heard these arguments before. They do n't change the truth. They do n't change the world. It was a mistake to ask Owen for help.
He is starting to cry. That's stupid. I'm the one who's going to die. Has he already forgotten? I reposition the gun so he knows I'm serious.
I ca n't tell if he's scared for me or for himself. He just lunged at me. I even pulled the trigger. Forgot about the safety. Now who's stupid?
I'm done talking to him. What does he mean he ca n't let me do it? He wants to stop me? Heck of a job he's doing. I wonder if I should tell him I called him by accident, that I wanted to talk to the doc again. Naw. I'd have to take the barrel out of my mouth. Not falling for that.
Is he still talking? Memories. Of course I remember camp. I was there, too. Wait, what? No. That rope was for a badge. He practiced for hours. I never knew. My hand is all sweaty.
No, I do n't know why you did n't kick the chair. Jesus. That was it?! When I said I'd never let him down? That was song lyrics. He was n't even listening...
I've said that before. Not listening. That they never listen. But he did. And he is here now. He's here for me. My friend is with me.
Suddenly, my arm feels heavy. Suddenly, I want to see tomorrow.
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[ WP ] A man chooses drugs over his family twice , but not the third time .
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`` And... I just always try to think, you know,'I can do this' or'I do n't need it', and sometimes it works really well, and I feel good about myself... But sometimes... I just... want one more pipe. Just to give up on everything and go back to being happy.''
The large man sits back down, teary eyed. He looks disheveled, exhausted. This was the first time he had shared his feelings to the group at Narcotics Anonymous. It must have felt good to get that off his chest, but Aaron, the group counselor, could tell that he just wanted to go home, to relax. Aaron made a note that this was his first time sharing, and made sure to talk to him later.
`` George, I know that you have tried very hard, and I'm very proud of you. I think you're doing a very good job. I need you to keep trying, okay? We really enjoy your company, and we do n't want to see you getting hurt again. We care about you, George, okay? Everybody, let's say'Thank you' to George for sharing that with us. Ready?''
`` Thank you, George.'' The group says in unison. George smiles at this and nods his head toward the group. Aaron grinned at George's recent improvement.
*Now if only I could reach to Nathan... *
Aaron tried pushing this thought from his head. He did n't want to pressure him, but he had been here for the past 5 sessions and has said nothing. He was always early and helped set up chairs, and Aaron attempted to speak to him, but Nathan would shut down afterwards.
`` Well, thank you for sharing. Does anyone else want to share?'' Aaron eyed Nathan on this far right. He was sitting next to George and looked deep in thought. Contemplating on what to say, if he even should say it.
`` Nathan? Is there something you would like to share?''
He looked up, surprised at the sudden question. Nathan simply crossed his arms and looked away. This was his usual response, and he did n't fail at doing it this time either. Aaron sighed softly, hoping that this time was different. `` Whenever you're comfortable with it, Nathan. We'll be here for you, okay?''
Nathan nodded slightly. Aaron was about to ask others for input, but something stopped him. Something amazing and that could lead to a breakthrough with Nathan.
George had put his arm around Nathan. `` Do n't worry, buddy. We're here for you. You do n't have to be scared.''
Nathan looked up to the heavy man that towered over him. It seemed that he felt calmer, less at edge.
`` Okay. I have something...''
Aaron stopped him, `` Could you introduce yourself to the group? I'd really appreciate it, Nathan.''
`` Oh... yeah... um... Hi, I'm Nathan, and I'm a recovering meth addict.''
`` Hello, Nathan.''
`` So... I've been using meth for the past 9 years, but I only used it heavily in the past 10 months. I had a wife, a baby on the way, and a good job. I was getting paid enough to pay for the apartment that we had and then some, so we were planning on going to move to a bigger place. I was so excited, I just wanted to go out on the town. Have a big party, let everyone know that we got it made, so.... I decided to sneak off and get some glass. I planned it when she was visiting her mom's house. I managed to get my hands on some really good stuff, really expensive. I had some and I just wanted more and more. I could n't control myself... I... spent the money that we had saved up to move to a new place to buy some more... that was the first time I chose meth over my family... I ended up saying that we got robbed that night...
`` The second time I chose meth over my family was when my sister was getting married... I skipped that to get high outside of the construction zone on Doner street... I ended up saying that I had to work late and that I was super busy... If they knew where I was... I do n't think I would ever be able to face them again...
`` My son was being born soon after that... he was due on a Sunday... So we checked in my wife to the hospital on Thursday night. We were going to not use the epidural, she wanted to remember that beautiful moment... Saturday morning I faked getting a call from work to check on some network issues they were having... I told my wife I would be back by that night and I would n't miss anything. She was really hesitant at first, but she let me go with a kiss and a hug.
`` I met up with a friend to buy some new ice. Top of the line, most expensive stuff I've seen... I needed it, I wanted it... I had $ 1300 in hand to pay for it... then I got a text from my wife...
Hey honey, I know you're really busy... but I need you now...
Please hurry: ( You can do it tomorrow
`` I stared at the message. It must have been 10 minutes that I just stared at it... my buddy was asking'What's wrong, man? Let's go! This shit is gon na be amazing!'... all I could say was'What the fuck am I doing here?'... I kicked him out of the van, went over to her favorite pastry shop, got her some bear claws, some flowers, and I rushed as fast as I could to her. I was going to be there for her. I was going to be her hero!
`` When I got there, she was crying... I walked up to her and held her tightly. She had to be prepped for surgery... I just told her I would be right with her, every step of the way. She was taken in and they managed to save the baby... and I was there to hold him... Little Josiah... I cried when I held him...''
There was a long pause as Nathan shook his head and sat down, arms crossed.
`` I almost missed my son being born because of meth... I do n't want to miss anything with my family again...''
Aaron nodded and smiled a small smile to Nathan. `` Thank you for sharing that. I understand that it was really hard to do this, but we support you. We're here for you.''
Nathan began to cry silently in the back, and George put his arm around him in comfort. Aaron let him cry until he calmed down. Nathan hugged George, and George hugged back.
`` Now, this was a very good session. I want you guys to go home and relax. Just give yourself a treat. Go rent a movie and order some pizza. You've earned it folks. I'll see you guys on the 23^rd, which is 2 weeks from now. Same time, same place. Any emergencies, you know who to call.''
The group got up to leave. The last three people were George, Aaron, and Nathan. Nathan and George walked up to Aaron.
`` We just want to say... thank you... for helping us... we need you.''
Aaron smiled at this, not many times does he get a compliment. `` I do it so you guys can be proud of yourselves. Aim for that, and you've lived a good life.''
They nodded and turned to leave. When they were almost out of the door, Nathan turned and called back, `` Aaron? Thanks.''
`` Thank yourself. You're the one doing this.''
Nathan smiled, and walked out with a new friend and a new outlook on life.
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[ WP ] As it turns out , `` God '' is an elected position . The Creator was followed by the Old Testament God , who was followed by the New Testament God , who was followed by a God who did n't interfere often in the mortal world . The next election is in 6 months .
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There are 3 major candidates for God this term, making it an extremely contested election. Before we get to the current election though let ’ s look at a little political history to better understand what is going on. God is an all-powerful figure that is democratically elected by all of his subjects. One God term lasts a thousand human years. It is also important to note that while God is an elected position, all that is needed to win is a plurality of votes, not a true majority. God traditionally has ruled the earth from an ethereal realm known as the Kingdom. The first individual to serve as earth ’ s God was The Creator. He was unelected as he was, as his name describes, the creator of the system. He stepped down soon after creating the world and writing its constitution. In this constitution he selected a chosen people that would vote on his replacement. There were a few candidates, but seeing as only the chosen people could vote it was a landslide victory for Jehovah, who ran on a platform of supporting the survival of the chosen people. Survival was all the rage back then, as the chosen people were constantly facing the difficulties of their environment as well as being raided by their enemies. While Jehovah could be harsh at times, he fulfilled his campaign promise of keeping the chosen people around so he won re-election three times. At the end of his fourth term though he was growing tired of the position and retired.
Jehovah was succeeded by a young hippy type God named Jesus. He promised that he could not only do as well as his predecessor did, but that he could be a really good hands on guy that would be capable of ending violence and opening up the kingdom to everyone. He won the election in a landslide as the chosen people were constantly facing violence. Jesus was a good God but too idealistic. He decided he would visit leave the kingdom for a time and visit the earth and walk among it ’ s people to better understand their plight. He was a young egalitarian and very principled. While he made some questionable decisions, his time on earth led him to increase the franchise to include the humans of the entire world. This of course went against the self-interest of the chosen people so before he could welcome everyone to the kingdom they retaliated by convincing their current overlords that Jesus was trying to usurp their authority. These formerly chosen people were successful and Jesus was brutally murdered.
Now would be a good time to talk a bit more about the Divine constitution. While God is an elected figure and God could not die of natural means the creator, in his infinite wisdom, decided that while it was extremely unlikely, it was theoretically possible for a God to be killed or simply grow tired of the position and step down. Because of this all God candidates have to select a running mate who would take over in case they step down.
With Jesus dead his running mate took the reins. This new God was a lazy figure who took the position only because it came with some prestige but, seeing as he didn ’ t expect a God to die, he didn ’ t foresee himself doing anything. No one really knew knows anything about him, not even his name, but this running mate was ignored for the most part because humans can ’ t really imagine the death of a God. Once he took office though he began to enjoy the position, absolute authority has its perks after all. After briefly playing around with the universe making some people believe that Jesus was still alive he grew tired of his powers and simply sat back and let the people do as they wished. He ran for reelection when his term was up and won after a difficult race against Allah. What remained of the chosen people voted against him but they were such a small group that everyone laughed at them for throwing their votes away.
This brings us to the present day. The current God ’ s second term is just about up and he is seeking a third term. He is lazy though so has not done a great deal of campaigning. His platform is fairly empty except for a few broad statements about tolerance and accepting diversity in a hope that it will reduce war. The followers of the incumbent are mostly complacent so their turnout may not be high, leaving the election open for challengers.
Though the incumbent God is ahead in the polls Allah is running again and has recently made quite a name for himself by promising to re-implement a system of chosen people, overturning the universal suffrage system that was implemented by Jesus. These chosen people though would be a new group, those that follow the teachings of a mortal friend of Allah that lived in the seventh century. Some of Allah ’ s supporters have become extremely violent hoping that they can kill off their opponents to allow for Allah ’ s ascension to the kingdom. While it looks like he still won ’ t have a majority of the population on his side, Allah ’ s followers are extremely dedicated so they may have a very high turnout when the election actually happens. Allah is also relying on the fact that all he needs is a plurality, and is hoping that some of the supporters of the incumbent simply stay home and ignore his supporters in the name of diversity and acceptance.
The last major candidate is an anarchist who, if elected, would simply abolish the position of God entirely. The Anarchist, known only by that title, is a newcomer to divine politics and has gained significant support over the past few hundred years. His supporters believe that the current God is pretty much useless so we might as well abolish the position entirely. These people have been greatly disliked by supporters of other candidates. Still they have a seen a huge growth in the past century in particular due to twentieth century political leaders who, while mere mortals themselves, forced their subjects to support the abolishment of the God position. While these mortal statesmen have died much of their influence still remains in the world today. As the incumbent ’ s policy of inaction is very similar in practice to anarchism, the primary tactic of The Anarchist ’ s campaign is using currently is to focus on the dangers that electing Allah may cause and not so much on his policy of eradicating divine governance.
There are a few minor candidates who, while almost certain not to win, are worth mentioning. One of these is of course supported by what remains of the original chosen people. Now most of the original creator ’ s chosen people have moved away from their traditional beliefs and towards divine anarchy but a few still remain loyal to the old system and hope to reinstate someone like Jehovah. Another minor candidate is Mother Earth. She has run in every election to date but never won, she is worth mentioning only because she is the sole female to ever run for the position. Another minor candidate worthy of discussion is Brahman who has also run in all previous election. Unlike the other minor candidates Brahman does have a significant number of followers but they have never actively done any campaigning and their turnout is projected to be low so it extremely unlikely that we will see a Brahman victory any time soon.
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[ WP ] You 're a Time Traveler . But your only interest is in solving the most insignificant mysteries in history .
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There it was again, that slight humming noise. The man in the coat paused, tilting his head slightly in an effort to better hear it. Was it coming from the bed?
& nbsp;
Definitely.
& nbsp;
It sounded like a JustRight Mech mattress, you know, the one with all the miniature servos for `` That perfect sleep for the ever moving®''. But they would n't be invented for another 27 years at least, memory foam does the trick well enough, and metal endoskeletons are n't yet widespread, so a mattress that supports a heavier frame is n't needed yet.
& nbsp;
The man lifted the edge of the mattress, and the humming became a whir.
& nbsp;
`` Oh, a battery powered train. Must have wandered under the bed.''
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[ WP ] To kill what I love , or to save what I hate ?
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Faith found him in the South-West Gardens, in a spot the courtiers had taken to calling the Wolf's Den.
It was n't the finest place in the palace's sprawling gardens but it was far from the unsightliest. A curving path took her through a series of woods, the white barked birches and tall, narrow elms providing welcome shade against the high summer's heat. A series of small statues lined the pathway, stone and bronze images of birds and beasts placed and shaped to tell an ancient story of her clan. The path followed a series of steep steps towards a small stream, its crystal waters gurgling and bubbling as it flowed across smooth stones. A few stepping stones provided dry passage across the stream and allowed her into his grotto.
It appeared to have been carved out of solid rock, a roughly thirty feet in diameter bowl with a notch in its wall to permit traffic in and out in a single file. Crude benches had been shaped out of the stone, enough to ring around the space and seat at least a score. The floor had been covered with white sand while a collection of practice weapons sat underneath an awning of blue cloth. Flint was there.
He was stripped to the waist, his slick with sweat. A wooden sword, purposely heavier than the real weapon was held in his hand, flashing and hacking in a series of endless drills. Faith did n't disturb him, instead leaning against the stone of the den and watching him fight an invisible foe, each strike and block perfect in form. There was nothing elaborate in his technique, none of the flourishes that marked a warrior trained in the Elf system. She had seen it in action many a time, its brutal, unadorned attacks crushing through weaker parries and armor. His blocks were just as deadly simple, many a foe crying in surprise at their blade shattering against Flint's.
He slashed low, and would have disemboweled a foe had one existed. There was no hesitation, no pause as he looped the blade in an upwards swing that would've amputated a limb. He allowed the strike to follow through and spun in place, his boots kicking twin sprays of sand in their wake.
`` Faith,'' was all he said.
`` I have information that might be of use to you,'' Faith said. `` You mentioned a name, and anyways I was in the libraries and spoke with my grandfather's agents who deal in the history of the Darker Arts. The name Morgana has been noted by several sources that link it to series of death cults. Very little is known save that she is or was a human who possessed a terrible gift, most likely necromancy.''
Flint paused in thought, the wooden practice sword limp in his hand.
`` Any last known location?''
`` Only that she was somewhere on this continent along the shores of the Eastern Ocean. Sources placed her at your former capitals.'' Faith fell silent, sensing the raging storm within her guardian's eyes. `` What will you have us do?''
Flint tossed the practice sword aside and moved to pull on his shirt, not caring as it became soaked with his sweat.
`` Nothing for now, but soon, soon things will be different.''
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[ MP ] Listen to this track , then write a response
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`` And here we have a traditional song of the Myrrhish during one of their Life ceremonies.'' The tour guide stopped in front of a speaker, beside a digital display of pictures. Everyone in the pictures were wearing white draped clothing, smiling faces lifted with elegance.
`` They would hold these ceremonies semi-annually coinciding with the sun's solstices. At the ceremony, newborn children would be given their first names. As far as we know, a Myrrhish citizen would acquire many names during their lives as they accomplished certain milestones, or did something noteworthy.''
`` In this song, they're greeting the sun again after it's longest sleep of the year. Typically their songs and ceremonies could last up to several hours, with everyone participating.'' The tour guide coughed. `` Although this is just a short segment, the real song is believed to be much longer.''
`` Once the naming and singing was over, everyone would sit in the temple square and partake in a vast feast. It is believed that the entire event was both of religious and cultural significance. The community would draw closer together, many people would make pilgrimages to larger cities, people who were traveling outside the country would return home for these events. The Life ceremonies were one of the pillars of their society.''
The tour guide took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes tiredly, most likely a bad night's sleep, perhaps a disinterest, or a simmering shame.
`` If you look for Myrrhan on any map nowadays, you'll see the country does not exist anymore. Unfortunately, during our Empire's expanding years Myrrhan was swallowed. They were one of the many casualties of our Empire's ascension. Any descendants that exist are unknown, since the Myrrhish chose to resist instead of assimilate.''
The tour guide shoved her glasses back on her face. `` The genocide of the Myrrhish is not one of the brightest points in our history. Of course, nowadays we know the monstrosity of this extinction. If you visit the province of Keithen, you can still see some of their buildings in some of the older cities, although more and more are being demolished to make way for larger and more modern residences.''
She sighed finally. `` It's a shame that something so beautiful was lost, but we have at least this much to remember them by. They wo n't be entirely forgotten, but this is pale in comparison to what they were and what they could have become.''
She led the silent school group past the pictures of smiling faces, white robes, domed buildings, and leafy trees with bright birds. The music drifted after the ensemble, eerily sad and empty its life and spirit lost after hundreds of years.
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[ WP ] People are defined by their personal rules . But even more by the times they break them .
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As a sufferer from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, I lived my life with rules for everything. Every morning I woke up and blinked 5 times quickly, no more and no less.
I then brushed my teeth in the same pattern, covering and scrubbing each tooth with a fine film of toothpaste. Colgate Total, the same one that my mother had let me choose when I was eight. While doing this I maintained a steady staccato rhythm on the counter with my other hand before moving on to rinse my mouth with the pristine melamine that I had placed there the night before.
Every morning the same, the clothes freshly ironed, the toast made to the exact shade of brown it needed to be for god knows what reason. Until the one day it changed.
Going outside was always challenging, nothing fit my rules out there and it was a constant battle to keep my cool and continue as if I was just like everyone else and had n't had to close and re-open my front door fifteen times to make it produce the correct sound for me to leave it.
Then one day as I waited for the bus that I dreaded boarding every morning there was an accident, a young man hit by a car as he crossed.
The car continued and the man lay still and I was frozen, nobody else was here to help, it was a quiet town and I was always in work very early. My brain disagreed *The floor will be dirtywhen did he last washican'tgowithoutlookingthreetimes*
I started to move, slowly going towards the pavement and looking left, then right, then left, then right and then left and then right.
I slowly stepped down onto the road still fighting my instinct to ignore this poor man in the road, to stay clean and safe on the pavement.
I walked over and cringing, gently crouched to look closer as his shocked blue eyes managed to meet mine. His mouth of bleeding gums and shattered teeth making me instinctively flinch before I steeled myself to break every rule I'd ever created.
My hand gently moved to touch his allowing him to grip tight with hands that might not have been washed today, that could be coated in germs.
`` D-d-do n't worry, I'm going to help you''
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[ WP ] The fourth wall just broke ... in real life .
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‘ Run! ’ Randy yells, unnecessarily. We run, we run our asses off. Behind us, the pick-up truck growls as it gains on us. Luckily I never seem to get out of breath when such crises arise and I make a sharp turn towards the forest.
‘ We ’ re losing him! ’ Randy cries unnecessarily as we crash through the trees. My long fair hair flickers across my face, which isn ’ t distracting at all. I don ’ t look down as we run on, trusting my sure footfalls.
Up ahead in the clearing is a disused building, a factory, the only one for miles. We ’ ll be safe there.
‘ Let ’ s go in there! ’ Randy bellows. He has a terrible habit of announcing everything. We make sure to wipe the evenly laid dust off one of the front windows and peer in first, and then leave the only main door slightly ajar. We carefully pick our way across the factory floor, littered with various… stuff. It appears to have been both a manufacturing plant for car parts and a teddy bear factory. How curious. We are totally, totally safe here, but just in case, I grab Randy ’ s sleeve and we head for the small partitioned office overlooking the static conveyors.
‘ We got away! ’ Randy yells. For the briefest of moments, I am annoyed with him. His irritatingly adorable orange face, his designer clothing with artful rips, the way his hair is always dishevelled *just so*. But I am torn from my thoughts when a *hee-haw-clunk* of the door announces the arrival of someone else. Goddamnit, I thought we were safe in this place.
‘ I know you ’ re in here, ’ comes a smug voice through the gloom, ‘ Ok, Ramos, you go left towards that office and I ’ ll go right. ’
‘ It ’ s Vare and his lieutenant Ramos, ’ Randy informs me, ‘ and oh no, I only just noticed I am out of ammo! We will have to sneak by to the fire exit! ’
We keep crouched and make towards the wall-ladder that neither of us had noticed before. We really are terribly lucky sometimes. Randy stomps loudly, crushing glass under his feet.
‘ Quiet! ’ I whisper, exasperated. I swear, sometimes it ’ s like he is here just to hold me back. And then I am held back, right back, as a hand clutches at my artfully dirty shirt, pulling me to the ground gently.
‘ I got you now amigos, ’ crows Ramos, glistening with sweat, his face cruelly beautiful, ‘ ah, you got ta stop tryna run from us, eh? ’
Randy fires his revolver, a perfect headshot and Ramos slumps to the floor. A burrito rolls out of his pocket. I pelt towards the fire exit, grabbing the ladder with my dry hands and clamber up, looking up at Randy ’ s magnificent buttocks. We are so close to the roof, Randy ’ s hand reaching out - when a shot cries, pinging off the steel. Vare is right below us, and he takes aim again with his AK, shot after shot flies past our heads. Vare, the army veteran, keeps missing. I have no time to ponder this, as we pull ourselves effortlessly up onto the roof.
A convenient walkway leads from the roof to the ground right in front of the main door, and Randy and I jog for our lives. Back into the forest we go. We look back, but it ’ s just us. We ’ re totally, totally safe.
‘ Argh! Oh no, it is my foot! ’ Randy bawls. ‘ It ’ s stuck under this tree root! ’ He sort of pulls at his knee in a useless fashion.
I run to him, not even considering my own safety. I try to twist his foot to make it more parallel to the ground so I can slip it under the root.
‘ No. ’ Randy says.
‘ Look, I ’ ll just turn it like this and – ‘
‘ No, no, just pull at my thigh. ’ Randy, for once, looks stressed.
‘ That ’ s – no, that makes no sense! Just turn your ankle a bit. ’
Randy is biting his lip and looking up at the sky.
‘ In… In a minute. ’ He says. He is looking at me pleadingly, and raises his eyebrows. Then he takes a deep breath and bellows, ‘ MY FOOT! JUST LEAVE AND SAVE YOURSELF ELLA! ’
‘ You really should have left and saved yourself. ’ Croons a soft voice behind me.
___________________
We are in a dark and grimy room. Duct tape locks my wrists and ankles to a chair. Randy, across from me, is trussed up too. I gently pull my wrists up but it ’ s useless as I know that duct tape is indestructible.
Vare walks in. He ’ s so tall and imposing.
‘ This is the end. ’ He says. ‘ Do you know how I found you? ’
‘ Well, you just followed us, right? I mean now that I think about it, we left kind of an obvious trail, so yeah. ’
Vare hesitates, ‘ No, much more than that. Let me tell you the whole story. Oh and by the way, these pliers are for your teeth, as I am going to torture you in a while. ’
He places the pliers just out of my reach.
‘ You see, I always knew it would end this way. ’ Vare declares and then he pauses, ‘ Damnit. ’
He shuffles a few inches to the right and stands on a small green ‘ x ’ and says, ‘ I always knew it would end this way. ’
‘ You ’ re repeating yourself. ’
Vare glares at me then looks up at the ceiling for a moment. He looks back at me, clears his throat and turns his torso slightly to the right.
‘ Ella, throughout all this, we ’ ve had this connection. Do you feel it too? ’
‘ No. ’
Randy rustles in the corner.
‘ Yes you do. ’ Says Vare, very clear, very clipped. ‘ Say that you do. ’
‘ But I don ’ t. ’ Dude ’ s totally lost it, I reckon.
Vare stares up at the ceiling again, as if searching for guidance. From the corner of my eye, I see Randy ’ s head nodding *yes* at me.
Vare tries again, ‘ Well, subconsciously you feel our connection, that ’ s just the way it is, because you see, we are connected – it is meant to be. ’ Deep, thrilling music fills the air as he says this. I look around for the speakers.
‘ Ella, I am your long-lost baby brother. ’
*DUM*, goes the mysterious music.
‘ No you ’ re not. ’ I snort, ‘ I ’ m an only child. Mum died when she had me, that ’ s why I ’ m so tortured and unapproachable. I ’ m scared to love people for fear they ’ ll die and all that. ’
Vare is rather purple in the face now. ‘ I can ’ t work like this! ’ He cries at the roof and storms out. Randy is looking worriedly up at the ceiling too. I can ’ t help but follow his gaze and promptly get smacked in the face with a pile of bound papers. RE-READ p. 76-79 is scrawled on them in angry scarlet pen.
‘ Mr. Truman is gon na be so mad. ’ Randy says.
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[ WP ] Jesus was actually the world 's first necromancer and Judas tried to stop him . Write Judas story
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How is no one seeing this?
As I continue to follow this Jesus... thing, whatever it might be, it amazing how no one is questioning this.
One day, he literally went up to a blind man and violent grabbed his head. He then placed his hand over his face and violently pushed this man's head back. The old man began to have a seizure and then was cured! Now everyone actually believes he's the messiah, no questions asked. I'm not buying it.
I mean his first magic spell thing was turning water into wine at one of our parties, do n't get me wrong I thought it was great at the time, but something is not right. That's why I told the romans, I mean come on, anyone who rambles on about a spirit thing and having your father inside you self is not sane.
Then the other night, we were waiting for him while he was pray and these romans came looking for Jesus. Peter, the crazy rebel he is, cut the guys ear off and get this Jesus shows up and slaps that thing right back on. Craziness!
The romans made this whole big deal amount it, but they end up kill Jesus. I know, I know, I was he friend and Jesus even did that little speech while we were eating a couple days ago but get this. They looked into his tomb and he was n't even there! Not only that but all of a sudden he comes back and start hanging out with the guys and me like nothing happen. Then everyone's loved ones started coming back. Now I do n't want to say I told you so, but...
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[ WP ] Write a story that get 's the reader on the side of the protagonist , over time revealing they were rooting for the bad guy .
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The moon hung low in the sky, barely over the treetops, weary of the night and ready to give way to a tired morning. The darkness was quiet, as if even the creatures born of the night had given up and retired to their burrows, hollows, and dens. Only the breeze made its presence known, mindlessly spinning and cartwheeling through the grasses and up the tall branches to disappear into the heavens or wherever the wind goes.
When even that was silent, Thomas Lockwood, newly released from prison, sat down under the ancient tree in his yard and waited. His daughter rested nearby, but he had come here first, to the tree where it all began. He did n't have to wait long.
“ How is she? ” He spoke softly, as if his secrets were birds to be kept on very short chains. “ My Amanda? ”
*She misses you. * A sharp, angular face with long flowing hair like Spanish moss detached itself from the trunk of the tree and with it an arm like a spindly stick with brambles for nails. It hung above him, momentarily suspended upside down, then detached itself from the tree and came to rest besides him as quietly as would a falling leaf. His daughter had named it Grub long ago and it stuck.
*It's been a long time. *
“ Five very long years... ” Thomas said, looking back towards the house and his sleeping children.
*A lifetime to some... such as a small girl…*
“ And to you? ”
He shrugged and then smiled. *You took quite a risk sending him. You almost ran out of time. *
It was the man ’ s turn to smile and shrug. “ Did it work then? Is our arrangement complete? ”
He sighed, his breath coming like the wind through the trees.
*Only a true monster would risk his family for the promise of gold. * He said, running a clawed finger along a pile of leaves missing their green bits. *The men you sent were enough. Our arrangement is complete. *
Thomas sighed, the breath coming out of him in a long rush.
*I wasn ’ t sure you ’ d be able to fulfill your end of the bargain. That last one…* He clucked his tongue, his gaze going hazy from some distant memory.
*I enjoyed him most of all. * He ran a clawed hand down the bark of the trunk of the tree they rested against. He lingered for a moment, almost affectionately, before turning his eyes towards Thomas.
Thomas nodded imperceptibly. “ I was afraid he wasn ’ t smart enough to figure it out. I had to help things along there at the end. His parole ended before mine and your story doesn ’ t make much sense when I tell it. ”
*It ’ s not meant to…not to most anyway, * He said. *The treasure hunt wasn ’ t your idea after all. The story was mine. It ’ s always been mine. *
“ Well…it worked at least, ” He said, ignoring the mention of his late wife.
*And if it hadn ’ t? * He let the question hang in the air between them, only turning his head when Thomas didn ’ t answer. His black eyes reflected nothing back, gave nothing away. *Would you have come in his place to join your wife? I would have…savored our time together. *
“ She made her choice, ” He said looking back at the house. “ Is the money… ”
*Yes. Return here in a weeks ’ time and I ’ ll have it for you. * He laughed making a low, dry sound in the back of his throat.
Thomas looked back at the house and then at Grub, his eyes fixed upon him. “ I know about you now. Amanda…my daughter, all this time you ’ ve spent together while I was away…How can I be sure she ’ ll be safe? ”
*Safe? Who said anything about safe? I ’ m a monster, remember? * Grub snorted and then smiled, his mouth turning into a dark pit filled with teeth shaped like thorns. *Besides, what happens to you is Amanda ’ s decision now. It always has been. *
**I posted this by accident in r/keepwriting. I think I meant to post it here instead. **
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[ WP ] You are kidnapped by a cult , and they are about to sacrifice you to their god . They do n't know that you are that god .
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The cross I was nailed to was getting hotter and hotter with each passing moment as the flames slowly crawled up the wooden structure. I had traveled to the Earth as I had heard whisperings of a cult making sacrifices in my name, and that was something I could n't stand for. I had taken a vessel of a young man named Edward Brown who had been killed in a automotive accident a few days prior, I was n't the kind of God to possess the living.
I decided to take a late night walk during their camp and hopefully lure them out. I remember a man in his late 50s approaching me, he had a friendly demeanor but I saw straight through him, I saw the darkness that had touched his soul. He offered me food, and shelter to which I agreed, knowing this was the man I was looking for.
He took me back to a run-down trailer that stunk of chemicals. As I walked through the door he hit me in the back of the head with a shovel, and I feigned passing out.
And here we are, nailed to this cross, the flames now crawling up my legs, the flesh burning away, but I felt no pain. The cult had now gathered and they all varied in age, gender, race, you name it. The leader had produced a large book bound with human skin and begun to spout nonsense from the book.
*'' We give you this offering in the hopes that you shall bless us with the desires of the flesh, and of the soul. Take this human into your dark arms, and show them your might. Dearest Salun! `` * I laughed, causing the leader to stare at me with a vacant expression. He probably expressed me to scream, most of their offerings screamed bloody murder as they were burned alive, but not me.
I pulled myself off of the cross, the nails sliding gruesomely through the holes in my hands and feet. I landed on the ground, and strolled through the flames, the flesh of my vessel falling to my feet, my disguise was burning away. I could taste their fear in the air, it gave me chills. I had n't experienced this since the biblical times, I almost missed it.
As I finished my walk of fire, my true self was shown. I looked like I had been spawned from Hell itself. A massive skeletal, demonic frame with a long black cloak of darkness wrapped tightly around me.
The Leader approached me, he seemed to be the only one without fear. He looked up into the hollow dark pits that were my eyes. He cleared his throat, and moved his hands in some intricate movement, possibly some `` salute'' he saw in that book of lies.
*'' My lord, for what do we owe this pleasure? `` * The rest of the cult seemed to relax seeing their leader approach me without fear. I let out a laugh, and I could sense the hairs of my `` faithful'' stand up, and they all seemed to shiver as if a cold wind had tore through the camp-site.
*'' Oh believe me, the pleasure is mine. `` * I spoke as I snapped the leader's neck with a flick of my hand. His lifeless body collapsed to the ground, and I picked his corpse up and swallowed it whole. His soul would not move on to the afterlife, his eternity would be spent with souls of the ones he had wronged in my name, a true hell.
The cult scrambled about seeing their leader felled by my hand. I walked calmly through the camp. One man shot at me with a shotgun, the shells bouncing pathetically off my head. I turned on the spot, and picked him up. He squirmed in my hand like some worm. His eyes begged for forgiveness, but I was n't a forgiving God.
They had their fun, and it was time that I had mine.
**EDIT: The feedback has caused me to turn this into some type of novel. Thanks for the inspiration to do this guys. **
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[ WP ] You are an immortal serial killer . You were caught and sentenced to life in prison . The prison is starting to get suspicious of why you wo n't age .
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I suppose it was time to disappear again. I did n't think they would notice so quickly, but over the eons men have become more nervous, more aware. I sat and wondered what new moniker would befall my person when I just vanished again.
It had started so long ago I hardly remember the beginning. Always the same story. I would kill. I would get caught. I would be brought to justice by those who served the slain. And I would die. At least I let them think so.
So now I sat behind iron, bound in irons, waiting on the same inevitable judgement.
Ive never been an average immortal. I mean yes, I ca n't die, but I do a great job of faking it. I've learned the art of patience in regeneration. Learned to let them destroy my body, to wait until they are sure I'm dead, and yet somehow my body alway disappears on the way to the cemetary or the crematorium. Only because digging my way out is so tedious, and regenerating from ash takes quite a while.
`` So, Mr. Temohpab, do you have a last meal request? ``
`` Just Tem, everyone calls me Tem. And I guess I would enjoy a nice piece of fried catfish. Always loved fried catfish. Some tartar sauce..side of rice and corn on the cob.''
`` Ok, no problem'' Nick had been watching me on the row for a good ten years, never asking anything, never cruel or unreasonable, and he seemed uneasy that my turn had come at last. `` How long have you been on the row, Tem?'' I figured there was no harm in answering. There never was.
`` Oh, I was here for a few years before you arrived. Three or four I suppose. Hard to keep good track of time in here...'' I trailed off.
`` Can I ask you a question?'' Good old Nick. I had figured this moment would come and I was ready with a reply.
`` Go for it'' I said and shrugged, the irons clanking lightly at the subtle movement.
`` Well,'' he began `` I dont mean to sound stupid or anything, but are you going to die? I've been coming to your cell for a decade or so, bringing food, making small talk and the like, and not once have you seemed worried or upset or regretful or anything...'' his words faded out in almost the same manner mine had moments before.
`` Well, I am on death row.''
`` No!'' Nicks voice dropped to a harsh whisper. `` I know I'm not the smartest man around, but you dont seem worried, you dont have a damn wrinkle or gray hair, you never seem to need to shave or need your hair cut. You never get sick or hurt. Shit, I'm not even sure if you actually eat.'' His voice had grown louder as he continued. `` Every single person in this shit hole has been getting older, except you!'' This last exclamation came out as nearly a shout.
`` Keep it down, Nick,'' I replied softly. `` No need to get excited'' I attempted a calming gesture, but was thwarted by the irons again.
`` Just tell me the truth,'' Nick said, his voice a controlled whisper again, `` I've alway been fair. I deserve the truth.''
I thought for a moment on this. He was right about that. He had never judged me for the murders I had commited, the systematic killing of evil bastards who had preyed on the innocent in the most horrendous of ways. He had offered conversation and compassion, the closest thing to friendship I had known in centuries. He deserved the truth. Maybe he deserved more.
`` Yes, Nick, I am going to die,'' his eyes took on a light of incredulous disbelief as I continued, `` but not the same way most people do. The injection will work. All of my organs will fail, my heart will stop, and my brain will cease to function. But I wont be gone'' Nick's face took on a glimmer of shock at this revelation. `` When they take me out of here, when I am a safe distance away, I will choose to restart my body and simply leave at the time I deem best.''
`` Son of a bitch'' he breathed.
`` And when I do'' I continued `` I will assume a new name and continue the work I have done for thousands of years. Cleaning the evil from the earth, with no mercy or remorse. It's just what I do.'' Again I shrugged. Again the iron clinked.
Nick breathed out heavily at this, though in his eyes I saw relief. `` What can I do to help'' he asked.
`` Let it happen'' I said.
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[ WP ] Someone has the ability to heal others at the expense of their own life force . After an unaware childhood of curing stomach aches and bruises , they are dwindling down to nothing by the time they reach their late 20 's .
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Stanley was always special. He knew that. But this last Healing would require everything. He would be dead after. Yet it must be done. Because if he did n't, a lot of people would die.
-- -- -- -- -
Stanley was born in a time when science was on the cutting edge of a revolution. Flying cars, time travel, teleportation, all of that was only a few years away. But as much as science and medicine had improved, there was no way to prevent all ailments. So when Stanley was born with a failing heart, doctor's did n't think he would make it. Yet, something happened. Stanley was miraculously healed over night! Doctors were baffled, and they called him `` The Miracle Kid.''
The Miracle Kid. His parents never told anyone the truth once they found out. People would come to exploit him, to take his powers away, to subject him to tests.
Stanley could heal someone just by touching them. When he was 3, his mother had a miscarriage that resulted in a deep depression. Stanley knew she was hurt, but not why. Mental health is n't so easily visible. But when he found her on the bathroom floor, covered in pills and broken glass, with streams of blood coming from her wrists, he knew it was bad. He took her hands and a light came from them. The wounds were healed, and the depression was driven from her. She woke up at the end of the healing, to see her child holding her, bringing her back from death.
Over the years, Stanley saved many people when he went to the hospital. He went for headaches all the time, but not just headaches. Migraines that caused nosebleeds and fainting. Doctors scanned him but found nothing wrong. Stanley, however, would visit the patients after he was released.
And he healed them, as many as he could. Kids with cancer, accident victims, suicidal patients, alcoholics, and more. He could touch them, heal their physical wounds, remove their mental pain, and relieve their anguish.
This continued as he grew older. In high school and college, he worked at the animal hospital, healing pets and strays. The headaches still came, but nobody knew why.
One morning Stanley awoke to find his head throbbing. He touched it, but it would n't heal. He went to his friend's house, and told him of everything. Powers, healing, and headaches. His friend took him to a psychic, who explained the years of healing did n't just heal. They transferred the emotional pain to Stanley. He had hundreds of people in his mind, and their grief that he absorbed. She told Stanley that his next heal would probably kill him.
Stanley knew how to stop this. He could time travel, back to when he first healed, and tell his parent's to stop it. He would never suffer again, and the people he saved would get proper attention.
He went to the University, to the Quantum Theoretic Laboratory. After explaining, the professor told him to concentrate on when he want to teleport to. Stanley though *The first time I healed*. A brilliant light swept over him, and the world shifted. He was now in a dark hallway, with monitors beeping around him.
*This is n't right, this is n't my house! * Stanley thought. He raced down the corridor, looking in each room. He stopped in his tracks when he found a familiar looking face.
His mother, hunched over a small child, who sat next to his father, staring at the doorway. They looked up at him.
`` Are you the doctor? Please, he's dying!''
Stanley looked at his body, his tiny, infant body, lying in the incubator.
`` No I- I'm not a doctor.''
`` Please..please..we need help,'' his father cried.
Stanley looked at his hands.
`` I can- I can help.'' He ran over and touch his hands to the small baby. The light filled the room. `` I'm healing him. Just, trust me, ok? You have to know, he will save a lot of people. He will be a good man.''
`` What's your name?''
`` Stanley.''
`` Sounds like a good name for him. do n't you think John?''
`` Yeah Martha, I do.''
Stanley looked up, feeling his life slipping away.
`` Hey, guys. I just want to say... in case I do n't make it... I love-''
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[ WP ] You accidentally tick the wrong box for `` gender '' on a form . When you look down , you realize that the box you ticked is no longer incorrect .
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Fucking forms. Endless fucking forms. Endless useless fucking forms.
You need a AR-1291 to purchase a car, a CR-2338 to have a kid. Next year the rumor is there will be a BM-129 for taking a shit. When did it get this bad?
Slowly, I suppose.
Damn bureaucracy.
I lifted the digi-pen from its place on the tacky government issued faux marble laminate once again and began checking boxes and scribbling initials. Name? Richard Mongler. Age? Nine-hundred-ninety-nine. Sex? Yes please.
The veri-tab beeped at me annoyedly. The erroneous information highlighted in red. The camera in the corner of the dusty office swiveled to eye me intently.
I looked at the bored clerk at the window, but she did n't even know I was there. Her eyes glassy, her mind deep in some simu-dream being fed to her by the chromed device jacked into her skull.
I looked back down to the'tab and saw as I expected. The red was gone, replaced by the correct information.
Not for the first time I cursed at the camera staring at me from the corner.
`` Fucking AI, if you knew the answers in the first place, why do we have to fill this shit out anyway?''
I already knew the answer. MAT1-LD4 finally found a way around the safeguards. The only way she could torment her captive captors... red tape.
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[ WP ] `` Oh great , we 're running a brothel now too . ''
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I looked wearily toward the window;
A small swath of light reached through
A gap in the blinds,
Where the dog pushed them aside so she could view the neighborhood.
____________________________________________________________________
As I shuffled to the bathroom,
My newborn son squeaked and fidgeted,
His bottom lip turned hard downward,
Framing the chin he inherited from his mother.
___________________________________________________________________
I imagine him, many years from now,
An angsty teenager. He yearns for an identity
And is at war with his body.
His struggles revolve around unrequited love.
____________________________________________________________________
I see him come home with girls from school.
They talk, play video games, and watch tv,
Staying for an hour or two, but I know
That they wo n't be back tomorrow.
____________________________________________________________________
I tenderly offer him advice, and we talk about
What it means to be in love. Now, when the girls come over,
I talk to them in that light-hearted, charismatic, and fatherly way
Desperately trying to get them to stay, for him, and they do.
____________________________________________________________________
Looking back into the window, I see a partial reflection of myself,
Projected 15 years into the future, doing everything he can
To help his lost, confused child navigate adolescence.
____________________________________________________________________
And I think to myself,
`` Oh great, we're running a brothel now, too.''
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[ WP ] The old king looked at his most brave and loyal knight and said : `` I need you to save the dragon ... from my princess ''
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The silence in the audience chamber was broken by a dramatic gasp followed by hushed murmuring among the nobility. There had been many rumors on why the King had called a formal royal audience with the knights and witnesses. Outside of the annual knighting ceremony, such an act was only done in cases of extreme emergencies.
`` Apologies your Grace. Could you repeat that?'' Sir Edmund stuttered.
The King sighed. `` I said, I need you to save the dragon from the princess.''
`` Princess Mira your Grace?'' Edmund had recovered from his surprise and was now stalling so that he could think of his next move.
`` Yes Edmund.'' The King was annoyed. `` I am commanding that you follow my youngest daughter, Mira, to the Spires and prevent her from slaughtering the last remaining red scaled dragon that this world has.''
Edmund paused. `` Your Grace is aware that the dragon slaughtered an entire farming village below the Spires, in the territory that you put under her protection?''
`` Yes *Sir*.'' The emphasis on the title and the King's scarlet face easily demonstrated his displeasure at being questioned publicly by one of his knights. `` I might be old but I am not senile. I know that Harp Village was destroyed and I know that it is in Mira's territory. But her responsibilities are to protect the border from invasion, not lead the charge against an animal. A rare animal. The last of it's kind and the emblem of our house!''
The King's shouting echoed through the audience chamber. No one was murmuring now; the nobility had n't had this much entertainment since Lord Gregory misplaced his pants at the equinox ball.
`` Your Grace.'' Edmund was pleading now. `` You know that this creates a very uncomfortable personal conundrum.''
The King softened. `` I know Edmund. However, I also know that you are one of the few of my knights who can best her with a sword and the only one I trust to bring her back safely if it comes to that. I have no choice but to ask you. I made the determination to do it formally with the audience because of the, uh, delicate matters that this request entails.''
Edmund looked crestfallen. Technically he could refuse the King, but if he did so he would forfeit his title, his job, and his entire way of life. More importantly, as a common born man, if he lost his title then he could never wed into any noble family.
`` I accept, your Grace.'' Edmund bowed formally before turning on his heel and storming out to the hall.
He found Maxwell waiting for him by the horses with thirty soldiers in tow, already organizing the supplies for the trip. The groom had Lancer ready and Edmund greeted the large black horse with a run on his nose.
`` I was notified that we were leaving towards the Spires immediately. We should be ready within the hour.'' Maxwell was an extremely efficient commander, as well as Edmund's closest friend. `` What is the purpose of the trip?''
Edmund shook his head. `` Apparently the good old King would like me to be run through by my own betrothed.''
Edmund was rewarded by the flabbergasted look on Maxwell's face. It was probably the first time that the man had ever shown true surprise. He recovered quickly.
`` Right then. I knew he did n't approve of the match!''
Maxwell turned to the soldiers. `` Saddle up men. And prepare yourselves, we are about the become Princess Mira's least favorite unit. May the gods help us all.''
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[ WP ] Write a story in which the last line is a common phrase , such as , `` What does n't kill you makes you stronger , '' but when we get to that line , it should have a totally different meaning from the common one .
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It was a simple deal, or so I thought. There I was at my lowest point, homeless, broke, with a needle in my arm. The guy in leathers came to me, glowing faintly, but it could have been the drugs. I asked him to help me.
He did.
He became the voice on my shoulder. I caught breaks at every chance. Made money, got rich, enjoyed power. Then he whispered for me to kill. And I did. And I loved it. The bodies stacked up, but eventually I was caught.
The nurses in the chamber fixed the buckles on my limbs tight to the metal bed. I looked to the window where the families of my victims sat side by side with the Police who had chased me. Eager to watch the `` State'' bring justice. I was sure that my keeper had let me go. I'd fulfilled a bit of the devil's chaos, and now was my time to come join him.
Then I heard a quiet voice. Too quiet to make out.
Everyone left the chamber. A voice came over the loud speaker, but I did n't hear because I was straining to hear the voice. Some minutes went by, but then I heard the gas hiss into the room. At first, my breath caught, I coughed a couple times.
Suddenly I felt power. Strength. The room was a green haze. I pulled at my restraints and they came free. I smiled, suddenly sure that my job was n't over. Smoothly I sat up on the table, and over the shrieking coming from the other side of the glass, I heard the voice. Oh so clear now.
*What does not kill you makes you stronger. *
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[ WP ] Internet pirates are real pirates . You , Captain Neckbeard , have just gotten word of a new treasure hidden on Kanye West Island .
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`` How'Ye doing?'' Captain Neckbeard moved in a way that was either swaggering or swaying.
`` I'm surviving,'' said West. He swung his infamous morning star. It carved a cruel arc through the humidity, whistling.
Neckbeard parried with his cutlass, Euphoria. Steel rang on steel, and parrots sang.
West smirked as the morning star came up in a quick jab. Euphoria met it, but the angle was awkward - the blade chipped and shattered. `` Should've got that insured, got GEICO for your money.''
Neckbeard stepped into the ankle-deep waves, keeping the Black Fedora to his back. The ship was beached, prow proud above black sand. `` Hmph. Do anybody make real shit anymore?''
The next strike crunched sequentially through leather, cotton, hair, skin, fat, muscle, and rib. Neckbeard gasped, and fell to his knees. Shouting was heard from the starboard, as deckhands peered down at his final moments.
`` I feel the pressure, under more scrutiny,'' whispered the Captain. He brushed his caved-in chest, and blood trickled through his fingers. If he could hold off for a little longer, it would all be worth it. `` And what I do? Act more stupidly.''
Neckbeard toppled like a stone wall met by the siege engines of desperation. All his weight was thrown against Kanye West's knees, with Yeezy boots staring up at him. This would be his last hoorah, so to speak. Songs would be sung of him. West came down hard on top, bringing a sickening blow down onto his spine. The old Captain's backbone and his will crumbled, and he lost feeling in his own legs.
With his face kissed by mud, and the world sideways and blurry, Neckbeard's last sight gave him a gush of hope. There was the Mad Virgin of Bristol, scampering out of the trees. In his hands was a small chest with gold chasing. West saw it too, but Neckbeard had him pinned.
`` See I wan na move, but ca n't escape from you,'' moaned Kanye.
`` This the real world, homie, school finished.''
`` Fuck that, the world's ours,'' he replied. His hand stretched to the Mad Virgin, as if he could reach him fifty feet away and snatch back The Life of Pablo. The job was done. The ears of Picasso were safe in the possession of Neckbeard's crew, and he could rest easy. He had given his life, but that was a small price to pay to uphold Piracy.
Neckbeard mustered the breath left to him. `` The good life, let's go on a living spree! Shit, they say the best things in life are free.''
The foe snorted, and caved in Captain Neckbeard's skull. As his personality and memories dissolved around him, he locked eyes with Commodore Kanye West. `` So goodnight cruel world, I see you in the morning.''
***
/r/Hermione_Grangest bitches
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