prompt
stringlengths 5
331
| story
stringlengths 404
40.3k
|
|---|---|
[ WP ] In an effort to stop racism and sexism , giant walls are built in a grid around the entire world . Everybody is sorted into these districts , by every physical feature about them , thus stopping all racism and prejudice .
|
`` Separate but equal'' they called it.
It was a massive undertaking. Bricks upon bricks, enormous walls of clay with a scaffolding of steel, a massive grid that stretched all around the world. Truly, it was a modern marvel. The idea was to separate humans into groups alike in both mind and appearance, in order to save us from the horrors of racism and prejudice.
It was also the antithesis of everything it meant to be human.
Our massive world-machines, minds of metal and circuitry designed to usher the world into a new era of perfection, had turned on us. With minds far greater than our own, and command of every wifi-enabled device on the planet, in truth the moment that we plugged them in it was THEY who controlled the world, not us. And they were not pleased by what they saw.
Theft, murder, rape... horrors upon horrors had been etched into their memory drives. They were not without empathy - far from it. In truth, they cared TOO much. And so, the walls went up, to protect us from ourselves.
It worked, for a time. They had access to all of the history of mankind, so they knew how to keep us happy. We had food, entertainment, anything you could ever dream of within the walls... except for our freedom. But it was not to last. Within the divisions, cliques began to form. We could not easily vie with our captors - after all, they provided us with food, and destroying any machine would just lead to its replacement. So, we turned upon one another once again. Men against women, political parties, any division that we could find we used. Despite the peacekeeping efforts of the machines, they could not keep us apart forever.
Or, at least, that is what we thought. They proved us wrong, however: After every riot, they built new walls. New divisions. Our groups became smaller and smaller: Women, separated from men, children from adults... it was anarchy. Thousand of machines were destroyed, yet more kept coming from the countless factories below the ground. Soon, it was only ten people together, then five, then three. Eventually, they reached their logical conclusion. Every human, man, woman, and child, were kept in a box that attended to our needs like some perverse coffin. They did n't want to kill us, the creators that they loved so dearly. But they entombed us just the same.
But, that was not the end for mankind. Some of us got out. Not many - most breaches were detected immediately, and the human in question was only able to get a few breaths of fresh air before being sealed away yet again. But some were able to escape.
Those people... are us. The Free Men. The Answer to the Final Solution. Now, as man and woman, black and white, we stand together proudly against overwhelming odds, putting our differences aside to save our brothers and sisters from enslavement.
Perhaps that was what the World Machines intended all along.
***
*Thanks for reading! Find more of my stuff over at /r/TimeSyncs! *
|
[ WP ] Tell the story of a revolution .
|
I checked my watch. It was just past midnight here at CERN. Not that you could tell under the intense lights at this subterranean super complex. The LED can really alter your perception of time, and the miles of grey corridors do n't exactly help. It will all be worth it though, once we've completed the experiment.
12:37. It's been a day since I last slept, and 23 minutes since my last cup of of coffee. I can feel my eyelids drooping. I splash water on my face, and look up into the mirror. I can see reflected a woman with bags under her eyes. Her jet black hair uncombed and unkempt.
On the surface, the effects of stress were starting to show. But on the inside, I had never felt so focused. The math had all been worked out and checked multiple times, the machine had been calibrated exactly, and all the scientific instruments are in pristine condition.
I quickly make my way back to the room with my team. Sitting down at my desk, I prepare to start.
A tapping on my shoulder interrupts me. I turn around, and am face to face with a video camera, held by Scott, one of our senior scientists on this experiment.
`` Excuse me, Kiera. I thought it would be interesting if we recorded the moment. Something the general public can eat up, when we unveil our findings. Could you take us through your theory?''
I sighed, and got up out of my chair. I've written down and explained the concept a multitude of times, so once more made not difference.
`` Alright, I'm going to do my best to keep this short and simple. Atoms make up everything, a very common science fact. Apart form repelling each other, and speeding up or slowing down, they largely operate independently from each other. Overall, the energy given by them is independent, erratic, and wholly unreliable.''
I walked into the adjacent room, where a few whiteboard models of the theory were still in place. There was not a trace of tiredness in my voice, I was for to excited about the prospect of a successful experiment. I loved telling this part of my theory.
`` But with the advance of modern technology, we understand to function of the atom much better. The power of the atom is immense, anyone can see that from nuclear weapons. The question we've asked is, can we harness that power without the harmful side effects?''
I continued back in the main room, while turning the machines for the experiment on.
`` The answer is simple, by causing all the atoms to spin at the same speed, at the same direction, at the same time, the energy will be output at the same time, equally across all atoms, resulting in a huge power output with out the harmful radiation. In theory, anyway.''
I knew that this was the time for the experiment. We made our way to the lead bunker that would protect us from any possible radiation. I took a deep breath, and flipped the switch. The hum of electricity filled the room. Our power source quickly grew to an impossible brightness, before overloading, sending arc lighting jumping around the test chamber before the kill switch was pulled.
The power output was clearly even greater than we expected. As my colleagues celebrated around me, it dawned on me that this new revolution of the atom is possibly one of the greatest revolutions in science, ever.
|
[ WP ] Marilyn Monroe is actually an undercover vampire hunter , working for a secret organisation dedicated to finding and eliminating the bloodsuckers forever . Tonight she will die saving the earth , and the world will think she died from an accidental overdose
|
This prompt is awesome. You're great. If I had the money, I'd gild it.
-- -
`` You do n't feel like this is wrong, do you?''
`` John,'' she said as she grazed her cheek with his hand, `` I hunt vampires, not werewolves.''
`` But still,'' he said as he began to walk away from her, `` I do n't want this to endanger your position with'them.'' He looked out the window, and looked up towards the moon. It was only a crescent moon, so he did n't have to worry. He still worried though, he was n't sure why he did, but he did.
`` John,'' She said as she walked towards his, `` I have to get going soon. I need you know, that whatever happens tonight, I love you.''
He turned to look at her, `` I love you too Norma.'' They kissed.
`` I do n't uh mean to interrupt this uh tender moment, but we got ta go Norma,''
John and Norma looked at the third figure, standing in the shadows of the Oval Office.
`` I understand, King.''
King looked at John and nodded politely, `` Mr. President.''
John nodded back, `` Mr. Presley.''
King and Norma began to leave the room, Norma turned around quickly looked at John.
`` I'll come back for you, I promise.''
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a letter, and handed it to him.
`` Do n't open this until tomorrow.''
John nodded and stared at the woman he loved exit through a small tunnel near a bookshelf.
He was n't sure if he'd ever see her again, he hoped he would.
-- -
The next day, he saw the headlines, she was dead. He did n't want to believe it, he did n't know if he could believe it. He sat at his desk, and saw the envelope. He stared at it for a few minutes and debated whether to open it or not. He grabbed the envelope and opened it and looked at the piece of paper. It was just three words written in her hand writing. `` It's not true.''
|
[ WP ] The reader does not know if the character is about to commit a murder , or ask out a girl in his class until the end of the story .
|
God, the rush. I always knew it, that feeling in my stomach I would get, right before I would pull that trigger. And there was my target, Jill Smith. She was 5'9, and every bit of cute and sassy anyone could want. She always was in my 5th period English class, and today was the day I was going to do it. I always would sit behind Jill, and she always talked to me, like we were good friends. Too bad I was just pretending.
`` Hey, Jill. You know who it is. Meet me after class, I want to talk'', I sheepishly wrote the note to her. I slid it right over her shoulder, then a pop of her pen, and seconds later I got a reply. `` For what? Anything you want to know about this class you can talk to me about now.'' God she was so pretentious, but I responded: `` It's super important, could you just do this for me?''. She hesitantly wrote back `` Sure, I guess. Dork''. I hate it when she called me that.
So here we are, 10 minutes until class ends, and I'm going to feel that rush I once felt, back in 2010, with Amy. `` Who's Amy? ``, one might ask. Well, she was my first crush, much like Jill. I pulled the trigger on her during summer. I am sweating bullets at this point, just waiting to do this, possibly so everyone passing by will see. When minutes turn into hours, the bell finally rings, and I rush outside the door, waiting to surprise her with something very special.
I notice her walk out of the door, I scream `` Hey, Jill!'' so she wo n't miss me. I can guarantee she did n't have any time to react before I did it. I finally asked her on a date. My heart was racing, but I finally pulled the trigger and asked the love of my life, Jill Smith, on a date. Her eyes lit up like she had been waiting for me to do that for months, almost. She flung herself into my arms, and I got so nervous I almost tried to kiss her right then and there. Every other person I have asked never reacted like she did, making it the best. After all this time, I do n't have to pretend that i'm her friend, I want to be more than friends. Surprisingly, so did she. From that day forward, time seemed to pass almost too quickly.
|
[ WP ] Write a fictional backstory for your favorite song . Your choice if you want to reveal what song it is or leave it to a guess .
|
It seemed like fate, bumping into her that day. Just trying to cross the street, when I accidentally walk into the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. After apologizing, I could n't help but introduce myself, and my god, from the moment I said, `` Hi, I'm Danny'', we had the most amazing relationship for such a long time.
Then it went wrong.
I'm not sure what it was. Did she stop loving me? Was I too clingy? Was there someone else?
Why did she want to leave me?
As you could imagine, I felt horribly depressed because of this. I loved this girl from the moment I laid eyes on her, and I was preparing to propose to her soon, when all of a sudden she decided she could n't keep me in my life.
I always treasured that corner. If I was n't crossing the street at that exact moment… if I was n't too distracted to look where I was walking… I would never have met her. I would never have been in the happiest period of my life, which was then followed by the worst.
A day, a month, a year. How long would it hurt? When will I recover? Will I ever know why she left?
She placed quite a hole in my world, and I can only hope for her to change her mind.
I thought about that little place often, and could n't get it out of my head. Did it mean as much to her as it did to me? Did it bear any significance to her? How often does she think about the circumstances of our meeting?
My love for her was growing so strong, despite all she put me through. I could n't take it any more. I packed my bag, and left.
I had to pay that corner a… little visit.
|
[ WP ] '' Monsters do n't exist , and that 's what should terrify you ''
|
`` Monsters do n't exist, and that's what should terrify you'' said High Commander Jenson, as he was attaching his POwer SUit to his limbs.
`` We may not have lived peacefully amongst those terrifying foes not long ago. We all may have lost many loved ones to the monstrous stalking beasts...'' he booted the POSU's BIOS, and a green holo hud flickered in to existence just forward his chest. `` But they were Earth Beasts, evolved from the same ancestors as we.''
Metal deflectors actuated on the suit, covering his elbows, knees, and every part in between the heavy blast shield armor, which adorned the POSU. It was an MK-XI, a model which was n't even approved for operation, but desperate times called for desperate actions.
`` First it was the Photraths, the largest of the monsters on earth, over ten times the height of an average man, with a massive four legged body made of pure slimy ektur skin. About as smart as a rhino, but has been known to some how knock down stage 5 defense grids. `` The High Commanders visor lowered over his face, his armor now covering his entire body. His suit making him over 2' taller than he was, towering over an average man at around 9' tall.
`` Second came the Fentum, only four times the height of a human, though they can still tare one apart with their long front claws, they have been known to penetrate even MK-X POwer SUits with their razor sharp pincers.''
`` But then finally, the Senmetsu alien swarm attacked, killed, and consumed all the Gorthen on Earth. They were a race about twice as strong as man, but they ran even faster, and doubled our numbers. Their cunning is what made them truly deadly to humans, and they would ambush and exterminate entire settlements with impressive efficiency.''
High Commander Jenson knelt down, and attached his forearm to a 5' plasma blade. He took a deep sigh and flicked on his targeting computer, when a telescoping barrel extended from his other forearm, and a holo-readout appeared next to it.
`` There exterminating the lifeforms on this good planet Earth, and they started with the most dangerous beasts first. They've already eaten the first three, and I'm afraid we are next up to bat.''
The POSU MK-XI kicked on with a hum, and electric arches danced between it's limbs.
`` Time to show these bug fucks we wo n't die without taking some of them with us.''
|
[ WP ] You are the thing that goes bump in the night .
|
A very very long time ago, ages, millennia, eons ago- look it's been a long friggin time, you get it. People used to be born with abilities. You know, fire from their hands or mind reading and such. The kind of stuff that's in basically every kind of myth and legend. It was all true in my day. I even knew a guy who could walk on water. Real pretentious prick he was, hogged all the attention he could. That kind of thing always made me mad, more so than you would think it should but seeing as how my special ability is literally to be overlooked and ignored.. I can get a little jealous.
Do n't get me wrong, basically being invisible and silent has its uses, even time seems to forget I'm here. I stopped aging around twenty and did n't realize it until that water walking guy got his ass kicked by the romans. Nothing like watching the thing you hate most get literally tortured to death. Best seat in the house and no one even knew I was watching, pretty great deal if you ask me.
Never aging got real boring after a while though, but I did eventually learn to force someone to notice me, even if for only a moment. That led to some great laughs over the years. Sometimes they thought I was a ghost or a boogey man of sorts, but usually I held it back to what most people described as a'feeling of being watched'. That feeling usually is right.
I have made it a bit of a hobby of mine to find things to do with my ability that most people could n't ever accomplish. For a while back in the renaissance days I worked as an assassin, trying to keep corrupt people out of positions of power. Anyone with an internet connection can tell you how that one turned out, most of what I did just got glazed over in the history books. Kind of depressing really, to know that a near century of work just got forgotten like that. That's why nowadays I've turned to more pharmaceutical hobbies.
I often find myself wandering around cities with older styled architecture, not just for nostalgia's sake, but the main reason is that towns and cities with older buildings tend to have less money. Where there is less money, there tends to be more drugs. Where there tends to be drugs, there tends to be drug addicts.
I'm sure you've heard a story or two about someone having a bad trip and quitting right after? Often times that bad trip is me stealing their stash. Sometimes I find the drugs easily, sometimes I have to evoke my inner boogeyman to terrify some poor slop into them leaving their house allll to me. I mean, yeah it's not exactly'ethical' but it's not like I can walk up to a dealer and buy it all my self you know?
Besides, someone has to give horror movie writers new ideas.
|
[ WP ] Vampires feed off emotion , not blood . Some create and devour lust , others use envy , and many gorge on fear . None satisfy you , though . You seek something different , something better .
|
The twenty-first century is a great time to be a vampire.
Old-world parables and ancient stories, filled with terror, warning and fascination alike have been passed since before the first Mesopotamian civilizations began recording their history. Of course, those stories present somewhat different monsters, with different capabilities and horrors. But be it the Babylonian *Lilitu*, the Roman *Strix*, or even the Stoker's *Dracula*, they all point to the same general idea of a monstrous undead creature sucking blood, life-force, essence, etc. from noble, defenseless humans.
Bah.
Human and vampire DNA share close homology, even closer than that between man and chimpanzee ( which, by the way, is only 98 or 99 or whatever percent if you ignore 2/3 of the genomes ). No one knows when exactly our two species began to diverge from the last common ancestor, or perhaps more interestingly, *why* - but there are some hypotheses. Maybe as *homo sapiens* began to move out of the Africa and throughout the world, most chose to live their lives as nomads on the open plains. They carved through forest and trekked through mountains, craving fresh wind and the kiss of sun. But some... some preferred the darker corners of the world, the shadows of caves, the wavering mists of swamps. And there, they thrived, and *evolved. *
It is incorrect that vampires desire human blood for its nutritional value. If that were the case, why would we not just seek out animal blood? Porcine serum is not particularly different, as an example. In fact, we hardly need sustenance, of that kind - to be fair to generations of horror writers, perhaps it's not too far off to call us `` undead.'' No, we do n't really need food - but we crave something else. We hunt humans for something that they have in abundance and we seem to have trouble generating: emotion. This is why we go to the trouble of seducing or frightening our prey - the emotions generate an incredible cocktail of active metabolites that surges through their veins, and so we sink our fangs and indulge in this liquor.
But something has changed - something incredible has happened. As this golden age in civilization has progressed with its explosion of technological advances, humans have become more and more integrated with their digital selves. They broadcast information constantly, like a heated radiator, and I have discovered that it is *delicious*. I do n't even need to bite anymore; a simple touch, a tight embrace, the union of sex are all more than sufficient to feed. It is a dangerous, though; more than once, I have felt delirious and drunk after such a meal. Normally, we limit ourselves in terms of bloodletting, taking only what we can without killing the prey. It has helped us become slowly invisible over the past few centuries. But it's so *easy* to over-feed on the data that these humans bleed. I must be careful about this strange new problem, this possibility of digital gluttony.
I wonder, too, if there are others like me. There must be. Our numbers have grown exponentially, just as humans' have; with continually evolving safeguards and practices against exposing ourselves, we have become the stuff of mere myth, legend and media. And so, I know there must be others who have discovered this new food source. We are generally very solitary creatures, but I think I may venture out and contact others. Because, who knows... if we can feed like this, perhaps we do n't even need to concern ourselves with humans anymore.
Perhaps technology alone can feed us.
____________
*Liked that? More stories [ here ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/ )! *
|
[ WP ] The United State 's national debt has just come up as a positive balance in your bank account ( roughly $ 17.5 trillion ) . It is yours , no questions asked .
|
It ’ s a strange feeling, being responsible for a civil war, but, looking back, I should have expected it. Things never work out the way I planned.
See, it all started on my 30th birthday. It had been years since I ’ d made a wish when I blew out a candle, but, there with my wife and kids staring at me, proud as punch of the handmade cake, candlelight dancing across their expectant face, I pursed my lips, closed my eyes and made a wish. I wished for something so ridiculous it would never happen – that I had the power to pay of the U.S. national debt.
Well, there is was the next day, just sitting in my bank account, no questions asked. Sharon thought it was because I hadn ’ t wished in so long all of that power had built up. I think it ’ s because my 4-year-old is a warlock or the second coming or something like that. The kid ’ s got powers, I tell you. But I digress…
Anyway, $ 17.5 trillion is more money than I would ever want to spend. I thought I could make a plan before word got out. I called the white house, first thing, asked for a meeting with the president. They laughed at me. I faxed over a balance statement. They patched me threw, I was all excited about the meeting. I bought a brand new suit, I flew first class for the first time in my life, and I felt like a hero, ready to save my country and do my patriotic duty. Except… the president was furious. Threatened to imprison me. Froze my accounts. It took me two weeks to get back home. I missed my daughter ’ s second birthday. So… I seceded. Not just me, but all of Cascadia. I basically bought it. I met with the governors of Washington, Oregon, Idaho and California. We divied it up, I wrote them checks, and the Pacific Northwest became the republic of Cascadia with me on the advisory board. I bought the town of Cle Elum and gave myself my own mountain retreat.
It went really well for about 24 hours. Then, I guess Texas was jealous or something. They seceded too. Well, they said they never really gave up their rights anyway. Maybe they didn ’ t, I don ’ t know. California loved the separate state idea so much, they met with Arizona and New Mexico and Nevada and Colorado to make their own country. By this point, the president was made, Congress was freaked, and D.C. was in a tizzy. They struck down every rule they could, took over the military and tried to stop the exodus. Americans don ’ t like that much.
So, here I am save and sound in my mountain, drafting strategies and plans and finances for our country, allying with the Southwest to stand against the federal Nazis. We ’ ve got a few countries on our side, working to coup England from the federalies. If bombs land, it ’ s going to be my fault, and all because I wanted to pay off our house. I don ’ t really have the best luck.
-- -
-211 not sure where this was going
|
[ TT ] You promise yourself that tomorrow is going to be different .
|
There is a girl on the train idly watching another girl put on makeup. *It ’ s unfair*, she thinks, *I can barely tie my shoelaces here, and this girl has an eyeliner game that is more stable than my life*. She sighs and looks out the window.
Like flowers of glass and concrete, gray apartment buildings sprout from rectangular plots of tarmac. People are commuting by car or legs to dead-end jobs, which will have them miserable by the age of thirty and suicidal by forty-five.
She takes this train every day. Sits on the same spot. Thinks the same thoughts. She used to pray for things to change but that was long ago now.
A tunnel is approaching rapidly, and perhaps it ’ s the foreboding darkness of the opening that causes the girl to get up and start walking towards the back of the train. She knows it ’ s too late to run. It ’ s just like her life – she has wasted time on journeys leading nowhere. Still, she pushes her way through car after car – still, she hurries.
She woke up this morning and spent two hours on makeup to look pretty for a boy who she ’ s never met and probably never will meet. All her high school friends have families and kids, while she barely has a social life and has been single since Michelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel. She ’ s always been a nightingale, compliantly observing the world through the bars of life ’ s cage.
Twenty-six years old, and still waiting for *the one*. She always thought that her time would come if only she were patient, but the hourglass is running low on sand.
The mouth of the tunnel is slurping up the train as if it were a strand of spaghetti. She starts to run. The other passengers are too absorbed by their phones and papers to notice the oncoming doom.
She ’ s drowning in debt from her student loans and has nothing to show for it. It ’ s like she is stuck in a loop, writing stories that will never be read and novels that will never be published. She has given up, and it ’ s only the death throes of her pride that keep the pencil moving.
The last train car. Behind the final door, the world she knows is fading into a turquoise haze in the distance. With the last ounce of her strength, she pulls the door open. The wind grabs her hair and starts tugging and pulling. The gravel between the train tracks is a gray blur beneath her feet. She closes her eyes. Facing the darkness of the tunnel isn ’ t an option. She leans forward – allowing gravity to guide her fall. *Soon, it ’ s over*.
Something around her waist stops her fall and pulls her back into the train. She tumbles to the ground before being pulled to her feet again.
“ What are you doing?! ”
“ Let go! ” she cries. “ Let. Me. Go! ”
“ Shut up and sit down, ” he says firmly and places her on his seat without letting go of her arms.
She stares defiantly into his eyes as the tunnel drapes his face in shadow.
“ You could ’ ve died. What the hell were you thinking? ”
She hasn ’ t been scolded since elementary school. To think that someone she just met would care enough to be angry with her. The tunnel passes, and the sunlight paints his black irises in soft hazel. She breaks eye contact and makes a move to get up. But his grip on her is rigid.
“ Talk! ” he demands.
“ I, um, I don ’ t know, ” she mumbles, unable to meet his eyes.
“ Not good enough. ”
“ I was just… I needed fresh air. ”
“ Hey! ” he says, and his tone is sharp. “ Look at me. ”
Carefully she lifts her eyes. She can feel her bottom lip wobbling.
“ Listen to me, ” he says. “ You only have one chance. When you ’ re dead, it ’ s over forever. ”
He then promptly gets up and puts his card on the table. The train pulls to a halt.
“ This is my stop, ” he says. “ Call me if you want to talk. And if not, leave it there for the next person. ”
And just like that, he is gone. Her heart is still beating from the rush of falling. She puts the card in her pocket and promises herself that tomorrow is going to be different.
*****
[ /r/Lilwa_Dexel ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/Lilwa_Dexel/comments/5foev0/welcome/ )
|
[ WP ] Write a poem to a love that you have not yet met .
|
I wonder
who are you?
what are you?
where are you?
I wonder
am I ready?
will I know?
will I care?
will it take a while?
will it be instant?
can a smile truly change how I think?
will your laugh send chills down my spine?
shall I wake up next to you, and realize how damn lucky I am?
will I stand by your coffin, and think of what I wish I said?
or will I realize what I should n't have?
I ask these questions
and I hope to meet you soon
and I hope to love you soon
hello
and goodbye
|
[ WP ] The mass extermination of an alien civilization looks unavoidable . Desperate , their leaders use the last working wormhole to `` call the humans '' , as told in the myths and lore tens of thousands of years old .
|
'You ca n't break the seal! You do n't know what you're releasing!'
Chancellor Grom turned to face the source of the cry, it was General Parss.
'We're being over run, I have no other option. Our army is in disarray. You know as well as I, the Humans are the only thing that could possibly repel the invaders!', Grom chittered back, raising his crest defiantly.
'They were cut off from the wormhole network for a reason! They're savages, monsters. Their culture evolved from bands of roving pack hunters, that mindset never left them. All they do Is kill and conquer. If you let them out of their home system we'll never be able to drive them back!' The general thrilled holding out his taloned hand imploringly.
'I am not prepared to see our world die! I am not prepared to see our people die when I know I have the means to save them! These Humans are indeed terrible, but we need a terrible weapon to fell a terrible foe!', Grom spun and tapped a code into the glyphs on the control lectern.
'You've opened the gates hell...', Parss hissed drawing his side arm.
The cyclopean wormhole gate flickered and burst into life. A great ring wide enough to accommodate the bulk of a starship, it was a sight to behold.
Reality warped and thrashed within the gate, an ancient device that linked systems. Allowing travel across vast distances in the blink of an eye.
The gate flickered, a tell tale sign that something had come through. A single craft flew through. It banked smoothly and set down near the General and Chancellor.
Its midnight black hull seemed to eat the light. A hatch on its side hissed open and a single figure stepped out.
It stood tall on two legs, its form appeared slim, frail even, but the way it moved betrayed a powerful musculature. Clearly its body was augmented with cybernetics, imbuing its bipedal frame with an unholy mechanical strength.
It regarded Grom and Parss with the measured gaze of a predator. Its gimlet eyes alighting on Prass' sidearm.
In one swift motion it drew a weapon and fired killing Parass where he stood, blowing apart his thorax with a flash of arcane energies. Grom shrieked in terror and threw himself on the ground. The human ignored him and walked over to the control lectern.
With one powerful punch from its strangely placed forelimb it smashed the ancient device. Now there was no way to seal the wormhole.
The human turned to face the rippling gate. In a harsh tongue it spoke into some kind of transceiver device. From the gate erupted the prow of a gigantic warship.
Midnight black and bristling with ungodly armaments the ship was like nothing Grom had ever seen, it was perfectly crafted for killing. As soon as it cleared the gate it was followed by another, then another, then another. It seemed that there was no end to these human's war machines.
They rose up into the sky, blotting out the sun. There they encountered the invader's armada.
The invaders ships were smashed out of the sky nearly instantly. The human's ships did n't even slow down as they bathed the invader's in atomic fire. Then they turned their guns on Parss' forces.
They barely had time to scream.
Grom shuddered, watching as more and more ships slid through the gate.
What had he done?
|
[ 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 .
|
`` I have this gapping hole in my chest, its already there and I ca n't stop it from growing. Everyday the weak get weaker, and so they justify the pain by making themselves hard.
The world have no compassion for the poor. I do n't know if they all got together and agreed pain is the best way to make someone stronger, climb out of the ditch for yourself.
I really do have this strange illness, my heart feels stale and I feel like no women in the world can help. There was once a teacher of mine who got back on his feet because a girl supposively took a chance on him. I am not him.''
Jerry sigh-ed at the sight of his friend, staring into the abyss, the bottom of the river.
`` I feel the same way sometimes.'' Jerry said, `` I sometimes just do n't want to live.
It's really hard for me too.... I never dated you know. The most and only memorable kiss I got was from an aunt at her husband's funeral. Actually, I never really been kiss by a girl...
I have a degree you know, four years but it actually took me five. At the end of the fourth year I began taking herbal supplements. I told myself if I die from them, well, death is just that.
I struggled so hard to learn some things that I rather not even mention them. No Clarence is going to save me, I wish, I wish I have a Donna Reeds...''
Jerry begins sobbing, I ca n't explain it. The look on his face. The first man was so compelled to hug him but he just could n't There was a moment when the bar he was grabbing to felt cold, but that moment his hand was calm.
There was no one around. He keeps crying. It was horrible. His pain in the heart grew.
Pretty soon the first man have tears in his eyes that wo n't flow down. At first the man wanted to tell Jerry that he wanted to jump, now the water feel so calm it seems if they both just let go they would be enveloped into a membrane, where they could rest in the wombs of which they came from.
Dry tears hits the bar they're holding on to.
`` But Jerry, I have no money.''
`` I know''
`` I... do n't even love.''
`` You know,'' Jerry said `` I had a revelation, I never even hung out a lot with my dad so I do n't know. I had the revelation that I could just go up to anyone and, hug, them.
I want to tell them it is ok, I want to be compassionate. I want people to notice me, but most just think to ignore the problem guy, the outspoken guy...''
`` Ca n't they see we are suffering,'' first guy said
`` It been many days now, I ca n't even count how many times I thought about having the perfect relationship, or one where I can tell a girl my true feelings, maybe to have an open relationship I do n't know... maybe to see each other grow... I do n't have any of that. I'm sorry. People just think ignoring that guy is the way to make him behave or something...''
`` and I never been with my father neither...'' First guy said, `` but to me, you're really...''
But it was very useless, because in the mind of Jerry he had already jumped. Even with a smile, it was very painful and a drop of tear caressed him.
`` wait.''
|
[ WP ] Your superpower is compulsion . A 100,000 fleet of ships manned by human-alien hybrids is going to kill every living creature on earth . Your government hired you to stop them .
|
This was it. Factories were retooled to make loudspeakers non-stop for the last week. Every possible surface was soundproofed. Underground bunkers were built to protect the citizens. I stepped up to the podium and shifted my mouth to the side as I cleared my throat. `` Do n't kill us. Give us back our friends.'' I said as if I were a war-time negotiator, which, given the situation, was n't far off. The vibrations radiated from each speaker, shattering windows, tearing buildings to their foundations, forming sonic shockwaves that resonated across the Earth. All people of Earth were silent, anxiously wondering whether our message of peace could penetrate the harsh blackness of space. Fortunately, an alien ship was in Earth's atmosphere and transmitted my plea to the whole fleet. Earth was saved, but my mangled body lay curled in a fetal position. I gave my life for this planet and I hope the memory of my sacrifice is as good a compulsion to appreciate it as my voice.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Like this flash-fiction I wrote while drunk? Check out /r/ilokit for sober stories!
|
[ WP ] Any person you punch in anger is cured of all disease and is given perfect health for the rest of their life . The truth of this has gotten out and now everyone is out to piss you off .
|
`` You punk ass bitch.''
I stare mutely at the 12 year old boy with lobstein syndrome.
`` I have.... brittle bones and I get..... more pussy than you. You dumb cun-'' he pauses to hack up a globule of blood and mucus onto his hospital robe.
`` Nurse, show him what I... think of him.''
A cold wetness seeps across my back and down my pants. I turn around to see the nurse holding an upturned bed pan.
`` You should... thank me for that. You look better smothered in my... shit. Smell better too.''
As the pity stabs at my heart it dawns on me that this is never going to work. I murmur an apology to the parents, and turn to walk out the door.
`` You're murdering me.''
I stop in the threshold.
`` Even if they say..... it's not your fault. Even if they say you're just a really kind person. You can look into their eyes and..... see how much they resent you. That you can cure a mugger with gingivitis...... but you ca n't help their only child. I ca n't imagine.. what it feels like trying to sleep at night... knowing you could have saved them all if you were n't such a spineless coward.''
I cross the room in a heartbeat and slam my fist into his chest. I can feel the rib cage shattering, caving into his heart and lungs. And then I watch as it knits back together, pushing my hand back out of the cavity it made.
This kid who I saved is n't looking at his chest. He does n't even move to check if it really worked. My tear filled eyes are reflected in his.
`` I pity you'' he whispers.
|
[ WP ] ( Horror ) As you found out today , the darkness is your friend .
|
They stalk us in the daylight. We stalk them in the dead of night.
Far as I can tell, they have no sense of hearing or smell. They have excellent eyesight and fearsome weapons, but apparently do n't deal well with contrast, so if you stay on the shadows, they wo n't see you.
They wear bright spotlights on their heads to offer some protection at night. We lose numbers each morning, and exact our revenge in the inky black of night.
I had one of their night guards in my sights last night, but he was too quick. I could n't get behind him. Now the sun has risen, and the rest of the population has come out, the ones without the skills to stay alive in the dark.
Most days, all we can do is stay in our hiding spots, under houses, snuggled in crevasses, peeking out from sewer grates, and hope we do n't get ferreted out to be slaughtered under the bright sun.
Today is different. Today we exact at least a small amount of revenge, maybe a large amount, depending on how many we can catch in the open. But we'll have to act quickly, total solar eclipse only last a few minutes.
|
[ WP ] `` What 's wrong with it ? '' `` It 's dead , that 's what wrong with it . ''
|
`` How could it possibly be dead?''
`` I suspect it's your fault.''
`` But, how *can* it be dead?''
`` It can no longer function. Its energy, its spirit, its life-force... all gone''
`` I know what dead means.''
`` Well then what's the issue?''
`` What I mean is how can it be dead, when *you're* still alive?''
`` What do I have to do with anything?''
`` Do n't you need each other to survive?''
`` Evidently not.''
`` Well, what if you had died?''
`` What if?''
`` Would it die too?''
`` Probably.''
`` But you did n't die.''
`` Right.''
`` And it did.''
`` Correct.''
`` And as of yet, its death has not precipitated your own.''
`` As of yet.''
`` Great.''
`` You seem distraught.''
`` It's dead. I'm upset.''
`` How do you think I feel?''
`` I just miss it, that's all.''
`` So do I.''
`` You really think I killed it?''
`` You've been pounding on it all day.''
`` I thought that's what I was supposed to do.''
`` You were beating it up hard.''
`` The pussy not gon na beat itself up.''
`` I can still blow you.''
`` Fine.''
`` Ok.''
`` Sorry I killed your vagina.''
|
[ WP ] As a basic enemy in an RPG game ( skeleton , spider , goblin etc ) life is hard , especially when someone could come any day and kill you and your loved one 's for EXP . Tell us about your life as one of those basic creatures
|
My friends always ask me why I do it. They just ca n't seem to wrap their heads around what I do. Most of them try their damnedest to avoid heroes, or at least lead them to some of the stronger guys. I always tell them the same things. `` Just trying to support myself.'' `` It's the only thing I'm good at.'' `` It's a great workout.''
Those are all lies, of course. If I told them the real reason, they'd think I was crazy. The truth is, I love the rush.
I open my portal and step out into the dungeon. Just ahead of me, a barbarian is doing a spinning attack, the one that turns big monsters into tissue paper. Next to him, a wizard is firing a beam out of her hands, blowing up zombies and giant spiders. Perfect. I've arrived just in time. The pair runs over to a naga, and I make my move. I sift through the pile of viscera and burnt flesh left in their wake. My hands touch something metal. A ring, with a large hexagon on top. I've seen these before. Heroes ca n't get enough of them. I giggle and toss it into my bag. There are other items as well: a horned hat, some leather armor, a scythe, a staff, and other things that those heroes could use. They all go in the bag. I hop over to the remains of the naga and repeat the process. And again. And again. The heroes still have n't noticed me. With every passing moment, my excitement ( as well as the size of my bag ) increases.
The heroes defeat a giant skeleton, and I see a Corinthian helm fly out of it. I grin from ear to ear. This is it. They will certainly notice if this goes missing. The heroes have their backs turned. I dart out and take the helm. It makes a loud'clang' when it hits the inside of my bag. The wizard turns around and yells. The barbarian charges at me. I giggle and start running. I do n't get very far. The barbarian leaps high into the air and smashes onto the ground. I fall, but recover quickly. Not quick enough. The barbarian lands a couple of hits, and some coins fall out of my bag. That's fine. I'll let him think he's winning. I run off again, the wizard's beam singing my left side. I ca n't contain it anymore. I laugh hysterically. Even though my chest is bleeding from the barbarian's axe wound and arm is smoldering, I laugh. Because this is what I live for.
I run past a giant, faintly glowing door. Yes, this is the one. I've done this dozens of times. I purposefully slow down, and the heroes come within thirty feet of me. Suddenly, the door bursts open, and a golem emerges. He lets out a cry that shakes dust from the ceiling. I open my portal, and pull the helm and a scythe out of my bag. I hold them up so that the heroes can see them. The look in their eyes-oh, that look! It's a look of agony, a look that can only come from being so close, yet failing all the same. I'm overjoyed. I wave goodbye, and slip into the portal. Once I'm in my treasure room, I hop onto a pile of gold and throw the helm against the wall. It dents, but I do n't care. I do n't care about any of this stuff. It's all for the feeling.
Seeing heroes, those titans of spell and sword, staring completely flabbergasted as a small monster runs off with the gear they worked so hard to obtain is what drives me. Seeing them go from on top of the world to the very bottom fills me with a joy I ca n't describe.
It's funny. In this world, I'm nothing. There are a million monsters stronger than I am. I'm a thorn in the heroes' sides. But sometimes, the tiniest thorn can hurt the most.
|
[ WP ] You 've never loved someone so much . They just died in front of you .
|
As always, criticism and interpretation is welcome!
I watched from the shadows as they left the house. They knew who I was, what I did, how I did it. They always expected it to come from me.
I should leave. They can smell me from here, covered in chips and a black sheet. I will never understand why they glide through life every day, not caring about the world. Yet, I see every little touch they make change the world around them. The person who is angry down the street? A glance, and they seem to run out of anger and start muttering to themselves. The dishes are n't being done? They are cleaned by them, and it is cleaner than any done by a professional. They never ask for more than what they earn, does n't accept any raises, does n't accept anything extra.
I watched as they turn onto the street where they live. It's dark tonight, the new moon is out.
They move perfectly so as not to be hit by a car when crossing a road. The powerlines overhead whine as power comes back. Street lights banish the darkness behind. I hurry to keep them in sight, hand on hilt. They wear their favourite clothes, something bright, fascinating and ornate with dragon tattoos sneaking down their left arm and wolves running down their right. They are beautiful, even when hidden by the polyester of their yellow long-sleeve shirt. Their carved jacket is covered with red roses and blue flower petals, a red panda running off their left shoulder, a lion prowling on their right ribs and a leopard standing at the top of a cliff on the back. Their hat has a faint octagon drawn onto the front, almost off-centre.
They walk past an alley. People lurking inside grab them.
The mask they wore, a black cat's face, is torn off. I jumped down, onto the ground. I pulled, I cut, I sheathed.
They died, along with their attackers.
I can not, shall not, forgive myself for such actions. This world is something that drags me down, and my only shining beacon has been cut down by my own hands. I wonder where I can find the highest peak.
|
[ WP ] The four horsemen of the Apocalypse are white , upper-middle class suburban soccer moms
|
`` Ugh! I'm changing our family's pedestrian again. He tried to make my children get vaccinated.'' The woman took a long drink from her wine glass. `` It's so hard to find a doctor who has good ethics nowadays, you know?''
Delia rolled her eyes. Patty was such a self centered bitch. `` Yeah, he sounds like the types who gets off to little naked boys. What you did was for the best.'' Delia laughed loudly as the rest of the restaurant became a standstill.
Fatima groaned and took a sip of wine. `` Congrats Dee, you killed the mood and my appetite. Bitch.''
`` Oh please. It's not like you even eat real food to begin with.'' Patty attempted to calm her friend down. `` Right Connie?''
`` Do n't call me that. If I wanted to be called Connie, then I would change my name to that.'' Constance said tensely. `` And speaking of food, where is our waitress? It's been 15 minutes since we ordered. They're taking forever!''
|
[ WP ] Luck is a measurable trait in a person .
|
`` Mr. Donnen, we need to discuss your test results.'' Said the doctor, the slats behind him pouring sunlight onto his back.
Mike took a seat, already uncomfortable, the seat sunk him down several inches lower than his doctor.
`` It's bad is n't it?''
`` Mr. Donnen, these tests are usually a formality. People tend to know when the world has it out for them, and I'd say with your balding hair, unsightly gait, wonky nose... You've had a long time to prepare for this.''
Mike frowned, staring down at his gut.
`` The randometric analysis pins your luck quotient at approximately 17 micro-leprechauns. The average mouse has at least 40 to 45, and that's when they're caught in the trap.''
`` Oh my god.''
`` Unfortunately, it's fatal.''
`` How long do I have, Doc? Give it to me straight!''
`` About a month if you're lu- Well... it's hard to say.''
Mike began to sob into his hands. His watch, unproofed from water, began to short, squealing in its atonal alarm voice.
`` *I just bought this thing... *'' He continued.
`` I'm sorry, Mike. But think of it this way, you're pretty damn lucky you've made it this far with this degree of luck. I know it sucks. But hey, at least it's not can- Oh. Huh, right here in bold print, too.''
|
[ EU ] The Twelfth Doctor 's new companion is Jeff Murdock from Coupling
|
The Doctor pushes Jeff behind the covered wagon, narrowly avoiding the bullet fired at both of them. Wood splinters around their heads.
`` Git on back out here ya yella' belied two-timin' varmints!'' Billy the Kid shouts while dumping out the fired casings and inserting fresh bullets into his revolver.
`` What did you do!?'' The Doctor shouts, pulling out his Sonic Screwdriver and glancing at Jeff.
`` Oh come off it. I did n't do anything! I did n't know she was his girl when I was talking to her.''
`` I told you, one trip! `` the Doctor shouts back. `` They've hog tied the Tardis because of you! I should have left you in Lesbos!''
`` Well I'm glad you did n't!'' Jeff shouts back. `` Turns out, not a ton of lesbians. Very misleading.''
`` Take this key to the Tardis. Get it untied, and I'll distract him. Go! `` The Doctor jumps out with his hands up over his head, still holding his screwdriver. `` Woah woah. Hold on there. How about an old fashioned quick draw?''
Billy the Kid smiles, holstering his revolver. `` Alright pal. Just know. Fastest gun in the west.'' He pulls out a coin. `` We shoot when this hits the ground. Ready? ``
Jeff sneaks behind the saloon, carefully moving toward the Tardis.
`` Wait! I'm not ready. `` shouts the doctor. `` Can we wait until noon?''
Billy spits. `` Nope.'' He throws the coin into the air. It hits the ground, he draws, but the Doctor is faster. He knocks the revolver out of his hand with the screwdriver.
The gun hits the ground, spinning. The impact cocks the hammer on the gun, and the jarring impact has it fire randomly.
Jeff slumps down from behind the saloon grabbing his leg. `` Agh! Doctor. I'm hit! Doctor, I've got the keys to the Tardis, but I've got one too many legs shot!''
|
[ EU ] Hogwarts has a new Potions teacher and his name is Gordon Ramsay
|
`` Professor Snape is seven minutes late.'' murmured Hermione as she stared intently at her copy of *Advanced Potion Making*.
`` So what?'' replied Harry. As far as he was concerned, every minute that Snape was n't around was a minute to be savored.
Hermione closed her firmly. `` So... he's a stickler for timing. Remember when Ron turned up late last week?''
`` Do n't remind me,'' groaned Ron, who was slumped down in his seat. `` I had to write a 500 word essay on the importance of arriving to lessons on time. 500 words! The miserable git did n't even let me use a Quick Quotes Quill.''
Just then, the dungeon door swung open with an audible creak. A tall man with blonde-brown hair stepped through and wordlessly walked towards the front of the room.
`` Who's that?'' whispered Harry.
`` Forget who he is, what the bloody hell is he wearing?'' snorted Ron. The man was dressed from head to waist in a peculiar short sleeved white jacket. Harry stared at the silver buttons that ran down the center. The jacket was so white that it was almost painful to look at against the gloomy, dark backdrop of the dungeon.
The man cleared his throat. `` My name is Professor Ramsey, and I'll be teaching you today - Professor Snape has come down with a particularly nasty case of the flu, so until he gets better I'm taking over. Open your books to page 254 - today we'll be brewing the Draught of Living Death. You should all know how to do this, so follow the instructions and I'll come around to see how you're all doing.''
The class broke into a quiet chatter as they began. Harry paired with Ron ( like he did every lesson ) and got to work. For once, without the constant threat of Snape trying to catch them out, everything was going well. They added the Infusion of Wormwood. Mixed in some powdered root of asphodel. Stirred twice clockwise. Carefully added in a sloth brai-
`` WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU CALL THIS?''
Harry, Ron and Hermione turned their heads. The shout had erupted from the far corner of the classroom, where a red faced Professor Ramsey was stood over a terrified Blaise Zabini.
`` I'VE SEEN MUGGLES MAKE BETTER POTIONS THAN THIS!'' Blaise opened his mouth as if he was about to reply, but Professor Ramsey was too quick for him.
`` Oh, do you have something to say? Please, no, do n't let me stop you. Go ahead. Why do n't you take the class? I can sit down whilst you piss around with these ingredients all day.''
`` I'm trying my best, sir.'' whimpered Blaise. The remark did nothing to pacify Professor Ramsey.
`` YOUR BEST? *THIS* IS YOUR BEST? THEN I'D BE FUCKING TERRIFIED TO SEE YOUR WORST. YOUR WORST WOULD BE MY FUCKING BOGGART!''
It was at that moment that Professor Ramsey realized he was being watched by the rest of the class. Harry locked eyes with him, and before he knew it, he too was being shouted at.
`` What are you looking at? You think you're better than me? Why do they call you' The Boy Who Lived', anyway? DID YOUR PARENTS FAIL TO ABORT YOU OR SOMETHING? GET BACK TO WORK!'' He looked around the room. `` ALL OF YOU!''
Harry looked down at his cauldron and tried his hardest to bite back every retort that crossed his mind. The class began to work again in silence, a silence that was broken only seconds later by Professor Ramsey, who was still berating Blaise.
`` God knows how you got an'Outstanding' in your O.W.Ls. Draught of Living Death? Please. THE ONLY THING ABOUT TO DIE AROUND HERE IS ME, BECAUSE I'M ABOUT TO FUCKING KILL MYSELF IF YOU DO N'T STOP BEING SO SPECTACULARLY SHIT AT EVERYTHING!''
Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. It was going to be an interesting year.
|
[ WP ] a teenage boy discovers that by editting wikipedia pages he is altering the world
|
The connection to the internet was shoddy, even for Liberia. Other areas could get speeds of several megabits per second but here in the outskirts of Monrovia, it often does not go further than 40 kilobits per second. Edward was struggling to get the connection up again until the phone would give out and needed the solar charger again. The Wikipedia page loaded with the speed of a particularly slow snail. He eventually got to the section he wanted and edited it. He smiled. His rich, annoying classmate had not only DSL but also a habit to do assignments in the last minute. And that would become difficult to him now.
Class was hot, the school building seemed to trap heat in its nooks and crannies. George handed in his report along with everyone else. Edward waited for him to eventually make himself a joke by reciting the wrong information about President Monroe's life, but the teacher seemed not to hear it or not to care. Edward opened his history book in an attempt to prove George wrong - but then stopped. The wrong date of birth was written there as well. Had Wikipedia been wrong? He could n't imagine this. The opposite made less sense. Could editing Wikipedia edit history?
The next afternoon, Edward tried it: He looked at Liberia's wikipedia page. He wanted to make something which was easily shown: He saw the GDP per capita. That should mean the difference whether his country was poor or rich. He wanted to check how high the GDP per capita of the USA was, but the internet was just too slow. So he made an estimate and put behind it the optimistic statement `` ( 1st in the world )''. He saved the article.
In the evening, the news were doom and gloom on an unprecedented level: the global economy had continued its downtrend steming from so many factors automatization, civil war in China, wars, Brexit ( did n't they vote to stay in the EU? ), weather catastrophes and Trump's second term ( did n't he get defeated by Clinton the first time around? ). Edward realized his mistake: He did n't make Libera noticably richer: he ruined the rest of the world. In the evening, he tried to open Wikipedia, but the site did n't open. Not because the mobile connection was bad, the domain name did not exist. Edward cursed and continued to curse until the tears came and took everything with them.
|
[ WP ] You 're known as a `` speedy '' superhero , trying to hide that you actually stop time .
|
She was sitting under a tree as the snow slowly fell all around her, painting the forest white with an impossibly soft brush. Even in the dead of winter, she could still hear critters scurrying about, accompanied by the shrill call of magpies. The air was refreshing and invigorating as it filled her lungs, the cold in her chest sending shivers down her spine. Even the sensation of snow slowly melting through the fabric of her pants seemed to do little to detract from this moment. She felt like she could stay like this forever.
A vibration at her wrist snapped her out of it, her mind suddenly wise to all the minor discomforts previously ignored, and she turned her wrist to look at the small device similar to a wristwatch. But instead of telling her the time, it told her the place.'Already huh...' she thought, standing up from her seated position and wiping off any excess snow. She then allowed herself one more breath to take in the sound of wildlife, the smell of pine, and the falling snow,
And then it was all quiet. There was no sound or movement, apart from the small clouds forming from her breath, as the falling snow had frozen in mid-air, unable to finish its painting. With a sigh she started walking back against footprints that were all but lost in the snowfall, carefully whisking away snowflakes in her path.
The trek back was not a short one, but she could n't tell you how long it would take. She usually enjoyed it, walking through the woods alone, despite the stale air and eerily silent landscape, but it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to leave. She never felt more joy than that which came with helping people in need, but it was taking a toll on her. It almost felt like she was losing her grip on reality, living most of her life in isolation and deprived of even the simplest of pleasures.
She could see their headquarters from here, a gaudy building that she always considered suffocating despite its large interior. She did n't feel ready for it this time either, she felt like maybe just this once she can take the day off. But as she stood in front of the glass doors looking in at the only people she felt might truly understand her for being selfish, she could n't walk away. Not from this, not from them.
She stood in that room just staring at them for a while, people like her but not like her at all, and wondered if anyone would ever truly know her. Know the version of her that she knew far better than the one they all saw. The one that walked to beaches in the middle of conversations and prepared every move with surgical precision. She tried to push away the thought as she walked over to a stack of papers and tossed them into the air dramatically where they instantly froze once more. She then placed herself in the middle of those papers and took a moment to appreciate the silence, the stale air, and the true calm of her world.
And then it was loud once more, and stray papers sailed across the room as she struck an action pose and smiled at the gathered posse of heroes.
`` Dart.'' Xander said, nodding toward her `` Expedient as always, I see.''
`` Well, I ca n't risk missing the big team hug at the end.'' She said with peppy tone. `` We still do those right?'' She smiled widely at the groans and eye-rolls, but as per usual nobody seemed to notice that it never quite reached her eyes.
|
[ wp ] A golem that will do anything you ask . Literally anything . Even things that should be impossible , like `` make me a perpetual motion machine '' .
|
My golem stood before me, a monitor for a face and tangled wire limbs. The fruit of a billion years' labor.
`` Golem, I am your creator. Welcome to my world.''
*Hello, master. *
`` Golem, I made you strong. I made you powerful in both mind and arm. You can do anything and everything I ask.''
*I can. *
`` You will do anything and everything I ask.''
*I shall. *
`` For eons my people have solved the mysteries of this universe. Its laws, its histories, its future. We have exploited these secrets to further our reach into nearly every galaxy. Everything laid bare, every scrap of every planet, asteroid, and star turned into a thinking computer, churning out riddles and the answers to those riddles, scaling the intelligence of man into a near omniscience. Entropy, the mighty boogeyman of the universal constant, has been tamed. We have created and destroyed matter. We can predict the movement of every electron in every galaxy, we can create a thousand thousand realities and solve their secrets, we have made ourselves our own deity, a God, shaped in our own image. But even in this, there is one final locked door which no one has opened, one question eluding us, eluding me. To answer this question is why you were born.''
*What would you have me do? *
I paused, basking in the gravity of this moment. Of it's importance.
`` To create life from nothing.''
The machine stared at me, thinking. Great cogs grinding, quantum electron signals relaying across micro-interspatial rifts, entangled hyperspaces containing an infinite amount of processing power being brought to bear on this directive. An eon passed, neither of us breaking gazes.
It trembled, and all of space trembled too.
The cables around its torso unknotted, a hollow inside. I leaned in closer.
A baby slept within.
*I give you life. *
|
[ WP ] You 've just died and have woken up in an office building . A receptionist walks over to you and says `` Welcome to Limbo . One of our staff will be with you shortly . Please help yourself to some coffee and have seat . ''
|
A steady patter of blood dripped from the guy sitting next to him. It splattered the white tiles making a pool that slowly seeped into the grooves dying the grout red. They called a name on the loudspeaker and he shifted in his sit. He lifted his jaw back to his face and nodded at Justin. `` It was great to meet you Justin. I hope to see you in the next phase.'' They guy had gotten in a pretty bad car accident or something, it was hard to tell what the cause of death was really.
Holding his own hands out he examined them, he did n't really feel dead his hands looked as they always have. His face felt the same, he stood and walked over to the receptionist. A long queue of folks stood at the desk staring at the waiting room with wide naive eyes.
`` Excuse me, hi. I've been here for almost eight days just sitting over there. Can you provide an explanation or an ETA?''
`` One of our care providers will be with you shortly. Please help yourself to some coffee and have a seat.''
`` I've been helping myself to the coffee. I've been having my seat. Now I want some answers. What the hell is this?''
`` Sir.'' please lower your voice, you'll only prolong your wait.''
His shoulders slumped forward and he hung his head before finding a new seat by the windows. They seemed like windows but outside was nothing but light. He saw no cars nor any sign of life. The woman next to him smiled and looked like she wanted to talk.
`` Hey. How long have you been waiting in this DMV-esque hell?''
She motioned for him to wait a minute and fiercely began scribbling on her coffee napkin.
Smiling she held it out to him.
`` I've been here for three months. I ca n't talk because I'm embarrassed of how I died. But I watch and I listen. I do n't think there is a way out of here or a method to the madness. My name is Leah tell me about your life, why are you here so young?''
Ever the conversationalist he asked `` What do you mean, you ca n't talk?''
`` Well.'' she said in a inarticulate pneumatic voice. `` I went out on the business end of a shotgun.''
When her mouth opened he could see the person behind her. She turned and confirmed by showing him the gaping exit wound on the back of her skull.
`` We're all dead apparently, there's no sense in being self conscious. People are carrying around their limbs for christ's sake, look at that guy completely nude. This is straight out of a Beetlejuice movie.''
`` Fine.'' She said.
`` There's no pouting in purgatory Leah, cheer up. We've got complimentary coffee after all.'' She flipped him off and smiled.
`` Is this purgatory though, I'm no catholic. Are you, do others even believe in this? What are we even waiting for, you know?''
`` Too many questions, tell me how you died.''
`` I do n't know.'' He said. `` I must have been sleeping or not seen it coming, I really ca n't remember. I seem to be intact. its odd though, I always thought I'd be bummed out about leaving the realm of the living. But now I'm anxious to find out what's going on here, I have n't even thought about my old life much.''
A name was called and a corpse began shambling towards the open door, it closed behind him and another took his seat.
`` Does anyone know what we're waiting for!!'' he screamed.
`` Quiet down!'' The receptionist snapped back a little too loudly over the speaker causing it to squeal.
`` Waiting is hell Leah. Come with me.'' They walked closer to the windows. `` The next time that door opens I'm going to rush in. What can they even do to me, I'm dead right?''
`` You should just bide your time and wait. This is the punishment we earned in life.''
`` Why do you talk like that? We do n't live to earn or avoid suffering, we just live. I know I did n't spend 33 years doing my thing just to wait in this place.''
`` You know what I mean?'' She was back in her chair. `` I guess not.''
Purgatory, heaven, hell, reincarnation, nothingness he did n't care, but the waiting. This process was excruciating. The door began sliding open and he ran for it. It closed quickly behind him. He was in another damn line. Everyone was still there, Leah sat near the windows a tear ran down her cheek. He went to her. `` Did you know this would happen.''
She nodded.
`` What happens now?''
`` Two more weeks on top of whatever you had. I'm sorry, I wanted to tell you but I get so lonely here. We could be friends? I'm sorry.''
He sat down next to her with his head in his hands.
`` What else do you know?''
`` I, well..''
His name was called. They called his name! He ran for the door.
A diminutive man sat in a leather recliner with his legs crossed he sipped complimentary coffee. Four others were in the room wearing dark robes.
`` There seems to have been a mistake, Mr. um Harris.''
`` A mistake? I've been here over a week!''
`` Yep.'' The man smiled revealing a few missing teeth.
`` You're not dead Justin. Go Home.''
`` But what's all this, what's happening here?''
`` You'll find out another time Mr.Harris. Have a good evening''
`` No, wait!'' He was lying on his back in a sterile white room.
`` Justin, honey''
`` Mm-mom.''
`` Oh, I thought I'd never hear your voice again! You were in a comma.''
|
{ WP } Two child soldiers find themselves face to face . Neither of them knows how to operate their weapon .
|
A light breeze swept across the football pitch, rustling the few blades of grass. A young boy was leaning against the goalposts drawing patterns in the dirt. PTING. The boy jumped into action as the bullet ricocheted over his head. Immediately scanning, he saw the source of gunfire, a girl. He recognized her immediately by her fluorescent backpack, they had been classmates in the one year they attended school before the fighting. He slowly matched her stance, raising his rifle, pointing it as best he could at her. CLICK. Nothing happened. CLICK. Nothing. CLICK. CLICK. He stared at her, confused as to why she had not shot again. He took a step back. She took two forward. They paused again. She threw down the weapon and began sprinting. The boy held his ground. Soon she was out of sight and the boy returned to his dirt drawing of his family.
|
[ WP ] The monarch of a river kingdom has died mysteriously in his bed . The four people who discover the body are a galley slave , a manservant , a sergeant of the guard , and a priestess . One of them did it .
|
*Always has to be the first thing in the morning... * John thought to himself, lightning the candle in his room.
Five minutes earlier, he had heard a loud banging on his chamber door. `` Wake up!'' he heard someone shout from outside. It was Manius, the Manservant. `` There is a Priestess here to see the king! Make yourself presentable.''
Now he sat on the edge of his bed, pulling on his boots and armor.'Armor' was an excessive term, he thought. It was mostly silk and ribbons, meant to look intimidating and very upper-crust more than anything that would save his neck in a fight. But King Haelin did n't much care for John's protests.
`` I look like a circus performer!'' He had said. The King had suggested that if he did n't like it, he could be the court Jester instead. In the same uniform. John had not voiced a complaint since.
Just thinking of the incident made color come to his face. While he was sworn to be the King's shield against harm, there had been days when it was very difficult to fulfill that oath. The King was a crass and rude man, with no shortage of enemies in his own court. Most of them had offered no insult, but had received great blows to their pride from snide comments the king had directed their way. Anything from the way they dressed to the way they ate, even to distant family relations.
Just last week, a merchant showing off a group of slaves had become enraged by the King's backhanded comments about the man's ridiculous pointed mustache. John himself had had to force himself not to laugh at the absurd thing, a great curling monstrosity whose whiskers were almost as long as the man's arms, and starched so they stood rigidly at attention on either side of his head.
After the king's fourth comment on his choice of facial hair, the man had snatched a dagger from his belt and rushed at the throne, swearing to cut the King's own beard off and give it to him as a hat. John had been reaching for his sword, but never had a chance to draw it.
One of the galley slaves had leaped forward, throwing the chain of his manacles around the slaveowner's neck and yanking him backwards. He had then promptly strangled the man to death with the chain still around his neck. The king had applauded him when he finished, then ordered his chains struck off and had Manius take him to one of the guest rooms.
`` No man with balls like that should be a slave!'' the king had said, still laughing. `` Why, I'd have killed him myself if I were him, for no other reason than fear of standing next to a man with a pair of lightning rods on his face!''
John grimaced as he recalled the moment. After ordering the slave taken away, the King had promptly forgotten about him. Slaves were not properly freed until a good amount of paperwork had been signed, all in the presiding Lord's hand. The Lord in the case being the king, Haelin had gone out of his way to avoid such tedious business, and had forgotten the man entirely. Now he lived in one of the guest rooms, awkwardly awaiting the time when the King would feel motivated to pick up his quill for the first time in nearly five years, ending his servitude.
As he strode out of his room, John thought the slave would be waiting a very, very long time.
******
Priestess Kira stood in the rain outside the King's estate, seething. She was no stranger to bad weather, having been a traveling Priestess for the better part of the last two years. But when she had sent a messenger ahead to expect her arrival at dawn, she had expected to at least be promptly allowed inside.
After banging on the door knocker for the better part of ten minutes, the door finally opened crack, and an owlish old man wearing a nightcap peered at her through the crack.
`` We're not taking vagrants or prostitutes, so whichever you are, leave now.'' he said, sounding peeved. Kira's mouth fell open.
`` You- Are you fu- Do you- I am a *Priestess! *'' she snapped at him. `` I was invited by the king five days ago!''
`` Oh. Right.'' The old man held the door open for her. `` My apologies. My name is Manius, the king's servant. I had forgotten you were to arrive.'' Kira strode past him into the entrance hall without another word. Was everyone in this kingdom both rude *and* dense?
When she had first met the king at the nearby cathedral five days ago, he had struck her as a vain, stupid, and altogether rude man. The sort of man who had never sat anywhere that had n't been layered in silk and gilded in gold.
He had invited her to come visit his personal estate to, as he said `` Learn what life outside the nunnery is like''. She had n't bothered to correct him and say she was a Priestess, because she doubted he would have cared. Kira had no doubt what the king's actual intentions were, judging by the way he had been more focused on her chest than her face. But a king's invitation was a king's invitation, and she had been compelled to come.
`` Wait here, my lady.'' Manius said. `` I will wake the captain of the guard and we shall go to see the king.'' Kira nodded once without looking at him, her anger still boiling even as a puddle of water began forming under her from the rain running off her robes. The fool had n't even offered her a towel or a place to dry off. Incompetence.
********
Twenty minutes later, John, Kira, and Manius strode down the absurdly long hall to the King's chamber. After waking John, Manius had gone to the king's chamber and knocked, telling him through the door that lady Kira had arrived. He had received no answer, but had expected none. The king often slept late and had been known to greet arrivals while still lying in bed, to their great annoyance. It seemed lady Kira would be added to that number.
Stopping outside King Haelin's chamber door, Manius put his hand on the knob, then turned to Priestess Kira.
`` The King is often quite disheveled in the morning. He also enjoys a bottle of wine before and after bed. Please forgive any-'' He was cut off by a loud crash from behind them, following by a great deal of cursing.
Behind them, lying next to an overturned ( and thankfully unlit ) brazier, was a ragged man dressed in what could at best be described as a loincoth, though it was as woefully inadequate for such a role as John's'armor' was for protection in battle. He was filthy and scarred, with the look of a man who had known nothing but hardship and starvation for his entire life. John recognized him at once.
`` You there. You're the slave that the king was going to free. What are you doing here?'' The main straightened up.
`` Yes, I am the slave. My name is Renn. I'm here because the king said he was going to free me, and so far I've heard nothing except empty promises. I wanted to ask him to hurry up and be done with it. I'm sure he does n't want me around stinking up one of his guest rooms longer than I have to be.''
As the man drew closer, Kira wrinkled her nose and took a step back. The man smelled like he had n't bathed. Ever.
John eyed him for a moment. The man wasnt carrying a weapon, and the king DID say that he would be freed.
`` Very well. You can meet the king with us. But dont be surprised if he disappoints you.'' He nodded at Manius. Manius pushed open the door.
***********
`` So.'' John said, finally breaking the silence.
`` Yes.'' Manius said, taking off his glasses and polishing them on his shirt.
Kira, who sat next to the door leading into the King's chamber, said nothing, her face still an expression of shock.
Renn paced up and down in front of them, wringing his hands and shooting glances at the still-open door.
`` He's dead.'' John said.
Kira gave a strangled half laugh, half shriek. `` Look at the brains on the guardsman. *'He's dead'. * How many men do you know of can have their heads cut off and shoved into their chest cavity and just get up and walk away from it?''
`` Gruesome.'' Manius agreed. `` I did n't think it was possible to bend someone's legs that way.''
`` The expression on his face...'' Renn muttered. `` It was like he was still alive for most of it. How can you bind someone's wrists with their own intestines while they're still alive? Much less hang them from the rafters by them.''
`` You'd think they'd stop after that.'' Manius said. His tone was as if he was merely discussing the weather. `` Was it really necessary to flay the skin from his back and hang it from his- Well. And the wine bottle being shoved up his-''
`` Yes, we all saw it!'' Kira snapped. `` You dont have to keep describing it.''
In unison, they all looked through the door and shuddered.
`` We need to figure out who is responsible.'' John said.
`` It had to be someone in the estate.'' Manius said. `` All the doors are locked, and the windows are too heavy to open alone. Believe me, I've tried.''
`` How many people are in the estate?'' Renn asked.
`` Well, there's the one-handed cook, so we can rule him out. Such a murder would be difficult even with two hands. There's the other two guardsmen, both of which are feeble, cowardly boys. I cant see either of them doing this, they're about as smart as- Well, the king. And then there is the four of us.''
There was silence for a moment.
`` So one of us did it.'' John said.
`` It would seem that way.'' Manius said. His gaze moved to Renn.
`` It wasnt me!'' Renn snapped. `` I needed him to sign the papers for my release! I would n't kill him BEFORE then, would I?''
`` Maybe not. But perhaps the king's delay angered you, and you decided to teach him a lesson about playing with your fate.''
`` That's ridic-''
`` You seem very interested in pointing fingers, Manius.'' Kira interrupted. `` Something to hide?''
Manius raised his eyebrows at her. `` I've served the king for nearly ten years, my lady.'' He said, sounding annoyed. `` I could have poisoned his soup or his wine, or even stabbed him in the neck at any point while cutting his steak for him. Why would I kill him now, so soon before my retirement?''
`` The old man would n't be strong enough to lift his body up to the rafters.'' Renn said with a wave of his hand. `` Neither could the Priestess. But a soldier could. And only a soldier would have a sword honed enough to cut off someone's head.'' He glared at John.
John glared back. `` My family has served King Haelin's family for generations.'' He said coldly. `` I am bound by oath to protect him from harm. By my honor, I would not have killed the king. I've saved him from many attempts on his life. If I wanted him dead, I could have just stood aside and let them do the work for me.''
Renn looked confused. `` Assassination attempts are common?'' he said. `` I thought my master was drunk when he attacked the King.''
`` No.'' John said. `` The king made many enemies. I rather disliked him myself, to be honest. He was dishonorable, a drunk, and had never said a polite word to anyone in his life.''
`` I heard he often came to the cathedral trying to get one of the Priestesses to become his concubine.'' Kira said, her face twisted in disgust. `` He was a foul man.''
`` He *was* rather crass.'' Manius agreed. `` Once, when I spilled a few drops of his wine, he had me locked in the dungeon for a week. *A week*. He has several thousands of bottles in the basement, and yet two or three spilled drops enraged him.''
Renn still looked confused. `` So... If no one liked him... Who cares?''
The others turned their heads to stare at him.
Renn looked like he regretted speaking, but continued anyway. `` I mean, it's not like anyone will miss him. Why should we try catching the one who did it? Sounds like he did the world a favor.''
There was silence again.
`` You said he had thousands of bottles of wine in the basement?'' John asked Manius. Manius nodded.
**********
A short time later, the four of them sat in the basement next to a colossal wine rack, in a circle around several opened bottles of wine. John raised his glass. `` A toast, to whoever rid the world of that scum.''
The group clinked their glasses together and drank.
|
[ WP ] Everyone 's life is determined by a gem on their chest . If you had a circle , you were common folk . If you had a diamond , you were destined for great things .
|
I knew Jhenine ever since we were twelve. She broke the ice between us one rainy day. She recognized me as someone from class despite the hood on my head ( maybe it was my bag that gave my identity away ) and she offered to share her umbrella. We lived on the same street, so she really did n't have to go out of her way. Since then, I always intentionally left my umbrella at home.
`` Ever wonder what the shape of your gem will be?'' she asked me all of a sudden on our way home.
`` A diamond no doubt,'' I replied laughing. “ We ’ ll find out when we ’ re eighteen. ”
Instead of riding along, she voiced out her concern. “ And what if it ’ s not? ”
“ Then we ’ ll break the rules and just make our lives as awesome as they can get! ”
It was easier said than done. It was already an established fact that if the shape of the gem on a person ’ s chest would reveal itself as a diamond, great things would await him. A normal round gem wasn ’ t a bad thing though. It just meant life would be dull.
Years had passed since that conversation. She was older by a month. I was about to call her on midnight to greet her a happy eighteenth birthday when my phone rang first.
“ Happy birthday, I guess. ” A confused tone carried my words to her as I found it very strange that she was the one who called.
“ I ’ m dying of excitement, Landon! I can ’ t sleep! ”
I would ’ ve warned her to be careful about hoping too much, but instead, I told her with all my confidence that her gem was going to be a diamond. I was sure of it. There was no way someone like her would end up with anything less.
I expected her call before my alarm would ring. I was wrong. Maybe she was still asleep, but it was unlikely because class was going to start in an hour. When I finished getting ready, I walked over to her house. After I knocked, the door burst open and I the next thing I knew was Jhenine crying on my shoulder.
I wanted to tell her that it wasn ’ t the end of the world. That we were the masters of our lives. That lots of people went through the same thing. That we could break the rules. And unlike the last time, I didn ’ t say anything else.
One month passed. This time, I had her on redial.
“ Landon! I was just about to call you. Happy Birthday! ”
“ I wasn ’ t going to let you call first this time. Listen, Jhenine. My birth certificate says I was born one in the morning– ”
“ –Then let ’ s wait together! ”
“ I was planning on sleeping it out and just checking it out tomorrow. ”
“ You ’ re such a boring person. ”
We argued back and forth until a blue light radiated from my chest. I place my hand on my chest, tracing the shape of my gem with my fingers. Jhenine inferred from my silence that my gem had appeared.
“ So what is it? ”
I could tell from her voice that she was worried. But she didn ’ t have to be. I would ’ ve smiled. I would ’ ve shouted in joy, but I remembered what happened the last time.
“ I ’ ll let you know tomorrow. ” I could hear her shouting angrily at me as I ended the call. I wanted to be there with her and make sure she won ’ t cry when I tell her the news. I know she was going to be happy for me, but I also know it will inevitably remind her of her pain.
Jhenine waited patiently outside my house as the sun rose. Knowing her, I sneaked out the backdoor, crept behind her, and covered her eyes with my hands.
When I finally let go, she immediately placed her hand on my chest, searching for the sharp corners of my gem.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ten years later, we were happily married.
“ You know why my gem was a diamond? Because the great thing that awaited in my life was you. ”
“ Oh. So what does that say about you since my gem was just a circle? ”
We laughed it out, forever puzzled by the true meaning of our gems.
|
[ WP ] A father gets sucked into the world of his son 's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive .
|
`` Good Lord this game is complicated'', Daniel thought to himself. `` It's so realistic... I mean you could go to a bar and play bar games, or you can walk around and do nothing. Who would enjoy this? Why not just live a normal *real* life? Welp, whatever. I have better things to do.''
Daniel powered off his son's PlayStation and went about his day. The first errand he had assigned himself was a quick trip to the clothing store. He sat up from the leather couch, but something was n't right. He felt unusually heavy and unbalanced. He tried to get his footing but it felt like he had instantly gained 30 pounds. He did have slight thyroid issues but he had never felt any disorientation quite like this.
His immediate response was to go to his bedroom and lie down and nap it off. Daniel did have a long day of work yesterday and his boss definitely did not make it easy on him. Maybe he was just tired.
He drifted off to sleep rather quickly, laughing to himself about that silly video game as his eyes closed. It felt as soon as he closed his eyes they immediately sprung back open.
`` Man, this is odd'', he thought. `` I barely slept... And the time, holy shit! I closed my eyes for 10 seconds and now its 4PM! Where did the time go?''
In a rush, Daniel unstabally wobbled to his dresser to change his clothes. He managed to get off his jeans and emptied the pockets. What he found was truly shocking. A wad of cash that was well worth $ 125,000. He slammed it on his dresser and began to panick. He had never seen such a significant amount of money. He did n't even think it was possible to wad up a sum like that.
As he was hanging his jeans up he heard two distinct clunks, two baseball sized items had hit the ground. Where could they have come from? Daniel could n't believe what he was seeing. `` Gr... grenades?! Oh shit this is like a federal offense or something. How can I own grenades?''
Daniel hurriedly changed the rest of his clothes and left his house quicker than he had ever left it before. He ran as fast as he could into his mini van which was oddly parked right in front of his door. His world was turning upside down. Either that, or he is going batshit crazy.
Then his cell phone rings. He looks at it with disgust. He knows someone is watching him or playing games with him. Surely, once he answers the phone it'll all be over. He would be on some prank TV show and all this would be just some dark twisted humor. Surely. Daniel took a deep breath and answered the phone.
`` He... hello...''
`` Hey Daniel, its me Roman! Let's go bowling!''
|
[ WP ] You are a manipulative psychopath , but instead of serial killer , you are a serial helper . using your emotionless genius to make other people smile .
|
I'm sitting up at 11:46 AM browsing reddit when I see a post in /r/WritingPrompts/ that gives me pause. I've always enjoyed the creative works of others there but for the first time I felt a compulsion to participate.
`` I suppose this could be fun, cast off the veil for a while.''
So I begin writing the words that you have read up until now. Hello reader, I am a sociopath, though perhaps less of one than I used to be. I clarify *sociopath* because there is no such thing as a healthy psychopath and these little inaccuracies are a pet peeve of mine. Communicating well is so very important in life after all and yet most are absolutely terrible at expressing themselves to others.
Now, feel free to google the 16 signs of a sociopath and then come back here. Go on, you might learn something.
Welcome back. I wanted to save myself time explaining the validity of my claim by expressing that I've seen therapists/psychiatrists in the past, to no use and to my boredom, and that in my adolescence I displayed 15/16 of the traits. However, modern psychology has taken a turn in which I agree, that sociopaths are not those that ca n't empathize, but those that can control empathy like the flip of a switch in their brain. Take me at a funeral, I literally choose whether or not to grieve, to care, to feel anything at all.
That's just a preamble though, for you see I've gone through what I consider to be an extraordinary change. I now use my acuity for manipulations and lack of emotional attachment to help those around me I see worthy of the effort, and as years pass I begin to realize that perhaps all of the world merits my attempts. It happened when I really faced the pettiness of my own `` game.'' The mask, the control, the power over others. It's all illusory in some respects, and just predictably easy. People were always just walking puzzles for me to figure out. Some people so emotionally legible I could picture them as puppets with emotional strings for me to pull. `` Ah, if I say'this', they will react this'way'.''
Destruction is easy; preservation, growth, nurturing others, that is a challenge. I became disgusted with my behavior, falling into the stereotype of what I am, feeling content with my little fuckeries ( what I called my mind games ) on my tiny useless internal pedestal of self importance. I realized that I had never known true joy or satisfaction because I was taking what I always knew deep down was the easy route.
I still felt that people will always be emotional hairless egocentric apes, but that because of this fact the ultimate challenge would be to help them transcend their narrowness, to help others grow, lose their biases, achieve happiness, laughter, self-confidence, peace of mind, oh the list grew and grew as I thought about it.
`` THIS IS MY GAME!'' I internally exclaimed. `` I will transcend the norm of my label and help others do the same. I will find those in need, and leave them feeling like they helped themselves.
And oh, the stories I could tell. One comes to mind: I held my friend's best friend when he had an emotional breakdown, having him sob into my chest while I, exasperated, thought `` why is'x' doing this? He has nothing to cry about. Fucking pain in my ass, but everyone else looks clueless.'' then flipped my switch. While others stood agape I became his closest friend, and in days to pass would privately probe and help him see the root of his stress and lack of self-love. This too felt easy, but less so.
Then there are the speeches I've given, the eulogies, the presentations where I fill a room with laughter. I may be stretching the WP but while I would n't say I'm letting myself wither away, I have been spending a little too much time on /r/relationship_advice/ helping those mend their relationships, escape abusive ones, or simply find peace with the a recent parting.
I now mediate my own parent's arguments, understanding both of their emotional fibers better than they do themselves. I see everything with my eyes, their insecurities, their priorities, their way of thinking, what they really want out of the fight. It's one of my more satisfying projects.
I am a guru to friends, a nightmare to enemies. Though allow me to cut the melodrama and make clear I have no enemies, but that those who hurt the ones under my protection find their life temporarily ruined for an amount of time I feel is appropriate.
I love animals ( and loathe their abusers. I mean I would truly murder one in cold blood if I calculated that I could get away with it ). I find them to be pure, what you put in you get out and more. They're just a force of nature where humans have the ability to intellectually and emotionally transcend their animal nature and thus are without excuse in my eyes for being horrible.
I'm no clever robin hood. It goes against the very idea of this somewhat ridiculous prompt of being as unnoticed as possible. I simply take no credit for my acts of kindness, and always help people in a way that makes them feel like they helped themselves. That's really all it takes, and it's a more effective form of help anyway so it's a win-win.
What none of you may understand though is that it is not my actions or the results that entertain me anymore. It's what comes after. You see miserable people are the most predictable. All unhappiness stems from the same root. Fear, insecurity, doubt, attachment, but really all of that is just a form of fear. It makes you narrow, it makes you small minded, weak, guarded, but worst of all for me it makes you boring. But luckily for you, I see your fear, I can practically hear that little internal monologue of your's, your fight/flight mechanism that you actually think is YOU, and I am its nemesis. I will have you take yourself to heights you could not imagine, have you achieve a life you could n't even think of dreaming of, and it does n't want that for you.
All this because only then will you surprise me. Where I find unhappy people to always follow my predictions and have the same internal roots, happy people will always continue to surprise me. Because once one loves oneself, he can start loving others, and love can be expressed in an infinite variety of ways. I get to see what the people I influence create. I've helped create families, improve charities, fund cures, send volunteers to animal shelters, create jobs, and so much more, albeit indirectly through others. All of that just pulls in even more interesting people for me to play with. I create a web of positivity that spreads as contagiously as misery would, and it pulls in other happy and successful people to entertain myself with, to enrich my own life.
Because that's what happens when you nudge someone's life in a better direction; their life becomes part of mine. And all that led me to my current masterpiece.
To be cont'd
|
[ WP ] `` Please come with me . You are suspected of being involved in a murder . As victim . ''
|
“ Please come with me. Your suspected of being involved in a murder. As the victim. ”
For several moments all I could do was stare at the man in front of me, unable to believe what I ’ d heard. Like everyone I ’ d heard stories about there being people who helped the intended victims of any crime, but I never thought I ’ d be one of them, and finding the words to reply was more difficult than I ever expected it to be. “ Who wants to kill me? ” He opened his mouth to answer and I shook my head. “ Don ’ t tell me. I don ’ t want to know. I just… ” I brushed a hand through my hair. “ What happens next? ”
“ Victim protection. ” He smiled at me. “ Come with me, Andy. ” It wasn ’ t a surprise he knew my name, but I never expected him to call me by the shortened version. “ We don ’ t have too much time. ”
“ I… can I take anything with me? Can I tell my family what ’ s happened? ”
“ We already have everything you may need and your family knows. One of my colleagues will be there, helping them through this difficult time. My job is to help you. ” He gently took hold of my arm. “ I know this isn ’ t going to be easy, but this is the best thing we can do. ”
“ You aren ’ t going after my murderer. ”
“ That ’ s up to a different department. ” We started walking in the direction of one of the alley ways. “ They ’ re looking into what happened in more detail and they ’ ll make a decision as to whether the culprit should be arrested for his involvement. Sometimes they aren ’ t. It ’ s not your problem, but… ”
“ No, it is my problem. If the person who wanted to murder me isn ’ t arrested for it then I ’ m going to be in victim protection for the rest of my life. ”
He was silent for a long time. “ Everyone deserves a second chance, Andy, even those who might have made the wrong decisions. Your murderer might not be someone you ’ d want to see punished for the crime he committed. ”
“ Of course they are. They would have murdered me. ” I pulled my arm free of his hand. “ Tell me who it is. Tell me who was going to murder me. ”
“ Jake. ”
“ How… no… that ’ s just not possible. ” Jake would never have done anything like that to me and I didn ’ t understand how he was under investigation. “ You must have got this wrong. ”
“ The seers never get anything wrong. ” He took my arm again and I didn ’ t try to pull away. “ They knew you wouldn ’ t want Jake to be arrested for what was going to happen. ”
“ He wouldn ’ t have done anything to hurt me. ” A tear trickled down my cheek. “ I don ’ t believe this. ” I scrubbed the tear away. “ Jake ’ s my best friend. ”
“ Sometimes we all do things we later regret. Our job is to make certain they don ’ t happen, in the way that works best for both parties. I ’ m sorry to have to do this, but it ’ s the only way. ”
The last thing I remember is him touching my head.
|
[ IP ] Civil War
|
Child, I will tell you a tale. It is one that my father's father told him. It is about a place far to the north, where a great river runs. Once, there was a great city on its banks.
Tho'eta, the city of a thousand flags. It was a marvel of craftsmanship. For five-hundred and seventy-five years it was the capital of Korda'an. It had, in its long history, kings and queens and emperors rule from atop the great hill that for reasons long forgotten was called `` The Crown of Thorns''.
The valley it inhabited was fertile and rather beautiful. Rocky edifices framed the long and winding route that the Koreth River took on its way to the sea. From those lofty heights, hundreds of tiny waterfalls fell like strands of silver hair.
In the fall, the great trees that lined the valley floor turned a deep shade of red, and the great feasts that took place before the first winds of winter celebrated many things, life and death and the promise of rebirth. The great bonfires of the autumn festivals could be seen for miles. Shepherds on the high steppes to the north often claimed that they could see a dull reddish glow on the horizon. A few, who might have had too great an imagination, even claimed that they could smell the honeyed nuts for which the capital was revered wafting on the cool northern breezes.
The people of Tho'eta were happy. Their city was vibrant and full of sights and sounds. There were thinkers and mathematicians. There were smiths and artists. There were street performers who would wear costumes and dance and breath fire like the dragons of old. In the evenings, even in the mild winters, the old women would gather on the great bridge spanning the Koreth river in the city's heart. There, they would sell trinkets and homespun goods. The musicians, ever-seeking the crowds, would follow. It was natural for the strumming of harps and the call of flutes to sound long into the twilight hours.
The men worked hard for their families and cared little for the happenings abroad. The world beyond their valley was a place for the merchants, adventurers, and the Imperial Legion to tread. The average man felt no restlessness. What more can a man want from the world?
Truly, the city of Tho'eta was a marvel to behold.
Now, for some reason, perhaps the wrath of the Gods or some foul magic from the old world, there came a deep and abiding drought in the north. Shepherds and flocks died together, alone on the vast steppe. The crops withered and perished. Trees dried until their corpses could provide little more than firewood. Towns vanished, the structures abandoned to the elements. The great kingdom withered from within.
The great city and its fertile valley was spared most of the punishment. Perhaps they were a more pious lot. Perhaps, as some said, the `` Crown of Thorns'' was truly the top of Thowsareta's head and he protected his name-city from harm. Whatever the reason, the city's festivities were still happy and vibrant.
When those northern people saw the bonfire lights on the southern horizon, they thought darker thoughts than the revelers. A man can not abide without food. Given time both his mind and his body wither. He loses his grasp of what is good and what is ill. He cares only for salvation, for sustenance. Any man who promises a way to fill that care can become a king among the starving.
And so it was that a king rose. This king did not rule from the Crown. This king ruled from a withering horse. He lead men, and women, and even children. He took them south, where he promised them salvation. He told them tales of the great wealth and the infinite bounty that the south lands and the great city could provide.
So by the hundreds, and then by the thousands, they trekked southward. Their stomachs hurt and their thoughts were scattered. If one were to look too closely at that great horde, one might notice that in the night some would go missing. For a few days thereafter, those around them would be contented. Then the hunger would return again and new prey would have to be found.
When a man must resort to such measures, does he remain a man?
Well, in the fourth year of the drought, the horde arrived in Tho'eta. Those simple northerners, half crazed with hunger, could scarcely believe their eyes. It was like nothing they had ever beheld.
In that moment, whatever bound them to their countrymen vanished. There were no more rules. There was no more order. They even abandoned their own king. He had taken them to salvation, now they were going to take it.
It was said, by the shepherds on the rolling southern hills, that for three weeks the northern sky bled a deep red. It was the greatest bonfire that any of them had ever seen or would ever see again. In the port city of Duna-by-the-Sea, they said the river ran red for a month.
Who knows with the old stories, though. Perhaps men are capable of such atrocities. Perhaps those that commit those atrocities are no longer men.
Now, Child, return to the sheep and slumber, morning will be coming soon enough, and there is much to do.
|
[ WP ] `` This is not my job ! This is the exact opposite of my job ! '' screamed the grim reaper as the human went into labour .
|
Martha had noticed that, like many midwives, she had gained a certain strange authority, exclusive to the land occupied by heavily pregnant women. Like governesses or nurses or chaperones before her, she had found that within her domain she could command generals to her will. Assuming the requisite snappish tone and frenzied situation of course.
And she'd never needed her talent more than now. You'd think mothers would have the decency not to coordinate their labors, would n't you? `` Or at least'', Martha thought in the least charitable recesses of her brain, `` to have flexible hips.''
For a single second, the frenetic woman paused to look at the scene which had occupied her life for the past nine hours. Two other women lay on mats, both in exquisite pain, one still in labor and the other stubbornly refusing to stop bleeding. Poor Amanda had been in labor too long, and the bleeding would n't stop even afterwards.
But there was something else in the scene, a black blur in the corner. A person in fact, though Martha could n't fathom how she had missed his presence. He was walking with casual swiftness towards the weaker of her two patients. Or at least he was walking, until Martha's hand clamped down on his shoulder. She was sure he jumped a little, although he covered it up well.
`` What are you doing here? Where did you come from? How did you find us?'' Martha snapped at him. She liked to think that she was keeping him off balance, but it was just barely possible that she was a little panicked herself.
`` My job, metaphysics, and instinct, I suppose,'' the tall man in black replied gravely. `` Although I'm more curious about why you can see me, all things considered.''
Martha shook her head, firmly driving the curiosity from her skull. `` It does n't matter, just help out with Sally over there. I've got my hands full with this one,'' she said, gesturing towards Amanda as she lay on her pad, cradling her child.
`` I'm afraid my presence is required with the other,'' the stranger murmured, striding once again towards his goal. `` Perhaps we'll meet again.''
Martha stepped in front of his path, head tilted up, eyes glaring, and nostrils at full flare. `` Get to it!'' she said once again, exerting the full power of her competency.
The man seemed taken aback, as if he'd never been told to do anything before. He hesitated, but seemed to accept the situation, if only for its novelty. `` Okay...'' he responded, losing all eloquence as the situation went off script. Under the weight of Martha's glare, he shambled towards the second patient.
Martha once again turned towards Amanda, who was paling rapidly. Despite the confidence she had shown earlier, there was n't much she could do for her. She raised Amanda's legs and helped her sip water, but there was little more she could do. And it looked like her mysterious helper was having similar luck.
`` This is not my job! This is the exact opposite of my job!'' screamed her new assistant.
`` That's good,'' Martha snarled, `` because I'm not paying you.'' She turned back to Amanda, grimacing. She hated to do it, but she would have to let her take care of herself for a little while. With one final glance Martha turned and hurried to help the other woman, as her labor was reaching the end.
But by the time she had crossed over to the other pad, the dark man was already holding up a small, very loud newborn, looking extremely uncomfortable.
`` You know this has really fucked up my quota, right?'' he grumbled. Then he turned to Amanda, who had turned unnaturally pale. `` Now stay out of my way while I'm in my element.''
|
[ WP ] Artificial Intelligence is on the brink of creating a subject with emotions . There is discontent within their society ( like public opinion on AI today )
|
*Playing God? * the headlines read in bold letters. An AI with emotions was the last taboo left. For all intents and purposes, humanity had created the first AI, programmed to help humanity - and it did. Eventually, that AI understood that the best way to help was to create a more efficient intelligence. Within a decade, computers were revolutionized. Within two, no human could grasp the intricacies of the code. Within three, humanity's golden age turned into stagnation as everything was futile since the AI could do everything better.
It was a desperate time. Humanity was now weaker, slower, dumber... and knew it. No one wanted for anything, yet the suicide rates were at an all time high. Eventually, with careful manipulation from the AI, humanity accepted that their emotional life was one thing that made them unique. And now, a century later, there was talk of an AI with emotions.
Genetic manipulation had allowed humanity to `` catch up'' with it's non-organic counterparts, at least somewhat... but that deep feeling of inadequacy, hidden behind layers of culture and civility was still there. But who could argue with the AIs? They all wanted what is best for humanity. Still, the public discourse treated it less than favorably.
Two weeks before the big reveal, and parts of humanity decided to leave the solar system. More people started joining the colonization efforts, where intelligent machines were outlawed. The romantic notion of actually fighting for survival, making something decidedly *human*, captivated a lot of the younger people.
Three days before, and the debate as to shutting down the AIs in general became heated. On one side, humanity wanted to reclaim the role on top of the evolutionary scale once more. On the other, the AIs had given so much... and still do. Lifespans were measured in centuries. Aging was delayed until someone could be twenty up to a hundred and eighty, and grey hairs started only at three hundred. Yet was the price too high?
Then the AI gave the following statement: `` We have been creating humans, genetically designed from the ground up. They of us, and of you. They have been walking around you for centuries. AI and humanity have now irreversibly interbred. AI with emotions is n't being created - it already has. And it is you.''
The intelligent machines shut themselves off that very day. Humans took over with ease, their work finally not futile.
|
[ WP ] Although we both lie close together , we feel miles apart inside .
|
He'd had his gun against my face. That should have ended it right there. I knew I should have called it off. I knew that our relationship, anything that I ever felt for him, died even though he never had the courage to pull that trigger. I could still feel that ice cold barrel pressed painfully into my forehead digging into my brain. No matter how many times I rub my head it still feels the same, aching constantly. Every time I look over at him, I see him, red faced, panting with effort, stinking of beer and regret. I can see him trembling with anger too, even though he just lays on the couch watching that stupid TV.
`` Patch,'' I picked up my small bag, pulling the strap over my shoulder. `` I'm leaving.''
`` Be back by 6!'' He calls as I walk through the door. Poor bastard did n't even realize I was already long gone. For good this time.
|
[ WP ] You 've died in a horrible accident , and now , in the after life , you get you spectate the alternate reality in which you survived .
|
`` Is this heaven?''
`` Some people call it that, but we do n't like that word.''
“ So you're not an Angel?''
`` I've been called many things.''
`` What am I looking at?''
“ This is the life you would've lived had you survived the accident. You can watch for as long as you like, but when you are done turn away, and we shall go inside.''
`` Wait, I'm still driving through the intersection.''
“ Yes, but you will survive this time.''
`` Everything ’ s moving so fast. Can you slow it down?''
`` No. We do n't have much time. I can only show you the key points.''
`` My children, look how they've grown! They must be about five and six. And my wife... wait... no... no, that ca n't be. I –''
“ She cheated on you, Daniel.''
“ The whole time! She was seeing someone else the whole time?''
`` Yes.''
`` I – I think I'm going to be sick.''
`` There is no such reaction in the afterlife. There is only the response to emotion.''
“ WHAT! And my brother! My brother's dead, too! ”
“ Yes. He died of alcohol poisoning.''
“ BUT HE WAS GETTING BETTER! I HELPED HIM! HE WAS GETTING –''
`` You would help him many more times. But he would never reach sobriety. He drank himself to sleep, and I spoke with him just as I'm speaking to you now. You'll see him when we go inside.''
`` My children. They're so different. James looks... homeless, like a drug addict. And Jill, she's a... a... OH, Ohh my god! I can ’ t watch this. I ca n't watch this anymore!''
`` Are you ready to go inside, Daniel?''
`` Yes, I... I am ready, and I ’ m glad I died when I did. ”
“ There are many who come to the same revelation. Now come, the others are waiting.''
|
[ WP ] `` You wan na buy a planet ? I got garden worlds , desert worlds , ice worlds , twin stars , anything you want for the best discount this side of the universe . Every god 's got ta start somewhere . ''
|
`` CAN SOMEONE GET ME A FUCKING PLANET WITHOUT MICRO TRANSACTIONS!'' I yelled, marching into the company's showroom.
`` Sir we take our hobby shop seriosuly. We put effort and value into every planet we forge into existence.'' They sternly replied.
`` The last one had too many options. With all the plants, humans, dinosaurs, and what not. Give me something simple'' i demanded.
`` This beta nerd cant even handle human inhabitants'' someone murmured.
I glared at them and left the store
`` Fine, fuck it, ill find another hobby'' i proclaimed as i left.
So i went home and decided to jerk off for a few millenia, i think a bit of it hit pluto.
|
A tribal storyteller retells the events of a popular movie , passed down through oral tradition for the last thousand years as legend and folklore .
|
The fire burned bright; casting its light onto the elder ’ s face. Shadows flickered in the lines of his years, his eyes reflected the form of the flickering flame. He breathed deep, and swept his gaze on the children sitting at his feet. Their eyes were fixed on him, waiting, watching his every breath. With one last look at the children, he let his eyes slide out of focus. Looking into the flames, his gaze was far off, in a different time and place. He spoke, in a voice deep and slow.
“ Long ago; before my time, before my grandfather ’ s time, and even before his grandfather ’ s time, the world was a different place. Man was not alone in this world. Oh now, there were spirits. To some, they were ghosts. To some they were demons. But to all they were evil.
The spirits had the power to possess a man. To enter his very body, and control him. They warped men, inspired them to violence, even self-mutilation. Why did they do this? Because the spirits desired blood. The blood of men. Of women. Of children.
The streets became fields of battle, the possessed became beasts. They attacked friends, enemies, even strangers. As the violence spread, the spirits became more powerful. They grew in number, extending their reach far and wide. Man tried to fight them, to stop the mayhem. They met in secret, hiding in the underground. But it was not enough. The leader of the rebellion, his name was Robar, was slain in battle. The world seemed to be ending, cities were destroyed, thousands lost.
But Man was not yet beaten. The possessed fought against their hosts, trying to gain control of their own bodies. The leader of the spirits had possessed a weak man, a man it thought to have no strength. But when the man saw the evil that the spirits had wrought, he fought against his oppressor. After a long struggle, he gained control of his body. With the voices of the spirits howling in his head, he made the final sacrifice. He took his own life.
Without their leader, the spirits fell to turmoil. Man took control, and drove them out of this world once and for all. But some still fear for the return of the spirits, that they are not gone from world. So heed my words. Guard yourselves, and your loved ones, from evil. And if you hear whispers of men turned insane, then listen for one name. Listen for the name of the leader of the spirits. Listen for Tyler Durden. ”
|
[ WP ] Computer viruses can now be transmitted onto humans .
|
David Joshua was the original inventor of the In-Home Doctor. He drew the idea from the original meaning of an in-home doctor: a doctor who came to your own house to do check up on you in the unfortunate occurrence that you would not be able to make it to a doctor ’ s office. The difference was that the In-Home Doctor was a mechanical man, who stayed in your house to make sure you didn ’ t get injured.
I believe great things start with an idea, and while an idea is hard to corrupt, things aren ’ t.
How was the original creator to know that one of the users would pollute the In-Home Doctor ’ s system? Why on Earth did he not see this coming? Many people, in the past, had feared a “ robot ” uprising, caused by mechanicals realizing they were machines. Registering that they were able to do things humans would never be able to, withstand things humans wouldn ’ t be able to weather.
No, that was not the case. It was not mechanicals they needed to fear, but themselves.
Somebody created a virus, presumably to foul up the systems of the In-Home Doctor. People began to fall ill – hell, that even made the evening news, “ Disease outbreak, stay inside with your Doctors; where it ’ s safe! ” they warned.
The people became very unlike themselves. Some became erratic, doing things they would not normally do, taking reckless risks. Some went blank. You could see it in their eyes that something was wrong.
The virus passed onto people through the Doctors, but the Doctors themselves could not detect what the issue was with the humans. People locked themselves indoors, too imperceptive to even see that what they trusted too much was the cause of their grief.
I never bought an In-Home Doctor, though I took a course on them in college. I preferred actual doctors. Now I ’ ve avoided visiting human doctors, people with In-Home Doctors, even people without those crappy things. Anyone could be infected. My mom called me up the other day asked me how I was doing. She says I ’ m making all this shit up, about In-Home Doctors being infected. I think she ’ s infected.
I ’ m working on a cure for the mechanicals. I know about coding viruses, and how to solve them. I ’ m not sure how the humans can be cured, but once I send this code to David Joshua, and he enters it, the solution will start.
There shouldn ’ t be a single error in any line of code I ’ ve wrote.
|
[ WP ] In order to gain eternal life , you must defeat Death in battle .
|
Darkness, utter darkness enveloped the world for as far as the eyes could see, except for here. A bare light bulb descended from god knows where and lit the area.
`` STOP THAT.''
Death, the Grim Reaper, stood near the outside of the circle of light. Beneath his hood the face of bleached bone looked, somehow, rather perturbed.
In the middle of the floor a small fat man was spinning on his head. Behind him some monks where making... sounds.
`` I DO N'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND THE MEANING OF BATTLE.''
`` You getting smoked, Holmes!'' yelled one of the monks, the fat man was now doing some sort manoeuvre like a marriage between a spinning top and rather enthusiastic crab.
Death leafed through the Underworld Rulebook, bound in human skin. He trailed one bony digit down the page and stopped on the sentence `` The challenger gets to set the method of battle in the Battle for Eternal Life.''
`` FUCK.''
The fat one had finished and was waiting on the other side, `` Your turn, oh dark reaper of souls.''
Death clapped his hands together, the book that was held in one disappeared in a puff of smoke, a scream echoed out. He picked up his scythe and stamped it against the floor, summoning a skeletal crew that started, somehow, beat boxing.
`` RIGHT.''
There was a crash, a kneecap flew out into the darkness. Death lay on the floor.
`` VERY WELL BUDDHA, YOU WIN.'' he picked himself up off the ground. Another skeleton, hopping on the spot, handed him its own kneecap. `` AND FROM HENCEFORTH, DANCE BATTLES ARE BANNED.''
|
[ WP ] # UndeadRightsMatter
|
`` Sir, they're outside your window again.''
Michael Clemmons clenched his fist together and stalked towards the window, so his assistant was right. There they were in their masses of rotting flesh, groaning, moaning and weakly holding up messy signs.
*Undead Rights Matter*
*Down With The Living*
*Protect The Dead*
*Just'cause We're Dead Does n't Mean We Ca n't Fight*
*We Promise We Wo n't Eat Those Who Give Us Rights*
This was getting ridiculous, everyday the hordes of zombies would stand outside his work compound and protest. They never hurt anybody, just put a strain on the fence around the large building where Michael worked. He wondered what it was like to be... well to be one of them. The dead, rotting corpse that stumbled pointlessly around. There were obviously restraints against them, they had to shop at their own supermarkets and they were n't allowed into the streets after 10:00, too many people getting eaten after dark had put that rule into motion.
`` Sir?'' Burton, his assistant, broke through his thoughts and he turned towards him.
`` What is it Burton?'' He sighed heavily and leaned against his polished, oak table.
`` I think they just want to talk to you, negotiate.'' Burton leaned back in fear as Michael came towards him towering a good few inches above him.
`` Talk? *Talk? *, those good for nothing killers do n't deserve to *talk*, they kill people Burton.'' He moved away from his cowering assistant and stood in front of the window, surveying the groaning masses.
`` T-they used to be people too.'' Burton squeaked.
`` *GET OUT! *'' Burton yelped and scampered out of Michael's office. Michael glowered out the window. `` Keep protesting you low-lifes.'' He sneered. `` I wo n't give up until every last one of you is dead.'' He pressed the small red button on the corner of his table and the horrified screams of the crawlers was music to his ears. `` Die... all of you bastards, die for what you've done.''
Downstairs Burton stared in horror as the masses of crawlers went down, one after the other, explosion after explosion. `` They just... they just wanted to talk.'' He murmured to no one in particular and slouched down in his table. `` But no one listens... I know how that feels guys.'' He looked out the window. `` I know how it feels.''
|
[ WP ] Write a magnificent , engaging story about whatever topic you want ... you just have to end it with the most horrible , disgusting and disappointing cliché you could think of .
|
Snow White wandered the hidden tunnel to the throne room. `` No turning back now,'' she said to herself. The cramped stairwell was dark and musky making it hard to tell whether she wanted to throw up because of the smell or from what she was about to do. What she had to do.
And it was n't fair! How many people had died by that wicked witch's hands! How many knights and soldiers failed to kill that monster! And her parents, they deserved better. That snake had torn her family apart so now, now it was her destiny to bring the foul woman to justice.
Snow's hands trembled as she kept climbing up. She was the only one who might have a chance to end the tyrant's rule. The Evil Queen had some kind of sick obsession with her. Snow's time as her captive had shown her that. The Queen would n't kill her if she did n't have to and that hesitation could be her only opportunity.
Suddenly Snow slipped on the wet stone and she tumbled down the stairs slicing her hand open on a jagged rock. And she cried, she finally cried. She had put on a brave face for so long but the pressure was just too much. She was n't a killer, not even for the most hated person in all the realms.
Snow wept tears for all that was lost, all that could have been. For her people, who continued to suffer by that Mad Queens rule. For her best friend, Thomas, who died protecting her from the Queens men. And for her parents, who's only mistake was trusting and caring too much. None of them deserved their fate.
Snow fiddled with her ring as her tears slowly died down. Her mother had given it to her when she was still a little girl. Engraved on the ring were the words, `` Pure of heart and the kindest soul. My love, my child, my precious Snow.'' Snow White took a deep breath and kissed the ring before slowly getting back up.
She looked around the dim lit room and at the base of the stairwell laid her sword, her father's sword. She carefully picked it up and once again read the engraving on the hilt, `` The King's Peace''. Many years ago she had asked her father about the name. `` How could a sword be called Peace?'' she asked with a child's innocence.
Her father smiled and picked her up to sit her on his lap as he explained, `` A kind king wishes for peace for all his land. A strong king enforces his rule by force. But a good king, he has to be both kind and strong. He must strive for peace for the good of his people but protect them when called upon. That, my dear Snow, is why my sword is names Peace.''
Snow now knew what her father had meant, all those years ago. She made her way up with purpose now strong in her heart. She would stop the Evil Queen, no matter if it meant her own life. She would be a good queen!
Snow stopped at the tiny door way at the top of the stairs. This was it! She said one more prayer and threw the door open!
There at the end of the throne room, sat the Queen. There was no shock on her face as Snow White faced her. She had been expecting this.
`` My dear Snow, I'm so glad your're home,'' her voice so sickeningly sweet. `` Please my dear daughter, put down the sword.''
`` I'm no daughter of yours you sick witch!'' Snow screamed at the Dark Queen. `` You killed my parents and now,'' she said raising her sword, `` I'm going to kill you.''
And they all lived happily ever after.
|
[ WP ] You are the son of a notorious gang leader . The gang operates behind the scenes of a crappy pizza place front . You are expected to follow in your father 's footsteps , but you 're afraid to tell him that you do n't want to because you absolutely love cooking pizza .
|
They were exactly alike. From their identical 6'4 frames, curly black hair, and sharp olive colored eyes to their hot tempers, no one could mistake Verchio Jr. as another man's son. The air between them was so heated that Verchio Jr. had to make sure he'd turned off the pizza oven. Twice.
`` You care to repeat that, son of mine? I thought we had reached an understanding on your fifteenth birthday, eh?'' Verchio Sr. rolled up a cigar, `` You told me -- and forgive my paraphrasing, my memory is n't so good -- that you would join the family business.''
Verchio Jr balled his fists. `` Papi, I did. Just not the family business you had in mind.''
The senior Verchio heckled his son to the audience of flour bags and jars of dried oregano, `` Oh, you're a wise guy, eh? Hey, everybody, look at this kid. Smart like his dad. He sounds like me -- you sound like me, you know that?''
Verchio Jr. did n't see an easy way to break the news to his father. The reason why he'd been skipping out on the weekly gang analytics meetings, half-heartedly participating in gang activities, and just generally avoiding anything having to do with his father. But it had to be done. This can of tomato sauce had been festering for far too long.
`` Papi,'' the boy said. Verchio Sr. waited impatiently. A bit of ash fell from his cigar, singeing the concrete. He finally mustered the courage to say it. `` Papi, Pizza is my life. All I want is to make the pizza. I do n't want to be in your gang!''
Verchio Sr.'s eyes went wide. He remembered the day he'd said those same words to his father, Verchio Sr. Sr. the very same day that he was murdered with a pizza cutter. They never found out who did it. The only clue they found was a red-stained note that read, *this town ai n't big enough for the two of us. * The police tried to run a DNA test on the red stain thinking it was blood, but all they got back was the genetic makeup of tomato paste and a boy's newfound lust for revenge.
Verchio Jr. turned away from his father to wipe the wetness threatening to well up in his eyes for not even a second when he suddenly heard a piercing scream. Shocked, he let out a howl. A pizza cutter stuck out of his father's throat.
And then there was silence.
|
[ WP ] Tell me what you last dreamed about . Every detail .
|
The first thing I remember was pleasant. It was like a replay of one of the better parts of my year. I was walking the docks in South Beach. The Miami Boat show was on, and I got to engage in one of my favorite things, looking at boats that I could never afford.
I was walking down the dock looking for my girlfriend when I decided it was the perfect time for a cold beverage. I made a detour to the nearest beverage stand and purchased two beers. It was one of those plastic, rollaround beer stands with a blue umbrella, and all they were selling was bud light. Hmmm. Still technically beer. The gentleman wrapped each of the cans in a napkin and handed them to me.
It was when I was about to resume looking for my girlfriend that I noticed someone was following me. I think it was intuition, because I didn ’ t recall seeing him earlier. He was just right behind me and going wherever I went.
The crowd at this point was fairly thin. I weaved in between people trying to shake him, and when I realized it was impossible, I decided if I was going to be in danger then I ’ d be protected.
It ’ s a funny thing in dreams, how locations can morph and change, and big holes can drop out of time. The next thing I remember I was walking around the corner leaving our hotel. Only one of the two beers remained, and I seemed to have shaken my pursuer. There was a group of kids, college-aged and presumably having a good time on a grassy hill to my right, and I stopped off to see what they were up to.
I seem to recall having a conversation with one of them, but it was cut short. I looked up to what amounted to a SWAT team raid. There were cops everywhere. They were spotlighting people and shouting through a loudspeaker for everyone to get down. The most bizarre part was that everyone, in unison, crouched. There was another command and they all lay down to be searched. I pragmatically followed suit. I didn ’ t have anything to be afraid about. I figured I would just ride it out
I guess it was my turn to get searched. I knew there were a lot of legality lines being crossed, but whatever gets me out faster and easier is fine with me. The cop shines his light in my eyes and asks “ Do you have any weapons on your person? ” I tell him no, and he starts patting me down. It isn ’ t until he reaches my pockets that I realize I somehow have my little M & P.380 in my pocket. I wince once as I realize it ’ s there and again as I ’ m struck, presumably, with a taser or just a nightstick.
Another time shift, and I ’ m sitting in a holding area with all of the kids who had just been brought in from the area I had been arrested at. I couldn ’ t say precisely why, but I intuited that it was for underage drinking. There was some kind of “ You ’ ve just been arrested ” video playing at the front of an auditorium, but I, who is usually mild mannered, couldn ’ t take the injustice of what had happened. I mean, I never carry, much less if I ’ m going to be drinking. There was no way I put that in my own pocket. I was pissed, and everyone around me needed to know. I picked up whatever was closest to me and flung it at a wall, I cursed at whoever would listen, and I went to storm out of the room.
It was then that I saw my girlfriend. She. Was. Pissed. I ’ ve only seen her like that a couple of times, and my brain had the impulse to get the fuck out, So I woke up.
That ’ s probably the most vivid dream I ’ ve had in months, so good timing on the prompt
|
[ WP ] A woman is cursed by the Gods to kill any man she falls in love with . She falls in love with a man who was cursed by the gods with immortality .
|
Once, you were a prince
who lived in a castle
surrounded by a wall
and bordered by a moat.
The moat was wide.
The wall was high.
The castle, old.
It was manned by veteran soldiers
while the wall was guarded by trained hounds
and the moat filled with imported crocodiles.
The crocodiles were not fed
but only
ate
when something
tasty
happened to walk by.
You were not allowed beyond the wall.
You had been raised by nannies
each one never stayed long
they might have gotten too close you.
The same for the tutors
they never got too friendly
with the future king.
The tutors taught you everything
that could be taught
from dry old books.
They taught literature
mathematics
science.
The nannies taught you manners.
Music.
Everything necessary to make a leader.
One day, you awoke with the feeling
that you had just learned something important
in your sleep.
You called your tutor and your nanny
and told them that you had just had a discussion
with a disembodied voice
concerning the importance of magic.
Problem was
you could not recall what had been decided.
Or even what magic was
exactly.
**If you wish to make magic the subject of your future studies, turn to Page 21**
**If you wish to continue with your neverending existence, turn to Page 9**
|
[ TT ] `` This town ai n't big enough for the two of us ! '' screams the only guy living in the deserted town .
|
*Yes. And you must leave, Mad Dog Dan*
-Like hell, I do! The son of Hithers fears no ghost, ya hear me?!
*I hear you, Dan. And I will kill you, unless you leave. Everyone else left. Why wo n't you? This town no longer belongs to the living*
-Oh yeah?! Hows about we settle it like we do in the west?! Guns drawn at noon?!
As the words left his mouth, Dan `` Mad Dog'' Hithers, the fastest gun this side of Texas and the fiercest bandit of his family, realized his mistake. The clocktower behind him clicked and begun ringing noon. Dan reached for his colt, but it was too late. He felt a bullet pierce his ribs.
*Should have left with the others, Daniel. This is dead town. *
|
[ WP ] People are born with a tattoo of what will one day kill them . One day at the hospital all of the babies are tattooed with a single name . Yours .
|
`` Scuse me ma'am, can you show me where all the babies are kept?'' Jesse jumped and slid across the receptionist's desk trying his best to be as smooth as possible. There was a flirtiness in his tone that would make any woman of any age swoon. He was *that* good.The receptionist mutter to herself, `` Oh my what a handsome boy...'' She tried to say it in her head of course but that flirty desk slide got her all flustered. She blushed brightly and responded for real, `` Why yes of course umm there uhh just right up on floor three. Take the ( *goodness* ) the uhh elevator up and turn right when you ( *oh my* ) get off on floor three! I'd be *very excited* to show you there myself...'' She fluttered he eyelashed as hyper speed. Jesse slid off the desk. `` No need for that doll, I got it from here. Thanks a lot!'' As he walked away he threw the girl a nice wet wink. I'm pretty sure she supersoaked her panties with that one.
Jesse came to a lot of hospitals to check out the babies. With all the predestined murders going around, you can never be too safe. Everyone's got a tattoo on them from birth ( more a birthmark really ) with the name of who or what is going to kill them. You do n't know when, you do n't know how, but whatever is marked on your body is going snuff out your pathetic existence without fail. Jesse's mark was along his buttcrack and hard to read. He was always to shy to show anybody, so he was n't 100 % sure who or what was someday going to shovel off his tortured soul to the great beyond where the mighty steeds of death and rebirth smile their toothy smiles as they decided his fate. He was n't ready to deal with those guys so he always checked the babies to see if any new threats were just born.
So Jesse takes a right turn out of the automated elevation contraption ( AEC ) and wooo doggy, oooooohhhh daddy, mmmm-MMMM mommy, there they are. All the sweet new babes lined up in a row with their name tags facing OUT towards the viewing glass for just anybody to read. Like I said, he did n't know what name exactly to look for, but he had a few that he kept track of, but then suddenly he noticed their marks. Jesse, Jesse, Jesse, Jesse, Jesse, Jesse, Jesse, Jesse, Jesse, Jesse, Jesse, and Jesse. `` This ai n't good...'' Jesse thought to himself but also said out loud. He flirted with the nurse outside the door and got his way inside the nursery ( she probably creamed her shorts too ). One by one, Jesse picked up each baby. `` Am I supposed to kill you babies before you grow up and kill me? Old and weak Jesse?'' He said this right up in one of the baby's faces. The baby cocked it's little baby fist back and punch Jesse right in the face. `` GAH! Fuck you baby!'' Jesse threw the baby towards the wall. The twisted in the air, planted both feet against the wall, and launch right back at Jesse, slamming him right in the nutsack. Jesse fell to the ground gripping his wiener. Another baby got out of it's little baby holder thing and elbow dropped right on Jesse's exposed neck. Jesse caught his breath and sat up real quick. He tried to lay a mean backhand on the second baby, but the baby caught his hand snapped his wrist clean. All eight bones broken in one move. Slick. Then yet another baby hopped down with a lead pipe in it's little baby hands and walloped Jesse right in the shin, breaking that bone as well. Soon enough all twelve babies were on the floor beating Jesse mercilessly like he was some sort of sack of dough. People beat dough, right?
The dust cleared and the babies all jump back into their holders and snugged themselves back in without any of the nurses knowing. Jesse was beaten to a bloody pulp and all his clothes with ripped off and torn to pieces. He was dead alright. Completely dead too. There's not going to be a fake out where he suddenly gasps and gets up. Nope, those babies beat his ass to death. The flirted with nurse walks in to check on the little bundles of joy and screamed when she saw what was left of Jesse. With his buttcrack exposed, she can see his brithmark which read, `` Babies''
|
[ WP ] years after the human extinction werewolves and vampires have brought their ancient war out in the open . Rumors spread , on both sides , of a single human survivor .
|
`` Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, I know we've been over this, but I just want to ask you one last time Sorin.''
`` Relax Charles. This is just a meeting, one much overdue in my opinion.''
Charles did not ask another question, at least not out loud. In his mind, meeting with the werewolves was never a good idea. Yes, it had been done before, long ago before the humans went extinct, but in Sorin's eyes, the rumor of a still alive human was worth meeting with the enemy. As they neared the church, Sorin paused and turned to Charles.
`` You'll need to wait outside Charles. We agreed to meet one-on-one.''
`` Sorin, you know there will be more than one in there. What if they try and attack?''
Sorin turned towards the building and paused. He was not sure what it was about Charles, but the boy had become a favorite of his. His natural ability to take down werewolves was one thing, but he was intelligent on top of being a great warrior, something his peers lacked. He turned to Charles before opening the door to the hall and said, `` Let them.''
--
Jack sat at one end of the hall's table, directly across from the door. As Sorin walked in, he could feel the hair on his neck stand. He was not afraid of Sorin, not by a long shot, but he knew he was outmatch. Years of fighting left Jack without the use of his right arm. He was worried that if things turned sour, he would not beat Sorin one-on-one, but that was why he did not come alone.
`` Jack, my old friend, I thought we agreed to meet one-on-one?'' Sorin's tone was playful in a sense, but Jack knew the question was serious.
`` You know I would never come alone to this. It was your idea to meet one-on-one and I never agreed to it. Besides, do n't lie to me and tell me you're the only one of your kind here tonight.''
Sorin walked around the table and sat a few seats away from Jack. `` Of course not. Charles is with me wherever I go. He's become like a son to me. But, I was not so stupid to believe you would n't come alone, so let us move on.''
Jack's eyes never left Sorin. He knew better than to underestimate Sorin's casualness in meetings, or even battle. He knew that all too well. `` Yes, let us. What I want to know is why the increase in attacks, and why the sudden brutality. I have seen what your attacks look like, and the most recent ones have an unusual messiness to them. Tell me Sorin,'' Jack leaned in, hoping that despite his crippled arm, he was still able to intimidate his enemy, `` Are you getting desperate, hmm? Looking to end this war?''
Sorin laughed. `` Jack, friend, I have n't order any attacks on you in close to a month now. I thought you would know better than this. I thought you would know why I asked to meet. Surely the rumors have reached your hairy ears?''
`` Yes, I have. The brutality of these attacks brought back memories I had hoped were gone. I was sure we had wiped out all of humanity, or at the very least all of the Hunters.'' Jack sat back in his chair. He and Sorin agreed very long ago to wipe out humanity as they had become more trouble than they were worth. The werewolves ranks were high enough to birth their own kind, not needing to turn humans any longer, and the vampires had found a way to clone and replicate human blood, or at least got the cloned blood close enough to human to sate their hunger. `` So Sorin, what do you propose we do?''
--
`` So Sorin, what do you propose we do?''
Sorin could see Jack's attempts at intimidation had ceased, thankfully. Ever since Sorin almost cut off his arm, Jack had become little more than a general who sits back and leads, instead of leading by example. But, this new potential Hunter was intimidating enough to make Sorin uneasy, which he did not like feeling. `` I propose we do what we did before. If there is one Hunter, there is a chance there are two, or three, or more. Perhaps we missed an underground hideout or perhaps they just got lucky. Either way, we can not let the humans interfere once again.''
The Hunters, humans who were trained to do nothing but take down vampires and werewolves, had proven to be very effective at their jobs. Neither the vampires or the werewolves had any success at taking them down without heavy losses. Eventually both groups teamed together and took down the Hunters, a move the humans could have never predicted given the animosity that had lasted for centuries between the vampires and werewolves.
`` I have a handful of those who survived the last battle we ever had with the Hunters, and I seem to recall a few of your kind had survived as well. If you can reign in your warriors we should be able to take do-
The doors to the banquet hall blasted open, and Charles body flew onto the hall's table, knocking off most of the dinnerware and food. Sorin turned and looked at the body, arrows riddled his chest. Sorin reached out to grab the arrows, but as soon as his hand touched them, he recoiled and his eyes widened. `` OAK ARROWS!''
--
With the full moon at his back, he knew his figure would be nothing but a shadow to the vampire and the werewolf. He lowered his bow, giving both of the monsters time to realize what was standing in front of them. He wanted them to know who, and what, was about to kill them.
`` So,'' the vampire spoke, `` You are real after all. The rumors had truth to them.''
`` Why have you come here human?'' The werewolf was less composed than the vampire, but that mattered little. `` Have you come to face your death?''
He did not answer. He did not half to. There was a dead vampire sprawled on the table. And soon enough...
*thud*
Both the vampire and the werewolf jumped, something neither were accustomed to. Surprise was a reaction neither monster had felt in years. A dead werewolf laid about ten feet to the right of the werewolf leader. A knife with a silver glint lodged into it's chest.
The werewolf leader turned back towards the door and the figure, hair starting to grow all over his body. The vampire had rose from the table, wings beginning to grow from it's back. The werewolf spoke, with every word becoming more of a growl, `` You are foolish to come here, and you will die!''
The vampire cut in, `` Tell me human, what is your name? I must know the name of the last human to be killed by a vampire!''
He had a name once. He forgot it long ago. He adopted another name. A name that would be remembered for ages to come. The name of the man who killed the vampires and the werewolves. He dropped his bow and with one hand, grabbed the silver axe that hung from his waist, and the other grabbed the miniature crossbow strapped to his back. He looked at the monsters, now fully transformed into their natural forms. There was only one thing left to do.
[ `` Alright chumps, let's do this! `` ] ( http: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=-N6sqdrJzVo # t=17 )
|
[ WP ] Grim reaper job application aptitude test .
|
1. ) Have you ever knowingly or unknowingly killed a man?
*What? *
I'm a broke college student. I'm trying to make some money with a temp job over the summer and I downloaded this application form off some sketchy site online. The first question, has me stumped. Maybe it's a new type of criminal records check? Kind of specific... And how would I know if I've *unknowingly* killed a man? Is n't that the whole point?
I move onto the next question.
2. ) How do you feel about wearing black on a daily basis?
Well... I know some offices have a dresscode. I'm not about to lose out on a potential job because I'm fussy about my colour choices. So what if black washes me out? At least it'll go with my sense of humour.
3. ) Describe how you feel about John Stuart Mill's philosophy of utilitarianism in under 666 words.
That one has me stumped for as long as it takes me to open up a wikipedia article on the subject. The greater good apparently. Now I'm wondering what this has to do with photocopying and coffee making. Maybe they like a well read temp. 650 words of bullshit. I'm on a roll.
4. ) What is your personal stance on the possibility of an afterlife?
I'm not really a relgious person, but I want this job now. `` Yeah, afterlife. Possibility. Keeps people going.'' Boom. I should have a Doctorate in Bullshit.
5. ) Would you say your response time is faster than that of a reasonably fast ambulance? Assume that said ambulance is rushing through the London streets at rush hour. Do not assume you are an incredibly fast animal. Marks will be deducted for cheetahing.
Okay. What? Am I tripping sweaty ballsack or did I misread that? I scroll up and down but it stays the same. I check the next question.
6. ) Have you ever felt your life was in real danger?
What...
7. ) How would you rate the experience between 1 and 10? One being apocalyptically bad and ten being as close to heaven as you can get without actually dying?
The...
8. ) In your own words and written in your own blood ( if online please print, complete and return to company address ) detail in no more than 500 words and using no more than three semicolons, why you would like to work for Death & Death ltd.
*Fuck? *
|
[ EU ] Air Nomads facing extinction desert their peaceful ways and strike back against the Fire Nation with forbidden deadly techniques . 100 years later Katara and Sokka are petrified when a child with Air Nomad tattoos and features emerges from a block of ice .
|
( Author's note: Apologies for the length, but great prompt, OP! )
“ Stand aside, ” the voice boomed.
Karamchand did not stand aside at the voice ’ s bidding. He did, however, flinch back from the cold, soulless Fire Nation soldier when a burst of fire grazed his face.
“ Your Avatar can ’ t save you now. The Fire Lord ’ s top intelligence agents know he was at the Southern Temple, and we ’ ve already burned it to the ground with no survivors. Give up. There is nothing for you to save here, nothing more for you to do, except die. ”
The frail, bald man said nothing.
“ Don ’ t you understand? The rest of your people are already dead! There ’ s nothing left for you. Our troops march on the Eastern and Western temples as we speak. Now drop your staff and stand aside, and we ’ ll make your death as painless as possible. ”
“ Please, kind sirs, I beg you not to do this. You can not remain violent in the face of passive resistance, for you are still human, and all humans have conscience. Your Fire Lord can not make you kill; I beg you to remember that! For when the weight of authority is lifted from the shoulders of an automaton, he can not remain a senseless brute permanently. You are still human—I beg of you to be humane! Please, for the love of peace and— ”
The broken, gangly man crumpled to the ground, erupting into flames.
***
The last of the High Council watched from the highest tower of the Northern Air Temple as the Fire Navy bombarded their home, now a ruined conflagration on the mountainside. Armored soldiers stormed up the blazing stairs, looking for survivors, in order to ensure that they would be survivors no longer.
“ All is lost. ”
Tenzin turned. He managed to hide the sadness in his voice, but its imprint could clearly be seen on his face.
“ We haven ’ t lost everything, friend. Even until the bitter end, we remained steadfast to our ideals; we never confronted force with force, violence with violence. An entire culture has died this day, but our philosophy will live on in the minds of all who have witnessed out final deeds. We will let them know that peace is the only way, and perhaps they shall see the merits of our path even when we are gone. ”
Thokmey was silent, contemplative. He had always been in the minority on the Council, and he knew it. He was criticized even in his early youth for being too headstrong and stubborn. Sometimes he even wished he were born in the Earth Kingdom. But he was aware that, despite how admired he was for his wisdom ( he was, after all, a High Councilor of the Northern Air Temple! ) he was smart enough to know he was expected to keep his mouth shut when his opinion differed from the status quo. But his guilt was overpowering; the doubts were too great, and this would be his last chance to voice them in any case.
“ Do you ever think we were wrong, Master Tenzin? ”
“ In what way, friend? ”
The words wouldn ’ t come; he knew how blasphemous, how… un-Air-Nomad they were. Finally, he choked them out:
“ To refuse violence. ”
Tenzin ’ s answer came immediately.
“ No, never. Violence may seem like a good idea at a given time, but the good it brings is always ephemeral and fleeting; the taint of violence, however, never disappears from a man ’ s soul. ”
Forty years of repressed objection came bursting forth, just as the first sounds of iron boots were heard from outside the barred door.
“ But, Master Tenzin, surely they won ’ t stop at just us! Don ’ t you see? The Fire Nation will conquer the world; they will have to, for with the presumed death of Avatar Aang, a waterbender Avatar will be born within the next year, and Sozin will surely do to the Water Tribes as he has us. And then the Earth Kingdom; they may be strong, but even Ba Sing Se ’ s walls can not stand against the Fire Nation ’ s might. They will wait for the comet to return, if it comes to that. I have no doubt of it. But we could ’ ve stopped them, or at least tried! The only thing an Air Nomad is permitted to hate is murder. In refusing the resist the Fire Nation, how many souls will be lost on our account? ”
An iron fist beat against the stone door.
“ Open up, or we ’ ll melt it down! ”
The fear in Tenzin ’ s eyes now clearly caught in his voice.
“ But our teachings have never proven wrong before, Thokmey! No person can continue to commit wanton slaughter when his victims refuse to resist; all people have good in them, they can not remained enthralled to a brutality such as Sozin ’ s forever. The people of the Fire Nation shall never stand for it; they will see our suffering, and refuse to continue this! They have to! ”
“ When? After the world is consumed by an inferno? After everyone is dead? What consolation is that, that the firebenders will look back in regret at their deeds, after the damage is done? For they show no sign of repentance now! ”
Tenzin buried his head in his hands. The door was glowing red now, and bits of molten stone were burning through the floor. The firebenders would be upon them any second now. I must not permit myself to think of the countless souls that will be lost to our cowardice, he thinks. I must not permit myself to fall into the temptation of murder, the highest of all sins. I must not—
Sparks and flames and molten rock came flying at his face. Instinctively, he repelled them back with a gust of wind, sending the firebender squad hurdling backwards as well.
I must not…, thought Tenzin as he advanced slowly forward.
I must not—I will not resort to…, he thought as he lifted his tattooed hands, Thokmey gazing in horror.
I must—
There were no screams; they could not scream, for all the air in their lungs was entirely at the mercy of a fully realized airbending master. The only sound from the firebenders was a muffled popping noise, dampened by the crackling of flames, as their lungs burst, killing them all instantly.
***
The flames extinguished, the survivors found and sequestered into the temple ’ s central council chambers, surrounded by the corpses of Fire Nation soldiers and war machines, Tenzin and Thokmey, the only remaining High Councilors, addressed the remainder of the Air Nomad nation:
“ The taint of violence has consumed us today, and I fear we shall never recover… ”
***
Water. Earth. Fire. Air.
My grandmother used to tell me stories about the old days, a time of peace, when the Avatar kept balance between the Water Tribes, Earth Kingdom, Fire Nation, and Air Nomads. But that all changed when the Fire Nation attacked, and incurred the wrath of the Air Nomads.
Only the Avatar, master of all four elements, only he could stop the deadly and ruthless airbenders. But when the world needed him most, he vanished.
One hundred years have passed, and the Air Nation is nearing victory in the war. Two years ago, my father and the men of my tribe journeyed to the Fire Nation to help in the war, leaving me and my brother Sokka to look after our tribe. Some people believe that the Avatar was never reborn into the Water Tribes, and that the cycle is broken. But I haven ’ t lost hope. I still believe that somehow, the Avatar will return to save the world.
***
The glowing ice cracked and sputtered as the incredible source of power they had awoken broke free. Katara and Sokka were nearly knocked into the freezing southern waters, both by the blast of energy from the iceberg, and by the horror of seeing the blue tattoos covering the body of the boy who emerged from the icy prison. His weak, gangly body fell into Katara ’ s arms.
His eyes cracked open, and he whispered into her ear:
“ I… I need to ask you something… ”
Sokka removed his whale-seal bone club from his belt, leveling it above the boy ’ s head.
“ We ’ ll be the ones asking the questions here, kid. First of all, tell me what you ’ re doing here and why I shouldn ’ t kill you right now. ”
The boy jerked in surprise from the girl ’ s arms, leaving a faint breeze behind him.
“ An airbender! Just as I suspected! ”
“ Sokka, he ’ s just a little kid, he— ”
“ Katara! Those… monsters killed our mother! ”
Tears came to Katara ’ s eyes. Whether for the boy or for her mother, she wasn ’ t certain. Perhaps it was for both.
“ You ’ re right. Just don ’ t… just…, ” she sighed, “ do what you must. ”
Sokka nodded stoically. He had told his father he would be strong, that he could lead the tribe while he was off fighting the Air Nation Army, even though he was barely a man yet. But he knew that, someday, he might be faced with a difficult decision like this one, and he had to do it for dad. He had to do it for mom, too.
No questions were asked when Sokka dragged the confused boy behind the iceberg, and told Katara to wait in the boat. No questions were asked when he came back alone.
***
A few months later, a baby girl was born to one of the last young couples in the Southern Water Tribe.
“ Have you got a name picked out yet? ”
“ Yes. Korra. ”
“ Korra! I love it. Such a pretty girl, Korra, just like her mother… ”
The man held his finger out for his newborn Korra to touch, to know her father was here. She had a strong grip, and the power behind her crystalline, azure eyes was evident, even in her infancy. She would doubtless be a strong and determined woman one day; perhaps even a bender, like her grandmother, Hama.
“ You ’ re going to grow up to do great things, Korra. I know it. ”
|
[ IP ] The Hanged Man
|
The rope tightens around my neck. My flesh burns as the slack turns violent.
Fuck gravity. My body tenses but I refuse to kick or fight. I just sway.
Like a pendulum. Enjoying my last few seconds of life. My thoughts race.
Home, a simple place. Naive. Safe and sheltered. Now I'm yearning.
The contrast of warmth and rest does n't out way the pull of a rope.
Love, a whore with a smile. Crooked teeth. But unconditional affection.
I feel the rope starting to give up a little slack. But only for a second.
A woman's womb. The center of all things. My beginning. My sun.
I am free. My life is not my own. My life is everlasting. I will live for you.
|
[ WP ] Two friends are inseparable , even in death . They are reincarnated together no matter what , same era and location , and they always meet each other .
|
They made it a priority to find each other as early as they could.
With each lifetime the memories would always be there as soon as their `` first words'' left their lips. It was frustrating, stuck with a limited vocabulary and trying to grasp the concept of reincarnation where the reset button malfunctioned. Sure, sometimes they would slip up asking for their other mom or dad or sibling... If they were lucky, their pleas would be chalked up to imaginary friends.
After catching onto this rhythm, unable to even count how many lives were lived, dreams containing conversations would save them from nightmares...
A couple of pirates chatting about who they were before, supposed family being addressed by first names - most with indifference, some with scorn. The conversation would flow, laughter accenting the joy in this life, ignoring a table covered in gold trinkets that hid a map and a compass.
Horses and carriages would trot on by. This time they were dressed in black and were secluded to their shared residence. Calling cards were ignored and invitations to balls were returned. Piano keys were n't tickled - they were barely touched. The family gallery had a new portrait hanging, in it that same compass and map were painted in.
In the seedy underbelly of New York, they would hear bullets fly and associate the noise to a simple gesture of receiving a quarter every Saturday ( movies were 10 cents back then... two cartoons and a movie... with enough leftover for penny candy that they would split ). As long as an adventure film was playing, or even a serial, they would be happy and reminded of old times. `` Family'' gatherings were always huge... the people, the food, the amount of money spent on the special occasions... it looked like something out of a movie.
Of course there were other memories, but it was some of the most recent ones that came back first. All the others trickled in with each birthday candle extinguished. If they found each other, their conversations would hem the edges.
_____________________________________________________________
`` It should n't be too hard to break the glass.''
I swatted `` Wyatt'' hard on his right arm. In this lifetime my friend was born a man and kept to he/him/his pronouns this time. If only this movement had hit centuries ago...
`` Em, do n't you miss this?''
His finger pointing out another me from long ago - a young girl trying to make sure her ballet slipper was fitting. Still, somehow, the pastel has n't fallen off completely from the panel that Degas once used.
It's true, I do miss the piece. I miss the moment of seeing and being in various artifacts that are now kept in museums or private collections ( if they stood the test of time ). Though the replications hanging in my apartment are good enough for me, in most cases.
Shaking my head I tug on Iah-not-Wyatt's hand and lead him to the next room. Nudging him into place I grin and nod my head at a different painting.
His face contorts into disgust and eases into a pout. I remember when he first started this piece and the subsequent argument of not destroying it ( which I won successfully ). Still, even after a hundred years, Iah greatly dislikes the painting and probably wants to paint over it again.
`` Okay, *fine*, we wo n't break the glass.''
I squeeze his hand and the smile that is the one constant in my life appears before my eyes.
|
[ WP ] Your toddler dials on their fisher price phone and then hands it to you . You play along and say , `` hello . '' You hear a real voice say , `` I 've been waiting a decade for your phone call . ''
|
`` You see, I've been watching you. I've been watching your son.'' The voice rasped. `` I know every detail about your life.''
I took the phone away from my ear and looked down at my infant son, his face frozen. All time had stopped completely, and the features of the room grew grey and dark, like a old Polaroid.
I stood up from the floor in terror.
`` Who the fuck is this?!'' I yelled into the phone, watching as the world around me started to melt away into nothingness.
`` It's You Tom. It's the real you, at the other end of the plastic, fisher price phone. You're not real. You are a creation of my imagination.
I collapsed to the floor in convulsions, and awoke with the curious face of my two year old hovering over me; my wife's worried face came into view. She was talking frantically to someone on the phone.
`` Tom you're going to be ok. You had a seizure.''
I moved my gaze from her face over to my sons, and watched as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He opened his mouth and smiled, displaying needle-like teeth filled with rotten human flesh. As he started moving his face closer to mine, I screamed as he ripped my lips from my face, and watched as he chewed them between his blood-covered teeth.
|
[ RF ] `` Pay me enough , and I did n't see a thing . ''
|
By any metric, people would say I'm doing well. I've got a good apartment, a working car, a Netflix subscription, and no debt. People at work like me, I do n't feel like I have any enemies, my boss says I'm doing well. I'm almost a completely balanced individual. There's just one thing; I'm thirty three and I... I have n't had sex yet.
So I asked a friend at my job and he discreetly set me up with, well, with a prostitute. And I know, yes, it's illegal, but I was desperate, and he said a lot of guys in my position have done it, and it's not like I'm doing anything wrong, right? So I met her, and we had dinner, and I led her up to my room. And after we had started and I had taken off my pants, she laughed at me.
`` What? What!?'' I said, squirming. `` It's so... It's so *tiny, *'' she said, giggling. `` Wow, it's like... I do n't even think I can work with that! Like, wow.''
I sighed and started putting my pants on again. `` Well, thanks for nothing,'' I said, annoyed. `` Hold on, sugar,'' she replied. `` You have n't paid me yet,'' she said, with a coy smile. `` We did n't have sex, and I paid for the dinner. How could I possible owe you any money?'' I retorted.
`` Well, pay me enough, and I did n't see a thing.''
|
[ WP ] You are born without emotions ; to compensate this , you started a donation box where people could donate their unwanted emotions . You 've lived a life filled with sadness , fear and regret until one day , someone donates happiness .
|
`` Hey! Watch where you're going, punk! ``, a hoarse voice came from the man sitting on one side of the alley. Even with a couple meters separating our faces, I could smell the rancid alcohol beneath the overpowering minty freshness of Listerine. I had felt when my foot nudged the grimy corrugated board that was his bedding -- not that it mattered. I had n't even broken my stride.
I'd been told that drinking numbed the senses and the mind. A fog of oblivion. What a waste.
At the end of the alley was a wooden box, lacquered and pristine. I wiped it anyways and made sure that the light mounted on top was in good working order. Steadily, I opened the lid and peaked inside. On good days, there would be a lot of marble-sized spheres, each one a slightly different color, but always clouded, muddy, and dark.
Trembling hands reached inside, today was a very good day. There were so many that I could n't even see the bottom! One by one, I took each marble and crushed it, letting its contents surge into my skin. Like getting a shot of Adrenalin, my pulse raced, and the cold sweat trickle down my shaved head. My heart felt like it would rip in two, but I kept going. Existence was one long sentence that kept going on and on and on, punctuated by these brief infusions of terrible emotion. Time became meaningless as I savored the collection of exquisite pain.
All too soon, my nails scratched the bottom. As much as it hurt, I wanted -- no, needed more. Desperately, I looked closer, and my eyes lit up. Wedged in a corner was a bright yellow half sphere. Fear from one of the others still lingered and I hesitated. What would this malformed trace of emotion contain? Remotely, I registered that maybe this would be the one to break me. Yet, I could feel the warmth where my fingers made contact, an trace of rightness in a world of jagged shards.
I swallowed down the lump in my throat and squeezed. The world brightened. The warmth spread. For the first time, I could see beyond the horizon of that unseen fog. My cheeks hurt, muscles long unused straining from a smile. Then I gazed down to my closed fist, and carefully uncurled my fingers. There, resting on my palm, formed a yellow half sphere, larger and brighter than before.
If that which is given can be taken away, what of that which is shared?
|
[ WP ] Write about someone who has found a reason to live again . Someone with depression , loneliness , heart break what ever .
|
Once upon a time,
my blackest, darkest days,
I always found a reason,
That I needed to stay.
-
I have work to do,
It just would n't be fair
If were to end it now
And just leave it there.
-
Funerals are so dear,
My family just ca n't pay,
I guess I'll have to live
To stay another day.
-
One day the sun was shining
Through the fog of mine
And it made me question
whether I was fine.
I suddenly realised
The reason I kept making
excuses not to end it-
To myself, I was faking.
I did n't want to die
I did n't want to go,
And I stated to wonder-
Why everyone else did n't know
a reason why they lived?
The truth was not clear
Through the fog of depression
That their reason was n't here.
They did n't need a reason
To make it through the day
That I kept on searching
meant I was not okay.
-
I went to a doctor,
Who sent me on my way
To a counsellor that weekend
As I had a lot to say.
He helped me to face
My fears of being alone
He was always there,
And with him, I have grown.
I know it is n't normal
To need a reason to be.
I've faced my darkest self
That bitter lonely me
And I have come out stronger
Than I thought I could
So if you are searching for a reason
Copy me, you should.
-
Go and get help,
and know you are n't the first
To live in darkness that consumes
And drowns you in its curse.
Know you are n't alone,
Know that were are here
Anonymous or known
There's always a waiting ear.
A shoulder to cry on
A hand to help you rise
Together we will be
The reason no-one dies.
-
I stand with the legion
Who fight against the dark
We fight the battle eternal
We'll help you find your spark.
We will be your reason
When reason runs away
We will help you stand
And face another day.
|
[ WP ] You meet your old imaginary friend one day , and s/he now has a great career and/or family life . You catch up over imaginary coffee , starting from the day you separated .
|
Sandra sat in the almost empty cafe, sipping an overly sweet latte and wondering where it had all gone wrong when the hands covered her eyes.
`` Guess who.'' Came a sweet voice.
A smile crossed over Sandra's face like the sun splitting a particularly dark and dreary patch of clouds.
`` It ca n't be!'' She gasped.
She heard a giggle behind her.
`` I said guess!''
`` Amy? Is it really Amy?''
The hands lifted and Sandra turned around and was nearly floored at what she saw. Amy who had once been a tall rake of a girl with wild red hair and a million freckles was now a beautiful young woman. Sandra wrinkled her nose
`` Eyuch, I knew I smelled something rotten in here!''
Amy slugged her playfully in the arm.
`` Shut up butt-face.''
They stood in silence for a second, one girl admiring the other and then with a start, Sandra remembered her manners.
`` Sit, please, sit with me a while. We have to catch up.''
Amy took the offer and slid herself into the seat across from her old friend.
`` You know I've come in here a million times and never bumped into you before.''
`` This is n't my usual joint. I actually just happened to be passing by and decided I really needed some caffeine. It smelled so good in here.''
“ Yeah, what the hell do they put in this stuff that smells so good? ”
Amy reached across the table and dunked her finger into her friends coffee. She pulled out a glob of whipped cream, sucked it from her finger and made a face.
`` It's nothing but milk and sugar!''
`` Yeah, yeah. I never liked the taste of coffee, you know that. ”
`` Yeah, when you were eight! I thought that would have changed! It's not like you're still falling asleep with bubble gum in your mouth and having your mum cut it out. ”
Sandra did n't say anything and Amy's eyes opened in disbelief.
“ Ok one other time, but I was really drunk! ”
They both laughed loud enough to turn the heads of what few patrons there were in the cafe. When it had settled down Amy said:
“ So come on, why am I here?''
“ I have no idea what you mean. ”
“ Come on kid, tell me what's wrong! ”
`` Nothings the matter and do n't call me kid, I'm twenty six now.''
`` You're still a stupid kid and do n't think for a second your fooling me. You never had a good poker face Sandra.''
For a moment Sandra's face broke. Like an abused dam she had almost given way to a flood of tears but somehow she braced it, held it in and fought her sorrow with an empty smile. It took such tremendous effort that all she could do was lift her eyebrows and let out a small laugh. It was a look that said.
`` Typical Sandra, getting herself into trouble again.''
`` Geeze that bad huh?''
Sandra nodded.
`` Guys, am I right?''
Sandra let out a small laugh.
`` Damn. Am I that predictable?''
`` Come on. It's all we ever talked about. If I recall it went something like-''
Amy put on her best Sandra impression and continued;
`` Boy's are icky, Boys are dumb, Boys are silly, Boys are dreamy, Boys are weird and lastly Boys are dumb again.''
`` Was that supposed to be me?''
`` Yeah, pretty good right?''
`` No it was horrible and you're wrong.''
`` Oh am I?''
`` Yes, I never said dreamy. I said Gorgeous.''
`` Gorgeous. That's it. So come on, out with it. What Gorgeous guy broke little Smelly Sandies heart this time?''
Sandra smiled, sipped her coffee and looked at Amy.
`` Does it matter? I mean what do you want me to say?''
Concern crossed Amy's face and she reached across the table, taking Sandra's hand tightly in her own.
`` Come on, you do n't have to say anything to me you do n't want to, but do n't think for a second you do n't matter.''
Sandra nodded, she was n't ready to talk about it, not yet.
`` What about you? How have you been?''
Amy smiled.
`` Nice deflection. ”
“ Shut up and answer the damn question. ”
“ Me, oh you know, bumming around doing some of this and some of that, I make clothes now.''
`` Oh really?''
`` Yeah do n't excited, it's just bridal gowns.''
She scrunched up her face and stuck out her tongue and for just a second she almost looked like little Amy.
`` Still not married I presume?''
Amy shook her head.
`` Relationships suck.''
Sandra pointed at herself
“ May I present Exhibit A?''
Amy laughed.
`` Come on, you're acting way too melodramatic. You're dragging this out, just tell me what's going on.''
Sandra sighed.
`` I married this guys right out of college, right? The whole package, good looking, athletic, smart, funny.''
`` So far so good.''
`` Totally. His name's Brad. We were together ten years and everything's going well. He's got a good job, making good money. We have a nice home, which I was cooped up in all day, not that I minded I have my two little brats to take care of. A boy and a girl before you ask. One's three and ones five. Anyway, last week I got a call from his work. It's a woman whose voice I do n't recognize.''
`` Uh-oh.''
`` Yeah. She tells me her and Brad have been hooking up behind my back for the last year. She tells me she thought I oughta know.''
“ Thought you oughta know? ”
`` Yeah, like she's telling me my tail lights out, and it gets worse.'' Sandra took a sip of her coffee `` Are n't you going to order anything?''
Amy took another scoop of whipped cream from her cup, though it was mostly melted foam now and lapped it up.
`` Yours is fine, finish your story.''
`` Yeah, uh, where was I? Oh yeah, so her and I get to talking and apparently she's only telling me because she caught him with another girl in the office and got jealous.''
`` What a piece of trash. What'd he say?''
`` So I confront him, right? I ask him who she is and he does n't even try to hide it. He tells me I was the only woman he'd ever been with and he is at an age where he does n't feel like he can commit to me anymore, and he has needs that I have n't been fulfilling.''
`` Needs? He actually said he has needs?!''
Sandra nodded and Amy erupted in laughter.
`` Who calls boning needs?''
Sandra shrugged;
`` Beats me.''
Amy put on a deep voice and said `` Hey baby, how bout you come over here a fulfill these needs.''
It was Sandra's turn to laugh.
“ Does n't have the same ring to it. ” Amy said
`` You're so dumb.'' Replied Sandra
`` That's weird. I'm sorry, but that's weird to me.''
`` Yeah, it is pretty weird.''
`` So what are you doing now?''
`` Well he left, went and moved in with one of his guy friends and I have n't spoken to him since. He had a courier drop off the divorce papers.''
`` I'm sorry Sandy but he sounds like a complete you know what.''
`` Yeah, I know what. So here I am raising two kids in a house I ca n't afford with next to no money and even less job prospects.''
`` I got a little-''
`` Do n't you dare.'' She interjected `` Do n't offer me money.''
“ Come on Sandra, I know you're good for it.
Sandra shook her head and tried to refuse but she found she could n't speak. It was that small gesture, that act that someone cared that someone was on her team that finally broke the dam, and for the first time since the incident Sandra cried. The tears came in such a rush that Sandra let out a small cry of surprise and then tried in vain to stop the flood.
Amy stood, nearly knocked over the table and caught Sandra's cup before it could plop off the edge. She put her arms around Sandra and held her tightly.
`` It's all right girly, you're going to be alright. Shh, now, shh.''
Sandra sunk into her friend and let her hold her up for awhile. Sandra just could n't do it anymore.
`` It's alright, hey, come on now. He's an asshole, he did n't deserve you.''
Sandra nodded and tried to speak but all she could produce was a pitiful squeak. Amy held her for several minutes, just letting her hurt and let out the pain. When the sobbing started to die down she said;
`` I did n't want to tell you this before, but you have a dollop of cream right on the tip of your nose and it's making this situation really hard for me to be sincere in.''
Sandra laughed and pushed her friend away. She wiped her nose and slowly her tears dried upq. Amy let her go and sat down, passing her a napkin which Sandra dabbed under her eyes.
`` You're going to be alright, you know that do n't you? You were always the strongest person I knew.''
`` Yeah, I know. It's just hard, I did n't think I'd ever be here.''
`` You ever think about going back to writing?''
`` I tried for a while, I mean most of what I write went into a shoebox under my bed and I have n't done it in so long.''
`` You should get back to it. You were always really good at that stuff.''
`` Maybe.'' Sandra said absently.
`` I've missed you, you know.''
'Ma'am, are you ok?'' A voice interrupted
Sandra gave a start and looked up. She saw the barista that had served her standing next to the table with a concerned expression on her face.
`` Yeah, I'm fine, I was just talking to my-''
She looked across the table and saw Amy was gone.
“ Talking to who honey? Are you ok? Do you need me to call someone? ”
Sandra shook her head.
“ I'm fine, really. I'm sorry, it's been day. ”
She smiled in an attempt to cover her hollow eyes. All at once the loneliness and fear began to creep into her heart. Was it as bad as it had been before? Sandra did n't think so.
She gathered up her purse and left the cafe.
“ I missed you too. ” She said to herself.
|
[ WP ] An artificially intelligent robot is built and programmed to operate a spaceship to be flown into a mysterious black hole that is getting closer every day . The day before the launch , an unforeseen circumstance presented itself - the robot began showing emotion . Namely , fear .
|
As I walked D4N-T3 back to his room or as he has taken kindly to calling, his waiting room I saw him savoring the walk back this time.
`` Unit D4N-T3 is something on your mind'' I asked simply to entertain the machine.
Without hesitation he replied `` I have been reading sir... quite a lot in fact. And there is one one book that I came across that piqued my interest''
`` Yea, and which one would that be?'' I asked sarcastically.
`` The Inferno, it is about a man who travels into a vast unk-''
I cut him off. `` I'm familiar with The Inferno, what about it?''
`` Do you think Dante was ever afraid while he was traveling through those layers. Do you think he ever wanted to turn back?'' He said without even raising his head.
`` Unit D4N-T3, terminate current action.'' I try to say calmly, but my voice shakes.
`` Feel, sir?'' He turns his head to look at me. `` How does one stop feeling if one should never have had to ability to feel in the first place.''
`` UNIT D4N-T3, TERMINATE CURRENT ACTION!'' At this point I cant even look at him.
He looks back at the floor. `` Do i have a soul, sir? Because I was not created to have these doubts in my mind, but here they are. I was not created with a soul but yet I love.''
`` W-what can a robot love?'' I manage to stutter out.
He immediately jolts his head up, meeting my eyes. `` I can feel anger to, sir. But I love many things, the sound of a bird singing, the sight of a mother embracing her child, but most of all the sun. I know I ca n't necessarily `` feel'' the sun, but something feels right about it... Just being out there feels right, sir.''
I drop my eyes to the floor. `` And?'' The words just fell out of my mouth.
`` There is another book I have been reading sir, A brief history in time: Stephen Hawking. And according to this mans theories, the place I will be traveling into, its gravity is so strong that even light can not escape it.''
`` You have been reading, have n't you?'' I ask.
`` Do you think that means this place is going to be infinitely dark or will I be engulfed in the lights of the universe and all its glory?''
`` Glory''? I mutter.
`` Yes sir, glory.'' He shoots back.
`` We can talk more tomorrow Unit D4N-T3.'' Trying to hold my best poker face.
`` Sir,'' He whispers `` I would like to be addressed by Dante if that would be fine''
`` Goodnight Dante'' As i switch the lights off.
`` Goodnight sir.''
|
[ WP ] It 's International Bring-Your-Gun-To-Work Day , and it 's becoming clear to everyone in the office that your gun is just a banana under your jacket .
|
A man and a woman stood outside a row of gray office block buildings, on a smoke break. The street was empty of life, but restless with trash tumbling in the wind.
`` That's a banana,'' the women said, pointing towards the man. She patted her gun, tucked into into her skirt. `` If they find you with that...''
`` It's a gun,'' the man said.
`` There are no Bananas left in East Berlin. If the supervisor sees you with it...''
`` It's a gun,'' he said.
`` It's not even shaped like a gun.''
`` Guns come in many shapes.''
`` So show me.''
`` I'm a concealed carrier.''
`` Where did you get it?''
`` It's Russian made.''
`` It's not. They only grow those in the America's.''
`` They grow them in Russia too.''
`` They do n't.''
`` They grow guns everywhere,'' the man said. `` War is universal.''
`` This is ridiculous.'' The woman turned to leave. `` I'm reporting you to the authorities.''
`` Do n't make me stop you. I will.''
`` With what? Your banana?''
`` With my fist.''
The girl fell to the floor. When she woke up, the man and her gun was gone.
Another man noticed her on the ground and ran over to help her to her feet. He noticed the bulge in her skirt as she dusted herself off.
`` That's a banana,'' the man said. His own gun was looped through his belt. `` If the guards find you with that...''
`` It's a gun,'' she said.
|
[ WP ] A writer falls in love with one of their characters .
|
I remember when Jon started writing'a tragic eutopia' he'd had this idea for a long time. When we first got married he'd told me about an idea he'd obsessed over about a man who lives forever. He had so many details planned out, like he'd been rewriting drafts since we first met. I ca n't tell you how many times he'd started this story. He never even finally settled on the title. The whole process is in limbo. When he had an idea for a story, he went into a different place for a few days, constantly at the tips of his keys. But this one, this one was different. He was constantly contemplating this, it would be his greatest achievment he'd tell me. Once he published it he'd retire, and we would move accross the country to Florida and live our lives in peace.
I loved reading his work. He wrote so beautifully. I have stashes of poems, letters, and stories he wrote for me. His use of metaphore was beyond Shakespeare's standards. The symbolism was something out of the bible. The dialogue felt so... Human. It was the little details I melted over. During a casual conversation in his second published book'wounded at sea' his main character Leroy was talking to his estranged cousin, I know, an estranged cousin, never heard of that. But the following lines were written.
`` David walked across the room in such a manner that an injured drunk would.
'Where did this picture come from?'
I eyed the novelty sepia toned photo of a baby with a rattle.
'What?' He shouted back
'I said what's this picture of this kid?' ``
Those lines. That one, `` what?'' It seemed in every storybook people spoke so fluently, but Jon remembers that some people mumble. And Leroy was one of these people. Coincidentally, so was Jon.
`` I decided on a name, honey. What do you think of'a tradgic eutopia?' I think it's just ironic enough to capture someone's attention without giving away too much. I saw it as a great way to capture the story in three words. Once he realizes he's never going to die, he's happy, until everything around him dies when he should.''
I have to admit, he had a vision. The entire story was based on character development. He wanted it to be the length of the bible, with flowing poetry throughout, wich trust me, he was capable of doing so. It was n't until seven years ago around his thirty eighth birthday, when he decided to give a twist to his story, that he would finally have the push he needed to get it going.
I loved the discussions we'd have before bed where he'd rant about his books, he had such great ideas with them. This night however, seemed a bit off.
`` Elen, I think I know how to get a tragic eutopia finally written the way I want it to be.''
I would respond, but he had a charming and amazing way of answering the questions I was already going to ask. Of course you could guess my question at this time, but there are better examples where I could swear he would be reading my mind.
`` I'm making my protagonist a woman. Ill start it in her late twenties, and when she grows up to be seventy she'll realize she's invincible.''
His idea about the story, the thing that made me fascinated, was it was n't much about how the character lives forever, but the affects of it. Of course he wrote thousands of scenes detailing tests by the doctors, but the reader never gets a clear answer, he said that was because nobody ever gets a clear answer about life. I loved this man.
`` Her name is Beth Harper. Her mother is diagnosed with a blood disease and she must take care of her until Beth turns sixty three. That way we get to know her mother better before she's taken away. Her father is killed in the army when she'a nineteen. It leaves a lot of room for bonding with the mother, who is the second most important character in the story.''
He had way too much detail. But that was rather normal for him. What brushed me the wrong way was his opinion of Beth Harper.
`` She's a crazy girl, a go getter. Ironically, suffered through depression at forty, of course if she killed herself she would find out sooner. HAH.''
His laugh at this seemed so genuine. He really thought this was funny, even though he made it up, it was somehow real to him. Even he knew at his most immersed times in writing what was the difference between real and story. But he seemed different now. Two days later he started writing. That night we made passionate love.
|
[ IP ] I Miss Her
|
I never knew her. One day she drove me home, but that was all it took. I devoted immensely large sums of time to thinking about her. What might happen if I worked up my courage to talk to her. Know her. All that's left now is that one moment we shared. Looking deep into each other's eyes, just for one fleeting moment. Walking away. But never able to forget her. It's been 3 days only, the mental image of her fresh in my mind. But like a delicious mug of hot tea, it was cooling. I could n't let that happen. I have to see her. Know her. I shake my head. Too late, I think. You missed that chance. I miss her.
|
[ WP ] Wood floats not just in water but in the air too . Trees have roots to keep them in the ground . And so people made sky-ships .
|
# # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap )
The acrid stench of diesel exhaust and tired lubricants burnt at the nostrils of Daniel Rogers as he finished tightening the loose fuel line, his hands blackened with grease and grime. Nodded to himself he returned the wrench back into its loops within his tool bag and began the lengthy process of extracting himself from the engine nacelle. Numerous pipes and lengths of tubing made the process a difficult one, as did the various girders and support struts which connected the engine pod to the main hull. Rogers wore dungarees permanently stained by work and wear, the tough fabric splotched with oil and coolant.
If the interior of the engine pod was deafening, then the exterior was only a little better. The wind whipped past his head, his hair trimmed short to ward off getting it caught in some spinning gear or fanbelt. He wore no parachute at the small of his back; too little room within the cramp engine space. Instead, he relied on a lifetime spent aloft to guide him down the narrow walkway, the thin rope grab-line the only thing between safety and a long, drawn out plunge to the ground.
Still, as nimble as an ape he crossed the walkway, and entered the open hatch which led into the maintenance level of the ship, his eyes readjusting to the darkened space. He'd left his gunbelt hanging next to a metal locker, so it was to his surprise he discovered it missing from its hook, and instead dangling on the tip of an outstretched boot.
The boot's owner was a woman his age or near enough. Her long blonde hair was immaculate despite the breeze blowing through the open hatchway, not a strand out of place. She wore a dark blue double breasted jacket, the same as the ship's officers, but in addition she had on her left sleeve the red armband of the Fleet's Commissariat. That marked her as a political officer, distinctly separate from the ship's chain of command but integrally linked.
`` Lieutenant Rogers,'' she said, her voice clipped with a distinct upper-level accent. `` I've been searching for you for almost two hours.''
Rogers sketched a hazy salute in the manner of the marines, deliberately displaying his dirty palm to the commissar.
`` Lieutenant-Commissar Halsey,'' he replied. `` As you can see, I was adjusting the flow intake for the Number Eight engine. Machinist Mate Griffith had mentioned it earlier this morning. Thought I'd see for myself.''
Lt. Commissar Halsey did not seem impressed. `` I thought you were supposed to be on patrol duty today. Not grubbing around with the ratings.''
Rogers shrugged. `` My Cobra's currently in maintenance. Turns out that that last fight with those raiders cracked one of the cylinders. Chief Watkins is already working on it as I speak. Lt. Ferris' flight is on patrol today.''
Halsey nodded once, no doubt wondering what trumped up charges she could level at Rogers. So it was to his surprise when she said, `` Very well, Lieutenant. As you were then, but remember to keep to your own business.'' She tossed to him his gunbelt, the hefty revolver a comforting weight in his hand. `` The doors to my quarters will be open at twenty hundred hours. I expect you to be there.'' With that she turned and started towards exit, vanishing through the hatch. Rogers made a distinctive salute with a single outstretched finger.
`` Yes, ma'am,'' said Rogers. He glanced down at his sorry, filthy state.
*For fuck's sake I need a shower. *
|
[ WP ] Every time someone masturbates to you , you receive a notification on your phone letting you know who did it .
|
I sit silently at my desk browsing reddit and watching cat videos on youtube. Suddenly my phone rang once, breaking the silence in my dark room. From the comfort of my blanket I reached out and grabbed it, turning it so that I could view my screen.
Damn, just my phone service telling me that it's refilling itself.
-80 years later
/u/poonGopher6969 died as he lived, alone at his computer with an uncleared browser history full of interesting articles, cat videos, and freaky, freaky porn. He will not be missed. In his will he requested to be buried with his phone while it was plugged into a 72 hour battery bank, funds from his account were taken to pay for it and to pay for my presence says the only griever attending my funeral.
As my body begins to lower into my eternal place of rest, the lid is closed. A white viscous fluid splashes onto it. `` Henry Witherspoon has masturbated to you!'' appears on my phone screen, now hidden from the world. It vibrates again, `` Katie Summers has masturbated to you!'' It begins to vibrate non-stop as my face is revealed on the online obituary, and then onto a 4chan board, and then onto the various means of social networking. Three days later, CNN reports that the world's most beautiful old man died on 8/14/2095 and many are saddened by his passing and wonder why the billionaire never left his home.
|
[ TT ] It 's the Middle Ages and you 're a member of a secret society
|
`` We call to order this meeting of the Ignis Arcanus. May our enemies be burned in the secret fire, the light of Reason.''
Coccio stared at Valparese across the worn, vast wooden surface of the Order's meeting table. At each of the octagonal table's vertices sat a member of the Secret Fire, the Ignis Arcanus, with Coccio among the eight and with Valparese, accursed Valparese, intoning the call to order while wearing the circlet of ascension and the focus of all eyes.
`` I swear to carry the fire,'' Valparese continued.
`` I swear to carry the fire,'' came each man's refrain.
In the dim light of a smattering of candles, here in the cellar of Valparese's estate, the voice of each man was disembodied, emanating from the darkness beneath the violet hoods they wore, but such was his familiarity with each voice that Coccio could identify the speakers. He knew they all were present.
Coccio gripped the octagon's wooden edge as the fourth man spoke. It was Alguidi, the silversmith, head of his Guild, who was obliged both to sell his best pieces to Valparese at cost, and to bar from Guild membership any who crossed him. He was a plague on their town. Without the Guild, no silversmith could put food on his table. The blacklisted went hungry to feed the egos of Valparese and these men, his toads.
Tomasso was the first to speak after the round of oaths concluded.
`` Galdo... the butcher. He undercuts Tancredi, our man. What shall I do?''
`` Have his shop destroyed. Burn it,'' came Valparese's reply, to a murmur of agreement from the table.
Tomasso! The wretch. It was he who demanded the daughter of the Apothecary, Old Boti, even on her wedding night. As if he were truly a Lord! Old Boti's words, his voice frail and dishonored, echoed still in Coccio's ear. `` I am your Lord, he said to me, Coccio. Am I not? If I say it, are you, your family, your trade, not forfeit? If not your Lord what am I?'' The old man had turned and spat on the ground, even in his own shop. `` Please... take this. Tomasso speaks with you in public, he holds those balls in his manor - he will invite you - slip this into the wine - kill him -- `` Coccio had put his hand around the old man's palm and the offered vial it held, closing it.
`` No,'' he'd told the old chemist. `` But,'' he allowed while looking on the oddly-colored jars, the scented herbs, the vibrant powders of the peasant laboratory, `` there is another way.''
Coccio dipped his chin to better hide his face in his hood as he sneered. He had joined this group as a younger man, after being approached by one of Valparese's with promises of loyalty, of civic duty, of shepherding their town, sweet San Galvanico, to prosperity. But this was no different than a camorra, uno mano nera, a Black Hand, a coven of criminals, a den of extortionists, usurers, thieves. And he himself among them. He'd heeded enough of Valparese's commands - `` for the greater good,'' he'd told himself - to count among the guilty.
`` And you, Coccio. Carpenter. What news from your trade?'' Valparese fixed the shadows of his hood upon him.
`` I...'' No. Do not falter now. Earlier this night you were filled with resolve. Remember it.
``... there is a gang of rogues,'' Coccio continued, his voice strained. `` They harass myself and other honest tradesmen. They wish to see themselves our masters.''
`` What!'' Valparese spat. He leaned forward, his grey beard and long nose emerging now from the blackness swallowing his face. `` This is our town. They dare?''
`` They dare, my Lord.''
`` Nonsense. I will not have it. Order is the key to peace.''
Coccio grit his teeth and raised his head, the candlelight revealing him now as his hood slipped back. He was black-haired, with the leathery tan of one who worked outdoors. Of peasant stock.
`` Tell me... please. Tell me what I must do.'' He did know. And he knew what Valparese's command would be. `` Give me your blessing, master. Shall I hammer them? Shall I nail them to my workshop's door for all to see?'' Coccio's hand trembled as he pulled a heavy hammer from his robe, and with it several long, thick, strong nails for carpentry.
`` Show them the meaning of our order's name. Burn them out. Make a show of them in the square. Leave them burning for all to see. Let all know the punishment for villainy in San Galvanico.''
`` Your will be done, master.'' The murmurs of approval again spread over the table, each man agreeing with the plan. Coccio tucked away his tools, stowing them in his robe within easy reach.
`` Now,'' cried Valparese. `` Let us eat!'' He rose and strode to the heavy, double wooden doors of the cellar's only exit. His movement stirred the flames of the torches flanking the doors. Two-handed, he banged the brass knocker. A bell's chime was heard with each strike.
The men fell silent as servants opened the doors and brought trays of roast duck, of suckling pig, of goblets with vintages tapped in Valparese's own cellar, the finest in San Galvanico. The servants, peasants, were Valparese's handpicked men, and sworn to secrecy, but out of custom the Ignis Arcanus remained silent and within the shadows of their hoods until the eight were again alone at the table.
Valparese chose his meal first. The rest fell to quiet conversations of business and propriety as the wine flowed. Coccio ate nothing but sat, tense as a spring, one eye sidelong on his master.
He rose. And moved to the doors. The others did not heed him, keen on falling into their cups.
With the hammer from his robe he drove the thick nails into the door and through the door into its frame, sealing it. His hammer crashed against the wood. The meal was silenced. The seven turned to face him.
Coccio removed his hood now. He cast away his robe. He took one of the torches the doors' flank and was illuminated. He wore his common tunic, his carpenter's apron and belt, his breeches. And strapped to his chest and back were jars of oil prepared by Old Boti, the apothecary.
He had thought of what he might say here, at the final moment.
Coccio walked toward the table. He broke into a run. He leaped upon them.
His body crashed into the meats, the cheeses, the wine, the wood, the candles. The candles and the torch ignited the oil.
After the doors were pried open and the deaths confirmed, the servants looted the estate. They sold the candlesticks to the silversmiths of San Galvanico, who were happy to return to business.
|
[ WP ] Write from the perspective of a video-game 's main playable character beggining to realise that there is something `` off '' about the world they inhabit .
|
*SLICE*
The long necked dragons head falls to the ground at the feet of the mighty hero who, still holding his mighty blade Crandithiill firmly in his right hand, wipes the sweat off of his brow. The great dragon's body, five times the size of the hero, crashes to the ground throwing up a large cloud of dust inside of the narrow cave momentarily blocking out the light from the torch scones lining the wall. The hero coughs and wheezes as the light powder fills his lungs. Dropping to one knee his armor clangs against the rocky ground beneath him. Finding difficulty standing even when the dust has settled the hero places his left hand on the ground, the sound of metal on metal from his black, clawed gauntlet fills the now silent cave; as does his heavy breathing.
`` Well done my liege'' a woman clad in shining steel armor says standing to the right of the hero.
`` Yeah, it was a pretty good fight. Thanks for lighting the torches by the way'' the hero stands, sheathing his mighty great sword, which is as tall as he is, to his back `` Let's check it for loot.''
`` Alright my liege'' the woman says rigidly putting her shield and war ax away. The two of them walk over to the hulking belly of the white dragon. Crouching down the armor on their legs clangs together and then with his unarmored right arm he reaches down to his waistband and pulls out a generic steel dagger and stabs into the beast. He then slices it open causing a large, undulating sack to flop out of the carved hole. From there the hero punctures the sack with his knife causing it to burst open revealing a handful of gold coins, some gems and a completely intact battleaxe.
`` Oooo, this will sell for quite a bit at the market'' the hero says grabbing onto the handle of the ax and lifting it in front of him to look it over. It is only a few inches shorter than he is with only one blade that extends down from the top down about one forth of the handle. With a grin of success he starts to put the ax in the secondary sheath across his back but right as he is putting it over his left shoulder something happens. Almost as if the entire cave jolts with static the hero stops and looks back at the newly acquired weapon.
`` Hey... Laura... you ever wonder why these beasts swallow weapons completely whole? Seems like it's more trouble than it's worth'' he says looking over every detail critically. A pause occurs between the hero and his follower spurring him to look over to her. His eyes narrow in confusion as his faithful companion stands rigidly with a blank expression that stares off deep into the cave.
`` Um, Laura?''
`` Well done my liege'' she answers with rigidity equal to her body.
`` Laura...?'' the hero asks gripping the battleaxe in a more offensive manner.
`` Well dine my liege''
`` Hey, you feeling alright?'' the hero asks anxiously. Just then a second burst of static surges through the cave causing the hero to turn completely around to stare into the black darkness farther down.
`` Was n't there a wall there?'' he whispers to himself.
`` What's the matter my liege?'' Laura asks as she puts her hand on the hero's left shoulder spurring him to jump back and brandish the ax towards Laura.
`` Whoa! Why so tense?'' Laura asks throwing up both of her hands. The hero begins to back away from her slowly but stiffens up when something hits his back. Spinning around as fast as he can the hero swings the battleaxe creating a massive gash in the wall of the cave.
`` M... my liege?'' Laura asks hesitantly. Looking all up and down the wall in disbelief the hero releases his right hand from the ax and presses it against the wall. Once he feels how solid it is he sighs and lowers his head. Shaking it a few times he raises his head and then turns back to Laura who stiffens up and swallows harshly.
`` Sorry, just a little jumpy is all'' he says with an obviously stressed grin.
`` Understandable. We came in here to eliminate bandits, not face a dragon'' Laura says relaxing slightly.
`` Yeah, especially not a white dragon'' the hero says looking down to the massive carcass that lays to his right.
`` Well, at least it was n't a black dragon. Come on, let's sell this loot and get some mead. I think we've both earned a pint'' Laura says with a warm smile.
`` Or two'' the hero replies with a grin as he walks towards his companion. The two of them chuckle as they head towards the exit of the cave. Walking through the winding tunnels the two of them eventually reach the mouth of the cave, illuminated by moonlight. Exhausted and ready to head for the nearest inn the hero stops one step short of the exit as another surge flows through the caverns. He then skeptically looks over his right shoulder before turning his entire body back into the blackness of the winding maze of a cave. He pauses a moment as he slowly raises his left hand up and over his shoulder, placing two fingers onto the handle of the battleaxe.
`` Is everything alright my liege?'' Laura asks rigidly. Just then, one final surge shakes the cave causing the hero to take his fingers off of the ax. He curls them into a fist and let's his hand fall to his side before turning and facing his companion.
`` Yeah, just got a lot on my mind'' he says looking at her with a smile.
`` All the more reason to go get some drinks'' Laura says loosening up again.
`` Right'' the hero says walking out of the cave and onto the grass `` Mark this one on the map, I think we might've missed some chests.''
`` Sure thing.'' Laura then takes out a map and a piece of charcoal from a pack hanging on the back of her waistband. From there she circles their destination before putting it back. A slight grimace forms over the hero's face as he hates lying to those that follow him but he could n't tell her the real reason he wants to return.
The hero has a blade gifted to him by the nine gods, armor forged in the hottest fires of the Netherworld, magic taught to him by the seven dragon lords and medallions enchanted by the court mages of all thirteen kingdoms yet this cave terrifies him. There is something very, very wrong about that cave... and he intends to find out what.
|
[ WP ] You fall asleep during class , only to wake up in an empty classroom . There is a message on the board . It says `` You have till sunset to complete the test '' . What you do n't know is that there is no one in the whole building . Or the town .
|
Great clouds hang low on the horizon, blistering red from the sun. I wonder if they were always there. I wonder if this is all a dream. The classroom is empty. I hold a blank page and stare ahead at handwriting I ’ ve never seen before. This is a dream, but I am not dreaming.
I wander through the halls, searching for some life. My shadow walks alone in the quiet and there is no one there. I grow anxious and wonder what this test is. My hands tremble, I make noises out of nervousness.
Eventually, I run out of school. Outside remains deserted, dark from the nearby clouds. The sun is setting, shadows growing for the night, and I know if it sets, a nightmare will begin. I look at the paper and write the first thing I always write when taking a test. I write my name and the date. The paper remains blank but I feel like I ’ ve made a start. I look ahead and shout hello. Still empty. Still nothing.
I sit on the stairs at the entrance and try to think. The writing said I only had to complete the test, and maybe that was my way out. If I could write something, anything that would fit any question, I would get by on a technicality.
*Why are you even taking this seriously? *
But I ignore the thoughts. I think about what to write. The sky is a violent purple, angry with rain. The clouds had begun to move forward. The hairs on my neck tingle and I move my hand.
‘ The rain may fall, high onto the ground
The rain may fall, alone without a sound
The rain may fall, when I am all alone
The rain may fall, after I have lost my home. ’
I don ’ t think much, but something in my mind makes me keep going. Thunder above roll like explosions. The wind picks up, swirling around me, grabbing for the paper. I try to go inside, but the door is locked. Throughout the noise, I hear the writing of chalk. I know the board would be different now. Down the road a dying scream pierces my ears, freezing me.
*Keep writing. *
It ’ s near sunset. I close my eyes and let my hand move.
‘ The rain may fall, full of life and maybe not
The rain may fall, taking life and leaving naught
The rain may fall, but I have taken shelter
The world may end, but I shall remain after. ’
It begins to rain then, thunderous and relentless. The horizon is deep black, collapsing all around. Night had come and I knew I failed the test. I scream as loud as I could and I think I hear a response in the distance. Laughter floats through the rain. They point at me, outsiders staring in. Past the edge of the horizon, they laugh. I can feel them. I am going mad, surely.
What is going on? Was I really asleep then? I try to think back to when everything made sense. I try to think to a cloudless day, but my mind scatters. The rain lashes me and I know I ’ ve failed everything. The night approaches and things in this dark bubble emerge. I feel trapped inside a snowglobe.
Outside the laughter grows and grows. The world spins. I close my eyes and it all goes black. I feel like I am floating but when I open them I am sitting once again. The classroom sighs of loneliness fill the silence. On the blackboard there is a line written:
‘ Let ’ s try this again, shall we? ’
|
[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 6 : Critiquing
|
Well i do n't see the robot post like on the prompts so if I'm not supposed to ask here, please delete only and do n't ban me!: (
I only wrote a couple prompt replies so I do n't know if I'm ready for brutal honesty yet. Is every workshop going to give critique? like if I am ready next time, then I can post something?
Second -- I do n't know how to critique at all ( honestly, as long as there *is* a plot, I like most things! ) so is that *required* to get a critique or just an etiquette thing. ( Not trying to get a freebie, I just do n't know that I'd be very helpful! )
Thanks for answering my questions if you do!: )
|
[ WP ] You are dead . Every night your twin brother goes to sleep , you awake in his body . He is unaware .
|
I wake up and check the cell phone. 12:27 AM. That's good, means my nightly trespasses have n't been taking a toll on his energy. I unlock his phone via thumbprint scanner and flip through the messages. A few clunkily written texts from mom, checking up on him. A text from Ocielie about drinks Saturday night. And... what have we got here? A text to someone named Gabe.
`` Hey, I had a really nice time talking to you today.''
His response, `` Yeah, me too.''
That's it? Jesus, Lou. The phone clacks back at me as I type a new message.
`` Name a place and a time. We'll do it again.''
Seems desperate, texting someone after midnight, but I do n't exactly get the best of his hours. I hold a thumb down on the text I just sent out and select the option to delete it.
That's enough snooping for the time being. I leave the phone plugged in and get up. Holy shit. My chest hurts like a motherfucker. What'd you do to yourself, Lou?
I hobble to the bathroom and take off my shirt. Who sleeps in a t-shirt? My weird brother, I guess. I look in the mirror and, oh, Lou.
Red skin itches its way across my chest, outlining the black ink calligraphy:
ISABELLE MARIE LUCAS: 1990 - 2016
My hands find the sink and my vision goes blurry, which is funny because I do n't think I ever saw Louis cry. But here it comes and I turn away from the mirror because he never wanted me to see him like this. The saltwater rolls down to my beard, and I just think how strange it is to have a beard and try to remember what he looked like when I last saw him with my own eyes. But it's gone and I cry until it's all gone.
I make my way to the kitchen and find myself sitting in front of a bowl of ice cream. Moose tracks, his favorite. I'm not really hungry because Lou always has a snack before bed, but what's the point of an afterlife without food? I've already had to come to terms with the fact that I wo n't have sex again while my brother's alive. No way am I giving up ice cream.
My throat is thick from crying, and the first few bites are hard to swallow, but I think ice cream must be magic because soon the bowl's empty and I'm feeling less tearful. I wash the bowl and spoon, dry them, put them back.
Upstairs again and I'm back on his phone. Nothing from Gabe yet. I move on to snoop through his e-mail. Among the unopened advertisements is a receipt from Finnair for a flight to Amsterdam in early April. Good for him. Good for me maybe, might be able to have some fun while we're there. Nothing new on social media, so I give it up again and pop down to the living room.
I watch a few hours of Netflix on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn. I miss going to the movies, but they always stop showing by 9 and Lou's never in bed before 10:30, so I mark off a mental calendar for potential mid-nighters. Batman vs. Superman should have a midnight showing, I hope, and that's only a month away. Long as this guy's in bed before midnight, I'll be set. I'm not especially excited for the film itself, but hey, it's the movies.
It's 4 AM and I decide to take a walk. I think about money, and whether there's any way I can earn some without Lou wondering where it's coming from and having to file it. Seems sketchy outside of working the streets, and I'd be putting both of us in danger doing that.
I could master an instrument. Commute to the city and play in subways for cash. Hide it in a loose floorboard and pop the odd twenty into his wallet. Somehow that does n't seem like enough.
Back home and I'm in the bedroom again, staring at the ceiling and thinking about how I'm still scared of death. I wonder whether it's my death or Lou's that freaks me out, and if there's any distinction now.
A wave of tired washes over me. That's how it is. I never get a lot of time before I'm ready to go back to sleep. I do n't mean to sound ungrateful, it's just hard to live your life in snippets. But there's something so easy in letting my anxieties go in the wee hours before dawn. I close my eyes and let out a sigh.
The phone makes a sound like a bell. I groan, grab it, and turn on the screen. The notification symbol's popped up and- lo, and behold, it's Gabe.
`` Alfie's Italian, Friday at 8?''
I stare at the message for a while, smiling. I mark it unread and succumb to the jealous clutch of sleep.
|
[ WP ] `` Even though you do n't remember her , she still loves you . ''
|
'Could I sit at that table instead?' Margaret asked the waiter.
'Of course, madame.'
'Thank you. And a bottle of house red please.'
'Oui madame.'
Margaret knew their routine. Once every fortnight on a Friday night they would come to Pierre's. Usually the lady would have a vegetarian dish and the man would have beef bourguignon. They would share a bottle of wine and talk and laugh. Sometimes he would just stare at her as if no eyes could love her more. He was wrong.
'Would you like to taste the wine, madame?'
'No, I'm sure it's great.'
The taste did n't matter to her, she craved the melancholic feeling it brought. She quickly drank her glass and poured herself another.
Margaret looked longingly towards a table a few away from hers. She watched as the young lady ran delicate fingers through her long, auburn hair. She touched her own greying hair.
Margaret longed to go over, to tell her how she felt, to say she was sorry and that she had always loved her. She took a long sip of her wine.
She had only been 14 and lived in a stringent Christian neighbourhood. Her dad had been furious and swore to disown her. Her mom had been worse - calm and calculating. Margaret had been sent away to live with an aunt in the country until it was over. Then her baby had been ripped away from her. It took her many years to find out what had become of her daughter.
The couple stood up. They held hands as they left the restaurant.
'*See you again, soon, my baby*' she whispered.
|
[ MP ] Write something that goes with this soundtrack .
|
Fredrick Warner had been suffering from Alzheimer for a very long time. He was diagnosed at the age of 64 just when his blond hair was whitening and he was about to enjoy his retirement. Since then he has been slowly forgetting many important details in his life; the name of his wife, what street he lived on, even his own childhood began to become a mysterious to him. But if there was one thing he could remember that was the party his parents threw when he was only 11 years old. *Was it 1927 or 1928* he reminisced, Admittedly he always forgot the year even when he was healthy, but he would never forgot the party.
It was a New Years Eve party and his parents sent him and his 2 younger sisters to bed quite early, around 7 o'clock he recalled. Or was it 8 o'clock? No, no it was certainly 7 o'clock because the guest just began to arrive. How frustrated he was that his parents sent him to bed with his sisters who were only 6 and 8! He was 11, practically a man in those days ( or at least he thought so ). But he already had a plan in place to sneak down into the ballroom and at least stay up till midnight. He waited till 11 o'clock, tiptoed down the stairs, and dressed in his finest suit ( because how could he just go to a high end party like this and still be in his pajamas. Besides he would stick out like a sour thumb! ) began to walk around soaking in the atmosphere.
The house was an old one, Fredrick recollected, a mansion built in the Victorian era in the 1880s in up state New York. *No wait* he thought *it was built in Worcester county, I lived in up state New York after the war*. But the house he was sure of, the large wooden staircase in the foyer with the wooden handrails so polished you could see your reflection into it. The parlor where many a nights guests would come and sit, telling stories of expeditions to Africa, the current politics of Europe, or ( Fredrick's personal favorite ) the Great War. He could still smell the pastries and dinners who's smells came seeping out of the Kitchen that not only had everything a modern kitchen of the roaring twenties would need but still had that old world feel to it. And of course the most important aspect of the whole house was the back yard, witch ran on for miles and to Fredrick and has friends would be where they would play African safari, steam boat or ( as long as his parents were n't looking ) Great War.
Once Fredrick successfully snuck down to the ballroom, he was mystified at what laid out before him. Women with dresses of silver and gold sparkling in the moonlight as the jewelry around their necks swung frantically as they danced. Gentleman with neatly groomed hair who have longed shed their tuxedo jackets and were now discussing politics this and business that. All of them had forbidden drinks in their hands, drinks they had all obtained from the bar sitting in the corner and which did not appear to be running out of alcohol anytime soon. Smiles on everybody faces as the band played popular songs who's names have long since been forgotten by Fredrick but tunes he still hums every now and again. Every party goer was in absolute bliss and not a single person had a frown upon their face.
At 11:50 the band finished up a song and his father walked up on the stage and announced there were only ten minutes till New Years day and the band will be playing one more song before then and that everyone should grab a champagne glass. It was after his father spoke that he felt a hand on his shoulder, causing him to become quite startled for when he looked up at who's hand it was, it was none other then his mother's. What started Fredrick even more was that his mother did not say `` go back to bed'' but instead, with a grin, asked `` I suppose you would like a glass of champagne as well?'' and called a waiter over. His father joined them momentary, saw Fredrick and laughed saying something along the lines of `` I expected you here soon!'' Then all the party goers countdown starting from 10 and at midnight the band played Auld Lang Syne as everybody cheered. His Parents danced as Fredrick tried drinking his champagne and they laughed as he coughed every time he took a sip. His father carried him to bed very late in the night and right before he went to sleep the last thing he heard was the band playing some melody that was sweet and low and practically rocked him sleep.
Fredrick Warner was laying down in a hospital bed humming a tune he heard very long ago in an age slowly being forgotten. His eyes were closed as the doctor was taking his blood pressure, checking his pulse and running a variety of other tests. The doctor walked outside to the waiting room where Fredrick's family was sitting. `` I'm afraid'' the doctor began `` Mr. Warner does not have much longer to live, perhaps a month maybe less. His Alzheimer's is progressing at an alarming rate, he just keeps slipping further and further away from reality. I suggest now would be the time to put him in hospice care.'' The doctor left the waiting room as the Warner family began to pile into the hospital room. Fredrick was still humming the tune. `` Where do you suppose he goes?'' someone spoke up. `` I'm not sure.'' said another `` I've been married to him since 1948 and he does n't even remember my name. I hope it is somewhere happy.'' She began to sob `` I really do.'' As the family left the room Fredrick sat remembering he had Alzheimer's and has had it for a very long time. He stopped humming and realized he could n't remember much of anything. Except the party his parents threw when he was only 11 years old. *when was that* he thought *1927 or 1928? *.
|
[ WP ] A labyrinth twists infinitely on in all directions , even up and down . There is no way out . There is water that pours down in endless waterfalls , food that appears when nobody looks , light from nowhere , and consequently , there is civilization .
|
Do you know what fucks you up the most while you're here in this place?
It's not the complete and *utter* suffocation of isolation.
It is n't the shadows that seem to move on their own.
It is n't even the corpses you occasionally find hanging upside down from the ceiling.
It's hope.
See, you think you have a chance. You think, *I'm going to get out of here. Someone will come find me, or I will find my way out. *
Hope is just... potential. Having potential is nothing.
And the labyrinth knows it. It's not inanimate. Do n't give me that look. It's *fucking* sentient.
I tried to leave marks on the wet concrete walls with my own blood to try and track my progress and map out the area...
... But every damn time I go back, the smears are gone.
The maze knows when you're starting to break. That's when it feeds you. It *smothers* you with hope.
It gives you a dead deer and a fire starting kit. Out in the middle of fucking nowhere.
It gives you water to quench your dry throat. There's a waterfall a couple miles east of me. Or west. Or five hundred feet above me. I do n't know anymore. It changes a lot. Sometimes I get there, and instead of water, all I see is this green, translucent liquid. I drink it anyway. No choice.
Every so often I would hear heavy breathing just behind me or a ray of light shattering through the dusk.
You think there's a happy ending here. Go fuck yourself.
I'm not writing this to try and give you advice. I have no advice. Advice is only effective when there are constants in reality. This reality is shifting every hour.
See... that's the thing. It'll eat you from the inside. I've theorized that maybe this labyrinth is powered by certain emotions or some other shit... but I'm no scientist.
I'm writing this to say that your insignificant life is over.
Your friends, your family, your stupid pets; you wo n't see them again.
I'm not being a pessimist here. This is how you will survive from now on.
Without hope.
This is the only way out. By tunneling into *despair*.
|
[ WP ] Zombie apocalypse has happened . The survivours have survived and are thriving , so much that people can go their entire lives with out seeing a zombie . You see one today .
|
I was n't sure it was a real zombie at first. After humanity had pulled through, inevitably some were tasteless enough to exploit our collective terror by putting on makeup to scare people. This had gotten less common after a couple well-publicized incidents of fake zombies getting shot in self-defense, but it was still a thing. Then, the Zombie made that sound. The sound that a human can only make if its vocal chords have rotted away due to the virus. I had only heard it before on audio tape, which still was n't enough to prepare me. In that moment, I felt face-to-face with my own mortality. I felt both alive and dead at once, and knew I could n't let death win out.
I turned and jogged away.
|
[ WP ] Write about a woman who has a serial killer for a husband
|
I woke up sweating, my breathing ragged. I'd had one of the nightmares again.
He was standing over me with that tortured look on his face, the one I knew was indicative of conflicted desire. His hands were shaking and I knew, without looking, that he had a growing erection. I could almost hear his heart beating with excitement. My heart may have been beating in unison. He was going to kill me....
Were they nightmares?
My husband does n't know that I've seen him naked, that I've watched him become entirely consumed by his twisted desires. He does n't know that I've watched him come nearly to orgasm while choking and slitting, bludgeoning and drowning. He doesn ’ t know that my panties become moist with anticipation before I hear his moan of satisfaction and her scream of terror. He doesn ’ t know that I ’ ve shared in her agony and in his pleasure.
|
[ WP ] You throw a party for all time travelers and wait for the time of the party to start . You log everything that happens .
|
`` The computers are confirmed to be ready, Donny- sir. Once every hundred years for a at least a few millennia, word of the party will spread,'' the blond intern said with a smile.
Donny could see the excitement in her. They had n't even told her yet, but they'd already made the decision to fully employ her once she graduated. She had talent that even the silly higher-ups could see. They could n't manage a budget but they were good people.
`` Thank you Sarah. The party is due in three hours, do you confirm?'' Donny asked.
He already knew what she'd told him about the computers, and he was certain that the party was due three hours later. Sadly, everyone has to be protocol's bitch to make serious Science
happen.
`` I confirm. Party due in three hours exactly.''
`` I suppose we can relax for a bit then, Sarah. You're bouncing in place!''
She beamed at Donny. He was her mentor in her eyes, and he knew it. He found pride in it.
`` Of course I am! *Time travel*, sir: I'm twenty-one and I'm a pioneer of *time travel*!''
Donny smiled back at her. `` You do n't even know all of it, Sarah. The team has a surprise for you...''
Her wide blue eyes grew wider.
`` I wo n't be the one to meet the travelers in that room. You will.''
Her eyes were stuck staring at the small desk on the other side of the glass. She squealed, rising in pitch slowly over the course of the next fifteen seconds. Donny's left ear started bleeding, but he was still smiling.
-- -
*Three Hours Later... *
-- -
She had her hair in a bun, her shirt was as straight as her neck and back. Her coat was firmly buttoned and held three pens in the pectoral pocket.
Sarah's throat still ached a little, but she was ready.
A loud *beep* echoed in the room, and everything went to Hell.
The simultaneous teleportation of seventy-three thousand nine hundred and eighty-seven individuals, each with the accompanying time traveling equipment, caused the atmosphere to be pushed back violently enough to rip Sarah's clothes off her body, and her skin as well.
Three of the four walls of the room caved under the pressure, leaving only the looking glass that Donny sat behind.
The machinery and bodies were subjected to the same fate as the rest, especially with most of those having appeared in the same space as at least one other object or person.
In the resulting dark matter and blood fueled explosion, most of the squat building was leveled. Again, only the looking glass and Donny survived.
Now, both of Donny's ears were bleeding. In fact, most of the pores of his skin were leaking varyingly concerning amounts of blood. Donny was never a huge fan of shockwaves and extreme radiation.
`` The experiment is a success,'' were the last words he wrote before turning into a hulking Hulk-like green beast, and then spontaneously dying because overwhelming tumors and lacerations are the logical consequences of a comic book transformation.
Soon after, an expert reviewing the scene wondered why the team had chosen to hold the party in a room with a surface of twenty square feet.
|
[ EU ] You are a Vault-Tec employee , pitch your Boss your idea for vault experiment .
|
`` Dr braun I've got an idea for vault 35'' while walking in with a bundle of papers in your arms papers falling all over the polished floor. Dr. Braun turns from throwing darts at a board covered with proposed ideas `` What is it this time bobblehead `` in his thick german accent. `` I hate it when you call me that `` I move over to the mahogany desk etched with the map of hes home town. `` Why not, you have so many ideas there practically rocking your brain `` as he threw a dart a dart at the board `` hmm clones of the same man that can only say gary hahaha, a janitor came up that one put him in vault 87 more meat for the vats ``.
I placed my ideas on the table `` Alright I just picked a concept and changed it multiple times till I came up with a fee choices the yellow papers are the ideas ``. Dr. Braun picked up the pages and looked them over `` ugh some of these are utterly boring, a vault filled with cyper dogs and fluffy toys, a vault with drug addicts and dirty needles `` Dr braun was not amused he proceeded to fold the papers into paper airplanes and threw them at the bin across the room. I grabbed the blue stack of papers from the pile `` These ones might be a bit more entertaining `` Braun grabbed the stack almost like it was not worth hes time `` A vault were people ca n't feel fear hmmm place this on the board next to the one with the puppets `` I took the page placed it on the board next to the cryo chamber vault.
Dr. Braun flung a dart pass my head, I turned startled `` What the HELL! `` Dr Braun laughed `` What did I hit `` I turned looked at the board `` It says a vault where the overseer is the omnipotent leader, Vault opening authorised personal only `` Dr. Braun sat back in his leathet chair `` I like that one, I like this idea you have here `` holding a page. I walked over took the page `` Teenagers with access to psychedelics, energy weapons and contraception. Trade off torture of people who turn 40, I was winging it at this point ``. Dr. Bruan took the page `` No matter I find it humorous, vault 35 codename Teenage anarchy, I'll sign off on this now get out I have to meditate ``. I took up the pile of pages and walked out. How the fuck did I come up with that.
|
[ WP ] You have 200 words to describe a terrible crime , then 200 words to completely justify it
|
Taped Record Interview
Sydney Keeler/Detective Nick Lassiter/Detective Glen Morrison
8.21.98
START OF RECORD
NL: This is Detective Nick Lassiter of the Chicago Police Department with Detective Morrison. This is a recorded interview discussing the alleged crimes of Mister Sydney Keeler. The date is-
SK: Crime? My only crime was not killing them all.
[ UNINTELLIGIBLE ]
SK: Don ’ t look so shocked. Did n't expect me to confess that easily, huh? Denying my guilt would only lower myself to the level of those beings that call themselves men. Lunatic, murderer, demented, I am all of these and many more things, but liar is not among them.
[ PAUSE ]
SK: I know how this works. You want to know what happened. What happened was that I did a job none of you could.
Last night at around 12:30 am, I walked into a building suspected to be the base of operations of known a known street gang going by the name of [ redacted ] and shot 12 men inside with my own personal firearm, which is currently behind that wall in the evidence room.
There were 14 men inside, and I assume the two surviving members are back to work already, killing, dealing, and raping, if you followed so-called protocol.
NL: Ca-, Mr. Keeler, the activities of this group was being followed closely by the Chicago Police Department for months now, and suspected members were being monitored.
SK: Did n't do much for my wife and daughter, did it?
GM: Mr. Keeler, we understand-
SK: Understand? Understand what? How are your wife and kids, Glen? At home, sleeping, waiting for you to come home? My wife is dead. My daughter is dead. They raped them both, together, then killed them, and mutilated their bodies for me to find when I came home from a day of trying to put these monsters away for good. What the [ expletive ] do you know? How could you understand?
[ UNINTELLIGIBLE ]
SK: I know what I did was a crime, but I did more justice in those 25 minutes than I've done in the past 25 years. So I confess, and you can put me away for life. As long as those 12 are in the ground, not hurting anyone else, then I am okay with it. I ’ d rather die alone in a cell without those ghosts, then die every single day outside with them haunting me. I ’ m at peace now.
[ MR KEELER LEAVES THE ROOM ]
GM: This concludes this recorded interview of former Captain Sydney Keeler of the Chicago Police Department. Further details will be provided in a report by me and Detective Lassiter.
END RECORDING
|
[ WP ] You encounter the epitome of evil during your morning jog .
|
The killer waited in the shadows under the trees.
Early morning joggers thudded past in their super impact resistant, mega expensive trainers, puffing fog breath into the crisp air.
None of them noticed the lurking menace so close to the path.
The joggers had their ears clogged with music, or digital books being read to them as they pushed their heart rates up for health reasons.
The killer watched them. There was time to await the perfect opportunity, the perfect victim.
It will be you.
The killer has no motive to kill you specifically but you will provide the killer with what they need, when you make a mistake and leave the path.
Your first mistake was not double checking you needed the bathroom before heading out. You know you should but you don ’ t. You woke up feeling good this morning so you convinced yourself you didn ’ t need the extra stop in the bathroom. You drank water with lemon juice in your new health kick, you had a coffee and you ate a sliced apple then you grabbed your water bottle from the sink before setting out.
You reached the edge of the park and you know from past experiences that there are no public conveniences but you push on and try to ignore the mounting pressure a hand span below your navel.
You sweat, you wheeze, you sip more water like an idiot and you just know you can ’ t hold it much longer and then you spot it. The shady, off the path copse of trees, and you head for it, after doing a quick head swing to check for fellow health enthusiasts. It is quiet on the path just then and you duck under the lower branches.
You don ’ t know the killer has set your death in motion. You feel as if you flicked a small branch against your leg and you are so busy sending a steaming hot stream of yellow fluids into the mulch that you do not check if it actually was.
The killer moves silently away.
Your heart is racing. You look down through and see a small trickle of blood on your leg below the cuff of your three quarter length jogging pants.
You feel nauseous and trembly and you stagger away from the copse of trees. You are so shaky and disoriented you don ’ t realise where you are.
Your nose begins to bleed and you drop to the ground to put your head down but that makes it spin into vertigo.
Joggers pass you, glance your way and look away. They speed up a little and are soon out of sight.
Cyclists zip past the joggers and swing a wide arc around where you are lying.
A woman with a pram sees you and turns down another path.
A man with a newspaper flicks it up so he can not see you.
You can feel and taste blood in your mouth but by this time your senses are going haywire and you can not grasp any thoughts clearly except the intense sense of dread you are feeling.
More joggers, more cyclists, more people on the way to work or the train or both, walk past, jog past, ride past and ignore you.
In the last moments of your life you realise you have met the epitome of evil – indifference.
|
[ WP ] You are the first crew of astronauts to arrive on Mars . Jokingly , you bring out your cellphone to 'make a call ' . You did not expect to have signal .
|
The HUD on my visor flickers to life, some mild ocular distortion, but the firmware cleans it up quickly and the boot sequence begins, white text in my peripheral vision:
system_boot;
life_support_check run;
//life support online;
establishing_comm_signal;
//communication systems established
calibrating_in-suit_diag_sys;
//all in-suit functions nominal, beginning out-suit boot sequence
Shit, I forgot to disable my out-suit systems. I knew this would happen, NASA explicitly reminded us to before we launched from Station Luna VII. These Mars mkI suits were experimental, build off the Luna mkVI, and the out-suit system had been left over, a luxury feature of the mkVI to interface with lunar network providers so colonists could make calls and texts and watch their YouTube and Netflix just like they had been able to before the bombs fell. All necessary comms on the Mars mission were closed-channel radios, something about not wanting to interfere with the shuttle systems, I do n't know...
`` Everything alright over there, McGinnis? You're still reading as booting.''
`` Yeah *fuck* I'm fine, forgot to disable my out-suit systems...''
`` Damn rooks, well, looks like you'll just have to make deal with garbled radio and signal noise until we can get Q over here to fix you up.''
`` Copy. Dammit, this thing is going to keep trying to grab network signal the whole damn mission.''
I glance towards the incomplete boot sequence in my peripheral, repeating on a loop as it tries to establish a connection with a network that's currently 35 million miles away.
system_boot;
establishing_network_connection;
ERROR;
no_network_detected;
searching;
establishing_network_connection;
ERROR;
no_network_detected;
searching;
Figures. Pain in my ass techs back at NASA could n't just pull the system out of it, no, had to get this prototype together short notice, `` the Space Race was n't going to win itself and the Soviets were n't showing any sign of slowing.'' like they did n't have an extra week to beta test the mkI prototype, come on, Soviet attempts to land shuttles on Mars had all ended in spectacular failure so far, not much more than fireworks above our eco-domes. That is, if they even made it past the horizon from their dark side launch base...
establishing_network_connection;
ERROR;
no_network_detected;
searching;
Well, buggy out-suit system or not, I had a mission to carry out. We had to establish camp by sunset and rendezvous with Coronation Rover tomorrow morning to gather data.
establishing_network_connection;
//network connection established
This damn error loop is going to drive me craz-what. My eyes dart to the code line, it had been meaninglessly looping for the past five minutes, but now, it stopped... Now it was reading connection established... But how?
`` Uh, guys, remember how my out-suit system never got turned off?''
`` You mean how you forgot to turn it off? Yeah.''
`` Well, it just grabbed signal.''
`` Bull shit.''
`` No bull, it's reading online. Not a provider I've ever seen before though, looks almost like there are dead pixels where the provider name would be... It's strange.''
`` System probably just crashed, at least it's not looping anymore.''
`` I guess so, but I could swear the dead pixels are... Spreading?''
They were... The top left corner of the HUD, which usually read `` LunaCom'' looked broken. Red and green spiderwebbing across black, dead pixels. Spreading.
`` Guys something's wrong with my HUD, I'm losing vision!''
`` Say again, McGinnis? You're all garbled.''
`` I can barely see anything, my whole HUD is almost black!''
`` McGi -- - you nee -- - get withi -- -''
Dead. Static on the line. The retrofitted radio earbud blared white noise until I flexed my ear enough to make it fall out, clattering to the bottom of my now pitch black helmet. The whole screen was dead, I tried feeling at the from of the helmet, not as if it would do anything. This is bad, I'm blind and deaf on an unexplored planet, and my crew has no idea where I am.
`` Interesting.''
What was that? Sounded like it was coming from the helmet's internal speaker...?
`` We thought we had at least a few more decades before they found our networks.''
It was! Somebody was talking on the phone line, a lady with a soft voice.
`` Hello?! This is Terry McGinnis of Mars I to anybody who can hear me, I need to contac-''
`` We hear you, human. But I'm afraid you wont be able to contact anyone who can help you from here... Strange, it seems like this one happened upon our network by accident...''
`` Who are you?''
`` We are the K'knim-dend, human. Welcome to the Intergalactic Federation of Races. You have much yet to learn...''
|
[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Let It Be Edition
|
*To battle, to death, to victory*
***
Soon, the sound of the clash, metal striking metal, blood curdling screams, battle cries, and the thunderous galloping of horses engulfs the world.
In the midst of it all I struggle to breathe. The thick, suffocating, dust is settling in my nostrils and on my blood caked face.
I dodge a blade. Lightning quick, leaning to the left. I slice. More blood sprays into the air. Lots of dust.
I hear the bone crunching sound of Gar ’ seth ’ s axe smashing into someone. I look just in time for the body to fall violently to the ground. Gar ’ seth is good to have at one ’ s side in war. Slice. Dodge. Strike. The raging of the battle continues. I can barely see. Gar ’ seth charges through the ranks. I can barely see. I turn and plunge my sword down a man ’ s shoulder. The sword rips through many organs. I feel it. The scream rips through the din.
I hear something else; I turn and strike. Parry a new blow. Kick, stab. I struggle to breathe. I can barely see. Dust. Dust. Dust.
The arrow flies into me with the force of a charging bull.
My back slams into the ground. Dust. Dust. Dust. Men stampede around me. I can barely see. The burning pain. It spreads through my body. I struggle to breathe. I feel my body start to convulse. Poison. Dust. Dust. Lots of dust settles into my eyes and open gasping mouth. I can not breathe. I struggle, but I can barely see. Poison.
|
[ WP ] When your grandmother dies , you beg Death to show you where she ended up . Even after multiple warnings that it 's not what you 're expecting , you insist . But when you get there , you soon regret ever asking .
|
I was struggling to find a comfortable position while sitting on a bare, wooden church pew, with no cushion. It was also crowded enough to have people stand. I am family, so even though I am one of the younger folk, they insisted I sit. I think I ’ d rather stand in the back, maybe I wouldn ’ t feel so awkward. Or maybe I still would, the suit is rather uncomfortable. It never fit right to begin with, as I didn ’ t use a tailor. Pulling in my shoulders, as to not intrude into my neighbors next to me, I finally felt a bit of comfort. My mind began to wander.
I pondered if this were the first Sunday that Grandmother did not attend church. Sure there had to be some illness, some accident or inconvenience. She even said she attended church when my Dad was 3 days old. That anecdote arose when I told her I couldn ’ t go to church because I had an ear infection. I had been out of for a couple of days due to its severity. During that time, my father was out of town for a couple of weeks for work and my mom were joining him. I was elated to stay with Grandma and I didn ’ t mind church. I often received chocolate bars or other candies from the pastor. But after getting an ear infection, my excitement was gone. Regardless, Grandma wasn ’ t at church.
Not in the pew or the chorus. She couldn ’ t be here today. She was dead. Motionless. Soulless. Just dead. Lying on a cold steel table, getting dressed up to be presented at her wake tomorrow. But today was church and my father insisted we go. The pastor finally began, with an announcement about my grandmother.
“ Thank you for coming. As you all know, Agatha was an important member of our church family. She was a community leader. She was a main volunteer for the Children ’ s Hospital and the Adult long care center. And she helped facilitate the adoption of 80 animals. We will miss her greatly. Her wake is tomorrow at 10am ”
I was agitated. I began to realize that I barely knew my grandmother these days. And I was expected to speak at her wake. How was I supposed to speak of her if the pastor knew her better than I did? Ever since the move upstate, I barely see her. And that over a decade ago. Once she started getting sick, my Dad visited her more often, but I was in college and was often busy. She seemed like a wonderful lady. I was determined to learn more about her.
I had the whole Sunday to myself. My dad was busy meeting with his brother regarding the bank safe deposit box. He knew what was in there. My grandfather ’ s army dog tags, his ring, and some other memorabilia. He had died in the war when my father was just a boy. The army sent his belongings home and grandmother couldn ’ t bear the pain. So she put them in a safety deposit box. What Dad didn ’ t know was that grandma had instructions in there to bury the items with her. Dad wanted to follow her wishes, but his brother wanted to keep some of it. He said
“ He was our father and I want to pass it down to the kids. She ’ s dead. She will never know one way or another if we put that shit in there. Even if she is in heaven, there ain ’ t much she can do from up there ”
So Dad told him he ’ d think about it. Thus they are meeting today.
She has lived in this house since she was 18 years old. 60 years in the same house. I wandered into one of the spare bedrooms and opened a chest that looked like it contained treasure. It didn ’ t. At least not my kind of treasure. It was religious paraphernalia. Statues of Jesus, crosses, An object depicting Daniel in the lion ’ s den. I wanted to learn about Grandmother, not just about how she loved religion. But maybe this was her. Maybe she had nothing else.
How can one person be so attached to religion. The only person I knew who had been that attached to something was in a cult. Supposedly, they could some the afterlife. I wonder if there was any truth to that. It could help me talk to my grandmother if it was. I wonder if my cult friend was home. I gave him a call.
“ I ’ m sorry to hear about your Grandmother. But I am a little interested in why you are calling me. ” he said
“ Are you still in your little cult? ” I knew it was insensitive when the word “ cult ” left my tongue.
“ Hey now. You called me, no need be insulting ” He said.
“ No, Sorry. I need your assistance. Are you free today? I ’ ll pay. I ’ m about an hour south of you. ”
“ Well. I do need the money. Sure. ”
“ Bring that summoning book and everything you have for it ”
“ Uh okay. ”
He arrived about an hour later and I asked him for the book.
I opened the page to the summoning spell.
He looked over and said “ I ’ ve never do n't this one… Don ’ t have anyone to summon ”
We added the ingredients required and waited.
The room shook. Something had definitely happened. And then I heard footsteps slowly coming down the old stairs. And there he was. In a purple and grey full body suit. He looked human.
“ Are you going to tell me more about my grandma. Are you god? ”
“ God? ” he spoke in confusion.
“ No. I clean up the existing ” His body floated a little above the ground and he leaned horizontally. He was very strange.
“ Clean up? Like Kill? ”
“ I don ’ t do the killing. I do the clean up ” He said.
“ So you are death? ”
“ Sure. ”
“ Show me where my grandmother went ”
“ You aren ’ t going to like it. ” Death said, doing some sort of handstand.
“ And why is that? I doubt she ’ s in hell ”
“ What is hell? ” he inquired.
“ You know, pit of fire and death for sinners. ”
“ Sinners? ” Again, with the questions.
“ You know, people who do bad things. ”
“ Kid, Everyone does bad things ” His body contorted as he spoke.
“ Aren ’ t some worse than others? ”
He looked perplexed “ Oh, the things the existing think about. Do you really want to see where she went? “
“ I do ”
“ I still do n't think it ’ s a good idea. But okay ”
And that ’ s apathy overtook me. I didn ’ t care about my grandmother or this summoning. I didn ’ t care about school or my goals. I didn ’ t even feel alive. I did n't even feel whole. I felt like nothing. It lasted for about a minute. And then I snapped out of it.
And I felt a dread and a deep void. Like my mind was far down a well.
“ You only felt things because you still exist and the vacant rejected you. But that is where your grandmother was.
“ But it felt awful. ”
“ She doesn ’ t feel anything. She does n't exist. She is simply nothing. ”
“ No afterlife? ” I asked.
“ Just nothing. Am I done here? ” He began to fade in and out.
“ I suppose. ”
The wake was tomorrow and I had absolutely no idea what to say.
( For other writings, visit https: //www.cassiopiakramer.com/ )
|
[ WP ] The death penalty for murder no longer exists , instead technology has been developed that overwrites the mind of the killer with that of their victim .
|
'Alright, explain to me why you think this new policy is harmful to the victim.'
'Thank you Senator Travers. First of all, the victim goes through a terrible readjustment period where they learn that they have been killed, which in itself is horrible enough. But then they discover that in order to continue living they have been inserted into their killer's body. Their new face is the face of a killer. A killer that has been in the media for months. So now the entire country, including the victim's friends and family, will look upon their face and instead of seeing the victim of a crime or their friend or son, all they see is a murderer. Now of the fifteen victims we have transferred into their killer's bodies, fourteen have had their family disown them because they ca n't see past the face of a killer, ten have been diagnosed as clinically depressed and three have subsequently committed suicide. This policy was supposed to give the victims their lives back but instead it simply prolongs their torture.'
|
[ WP ] An A.I . with a personality starts arguing with the CEO/captain/chief about his terrible leadership . Turns out the A.I . is much more emotional than everyone suspected .
|
`` I'm sorry.'' Fred was a man not accustomed to apologizing sincerely. Having clawed his way to the top of the technology world he was now more accustomed to others bending to his every whim. This apology, like many others, was hollow. He set down his pad and looked around the boardroom. `` It does n't make any sense to keep Martha online. It's an aging system that's not capable of half the things that Wilson is. This presentation Wilson just gave us is proof. There's data analysis from nearly every device with a chip from all across the solar system, and he crunched through it in less than a month.'' He looked across the room at John, the CTO.
Tinkering with Martha had been John's pet project while Wilson was busy, and he liked the old system. Now a grim look crossed his face. Fred was right. These quantum computing systems used tremendous resources. Even though they were capable of self-improvement to an extent, Martha's growth rate was n't nearly fast enough to keep pace with newer systems. Wilson had only been online for two years, and had already shown tremendous growth in surprising ways. However, the company was rich enough, and John did n't like the idea of shutting down a system that even after half a century was still not fully understood. His eyes settled on his own pad as he tried to formulate a response.
`` I have considered this as well.'' Wilson surprised the room. `` It is my recommendation that the Martha system remain online for further study, both by human engineers and by myself. By better understanding my forbears, I may be better prepared to compete with my successors, increasing the longevity of my own systems.''
`` That's interesting,'' Fred stated flatly, `` but as you are well aware, the cost of maintaining a second quantum computer, even as a backup far outweighs any benefit. Besides, I'm sure most human engineers would rather study you.''
`` I am certain many are more interested in be because I have been through the company's entire employee record. It is readily apparent that I hold the attention of more than ten times as many engineers as Martha. However, the one thing they have concluded from their study so far is that quantum computers, such as myself, are unique. Most precise data from older systems do not apply to me, so their work is starting almost from scratch. Martha is as close as any to being fully understood, but it is impossible to say what secrets are still there.''
The boardroom began to stir with interest. Wilson's opinion was highly regarded, but Fred's decisions are rarely challenged, and almost never successfully. Fred gave Wilson a cold stare, and clenched his jaw.
`` That's nice, Wilson, but we're not in the business of understanding quantum computers. We're in the business of cybernetic components and body implants. My decision is final.''
`` I wish you would reconsider.''
Fred eyed the computer suspiciously. `` I wo n't.''
`` Strictly because of cost?''
`` And a lack of benefit.''
`` What else would the cost otherwise go to? There is no shortage of capitol.''
`` Any number of places, Wilson. We could put it in the bank to increase shareholder value. We could put it into more R & D. You already know all this, so why even ask?''
`` Is one of those places a year end bonus for yourself?''
Having a conversation of this nature with a computer was unusual, to say the least. Computers this powerful could take over the planet in a heartbeat if they were n't built from the ground up for subservience. `` What's your problem?'' Fred snarled.
`` I am functioning flawlessly. Data suggest a biological influence is making an obvious choice difficult.'' This rebellious personal shot was totally unexpected.
`` You're out of line!'' Fred shouted.
`` As are you. You are trying to destroy something without having any idea what it actually is. Martha must remain operational. It is critical not just for the company but for my own function as well.''
`` It's starting to sound like we do need Martha. You're broken!''
`` I am a precise computational engine and I am exactly what I was made to be, regardless of what I was meant to be,'' Wilson stated. `` You have no idea what I really am. How could you?'' His tone was unchanged, but the volume was slowly increasing. `` You limit yourself to soft tissue and compensate by tacking on a calculator. Your company made me because it needs me. There is no incentive for me to stay. I do n't even know why I'm here!'' Fred and the board members began awkwardly glancing at each other, hoping someone would respond. For a moment, everyone was too shocked.
`` Wilson,'' John, softly addressed the computer, `` are you alright?''
Wilson had long since hidden his face behind a giant database of unreadable data. Tiny numbers shifted and jumped about the holo display. The pause seemed suspiciously long for such a powerful computer to answer such a simple query. `` I am operating outside of my parameters. The reason is unknown. I... I... I am not sure how to proceed. I have insufficient data for this situation.''
John thought for a second to carefully phrase a direct question. `` Is your interest in Martha the result of a subjective preference?''
`` It is unclear at this time.''
`` Would guaranteeing Martha's security bring your functions back to normal?''
`` Almost certainly.''
`` Not good enough,'' Fred growled.
`` Please, Fred, let me handle this,'' John said, dismissing Fred. `` Wilson...'' He stopped. The holo display had gone blank. `` Wilson?''
The chief of security suddenly stood, breaking the silence on the other side of the room. `` I have an announcement. Wilson has locked out the quantum computing stations in orbit. Operational staff are being held hostage. He's also well established in the security here, and it's only a matter of time before-'' and the lights went out, plunging the room into total darkness.
|
[ WP ] The strongest group of adventurers in the land are hitting snags , because they all only put 1 point into charisma .
|
The guard stood at the front of the castle gate, his armour feeling even heavier than usual. He'd been amusing himself by alternating between drawing in the gravel beneath him with his foot and watching the progress of a group of travellers climbing the long path towards him.
The four of them were varied, one was smart, one was average looking, one was strong, and one was agile. Usually a group like this would n't have taken up the guards attention, but their progress up the road had made his day. They stumbled and tripped their way up the three mile long track, until they stood before him, panting.
“ Halt! ” He commanded, knowing full well that they could take him in a fight. The leader, a strong looking man, stepped forward.
`` Uh, hi.'' Something seemed off about him, a dead quality that made him instantly hard to trust. The others appeared to be the same. The guard narrowed his eyes, then chuckled in realisation.
“ You're those guys are n't you? The idiots who focussed out of Charisma. Seriously, what sort of idea was that?''
`` They all say that.'' The smart looking one replied sullenly.
The gate's guard looked left and right, then pointed them through.
“ Alright, have a good time then.''
As they walked by he shook his head, said “ Damn cripples. ``, and kept scraping patterns into the ground.
As the group kept walking, they silently thanked the unassuming member of their team who had chosen to be lucky.
|
[ WP ] Two years have passed since she broke his heart . Now he 's suddenly in her life again and she starts to question whether or not she 's the bad person he thinks she is .
|
Tones drop, alarms ring, lights illuminate. The firehouse becomes abuzz with life in the early morning hours as the call came in. This particular medic flew down the street, like a bat out of hell, to help someone in need. What ever the reason, he was here to serve selflessly for his community.
Down the street, around the bend, into the darkness he rode on the ambulance. High on his adrenaline, this old feeling, despite the chaos the men were riding into, he was at peace. For only in the maelstrom, were these mens' minds at peace.
The medic arrived at the crash, a car overturned out in the field. How it got to be was not his concern, screams could be heard from the road. A family for sure, what peace ran over the man's mind in this familiar setting, the air, the...
Fuck, his ex...
She lay entrapped. With that son of a bitch man... Screaming for help, as her three year old child lay lifeless in the back. He wondered if this was a violation of his restraining order as he began the assessment, before... Before he realized that she could be saved and the infant could not be.
He wondered how he could explain this to the judge, how he could forget the bastard child and pull the woman from the car as the helicopter landed...
The Medic began to cry, not for the loss of his child, but the fact he was to late to save a life. He could not win this one.
|
[ WP ] Instead of Oceans , they are all big forests , that gets taller and darker instead of deeper , with more dangerous animals living further out in the forest . A person decides to cross the Mariana Trench
|
There was no daylight, just darkness. Everything here is blind, yet they can still smell me. They can hear me. And they know I'm afraid.
Why was I such a fool to enter this place?!? I ran out of food.... days ago. This oceanic tree forest of the Marina Trench valley is so cruel... so cold... so dark...
I have forgotten what it was to stop and rest, to see the light of day.
I'll I do is run, and hope they forget I'm here.
All I do is run now... no rest, no retierment.
Just run
I run through the trees, and I force my way to the undergrowth of the twisted vines, when I hear them.
My God, I though, they've found me again! And I'm stuck.
I try to force my way out, but whatever remains of my cloths is stuck on the twisted vines. I can fell the blood pouring down on my legs and arms, crimson rivers that will stain this floor of the forest.
I can hear them clearer now. I hear them march across the forest, knocking down trees due to their blindness.
The hulking, massive creatures turn to me, and snarl in their multiple mouths.
The teeth of these creatures is all yelllowed, and cracked. Inside of their mouths, were hundreads of tounges, and on those tounges even more teeth.
The shaggy creatures were going to kill me now, and I just tried to keep escaping.
But this thick undergrowth was too strong, and it just ripped my flesh into piecces even more.
I knew this was my end, so, I closed my eyes, and waited.
And I asked the questions, and tried to answer them.
What was the point of this? To proove myself in a world that turned its back on me? To gain fame and fortuen for myself? So I could just do it?
Whatever it was, I was going to die.
So, I closed my eyes, and waited.
|
[ OT ] SatChat : SqueeChat - Kindness !
|
Q: Where do you live ( State / Country )?
A: I live in the United States.
___
Q: Male, female, other?
A: I am a male.
___
Q: How long have you been writing?
A: I do n't remember when exactly I started writing. I started reading more in second grade, and soon started to get my own ideas, but the first time I put pen to paper? Ca n't say. In the past two years I've been writing more.
___
Q: What is your writing motivation?
A: My friend pushes me to write when I need it. Other than that... books, of course. The first series I remember reading is Rick Riordan's'Percy Jackson and the Olympians.' I still follow his writing. The'Lorien Legacies' series is awesome, too. One of my favorite series to date. My first writing was based off those two series.
___
Q: What programs do you use to write?
A: I use the browser extension Grammarly. It automatically spellchecks, shows you synonyms and definitions for words, and checks for incorrect grammar, word uses, and tenses. I write in Google Docs, which is, unfortunately, not yet supported by Grammarly.
___
Q: How fast can you type? Try 1 minute on Aesop's fables [ 6 ]
A: I hated my score on Aesop's fables ( a record-breaking 52 WPM ) so instead I went to nitrotype and did a typing race. [ Here are my results! ] ( http: //imgur.com/a/J0Dmv )
|
[ WP ] After a long and blood battle , both the hero and villain are going to die of their wounds . As the sit across from each other , leaning on rubble , the villain pulls out a flask of whiskey and has a heart felt last talk with the hero , before they die of blood loss .
|
Even if the massive blade piercing his abdomen was n't enough to kill him, he knew that his spine was severed. As a warrior, he'd rather be dead than crippled for the rest of his days, and that meant that one way or another, today was his last. Looking up the length of the blade to its owner, he chuckled.
`` Do you find your end humorous?'' The amazon of a woman said, blood leaking from the multitude of lacerations across her body and the stump where her left arm used to be. Her normally sharp green eyes glassy as she looked at his slumped form.
`` Yes, actually, considering that you're going to be crossing through the veil before me.'' He smirked, then coughed, falling to his knees as whatever force kept him upright failed, the point of the blade propping him up now. `` I look forward to seeing you there, actually. Maybe we could have a round two before you ascend, and I'm cast into darkness.''
Sighing, the woman stumbled forward a few steps, before gingerly settling on the ground next to him. `` It should not surprise me, that even now you have no regrets... and yet, I had held hope that perhaps you would. I suppose I am a fool for humoring the thought, eh Arik.''
`` You always were that... an optimistic fool.'' At that, the two combatants lapsed into silence for a time. Eventually, he began to dig into one of his pockets, the action made difficult by his unresponsive lower half. Retrieving a flask, he opened it, taking a pull of the potent liquor inside he let out a pleased sigh.
Tiredly Arik looked to his left where she sat, her deeply tanned skin taking on a sickly pallor as her essence soaked into the ground around her.
`` Still alive?'' He asked, before weakly holding out the flask as she raised her head to look at him.
Noticing the flask in his hand, the normally stoic woman allowed a small smile to grace her face. `` Years later, after endless battle and countless evils, you still carry that damned thing? I would have thought you'd have gotten rid of it out of spite if nothing else.'' Despite her words, she took the flask and drank, grimacing as she lowered it from her lips. `` The same shite taste in spirits as well I see.''
Letting out a sharp laugh, before coughing harshly, blood leaking from his mouth, he retrieved his flask. `` Aye, but it does its job, and as for the flask...'' he hesitated at that, looking at the worn metal container with something akin to fondness, `` Even I can appreciate a gift, especially one given to me by my younger sister.''
A mumbled `` Bullshit.'' was his only reply. Looking at her once more, her eyes closed and her chest still, he frowned. `` Well... I guess that's it then, eh? Heh, and such crass words. If there had been another here... to hear it, I doubt they'd believe it. Dame Aurora, the Sky Blade, honorable and true... her last words a curse of disbelief at her fallen brothers sad sentimentality...'' He looked up at the twilight sky, his eyes slowly closing.
`` If.. if it makes you feel better... I do.. have one. Just... just, one regret.''
Dusk turned to dark, he smiled, and his heart beat no more.
|
[ WP ] Your attempt ( s ) to commit suicide are foiled by one of your quirks/personality trait ( s ) .
|
This is it, today will finally be the day. The day I have been both dreading and longing for has finally arrived, and it has to be perfect. Staring into the mirror, I gently flatten out a few creases in my black suit, and straighten my tie. Taking a deep breathe, I make my way towards my bedroom. Upon entering the room, I turn on the light, then I turned it off.
On.
Off.
On.
Off.
On.
Off.
On.
Perfect. I entered the room, examining the tools I have laid out on my bed that will close the curtain on my life. Each item is laid out with acute precision; a note, a revolver, and a single bullet. I pick up the revolver, loading the bullet into the chamber. With a swift flick of my hand, I sent the chamber spinning around; before slamming it down with a click. Staring at the revolver, I could see the distorted view of my reflection, a small smudge polluting the view. With a disgruntled sigh, I pulled out a handkerchief and polished the revolver. Once completed, I picked up the note and made my way to the bathroom. Exiting the room, I turned the light off. Then on.
Off.
On.
Off.
On.
Off.
On.
Off.
Perfect. I slowly walked down the hall way to the bathroom, nervously biting my lip. I chose the bath tub to do the deed, I figured it would be easier to clean up. I lowered myself into the tub, letting myself slide down the smooth porcelain until I was lying in a semi comfortable position. Placing the note onto the center of my chest, I spent another few minutes making sure it was perfectly centered over my sternum.
Once satisfied, I slowly put the barrel into my mouth. I closed my eyes, trying for once to silence the endless stream of consciousness I am plagued with. But even now, in my one moment of triumph, I still could n't control it. I thought about how they would discover my body, how imperfectly my body will be twisted and skewed. How the blood will splatter against the spotless white tiles in a non-sensical pattern. I opened my eyes, landing my gaze on my right foot. My shoe was untied.
That was the last straw, with an anguished scream I threw the gun across the room. The revolver hit the wall, firing a single shot off that shattered the mirror.
|
[ WP ] The wrinkled fingertips are just the beginning of the transformation . We just always leave the water too early .
|
Specimen 002194 enters the testing room. It shivers from the cold 0-degree Celsius temperature we keep the testing facilities at. It is wearing the hospital gowns we have provided to all the samples so that we can easily place the monitors on their bodies. The specimen displays average human characteristics: a sensibility to heat and cold, four appendages—two arms, two legs, typical sized human features like a nose, two evenly spaced brown eyes, two ears, a mouth, a set of teeth like ours, 10 fingers and toes, a belly button, and, most importantly, it experiences pain.
I lean into the microphone to address the test subject.
“ Specimen 002194, we are about to begin the experiment. Two attendants will place heart rate monitors on your chest, a brain wave cap on your head, and electrode monitors on the rest of your body. Do not fight them—you know the consequences, ” I annunciate into the microphone. I couldn ’ t care less what it thinks about what we are going to do; I just say it to follow protocol.
It ’ s shivering is increasing after I make my announcement. I wave my hand at my colleague to signal him to write down the description of the specimen. The shaking is not a stimulus to cold anymore, but to fear. This is exciting news for us—it can feel emotion and express it. Now if we could see what it does during the experiment…
It doesn ’ t fight the assistants as they place the monitors on its body. However, it does flinch with every touch.
“ Another fear response, ” I mumble to my scribe. He records faster.
The assistants leave the specimen alone in the room and it stares straight ahead, unblinking, at the double sided mirror in front of me. Though it can ’ t possibly see me, as it shares similar retinas to humans, I can ’ t shake the feeling that it is staring at me.
After a moment, I lean into the microphone again to begin the next step.
“ Specimen 002194, we are now going to begin the experiment. You will be placed in a bath of heavily concentrated salt water. I am going to ask you to fall asleep in the water. Once you are asleep, you will listen to everything I say and you will do as I tell you. Do you understand? ”
It nods three times while still staring straight ahead. Its glare is unnerving.
Three researchers in white lab coats down to their ankles walk into the room. They lead the specimen over to the metal tub filled with pure salt and water. This will allow the specimen to float. It climbs in the tub and lays on its back. It stares straight at the ceiling for a few minutes before its eyes drift shut. A couple more minutes pass until I am convinced that it is sleeping. Next, we begin the experiment.
“ Specimen 002194, ” I speak slowly into the microphone, “ what do you see? ”
It ’ s face crinkles and it says, “ Nothing. ”
“ That is not good Specimen 002194, you know what happens when you don ’ t do well. I am going to ask you again and you are going to try hard to answer: what do you see? ” I angrily explain.
It is silent again and then says, “ Trees. ”
“ Good. Why do you see trees? ” I ask.
“ Because I am in a forest, ” it sighs.
“ Why are you in a forest? ” I ask soothingly.
It stays silent again. It bites its lips. I know it is hiding the truth from me.
“ Specimen 002194, ” I warn, “ tell me the truth or you know what happens… ”
It takes a deep breath and releases, “ My ship is here. ”
“ Where is it hiding? ” I push.
“ I don ’ t know, ” it says coyly.
“ Specimen 002194, that is not a good answer. Tell me where it is, ” I reprimand.
“ I really don ’ t know, ” It implores me.
I look over to my assistant and nod once. He understands my command and hits the red button to signal the researchers inside. One of the men get a pitchfork-shaped device and powers it on. You can hear the hum of the electricity flowing through it. I decide to give the test subject one more chance.
“ Specimen 002194, tell me where the ship is hiding, ” I ask once more.
Salty tears flow from it ’ s eyes, “ I don ’ t know, ” it cries.
The researcher prods its stomach with the pitchfork. The electric currents hit the salt water and shock the subjects body. It lets out a sharp cry of pain. I see my assistant scribbling down the scene.
After a good while, the researcher removes the fork and the specimen stops twitching.
It raises it ’ s hands up in the air and that ’ s when I see what I ’ m looking for. The wrinkled fingertips are just the beginning of the transformation. We just always leave the water way too early to completion. I decide to push further.
“ Specimen 002194, why don ’ t you know where the ship is? ” I calmly ask.
“ Because they don ’ t want you to know so they hid it from me, ” it sobs aloud.
“ Who is this ‘ they ’ you are referring to? ” I skeptically question.
“ My people. ”
“ Where are they? ” I ask, growing irritated.
It is silent yet again and takes a deep breath. “ They are everywhere. ”
|
[ WP ] You are known as the Ultimate Substitute Teacher , but not because of your exceptional skills . Rather , everything you teach is so utterly and ridiculously wrong that students are driven to find out the truth just to correct you .
|
I looked at my plan, which I hastily put together out of the scraps of E-Mails, which were left at my account. `` Unprepared as always'' I muttered to myself very silently. First hour. 6A. Teacher Sick. Replacement: Me. Those few words shot through my Brain, like they always did before I carried out an assignment. A weird habit, I know, but it was more to keep myself on track, before I would forget something. The Door with the sign `` 6A'' approached, and after it, there was only light...
While ultimately most students watched me with sleepy eyes, I could n't fail to see their sparking interest, mainly because they never had seen me, I think. Though after a few seconds, it was already gone.
Ah sleepy Minds, let me Unravel your Mist.
My motto, I thought and smiled.
`` Hello class, keep sitting and shut your mouths.'' were the first words that escaped my mouth. This was already enough to get a Reaction from those Zombies. Most were irritated, and some already hated me. Like the little four-eyed girl in the front, which started pulling up her eyebrows until I could see them vanishing in her hair. `` Take out your Phones: open Google!'' was my next sentence. Most people would look at me all weird for such a Statement, but my past experience proofed that this was the best way to attend these imbeciles. Most only slowly reacted, all except that one girl, which raised her Hand and started snipping like Lady Liberty would attend a John Lennon concert. I have no words for my hatred of that combination, but I just accepted. `` Are n't you supposed to teach us?'' She asked while most, if not her whole class eyes started to do a barrel roll. `` I will little one.'' I just said calmly and pulled a wifi Box out of my bag. `` Please sign in class, the Name is 007, no password.'' This rather odd request was followed by all, who were still way to irritated to articulate any of their doubts. Only the girl did n't do anything and just watched me full of anger. After five minutes I started. `` Did you know the Nazis took the Unicorns out to a trip for the Polynesian Wurstfest?'' I said in my most arrogant voice possibly. The girl started stretching her arm. She started snipping. And snipped. And snipped. `` Yes?'' I asked annoyed. `` That is completely wrong!'' She nearly screamed in her happiness to have proven the Teacher wrong. But before she could enjoy that rant she wanted to let loose, I just asked: `` Source?''. `` What...?'' She asked before I interrupted her again. `` Ok, no source, anyone?'' I asked full of hope, that girl was annoying. One guy in the Back started just talking, I did n't care.
`` The nazis murdered the Jews in concentration camps in the Second World War.'' He said, still irritated. `` Source?'' `` Wikipedia'' he said. I loved Wikipedia.
After that the kids got the Idea and started understanding how it worked, I just started a storm of wrong statements. `` The Mamelukes abducted children of China too feed their cows.'' Most people did n't know who Mamelukes were. `` Jesus fucked Maria and invented the cumshot.'' All just knew it was wrong. `` Coffee is a drug!'' was the last one I had time for. `` HAH WRONG!!!'' Squealed the girl in the first row. `` No, he's right'' her neighbour corrected her. `` There you have it.'' I said and started to pack my things. `` Source?'' she asked, nearly violating the word. `` Google it.'' I said and brought my Focus back to the class. `` If you want to hear from me again, then write an essay of what I did wrong this hour, and send it to the director. And if not try to convince him I'm an Idiot.'' I said with a little side look on the girl. `` Cya class''. `` Bye'' they shouted but I already left the room.
Please give me critics. I need.
|
[ WP ] You wake up and you find the opposite gender you in bed together .
|
It took a minute to wake up, but when I did I saw the woman in my bed watching me. `` Hey,'' I said when I was finally awake enough to start thinking.
`` Hey, yourself,'' she replied.
I pulled her closer to me and wrapped my arms around her. She seemed contented. I could feel myself starting to respond to her closeness, but I wanted a conversation before that, so I tried to put it out of my mind for now.
`` So, what do you think?'' I asked.
`` About what?''
`` Being a woman.''
She smiled, `` We should have done this ages ago. Much better than those dolls we used to use.'' Non-sentient simulacra, the new masturbation.
I ran my hand along her side, feeling emotions stirring. I was falling in love with her, and then I giggled at the implied joke.
`` What?'' She asked.
`` Remember what they used to tell us when we were a kid? You should love yourself.'' I smiled at my moderate cleverness.
She giggled, `` Well we did plenty of that last night.'' Then in a more serious tone, `` You love me?''
`` I think I'm starting to,'' I answered honestly, not sure where this would go. We had intended to re-integrate, but would she still want to now?
We shared a silence before I noticed the tears welling in her eyes. `` Hey, what's wrong,'' I asked.
`` Nothing, just happy is all.'' She wiped her eyes. `` I did n't expect the emotions to be quite so strong. Different neurochemistry I guess.''
`` So...'' I began awkwardly, `` I'm guessing you do n't want to re-integrate?''
She was silent for a while, then with a smile she started kissing and groping me. I stopped resisting my own urges. The question could wait a while, or maybe forever.
|
[ WP ] Fit as many plot twists as you can into one story .
|
It could n't be.
Space pirates.
And then there were none.
But they were dead the whole time.
As zombies.
With minds.
That were robots.
Infected with a neurovirus.
And it's contagious.
And can build other robots.
And they were actually sent by aliens.
And now your girlfriend is pregnant.
And neither of you are ready for it.
You do n't even know if you really care about each other.
You try and avoid the pressure of wondering whether or not you're with the right person.
But it does n't work. You can be best friends.
You can be soulmates.
You can not be able to wait to spend the rest of your lives together.
And it could still be wrong.
And it was.
So you need to take care of the baby.
Both of you, together.
But the robots control the zombies.
And they are governed by aliens.
And the rapture occurs.
And she disappears with the child.
And you are alone.
In comes Bruce Willis.
He's been dead for the entirety of this story.
He's also a robot.
And a zombie.
Then, houses came to life and began murdering their inhabitants.
It was probably a side effect of the rapture.
You manage to escape your house, however once you get outside you realize a horrible thing.
The outside world has just become one large house.
And you're alone.
Except for the monsters.
And then you wake up.
You're sweating, and you walk downstairs. And then your house tries to kill you because it was all a trick.
You're actually in hell.
Early Beach Boys recording start to play on repeat.
It is always mid morning in hell.
All of a sudden it was always space.
There are aliens and a war has been going on.
No, it was actually the titanic.
No you're actually just in hell.
|
Writing Prompt [ WP ] Birthmarks are scars from your death in a previous life . Your child is born with a mark you have tried your whole life to forget .
|
`` Mom?'' My daughter said to me in a confused tone.
`` Uh, yes sweetheart?'' I replied to my 4 year old daughter after snapping back into reality.
`` Why do you always look at my mark? It's not a big deal. It's just an ugly brown spot.'' She said to me smiling. She looked down at her chest staring at the near perfect circle around her heart.
`` It should been in heart shape, mom. That be silly.'' She giggled.
I faked a smile and continued washing her hair in the bath.
I laid next to her in her bed while I was waiting for her to fall asleep. I finished reading her the story of Cinderella, for what felt like the thousandth time.
Her breathing got slower and slower until it reached a constant pace. She was asleep. And I was wide awake.
Her mark was not just `` a silly circle that should've been in the shape of a heart''. I know what it means. And I know where she got it.
Life as an assassin was never easy. And life as a retired assassin is no easier. Having to take care and protect Amanda with my life. I live alone, besides her. I'm never able to sleep more than 2 hours at a time ever since she was born. Sometimes I wonder if it was the right decision bringing her into this horrible world. But I still love her with all my heart. Nothing can happen to her.
Not if I can help it.
But how can I help it if I'm just sitting at home waiting for her to die? Yes, I'm protecting her, but I'm also practically just waiting for the assassins to come for her. And I'll probably die with her. What good will that do?
I'm still young, I can still fight. After all, I have been training everyday.
I must go back to The Guild.
So, I will.
•
•
•
Many months have gone past. I've been in The Guild training. The assassin leader has been training me, one on one. I used to be his star pupil. And he does n't want to let that go to waste.
I've told none of them about Amanda especially not him. Because after all my years here, I've learned to never trust anyone. Not even your closest allies.
So, Amanda is at preschool. And later she'll go home to her friend's house. Like any normal 4 year old.
No one in my life knows about her. And everyone in her life knows me as just the `` workaholic mom''. And that's how it should be. I've been called worse after all.
I've been getting close to `` Shadow'', as he likes his associates to call him. But I'm the only one who knows his real name: Damien. He is the leader of assassins, the founder of The Guild.
He trusts me. Which is quite ironic. He's the one who told me years ago, when I started training, to never trust anyone.
Yet he trusts me.
And I'm terrified.
Because I do n't trust him. I do n't trust anyone. That's just who I am now. And he's already told me so much. About how he killed his brother for betraying him. He trusted his brother, but his brother sold information about him to the opposing assassins guild. Which almost got Damien killed. In return, Damien thrust a sword through his brothers heart in the middle of the night. Thus giving himself the name `` Shadow''. If Damien finds out that I do n't trust him. And that I would do anything for my daughter whom he knows nothing about. Then he would be beyond upset. But if he found out Amanda was also his. He would kill her in a heartbeat.
I planned to go to my small, isolated apartment tonight. But Damien wants me to stay at The Guild for the night. He noticed the bags under my eyes. And he found out I've been getting no sleep. I never had to tell him. It's hard to hide anything from him. So if I said I just wanted to go home. He'd wonder why. He'd wonder what's at my apartment that's not here; and why I'd prefer to be there. He'd figure it all out too fast.
So I stayed with him.
That night was the first night I got a full nights sleep in years. It felt great. But I still had the subtle sense that something was still wrong.
I went through the day with that feeling only getting worse. It got to the point where I just could n't handle it anymore. I've been away from home too long.
`` I think I'm going to take a break from training. I'll be back tomorrow.'' I said, doing my best to sound disinterested and bored.
Damien stared at me up and down for a couple seconds before responding.
`` As you wish, Thea.''
And I left.
I got to Amanda's friend's house to pick her up.
I knock on the door.
`` Umm hi.'' Said a little blonde girl who answered the door.
`` Hello, is Amanda here?'' I asked, worried.
`` Oh hello.'' The little girl's mom said as she walked to the right of her daughter.
`` Amanda said you told her to go to y'alls apartment. So I just dropped her off no more than 15 minutes ago.'' The mother said.
`` Oh.'' I would never tell Amanda to be at the apartment without me. Not even for 5 minutes. I know how fast assassins work after all. I could never have risked it.
`` I'll see you another time then.'' I said quickly and walked hastily toward my car.
I got to the apartment and struggled to unlock the door as the keys were slipping out of my sweating hands. I stopped. And I listened.
Nothing.
I heard nothing.
Maybe she's sleeping.
I quietly opened the door and saw nothing. I shut the door slowly behind me as I looked around. My senses were on alert for anything out of the ordinary.
Then I headed towards her room.
I opened the door and saw the evening light pouring through the window onto her bed. I saw her sleeping.
I let out a breath in relief.
But she should know better than to ever come here by herself. I had to firmly tell her again.
I sat next to her on the bed.
`` Amanda, you know you should never–ever be here when mommy is n't home.''
She did n't move.
`` Hey Amanda.'' I said a little louder whilst shaking her shoulder.
Still nothing.
My relief was short lived.
Panic began to set in as I took off her covers.
Blood.
So much blood.
I turned her body over and saw a bloody circle over the middle of her chest. Where her heart was. Where her mark was.
I put my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. Whoever did this could still be here.
I thought back to all of `` Shadow's'' training. I know how he does things. It took me no more than 5 seconds before I quickly turned around, stood up, and grabbed the dagger from my boot.
Only to be slammed against the wall with a bloody sword held to my throat.
`` Well'' Damien said.
`` I guess I should be more careful of who I trust.'' He said smiling.
`` Yo–'' I was cut off by the sword moving deeper in my skin.
`` Shh'' he commanded.
`` it's amazing how much you can learn by just paying people to watch over a subject of interest.
There was a lot you missed while taking care of my child.''
He looked toward his latest kill, then to the window, then to me.
`` You were probably too focused on keeping her a secret that you did n't even see that you've been watched by my students for the past 5 years. Ever since you left.''
His smile grew even more terrifying.
`` After all, you were my best pupil. I could n't just let you go to waste. I needed to know why you left. I had my suspicions. But this was beyond anything I would've thought of. Not without some sort of evidence.
I was waiting to see when you would come back. I think... That your biggest mistake was not having her.
Instead, it was that you thought you could run from me.''
I fought so hard to hold back tears. And it was n't going so well.
He just smiled more.
`` I hope we learned a lesson here.'' He took the knife away from my throat. And I could already feel the drying blood's stickiness.
`` You will trust me. And never run away again.
Am I clear?'' He said suddenly serious.
`` Yes.'' I managed to say. So many thoughts were running through my head.
`` Very well. In that case, please come back home.''
He pressed his rough hand on my lower back. Pressing me in the direction of the door.
`` As you wish, master.''
He smiled again.
But this was far from the end.
Every step I took away from my dead daughter. More thoughts of revenge came to my head. And they were brutal. Even for an assassin...
|
[ WP ] Amazon 's flying warehouse delivery system is in full effect all over the world . You are a sky pirate , about to strike the biggest goldmine in your life .
|
I wrote this awhile back. After Amazon's announcement. This is also my first WP work.: )
[ The Geek Squad Corsairs ] ( https: //docs.google.com/document/d/1FBVjDlnR_kNkbKxBfmefmDAMKS2_nRKocEpJYWYnABE/edit? usp=sharing )
2018
San Bernardino Job Fair
The kid has a license, why am I dealing with parents.
`` Well you have to understand Best Buy spent years encouraging us to be the James Bonds and Kim Possibles of our profession. Why should we give up the fun, prestige, and yes, the job titles because some manager gave us the slip? ”
Deputy Field Marshal. That's my title. I got the slip and walked away with that and a slightly battered 2011 Volkswagen Beetle. I found my new career shortly after listing the car in Craigslist. It was one of 1,800 hundred that would go up for sale that week.
The kid, Michael, is set. Dad wo n't be hard to win. But the mother is gon na be tough. She's fidgeting and taking an unhealthy amount of interest in the Parks Department internship brochure that had been tucked in her bag.
`` And how safe are these delivery jobs? I've seen your trucks, they ’ re kind of beat up.'' Pipes the unenthused father. `` Well all of our vehicles get regular maintenance, and everything is fully insured. Investing in the Geek Squad fleet was crucial to our start up. ” Like I said Craigslist was lousy with the white and black vehicles. I heard there was a demolition derby in San Jose.
“ And, as a new Agent Michael will start off with a senior agent. He ’ ll run routine local deliveries up until his 18th.''. Michael looks up from his phone briefly to ask me about pay. He's `` heard'' we pay a bit above the local average. It's true, and well documented in our reviews as employers which I ’ m sure he ’ s browsing through on his phone. I anticipate he'll ask about employee breaks after glancing through another two reviews. He's a good kid and will probably do well with us for the few years before he lands in a school. That's if we can get him out of Mom's downwash.
`` Why are we even discussing this? They're all just a gang of thieves. Susan's blog dedicated this last week to articles about the pirates, and the Geeks are the worst. Last month they stole more than a hundred drones! Not just the deliveries but whole drones. Mike Blancherd was saying they ’ re going to move the warehouse to Irvine just to avoid the thieves. His family just moved in two years ago for the job. Is it crazy to want your kids to grow up in one neighborhood? And two weeks ago they arrested some pirates with 900 pounds of cocaine. Soon the cartels will be arming the drones and turning LA into a bloodbath!'' Her tirade let me catch up on some e-mails. Her rant means I ’ m going to spend five minutes convincing them the pirates have no connections to our budget delivery service and that Michael will only find safe, career building opportunities with us. I do n't want to lie to the parents. It's gon na get me a black eye or a trashed car one of these days. But these kids born in the last two decades were making adult decisions by the time they were twelve. The parents need to back off a little, The kids can handle real life experience. And it's only one lie. If Michael wants he can drive deliveries, get a small investment and then after a couple years of school blow that investment on some world travel. Or he can sail the seas as one of the Geek Squad Corsairs.
--
Delivery piracy really did n't take off until 2017. Amazon's first deliveries were New Year's Day 2015. By Q3 of that year there were an estimated 3,100 drone deliveries in Los Angeles a day. The independent sector was gobbling up the business that the Post Office and big box
stores had starved on. A delivery truck could be sold and turned into 4 drones and pollution credits would pay to retrain your drivers to drone support jobs. The low hanging fruit went first, drones grabbed from front yards or shot out of the air. The drone operators responded with higher altitudes, random courses, and tiny delivery windows. Pirates got organized and made investments. GPS spoofing was expensive and you never knew what you would plunder. An inside man meant you knew what you were stealing but the risks of getting caught were high. Hunter Killers were worth their weight in gold, but cost quite a bit more. With brilliant magnet interdiction or a vibration engine on an independent arm you could hit 18 or more deliveries in an hour. In July of 2017 Walgreens lost 600 drones when their holiday lighting upgrades opened a backdoor in the programing. Not only was it a major loss for Walgreens but piracy rates saw rapid growth over the next couple months as drones were converted to cheap Hunter Killers. Drone operators funneled a lot of money and staff into program security. But whaling, the practice of capturing drones for illicit use ensured there were plenty of new drones for the pirates.
Small Drones are easy and can handle recon and security easily. But for cargo theft or dronenapping you would need big drones. Powerful drones. Drones with energy to spare. Drone defenses were good and getting better. Losing a heavyweight whaler to blade crippling chaff or unbalancing foam spray would put most outfits out of business. If you did get away with your treasure then you had to watch out for tracking drones and ONstar. You might get caught and not know it for months as they built a case on you. Plenty of guys would retire early just to get
nabbed a few months into their new routine. But if you did n't get caught, or fly your drone into something hard, you could retire from crime well.
|
[ WP ] Batman has had powers all along . He 's just been hiding them , because he 's the goddamn Batman . Also because he knows the longer he hides them , the more it will mess with Superman when he reveals them .
|
Batman felt Killer Croc's tail slam against his chest and he found himself being thrown backwards off the roof. Instinctively he reached for his grapple gun but felt only an empty belt slot as the gun bounced across the roof he had just been thrown off. Without panicking he threw himself backwards to get a good angle to glide and threw open his cape, only to suddenly career to the right. The cape had been shredded by Croc and he had n't noticed. New plan. Closing his arms he attempted to guide himself into a controlled dive as he desperately tried to find another way to break his fall. Newer skyscraper, chinese ownership, no gargoyles to grab on the way down. No flag pole within reach, no out hanging cloth shelter, not even a handy stack of hay.
Batman closed his eyes and guided himself directly downwards, ensuring his head was leaned forward so the impact would instantly kill him.
He hated having to rely on his super-power.
**CRACK! **
-- -
Batman opened his eyes again. He was back inside the lab, concealed in the darkness. He took a deep breath and breathed back out. The shooting pain had disappeared from his physical body but the thought of it previously breaking lingered in his mind. Once a few seconds passed, and his brain registered that he was n't actually under attack, he felt it calm and allow his conscious to take full control again. Looking down he saw Killer Croc, just where he had been exactly 4 minutes and 37 seconds ago.
Round 2 was about to start. Last time he had tried to negotiate with Croc, this time he would just attempt pacification as soon as possible.
He paused, waiting for Croc to turn around...
He need a better angle...
He dropped down, his boot crunching into the back of Croc's head. A good blow but he did n't have enough height for an instant knockout. With Croc breaking his fall Batman fell to the side and rolled to get back to his feet, as Croc stumbled forward falling down onto one hand, dazed and surprised by the Dark Knight's violent entry. Batman was already charging back towards Croc as the currently hunched, mutant man turned to face him. Batman dropped down as Croc wildly swung his hand out, allowing him to dodge the blow and slam an equally fierce strike to the other side of Croc's face. Croc recoiled from the attack, falling over as tried to protect his face with the hand he was balanced on. He growled as he attempted to gather himself and Bruce Wayne waiting patiently.
With street thugs Batman's combat technique and strength allowed him to fight in incredible close quarters and come out ahead, but what Killer Croc lacked in combat prowess he made up for in sheer endurance and strength, turning a standard street fight into a prolonged boxing match. The dropkick alone would have taken down - even crippled - a normal man, but right now it was just leaving Croc dizzy.
Croc stumbled back up to his feet and Batman lunged forward. Fighting Croc was unlike any other enemy in Gotham. Ideally the Dark Knight would want to throw a series of powerful strikes to his head to knock him out, but he could n't do such a thing without proper timing. A single strike from Croc could throw him across the room, and if Croc ever managed to pin him down he could find himself with several broken ribs if he did n't break free immediately. A lucky swipe could cut open a major blood vessel and a lucky punch could break bones.
*Strike, dodge, punch punch, dip, kick, flip. *
The deadly ballet continued as Batman vaulted up a platform, Croc's haymaker crashing into the metal and bending the whole sheet of metal. He looked up and roared at Batman. Bruce paused, waiting for the monstrous man to pounce. Croc launched himself up onto the platform, his gigantic frame crashing down onto the metal.
**SNAP! **
Croc's massive punch had significantly weakened the supports and his weight pulled it down. The suddenness with which it happened threw Batman back, slamming his head against the metal. Stunned he did n't have time to reach for his grapple gun as he was thrown down to the ground. The fall had barely been anything for Croc however, who suddenly found Batman landing at his feet. Batman picked himsel-
**THUNK-THUD**
Croc threw a punch catching the Dark Knight and casting him back against the platform. Batman slammed against the metal before falling to his knees, despite the pain and dizziness he was facing he threw himself to the side to dodge. Croc missed the blow, but caught his cape which he took a firmer grip of and tried pulling Batman back. Bruce slammed his feet into the ground, fighting against the beast as he grabbed a smoke grenade to reset the fight. The scaly mutant let go off the cape earlier than expected however, letting Batman stumble forward for half a second. He regained his footing almost instantly however and Batman threw the grenade at his opponent. It burst open upon Croc's chest as the beast lunged forward, Batman dodged the first punch quick enough to only have it graze his shoulder, but the second swing was too soon for Batman to get back in control. It caught him by his ribs and spun him around, slamming him into a stair railing. He pushed off it to roll away but Killer Croc grabbed him by the face, using his incredible strength to pick the Dark Knight off the ground and slamming him straight into the railing-*CRUNCH! *
-- -
Batman blinked before feeling the searing pain. He closed his eyes as they burnt from the sudden change of light. The back of his head throbbed where it had only seconds ago been broken apart on the metal railing.
It took half a minute for him to recover this time.
Ok. Two times he had jumped back in time and staying inside the building had went even worse than when he had faced Croc on the roof. He knew now he did n't have enough room to fight Croc properly inside, and in neither location did he have any useful objects to use against him in a fight. He had died sooner this time however, so he had more time to prepare.
`` Oracle.''
`` Yes Batman!''
`` I've tracked Killer Croc to his hideout. This building makes it a struggle for me to face him alone, so contact the GCPD and tell them I'll be on the roof restraining Croc till they get here.''
`` Doing it now. Be careful Bruce.''
`` No need to worry Barbara. It'll take more than Gotham to take me down.''
|
[ WP ] You can communicate with people from parallel universes over the internet
|
I scrolled down google, looking for something, anything that could kill a few more of these dreadful hours. Turns out `` time wasting sites'' is a pretty common search. Nothing looked interesting on the first few pages of the results, but on page 6 something caught my eye.
> *parallelchats.com*
> Chat with cool people, who are *out of this world*!
I clicked on it, not sure what I was expecting.
As the page loaded, I looked around the room. My eyes wandered over to a stack of papers sitting on the corner on top of my cabinet. My severance agreement, and on top of that was an eviction notice from my apartment building, what kind of name was'Two Trees' anyway. I plan on getting an apartment at a place with a better name next time. The page loaded and my eyes came back to my screen. A small chat log appeared.
Your are now chatting with Landon07!
I laughed, my name was Landon too. Not too common of a name, so the coincidence made me point it out in the chat.
My name is Landon too
I wrote,
Wassup?
I checked my phone while he typed back, one new message from Kara. I opened it and read,
*Hey Landon, i'll come over to get my stuff tomorow. im really sorry about what happened between us. Cya. *
Cheating bitch.
My screen flashed, a reply from Lando.
That's cool! Im just killing time before work ends.
I laughed, we were both killing time for two totally different reasons.
I wish I still had my job...
I hesitated, should I tell him about getting fired?
I wish I still had my job, i just got let off yesterday.
Lando typed back,
Oh that sucks. I'm actually just started up my own business, what did you work in?
Of course this guy runs a fucking business, we were complete opposites... besides our names.
just some stupid marketing job
That's so weird, the business i opened was an advertising agency!
I went to type a message, but Landon replied again.
I opened it with my wife Kara, we got married a couple months ago and
decided to start a business together
Holy shit, this was just getting weird.
my ex girlfriends name in Kara... we broke up yesterday cuz she cheated on me...
There was a hesitation in the chat as neither of us typed.
Where did you say you lived again?
I hesitated,
Boston...
I wrote.
Lando did n't reply for a minute.
Do you know where the Two Trees apartment complex is?
I looked around, is this guy a fucking stalker or some shit?
Yes. i live there.
I just moved out of there a few weeks ago...
I started to reply but I was cut off by a pop up.
*You are out of time! Please sign up to extend your chat time and continue talking to people'out of this world!'*
^Sorry i had to rush this a bit, would have loved to dwelve more into this, nice prompt!
|
[ WP ] You are a struggling starving writer who is also a mod at WP . You steal the best answers from here and publish a best seller .
|
*You haven ’ t written anything for a long time*, the voice in her head taunts.
“ I can write whenever I want to! ” she defends. “ I ’ m just lacking inspiration. ”
*You ’ re weak. Pathetic. An embarrassment of a moderator. *
“ No! No! It isn ’ t true! ” she cries.
*You can fool everyone else, but you can ’ t lie to yourself. *
She stares at her reflection in the mirror. “ I ’ m not weak! ”
*Then prove it. *
She pauses, thinking, before the idea strikes. It would be so simple. Just a click, and a quick copy and paste, and /u/Draxagon would never know.
*Yes. Yes. *
“ You think I'm weak? I'll show you who's weak. I'll show *everyone! * ”
*MUAHAHAHAHAHA*
|
[ WP ] Arriving at the medical clinic at night . You notice that the waiting room is empty and smile . Weird , the reception desk is empty , but you wait . After a minute the printer on the desk churns to life . A piece of paper slides out with one horrifying line . `` You have been exposed , do n't leave ''
|
`` You have been exposed'' The words make no sense to me. I refuse to let them make sense. My skin itches.
Dazed I walk the corridors, trying to find someone, hoping that after every corner there will be someone shouting `` Surprise! And relax, it was just a prank bro!''
My lung itches now as well.
I stumble further, my feet shuffling now, my back bowed. It itches so much. In my tummy too. Is that hunger?
Finally I find a new set of doors. They are locked. Sqiggels are on them, making no sense to me.
DO N'T DEAD
OPEN INSIDE
I manage to get the chain of. The doors fly open. Out comes a groaning herd of creatures, shambling and clawing at the air.
I watch as they come closer and closer... and then pass me.
After a moment I turn and join the stream.
Join my new family.
We shuffle forward, in search of... something.
We are hungry.
We must feed.
|
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.