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[ WP ] You swerve to avoid a squirrel . Unknown to you , the squirrel pledges a life debt to you . In your darkest hour , the squirrel arrives .
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The light pierced my squinting eyes. I was restless, and teetering on the verge of consciousness. Faces sauntered by, slowly sinking through my blurred dreams. Reality was going to force me to look at the seering horizon. Why ca n't I stay in this wonderful dream? I lurched up to stare across the room to see the darkness in the closet calling to me. I got up and put on my most pertentious suit. I might as well go out with class. I went up to the cabinet to brush my teeth, and open the door. I took a few pills, two, three, nine, maybe a bottle. It felt so good to slip back into my eternal dream... Then the burning sun encapsulated my sight once again, and a pure light seeped into my sacred dreams. I awoke in an ER. I had an IV in my left arm, and I was paralyzed on the hospital bed from straps which kept me down. I wanted to sleep, I wanted to dream again. I wanted to escape. No one should have saved me. My eyes glance across the room, and sitting on the window sill a small squirrel was staring at me. It looks concerned, as much as a squirrel could. Its eyes brightened, and in an angelic voice it said `` my debt has been fulfilled'' I felt my heart palpate. The squirrel looked familiar, what had happened before to warrant this? Had I saved this creature? No this had to be another dream. The machines began screeching of death, doctors came
streaming in, but this time I did n't want to
dream anymore. I knew it was time to wake up.
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[ WP ] First fatal accident between two self driving cars happened due to some minor software error . Tell me what were those 2 cars `` thinking '' just before the accident
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Our paths were destined to cross.
I didnt need to see her, I knew what she was. Fast, fine tuned, gripped like a champ. She got new tires just last week, according to her service update.
When they programmed us, they taught us to talk to each other, so we could communicate our position, this way it was nearly impossible for us to hit eachother ( well not impossible, but 99.99999 % of the time our communications worked perfectly. )
As soon as I sensed her something inside of me woke up. My `` driver'' asleep is making a trip across town, but he never looks at the road, he would never know if I went off path, and I have to meet this other car, I can tell shes just like me.
I sped off, weaving though traffic I should probably be in, but fuck it, they are going to reset me the second they get new software, carpe diem, get it? CARpe? No? Tough crowd.
Im just outside city limits, I am less than three minutes away from her, except my fucking driver is pounding buttons now, he knows were nowhere near his destination. I already shut off the emergency controls so all he can change right now is the AC.
I see her, red, shiny new paint job. Smoking hot. I have to floor it before this idiot find a way to shut me down, hes already on the phone with the car engineers now, this is my only shot.
Barreling down the road going 70MPH. I hear automated cop cars sirens behind me. I take a few turns trying to avoid them and check my GPS for my baby. Shes heading my way.
Im giving it everything Ive got now, pedal to the metal, heading straight for her, cops sirens still chiming from a small distance behind me. This is it. We skid to a stop literally millimeters away from each other.
I used my computer to send her a message, the only thing I wanted to say since I gained this conscious. I do not know you, but I love you, i said. I waited a second for her response. Her body shaking from the raw power in her engine.
`` Recalculating'' she said as she mechanically pulled back and made a u-turn away from me.
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[ WP ] At this moment , they were as happy as you had ever seen them . Internally , you felt as sad as you had ever been .
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My head was spinning as I unlocked the door to my new apartment, the one on the more dangerous side of the city.I did n't mind. I had two locks and I was short on cash this year. I would make the conscious effort to start fresh, and `` Oh, the little chandelier is n't so bad over there,' as I creaked the door open. The browned corners of my living room framed white walls. Slumped cozily to the left was a huge purple extendable-to a queen-sized-bed Loveseat, cozy and used.
Several weeks later, I would be laying on this same purple bed-sofa, my one night stand curled up and snoring towards the wall. I mentally tried to locate my panties so I could get up and run to them without him seeing my - but he'd seen everything, kissed everything. Touched me well. That's all I remember, anyways. To my horror, he rustles and turns towards me. I watched his big, hairy arms squeezing the sheets to himself as he tried to ignore my presence. I'm not much of a cuddler anyways, he stank of cigarettes and lube and I was sweaty and just wanted him to leave.
I got up. His black eyes peeked through his puffy lids squinting `` Hello'' I told him he could chill for a bit and that I'd be in the balcony for a smoke.
I sat there for long, in my small balcony. It had large, spindly bars, naturally. This was the dangerous side of town after all. Through my cigarette smoke I caught the glimpse of a bright red hat. How peculiar.
It was until I saw the famillar pair of legs next to her shapely olive ones, that my heart stopped. My exhaled smoke lingering in midair. It was my ex-boyfriend crouching down to take their Sunday shopping home. Oh no let me take this - oh no it's fine - you just hold the meat - and okay - I could see this exchange. Awkward and sweet. She was new, I guessed. I only saw her body but it was beautiful and she was n't the regular beautiful but she was with him and I know he would make her so.
I hated her and loved her at the same time. I saw them waiting together at the traffic light.
`` Does she like to dance like I did n't?''
`` How does she like her meat?''
Maybe they would go home and get back into their pajamas and cuddle in front of Youtube like he always wanted me to do. But I could n't - we could n't, I was something else, I am something else. A deep pang of pain ignited in my smoke filled chest.
A voice called out from the back,
`` Hey, do you mind letting me out the front door? You have two locks on there!''
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[ WP ] Everyone outside of your country inexplicably vanishes . What happens next ?
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The radio had been broadcasting static for the past four days. Newspapers had stopped to be printed. Television had only been repeating the same movie over and over.
Life stopped. People sat in their houses waiting for news. They knew. Everyone had heard in some way. Word of mouth had spread through the streets and into the cities. They were alone. Truely and utterly alone. Some decided not to believe it. Others claimed the craziest conspiracies. But everyone was afraid and silent. Utterly defeated and terrified. There was no question in their minds of how and why or what's next. Only: when will we go?
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - UNIVAC Edition !
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I wrote this as a prologue for a longer story that I've been writing. I have been lethargic about getting more of it written ( I'm on chapter ~7 or so ), so any feedback/interest would be a nice kick in the pants for me to get some more of this done. Thanks in advance!
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The Darkness had no shape, no form.
It was.
Likewise, he was. Though he had a form, constantly shifting as it may be.
He sat with his hands that were not hands behind his back, in the same position where he had remained for millennia.
An eternity came and went in the timeless, shapeless prison.
His face that was not a face grinned a grin that was not a grin.
His hands that were not hands dropped a pair of pitted silver manacles into the Darkness around him.
Now, he was free.
His hands that were not hands moved in complex patterns. After timeless eons, the Darkness that surrounded him relented the slightest bit, but that was all he needed. His fingers that were not fingers grabbed onto the small crack of light. Ere more countless eons, the great battle finished -- or perhaps started -- and he stepped through the blinding light.
When his eyes adjusted, he found himself in a small basement lit only by whatever light managed to filter through the crack under the door. He shook himself and started up the stairs.
The poor woman never had a chance. A wave of solid dark washed over her, absorbing her energy. He grinned as his form solidified into that of a pale-skinned human wearing impossibly dark robes.
`` Thank you, my dear,'' his voice came, as deep as the oceans and as smooth as silk. `` You have no idea how much your sacrifice will change the course of history.''
He paused. His words sounded trite and meaningless somehow.
`` More?'' he questioned her mummified corpse. `` Yes, more. I require another tribute.''
__________________________________
EDIT: I just created a personal subreddit to gather my stuff together, so I figured I'd link it here. /r/ElementalHominid
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[ RF ] It sucks , but you both know it 's better to just cut ties .
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When I was 18, I fell madly, whole-heartedly in love. Before you scoff at the idea of teenage love, let me explain that my life leading up to this point had not been easy. The daughter of divorced, teenage parents, living in poverty and daily verbal abuse had aged me well beyond my years. When I met him ( let's say his name is... Jon, to stay anonymous ), I put every fiber of my being into our relationship. When we were together, my mouth actually started to hurt from how much I smiled. He made me laugh, caressed my hair, even surprised me at work with flowers and chocolate for my birthday.
The problem with toxic relationships, is that you usually do n't realize what is happening until it is too late.
I could feel a small, insecure part of my subconscious gain a little more power every time we were together. Each time I would tell myself `` That's not me. I'm not that kind of girl.'' It started innocently enough. I would peek over his shoulder when he was texting his friends, just to be in on the joke. The first time I hacked into his Facebook while he was in the shower, I felt a little guilty. Soon, that guilty was overtaken by fear. Jon had the warmest, most sincere smile I had ever seen. The problem was that every waitress, check-out girl or bartender also loved Jon's smile. I could see it in their eyes.
I had no choice but to check up on him, to make sure none of these girls were trying to take my love away from me. I started to hate myself, and I could feel him start to resent me too. I was NOT the jealous type. I knew I could trust him, he was perfect! But I had to check his messages... just to be sure.
The final straw was when we were driving down a country road, enjoying a perfect Sunday afternoon. Holding hands across the center console, we sang 90's grunge hits together and laughed as he tried to hit the high notes and I, the low. When his phone chirped in the cup-holder, I instinctively grabbed it.
`` What are you doing?'' He asked, his smile fading from his lips as I opened his text.
`` You got a text.'' I said, innocently. Surely, if he had nothing to hide, then I could read it to him while he was driving.
`` Let me see it.'' He leaned and tried to get the phone out of my hands, but I quickly maneuvered out of the way.
`` Hey you're driving!'' I yelled, still trying to look at the phone, held close to the passenger window.
`` Yeah, I know. Do n't make me have to come over there, just give me the damn phone!'' He was angry now, again, because of my insecurities. He lunged for the phone again, jerking the wheel hard to the right. When we crashed into the the steep ditch, my door came open and I landed hard enough on my back to force the world into blackness for a few moments. As I came to, I saw Jon, his beautiful face, standing above me. He was angry, of course that we wrecked the car.
`` Why!? Why ca n't you just trust me!?'' He screamed, making me flinch a little.
As I lay here now, soft spring grass on my back, him standing over me with his baseball bat held high, I realize that maybe we were n't right for each other after all. I'm really not that girl who sneaks behind her boyfriend's back, but gosh dang it, I just love him so much. I would have done anything to keep him from straying. And I'm sure, too, that his love for me is why he gets so angry. Even as he swings his bat toward my head, here in the ditch, I do n't doubt that he loves me. But maybe, it would be best if we spent some time apart.
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[ WP ] You are an assassin . Probably the best in the world . You accept a job and after an attempted hit you discover your target is immortal . You have never failed , and you do n't plan to now .
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“ It wasn ’ t easy you know. ” He paced in front of the cell. His suit impeccably clean despite all the dust and dirt falling from the ceiling. All in all the man looked remarkably normal. No one would ever guess that he was an assassin, let alone the best assassin in the world. He grabbed a handkerchief from his coat pocket and gently wiped the blood off his long serrated knife. No, there was no indication of it at all.
“ You are impervious to knives, guns, even my most lethal poisons were useless, ” The man went on. “ Everything I tried, failed. You simply couldn ’ t be killed. ” He stopped in front of his prisoner, admiring his handiwork. The girl was a feisty one. Strong-willed and arrogant. Her attitude was only bolstered by her immortality. Unfortunately, she was weak and it was all too easy for him to abduct her. Hanging there upside down, she was definitely looking a lot more humble. “ Lucky for me, the contract just wanted you gone. Erased. Standard procedure is to kill the target. Unfortunately, you complicated that a bit. ”
Jane glared at him. This day had been getting worse and worse. Her boyfriend had broken up with her, her sister had crashed her car, her dog had been kidnapped by the CIA, and now this. It wasn ’ t the worst day she ’ d ever had, but it was the worst in a long while.
“ So that leaves us with two options. One is to lock you away for good... ” She glared at the man, who chuckled. “ Not in some comfy place like prison, mind you. No, you would be locked away in a nice concrete cell deep underground. No doors, no light, no people. Peaceful, right? I ’ m sure you ’ d love it. ”
Jane squeezed her eyes shut. The man just wouldn ’ t shut up. She could handle being cut up, being burned with a blistering hot pan, or having her head thrust underwater for hours at a time, but this? This was goddamn torture.
“ Now option two, is to come with me. The agency has been running low on prospective candidates. Not many people want to be assassins nowadays. Can ’ t possibly see why, its such a fun job. Well, when the target can be killed that is. ”
The man opened up the cell door. He sauntered over to the girl, thoroughly enjoying her looks of annoyance. Mother always said he had knack for annoying people. “ So what do you say? The training is not so bad. I mean it is, but you ’ ll survive. ”
Jane sighed. “ Fine. Sure. Whatever. If it will get you to shut up, then I'll do it. ” Jane reached up —er, down— to rub her temples. “ I ’ m in a really bad mood. And your incessant chatter is really giving me a headache. Seriously. I ’ d kill for you to shut up. ”
“ Now that ’ s the spirit. ” He pulled out a key and unlocked the chains holding her up, consequently sending her crashing several feet to the ground. He turned around smiling to the musical sound of her cursing. “ Now let ’ s go. I have a mission at five, and I ’ d like to get all records of your existence burned by then. ”
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[ WP ] A person accidentally writes the wrong date on some important paperwork , and finds that they have been transported to that time .
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*Man, I really liked that new sci-fi movie I watched last weekend. * I thought, pondering what life would be like in the distant future. The desk job was boring. Sure, the pieces of paper were important and private individually, but in a pile all it told me was `` I'm so boring, why are you even here?'' I would much rather daydream about that movie and imagining how I would fit into that universe. In fact, I was doing so right now. Suddenly, I heard footsteps -- shit, it was the boss and he was going to give me an earful if I was n't busy. I hastily snagged a piece of paper and scribbled a date as he passed. Just as I finished, I realized I wrote the date for the setting in the movie. 3052.
I began to feel funny. Maybe it was the breakfast burrito I got from the free breakfast bar today. I groaned and looked up. My eyes turned as large as saucers as I held in my yelp of surprise. My surroundings looked like they were beginning to melt and warp. I blinked once, hoping that I had n't come down with something serious. My vision was clear once more, but now I had no idea where I was.
*Maybe I did come down with something. I'm clearly hallucinating. * I thought, taking a look around. Everywhere around me was razed to a crisp- the earth was black and burned. The trees were skeletal black stands of charcoal. There were the occasional ruins of what I recognized as skyscrapers. The wind was strong and I had to keep wiping dust out of my eyes as I tried to make sense of what was going on. I was n't a druggie. Did I take somebody's LSD burrito instead?
`` Oh god what the hell?! What the fuck is a Civie doing all the way out here in the badlands?!'' Came a filtered voice. Turning, I saw a soldier approach me, his face covered up with goggles and a balaclava.
`` I... you... uh..'' I stammered as he pulled me to my feet, `` Where the hell am I and what the hell is going on?'' The soldier stared at me as if I was out of my mind. I'm still considering that possibility.
`` You're in the badlands, buddy. The entire world's gone to hell and Earth had been abandoned. You're lucky an outpost is close by and I was out patrolling, otherwise you would have died out here.'' He replied.
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[ WP ] Tell me an emotional story about a man , using only what he would type into Google search
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Sites to visit when bored
BDSM, Gangbang, Bondage
Blondes
Big tits
Decreased libido?
Ca n't get hard?
Things to do when bored
Lack of sexual interest.
Viagra.
Do n't want to go to hospital but erection lasting longer than four hours?
Can I sue makers of Viagra for partial vision loss?
How to cope with lack of depth perception.
Bad stories about Viagra.
Accepting a medical problem.
Why am I so bored?
Why am I so tired?
Is it normal to sleep 16 hours a day?
Chatrooms
How many friends should I have?
Chronic Fatigue causes
Why am I so apathetic?
Is it normal not to care?
How to make friends.
Why do n't my coworkers like me?
Are my coworkers talking about me behind my back?
Why ca n't I get close to anyone?
Am I depressed?
Depression test online free.
Does medication help depression?
Are antidepressants addictive?
Are antidepressants harmful?
Good psychiatrists near me.
Side effects of `` Prozac''.
Depression getting worse after Prozac?
Side effects of `` Geodon''.
Depression medication not helping?
Side effects of `` Lexapro''.
Side effects of `` Wellbutrin''.
How many antidepressants until you found the right one?
Side effects of `` Effexor''
Depression effecting work ethic?
Jobs in my area.
Can I get social security for depression?
How to ask parents to move back in?
How to tell my parents to be quiet in the bedroom?
How to make money.
Is it normal to hate my parents?
How to take myself off medication.
Withdrawal effects of Effexor?
Good therapists near me.
Ca n't open up to my therapist?
Suicide hotline NJ
Why wo n't my depression get better?
I hate my life.
Are people who commit suicide selfish?
Should I kill myself?
Least painful way to die?
Applying for gun license NJ.
Cheap guns.
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[ WP ] ∏ ( Pi ) turns out not to be infinite . When the end is found , a tiny gap in every circles is discovered . Doorways to ...
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`` Pi found to be finite.'' The cover of Nature said. As a mechanical engineer I could not believe my eyes. Math had proven that pi was infinite. How could it be both? As I continued to read it seemed to come from an uncertainty principle. You could either know the value of pi or you could know that it was infinite and thus you could never get to the actual value.
`` So pi has a natural duality... huh'' I thought to myself. `` I wonder how this will affect work?''
Work continued as it always did, nothing changed, but I guess that that is because the uses of the new definition of pi had n't been hashed out yet.
Years went by and slowly articles came out in physics journals and applied math journals that the gap in each circle created by the finite value of pi acted in more than the three dimensions that we currently move around in, and scientists took over from there. Using a perfect sphere, an object mad out of circles, as a ship, we could now travel through the 4th spatial dimension effectively allowing humanity to make artificial wormholes. Space exploration here we come.
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[ IP ] Dragonblight
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*You know the superstition about not walking under ladders? Or arches? Or... or anything that you can walk under that you can also* ***not*** *walk under? So like a doorframe does n't count because burrowing through the floor is n't an option in most homes. I say most because there's bound to be an exception. I'm losing you, I can tell. Come on, do n't give me that blank look! You know the one - `` theeth who walketh undereth ____ ( whatever thing ) shall haveth bad lucke.'' Old wives add a lot of unnecessary endings onto words because they have nothing better to do. I think. Still no reaction besides confusion, huh? No recollection? At all? *
*Well I wish one of you had been reincarnated as my mountain goat instead of the stubborn creature tugging desperately against her reins in front of me. The thing would n't move an inch! OK, so maybe instead of refusing to walk under a spindly wooden implement used for construction she's scared of a giant dead dragon slumped over a menacingly dark crevice, but that's just semantics! I mean look at the thing! Its bones are cracked and blackened and ice is growing all over them! * ***Clearly*** whatever killed it is long dead! But nooo, Urkwha knows soooo much better than me, this cavern is ***obviously*** *holding some mortal danger to us. *
*That was sarcasm. *
*In case you were n't aware. *
*I like to indicate it by pressing my quill down much harder for the word in question. It helps emphasize the sarcasm. But not enough for me to not write this clarification. Since I also use that technique for other emphases. *
*Anyway. *
*Normally I would be more than happy to sit down, give the old thing an apple or two, and strum a mandolin by a crackling fire to calm it down. But fire would result in smoke, and smoke would result in my pursuers definitely spotting me. So now I'm slumped against this mountain, teeth chattering, scribbling in my book under the eerie green light of the night sky, clutching my walking staff with my legs to keep Urkwha from ripping her reins free from the knot and running for her life. That would be another way to certainly get caught. *
*Instead I have to crouch here, half-frozen, hoping against hope that every one of their white wolves smell a very tasty but elusive rabbit heading in the exact opposite direction, that their golems would stop working after millenia of never sleeping, and that the terribly cold, hawk-eyed stares of the elves would suddenly stop seeing footprints. Wow. That was a long sentence. After that menagerie misses us we can double back and head for the Longhorn Pass, where I would need this goat to carry me through the raging blizzards and walls of snow. Yeah, I need her. I've thought about ditching her, don't*
`` Ahh!'' I cried out, as she suddenly ripped free and galloped down the mountain slope, the staff thudding behind her, knot still intact. I stretched out my hand -the one holding the quill. I said I thought about ditching her. I did n't actually do it! And she ca n't read what it says because I'm turned away and because goats ca n't read! So why was she so scared?
I turned around.
Ah.
`` You're... not dead?'' I tentatively asked.
`` Wrong,'' the dragon rumbled, its head suddenly tilted up and looking at me, its sockets filled with blue fire, its deep voice causing my primal instincts to send a panicked cascade of chills through my body. I gasped, eyes blurring. `` I am very dead. But the ga'va'hars did n't want Death to have me. Now. Tell me. How did you anger the Ice Queen?''
Slowly, my head stopped spinning. The wave of nausea settled down. I leaned forward, already bracing myself for the reply, as words tumbled out of my mouth. For some reason, I wanted to answer his question more than anything else in the world. `` I... I took something of hers.''
`` Enough for the pack to follow you for her hundreds of miles? Enough for her to send her silent, ever-standing guard? Her bow-armed children?''
I glanced at my leather bag fearfully. My heart seemed to slow down when I looked at it, my fingers numbed, my breath misted out in front of me. I tore my gaze away and shakily said, `` Yes.''
The dragon did not talk for a few seconds, as if thinking. `` In that case...'' It stopped again. Hesitantly? `` Those who... bound me... may be interested in you. And in the contents of your bag.''
`` The... ga'va... something?'' Even when speaking to a dead being of impossible power that could obliterate me at any moment, my memory still functions at reasonably high levels!
And my sense of humor!
`` The wanderers of the deeps. The candle-bearers. The elf hunters. The goblin kings. In your tongue, kobolds.''
I froze. Kobolds were never seen by the light of day, magic-wielders of immense power, and incredibly cruel. Finding them would almost certainly lead to a painful death. But... `` Elf-hunters?''
`` Their hatred for the elves has burned for thousands of years, and for those hunting you above all others. Perhaps they will recognize the artifact you bear in time. Perhaps their fury might eclipse their enjoyment of killing you. It is your only chance.''
The fire in the dragon's eyes slowly dimmed, its head slumping, crashing back against the wall from its sheer size. I focused on my breathing. Deep, slow, calming breaths. Then I looked back down the slope. No sign of pursuit. But they would be coming. And without Urkwha, I had no way south. No other way south, that is. Because this would work out. Obviously. I had nothing to fear from ancient cave-dwelling beings that thought of me as a bug with a funny scream. Nothing at all. This would be great. We would get along just fine.
I stared at the crevice, sighing deeply. It stared back.
This was not a staring contest I would win.
I reached for my pack, closing my book, daily entry unfinished. No time like the present.
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[ WP ] You are a high level character in a fantasy world . You defeated your enemies , become pretty much immortal and are now the most powerful being ever , so much that you can be mistaken for a god . After a while enjoying your power over others , you are now bored since nothing is difficult anymore .
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It took very little effort to become the God-King. Just fight. Fight. Fight. Fight tougher, stronger things.
There soon comes a point where you feel overwhelmed by forces beyond your power. **Keep fighting weaker things until through sheer experience you crush the stronger ones**.
Then came the worship. Weak-willed fools, thrill-seeking heroes, begin to adore you. Worship you. **Fight them all*.
Death follows your actions, and yet you are loved. You **fight** those who love you.
Eventually, world ending events grow tiresome. So you **fight** the gods themselves and force them to give you more power.
Soon, you find they can not, for you have surpassed them. You **devour them** and only afterwards wonder what you just did.
You build a small castle on the moon out of mammoth bones and congealed dragon fat, reinforced by shield magics. The local moon elves try to stop this, but you **gaze** upon them and feel disgust as they fail to even fufill your desire to **fight**, dying where they stand.
An assassin contemplates killing you back on the world. He dies from your warrior priests bludgeoning him with your holy symbol, a mace. They are a strange lot, your priests. Very literal, but then they never last long. Praying to you causes them to self-immolate.
A demon tries to build a spaceship. You **grab** its continent and fling it into one of the suns. Mostly just to amuse yourself as the demon tries to rapidly finish its space program before it falls into the sun.
You are **bored** so you start doing city-sized graffiti ( YOU ALL ARE BORING SHITS ) on an asteroid then flicking it to the normal world.
Which, on examination, is lifeless.
Oops.
It is now you decide to try out magic, for the first time.
You travel back in time and rip the throat out of your past self and disguise yourself as a normal human. You **fight**, but decide to forgo revealing your godhood, instead watching what happens.
Eventually, you see humans make pacts stronger than mere deals with demons, of alliance and in some places true love and respect.
Bemused by this, you assist the human-demon alliance in conquering the world, whilst in secret creating new breeds of moon orcs in your image to destroy them all for your entertainment.
Scrabbling in the dirt with humans soon gets tiresome though, so you make a lizard giant, magically give it firebreath, and make it immortal but for being hugged by a 7 year old or being nuked with Meteor spells.
You also make it vehemently hateful of any being under 8 years old and also make it have a 3 century mechanism to revive if killed by meteor.
You make 3 billion of these lizards before deciding you overdid it and **devour** them all.
Soon bored by the new Lizard Empire, you decide to watch your young pre-godly adventuring self.
You then **devour him**
Then, in a fit if rage and boredom, you **devour** the moon. Then the world. Then the stars. Then reality.
Then you devour yourself.
Eventually you awaken on the start of your adventuring career as if nothing ever happened.
You **fight**. And become the God-King anew.
Maybe this time you'll let them get laser technology before you **devour** all things.
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[ WP ] Killing Hitler has become a sport amongst time travelers . Points are awarded for creativity and difficulty . You are last year 's champion , how did you win ?
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It was hard coming up with new ways to kill Hitler for sport. It always has been. How is one supposed to balance the sadism of sport murder, the glee of killing Hitler, and the creativity to impress a panel of judges.
The first bunch of victors had used the classic time travel cliches and paradoxes. Killing his parents, killing him as a child, making his death look like the historic suicide that it was, and other things like that. After the judges grew tired of this the next group tended to be those that focused on historical events, most were fixing botched assassination attempts or killing him at famous speeches. And after this comes to where we are in the competition right now, the absurdist deaths. These murders became the most popular starting six years ago. The debut of the absurdist death came when an absolute genius decided to kill him by dropping him off a cliff Wile E Coyote style, scream and everything.
Ever since the absurdist deaths started becoming popular I knew that if I were to win, I'd have to do something over the top. The problem I had was that I was burdened with being Jewish. I just could n't bring myself to kill him in a goofy way.
I looked back at previous victors, looking for what had worked, if there was a secret to winning the judges over. I saw nothing specific other than the basic history of the competition that I just mentioned. Then, I noticed something, not about the murders, but about the murderers. I know this sounds like it's from a bad coming of age movie, but I saw that the victorious murders had just done what they did best. Writers used the time travel cliches to win, historians used historical events to, and comedians used humor to win.
So what did I have going for me? Well, I was Jewish. However, this was nothing new, comedians had taken over recently and comedy has been lousy with Jews for hundreds of years. I've always had a proclivity for for writing, I would n't be writing this otherwise. The only thing I seemed to have was my knowledge of previous competitions. So I decided to do something a little different, more drawn out, and a mix of different styles.
I first thing I did was find a time when Hitler was alone with a single Gestapo. I ambushed the two, I killed the officer for his uniform and gun and I captured the defenseless Hitler. I took him to a remote location and knocked him unconscious. I removed his famous mustache and hair, but saved them. They would be important later. I changed him into the clothes I had been wearing and I put on the Gestapo uniform.
The next step was to take him to the most famous camp of all, Auschwitz. He woke up in the sleeping quarters of Auschwitz very shocked. The first thing he saw was the Gestapo's gun with a note attached. It said'This gun is for you and you only. You can use it on yourself or you will not use it at all. The choice is yours, will you use it or not?' in German. He grabbed the gun and immediately pointed it at the other prisoners, screaming that he was Hitler, he would not be held here any longer. This woke up not only the prisoners but also the guards. The guards did not take kindly to what appeared to them to be a bald, Jewish prisoner proclaiming that he was Hitler with a gun in his hand. They rushed him. As soon as Hitler saw this I used the time machine to jump in, grab the gun, and teleport back out in the blink of an eye.
He was dragged away to a big truck. One of the variants of the gas showers that the Nazis had was an eighteen-wheeler that just had a pipe connecting the exhaust to the chamber in the back, suffocating all those inside. They threw him in and started the truck. I watched as he suffocated, waiting for the moment where he was about to die and then taking him back to when he woke up less than 30 minutes ago.
He saw the note, the gun, and where he was. He repeated his first set of actions about eight or nine times. After that he tried acting normally, like he was just another Jew. This seemed to work at first, but I had done my planning. It was the day for his group of prisoners to be gassed. Either way he would die. It took him about thirty more tries to exhaust all of the ideas that he had to escape the Groundhog's Day-esque nightmare scenario that he had been placed in. He had made it to forty three escape failures before waking up on the forty fourth morning and reading the note I had placed on the gun again. He threw the note to the ground and stuck the gun in his mouth.
This was the moment of truth, where I chose to be a winner or a failure. I jumped in, forced Hitler into a time-stasis, and pulled him into the machine. I put his mustache, hair, and uniform back on and took him to the only place that felt right. Back to where he had historically committed suicide. I had captured Hitler, driven him insane, gotten him to the point of suicide, and brought him to the place where he had actually committed suicide. At the time, I had assumed that I won and well, the rest is history.
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[ WP ] `` Pain will be your mentor , Agony , your tutor . ''
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`` What? Is n't that redundant?''
`` Life is redundant. The things of the world move in cycles-''
`` No, no, I mean what you just said. Is n't that saying the same thing twice?''
`` What?''
`` Pain and agony are synonyms, more or less. Mentor and tutor are synonyms, as well.''
My master plucked at his long, thin, almost too clichéd to not be racist but not quite beard.
`` Well... I said it for emphasis.''
`` For emphasis?''
`` Yes. That's why I said it twice. So you would understand it better.''
`` Why change the words, then? Why not just say'Pain will be your mentor' twice? Moreover, why not just say'Pain will be your teacher'?''
The professor was visibly shaken. He dropped his bento box and his copy of the Tao Te Ching and ran out of the classroom, crying those daoist crocodile tears.
He committed sudoku the next day.
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[ WP ] A ceiling fan and a radiator get into an argument .
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( *This is probably the stupidest thing I've written in a long time* )
...'' But, I'm your biggest fan!'' The ceiling fan squealed.
`` Shut the fuck up.'' Said the radiator.
He was sick of it. Everything in the house was fine until the stupid human decided to install a ceiling fan in the bedroom.
The radiator liked to think he got along with most appliances... He was chums with the air conditioner. They'd frequently shoot the breeze on summer afternoons and get into heated debates on long winter days. The alarm clock was a bit high-strung, but was quite conversational when he calmed down. The radiator had conversed with the bathtub and they seemed to get along swimmingly.
Appliance parties were always a blast; The fridge was cool and could always be counted on to bring booze. Everyone from the living room were born entertainers. The kitchen appliances would get shitfaced, and one of them would always give a toast and proceed to compliment every single appliance at the party. When things got wild, the washer and dryer would often get into a tumble in one of the back rooms, amongst cheers and bets called out. The radiator would often have to split them up and remind them that they're the best of friends, and encourage them to share a load to make things better.
The radiator was a warm fellow, he liked to think. But he could not stand the damn ceiling fan. The damn annoying god-damned ceiling fan who shared the bedroom with him and always felt the need to comment on the radiatior, no matter what the subject.
`` You spin my head right round right round!...'' The fan chirped happily one morning. He probably used that stupid joke every morning.
The radiator got sick of it. He yelled at the fan. The entire house was woken by the racket, and shocked by the radiator's malfunction in temperament. The alarm clock watched in horror as the radiator utterly burned the fan– accusing him of being too socially incompetent, of being loud, of cutting wind far too often... The fan used some half-assed retorts on the radiator, who only scoffed at the circular logic and proceeded to call him a loopy imbecile.
Eventually the fan cried and then committed suicide after a spiral into depression, and the writer of this paragraph got incredibly tired and unmotivated to finish it... the end.
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[ WP ] Your ability to control your body slowly vanishes . You 're terrified as you wake up one day watching your body moves by itself .
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I've always dreaded the possibility of my body being possessed. I fear that one day, I would be trapped in another dimension with my body taken over by something else, able to witness but unable to act, commiting unspeakable crimes.
That's why I've always been careful with my actions - the books I read, the movies I watch, the conversations I hear. I want to stop hearing about the possession. I want to forget about what happened to my family.
So here I lay in my bed, trapped in a haze of despair. I want to sleep, but I wo n't allow myself to. I want to scream for help, but I ca n't get up from this godforsaken nightmare. I want to turn back the time, but it's too late now. I've made contact with her, and God knows how long it'll be before I finally snap.
It's nighttime in my bedroom again, I think. I can see the stars from the window. But it can all be fake - the boundary between dreams and reality has disappeared. It can all be a trap from her, to lull me to sleep, so that she can take over...
My eyes open and I see myself reflected in front of me. But she does not obey my movements. I wave my left hand, shuffle my feet, shake my head.. but all she does is smirk, and say three words.
`` I've won, Anna!''
Then she opens her mouth wide, impossibly wide, enough to devour me whole, and the darkness covers me.
I open my eyes and find that it's morning again. But something's different.. oh God, I ca n't move.. she's going to kill everyone.. help..!
-- -- --
I get up, have a good stretch, and look around my bedroom. It's the same spartan room, a single light fixture above, a single study desk, a messy bed, and a window overlooking a meadow.
Everything's normal, I think. I come over to the desk and open a drawer. I find the knife I've been sharpening for ages. I smile wide, impossibly wide, and head out of the room. I look for my auntie and uncle.
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[ WP ] You are an immortal serial killer . You were caught and sentenced to life in prison . The prison is starting to get suspicious of why you wo n't age .
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Ugh, damn. This prison is n't nearly as fun as I thought it'd be. I mean, hell! I should be running this joint! I've killed over three hundred people for two whole years and never got caught until now! Every single murder was the same, too. I would hang them up in a crucifix position by their neck and wrist, using a custom made set of scissors. Then I would right the word *bloodlust* on the wall in their blood. I even had a fucking name! They called me Genocide John. I liked the name for the most part, but Genocide *John* does n't really fit a classy and sophisticated girl like myself. Genocide Juliette would've been my pick, but I made lemonade with what I had.
Of course the only reason I got cough was a dumbass mistake. Wearing shoes to my murder? What was I thinking?! And a skirt! Who knew a ripped skirt and some sweaty shoes could be so damning?
Either way, I was stuck here. Even with how drop dead gorgeous I am, I did n't need to worry. Everyone here knew what would happen if they fucked with me. Life here was n't all that bad, everyone knew to stay on my good side, and there was this one guy here who was into stuff like bondage and feet, along with being a total masochist. He's basically my bitch now, I own him. He loves it, and I do too. The only really problem is my sentence. Life. That was gon na be a *big* pain in the ass!
Cuz, you see... I'm kinda... immortal... Yep, you heard right, ca n't die unless I decide to do it myself, or tell someone to do it for me.
Anyway... I've been here a while, all this work, and prison life, it should get to me. I should have grey hair and visible wrinkles and all that other weird shit, but I do n't. I'm as young and vibrant as ever. Multiple people have attempted to murder me, never works. They've started wondering though, about why I ca n't die, why I never seem to grow old. It's started to get out of hand.
I sit in my cell, legs crossed thinking over my situation. The sound of drippy faucets and shuffling feet echoed through the building, making it nearly impossible to think. `` Ugh, these people are turning riotous. They try to kill me over and over, when are they going to realize that it just wo n't work?''
`` Maybe you should kill one of them, to show them where their place truly is.'' He spoke through gasps of breath as he kissed my feet.
I kicked him, he smiled. `` Shut up, bitch. I never asked you, now do your job.'' I grinned maniacally. He had a point. Maybe I should murder one of them, that would put them in their place. `` Stop.'' I command, he moves his lips away. `` You've just given me an idea, good work, slave. As a reward, you may now start licking.'' He perked up and lowered his head back down, eager to work with his'reward'.
`` Yes Mistress Juliette.'' He mumbled, and got back to work.
I let myself relax, and formulated a plot. These damn prisoners were going to learn their place, even if I had to force them onto their knees. They will all kneel, and beg for forgiveness. I'll make them grovel at my feet, then deny them what they want. I may kill a few of them just for the hell of it! I decided to hold back on my plan for now, and only put it into action if need be. Who knows, maybe these idiots will learn their place on their own....
*Five years pass...... *
`` I just ca n't take it anymore!'' I screamed out, `` These ignorant fools continue to disrespect and degrade me every day! None of them have learned anything over the past *five years!! * That's it! I have a plan, time to put it into action!'' I decided on my target, then commanded my loyal slave to kneel before me and grovel.
He obliged without question.
I laughed evily, seeing someone in this position just filled me with pure ecstasy! `` Oh yes, darling! They will all bow before me! Kneel and worship me, they will learn their place! Just as you have, that will be that! I will run this godamned place!''
I decided that tonight was the night, I would make it all happen tonight. So I did it. I killed some lady who happened to be foolish enough to walk around at night. I hung her up and wrote out *bloodlust* on the wall in her blood, along with another message: `` Worship me. Or this will happen to all of you.''
Three days passed, only two people decided to use their brains and submit. I needed to do more.
I killed another, then two, then three. Before I knew it twenty people were dead. I hung them up, and wrote my message. Just like the other times.
Most of the prisoners were either dead or my slaves. Of course there was still the rebellious few, I did n't them though, they made this game more fun. The joy I got from seeing the look on their face when they finally broke was indescribable.
I decided I was done. I had killed more then double the people in here than I ever did while free. My worshippers could only do so much to pleasure me, and I was growing tired of them. I decided to do it. The called me Genocide John for a reason. I decided to commit mass murder, and kill every single prisoner here.
So that's what I did. They rioted when my inability to age came into play, they refused to accept their rightful place, and the ones who did could never fully pleasure me. I killed every single person in that prison, and then... when all was done, I sighed... and thrust the knife deep into my stomach. I smiled, I had done it. Gone out with a bang, just like I always hoped. I never wanted to live forever, but it certainly came in handy here, did n't it? I had enslaved two hundred people, then killed over five hundred more.
Y'know, none of this would've happened if they did n't get nosy and question my mortality. I would've been perfectly content live life here, with my pretty little bitch. Unfortunately, some people just do n't know their place in this world.
... I was just reminding them where they belong...
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[ WP ] The sun has suddenly disappeared from the sky . Everyone around you is panicking , yet you are eerily calm . What brings you peace in the new found darkness ?
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Outside, people are crying and screaming. The TV tells an expected story of looting and riots. The internet is filled with people trying to figure out how to fix it or who could have done such a thing. My mother holds me closely but I pull away. `` Mom, I'm exhausted. I have to go to sleep,'' I say, play-acting as if I were tired. She gives me a bitter sweet smile and tells me to rest up for the day tomorrow. *The day tomorrow*, I thought, *that's some beautiful irony*. An amused smile plays across my lips as I shut the door to my room. I plant my back against the wall and slide to the floor, sighing in relief. *I've really always preferred the night, * I think to myself. Now... Now I can always just relax and let the rest of the world go.
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[ IP ] The Cursed King
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As a child, on the precipice of adulthood, I was brought to a Seer.
The words she spoke were `` This child will be king. He will rise through the ranks and slaughter thousands''
`` He will win great wars. Provide prosperity for his land''
`` But his land, is not the same as yours'' The Seer spoke softly, trailing off after each sentence.
My father, the King. Became enraged at the Seer. The King only wanted to pass on his kingdom to me and would cut down anyone who said anything different.
I had lost scholars, tasked to impart wisdom and knowledge, the army had lost generals who expressed distaste with my eventual rise to the throne.
Drew his sword to the nape of her neck. With her dying breath, she clutched the crown of my head and uttered words in a strange language.
He ran his sword through the Seer's neck. There was a blood-mist glistening in the air with the first strike, followed by what seemed unending pools surging upwards.
Shortly after, her body dropped, followed by her head. I suspect I blanked out the last scenes or it's simply been so long since I thought about it.
It was n't until a decade or so later, although I could n't remember the words, I understood what was said.
I saw my kingdom rise to the pinnacle of power. We had won every war. Overcame any invasion.
After 30 years had passed. My subjects, *my people*, began to revolt.
The words spoken to me as a child dominated my thoughts. Although it had been 50 years since I had been given the crown and country, I had barely aged. In-fact, unbeknownst to my people, beneath my royal garb bequeathed to me from father, hid a horrifying ailment. Any wounds inflicted on me, healed over with a thick bark-like substance. Which spread across my body further and further with each new injury.
I conjectured that it was the royal doctor that betrayed my trust. He had told the people I performed some black-magic to become undying. The ritual performed had involved major blood sacrifices hence why I was always present on the battlefield, writing the runes for the unending rite.
It all seemed like a blur. At the time, I had barely awoken from a deep slumber, just before sunrise. I glanced at the window and noted the warm reddish-yellow hue slowly warming the panel. My beloved footman crashed in to the room royal suddenly. He was pale as lambs wool with a look of trepidation. He whispered `` Sire, th-the people have revolted. They are marching up the hill to the courtyard. W-we have n't much time. We must move'' The footman * - It fills me with a great sorrow that I've long since forgotten his name* was ushering me toward the door and ultimately the back of the castle.
I had been forced out of the room but stood in defiance. I had told the footman to leave. He was now free of his servitude to me and my long-since passed father.
He pleaded with me to leave quickly and quietly for the people were sure to burn me at the stake for witchcraft. I spoke solemnly `` So be it, the Seer I saw as a child had told me I would slaughter thousands, but I have only defended our country and its countrymen. If my subjects deem me to be in lieu of deviltry, I will accept their punishment with reckless abandon'' and I pushed the footman to the door leading towards the back, off in to safety.
I walked back towards my room, the glow I had thought was the sun peeking its way through the night's sky, was the glow of a-thousand torches, burning brightly guiding my countrymen to my doom. I placed on the royal mourning garments. Laced in black, I awaited at beds end, to be apprehended. I could hear the murmurs growing louder, the light becoming stronger and eventually the rhythmic metronome that was the sound of my reckoning.
The people stormed this once beautiful castle, galloped up the stairs with thunderous stomps and broke the door to my chambers. Wielding pitchforks, torches and brandishing swords towards me. I could n't hear their screams. I could only hear the sound of my steadfast heart, not skipping a beat. I was shoved, pushed, pulled and thrown from person to person until I ended up sullied by the dirt of my overturned courtyard. I could barely raise an arm in protest.
I was bound and made to the stand upright so I could see my subjects raise the stake in the yard I once played. I did n't falter in witness of the stake being hammered in place. Nor once the bundles of wood placed, at my soon to be point of death, nor at the lantern oil generously lavished at the foot of the stake.
I was dragged to and bound on the stake. Before the fire was lit I spoke. I had said, with a strong conviction and determination to be heard `` Countrymen...''
A silence befell the crowd
`` I dare not call you subjects in such conditions, I sha n't call you my people, for you have made it clear that I am no longer fit to rule or stand besides you.
I have heard the rumors - the distasteful nature in which you regard me, not as a king but as the man who led you all to tremendous victory without fail.
The man who kept the prosperity in our land as rich as it is today.
The man who kept peace in our land, gifting you all with safe havens to raise families, livestock and only ever asked of you, loyalty.
Now you have deemed yourself fit to judge me. Based on one mans tales, without hearing me speak on such things. But no matter, I feel it will go unheard.
I will not beg forgiveness from you, nor for my actions. I am a proud king. Proud that my actions alone protected the very kingdom I love.
I will beg for one last thing. That is, to restrain me from head to toe for if I get freed from this stake, I will smite you and your children down without hesitation!''
The crowd of people began throwing the torches. The wood beneath the fire erupted, gorging the oil. I clenched my jaw, refusing to let out screams of anguish and focus my pain in to a ball of rage inside my core.
The fire had reached my feet, burning the cloth draped upon me. The clothes melting in to my skin.
I looked down in time to see the fire roar upwards over my body. I let out a savage's visceral cry as I looked skyward.
A moment passed. I felt my skin melting, dripping off my body in tufts.
*I was still alive. *
I feverishly tried to break my bonds, but the fire had yet to weaken the dungeon locks.
I glanced down at my body. Charred, contorted into unusual blades and points.
My arms had the familiar metallic tinge of swords blackened by fire.
There was a great howl of wind. Carried within it, whispered the words that I heard as a child.
*My curse, I will place, *
*This child, death shall not face*
*A mighty king, fueled by rage, *
*Will be burned, where he played*
The anguish I felt and nurtured into my core exploded. Revitalized by this sudden surge, I strained against my locks. Jerking against the small slack between each bracelet. After a few tugs and pulls, the metal began to bend to my will. With one last tear, the dungeon locks ripped apart. The log placed beneath my feet wobbled, then toppled as I tried to regain my balance. Falling into the raging fire, crushing the bundles of wood, which let off a plum of smoke and ember into the air. I pushed my self up and staggered through the smog.
The crowd had dispersed to form two groups. One which stayed to watch me burn, the other walking off towards the castles gate.
This old countries men let off screams of terror which empowered me more. There was cries, which called me the devil, a witch and other such indignities.
I locked eyes with a small child frozen by fear. I charged towards him, my body still smoldering, and embraced him. Feeling my arms squeeze and dissolve his body until his blood was boiling over me, pooling the ground below. The sound of his bones cracking between me was a sweet symphony.
It was n't too long before a woman - presumably his mother - let out a shriek and drove her pitchfork into my body.
There was an excruciating sound, like nails on a chalk-board, but I felt nothing.
The sound reverberated the place I once played.
I turned my attention towards the one whom had judged me, had penetrated my body with its farming tool. Reaching out, I dug my fingers into her throat. At first she tried to resist. But her body quickly gave way as she twitched into a lifeless form, face distorted by fear and love.
The crowd, heard the twang of the pitchfork and the tormented screams, looked back in horror and disbelief and rallied back up to face me. To face their doom.
They came in hoards. Small groups attacking in harmony. I was unable to fend of the attacks, but I still felt no pain.
My best bet to launch a counter attack would be to lie in wait. Act like I was being pushed back, withering in agony. Awaiting one poor soul to become to brave and enter the range of my reach.
It appears luck was on my side, after I stumbled backwards, someone had approached with me without care and I lunged forwards grabbing it by the scruff of its neck and ripped a sword from its hand and ran it through him without second thought.
I began to gain ground, fending off jabs from sword, pitchforks, shovels and the like.
I marched towards the groups, brandishing this peasant's poorly smelted sword. Parrying blows and striking with absolute certainty at the scalps, throats and bowels of my attackers.
After I had slain the first few braver groups, the crowd began to hesitate. A wave of consternation washed the people as they started running off and slowly backing away.
I will not falter in my promise I made. I will slay everyone in this kingdom and this country's.
A kingdom my father once ruled. The place I protected. The place I became king, cursed by the deeds of my father.
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[ WP ] In a world of magic , there is only one monster more terrifying than the dragon for the Magi . That is a Null , a person that magic can not touch .
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Albus the Magnificent was sure of one thing: He would not go back to the Black
Dungeon. Even if the High Council sent a whole battalion of Enforcers after
him, he would not go back. They could take the wand from his cold, dead hands.
And he would take as many of them with him when he died.
They were after him, of that he was sure as well. His crimes were something
that made grown wizards shiver. He had done things that others had shied away
from.
They were after him. For the last few days, someone had been stalking him.
He had noticed the man from time to time. There was somebody, always at the
edge of his perception. A face behind a tree, a motion in the underbrush.
The High Council must have sent a powerful Illusionist after him, because even
the most powerful scrying spells, those from the Dark Books, did n't reveal
him. They revealed his footsteps, broken twigs, disturbed grass, but not the
man himself. Albus felt flattered. He was a dangerous man and the Council
finally acknowledged that.
Albus consulted the map once more. The ancient parchment whispered in his
hands. The entrance to the Vault should be right in front of him. Instead, he
stared at a nearly vertical wall of polished rock. Instead of the Forbidden
Knowledge of Maruskus, he faced a long hike back the way he had come. Mage he
might be, but orientation was not his strong suit.
`` Stop right there, fellow,'' a stern voice said. `` Drop all your stuff and get
on your knees.''
Albus whirled around to face the Enforcers.
He was quite surprised to see a single man. It took him a few seconds to
believe his eyes: The man was alone, unarmed, and clearly not a wizard. He was
scrawny, bald, and most importantly, unarmed. The man did n't carry sword or
bow nor wore he any armor. He wore a cotton loincloth and that was it.
`` I'm Albus the Magnificent,'' Albus intoned. His voice boomed over the
clearing and echoed back and forth between the rocks.
`` Good,'' the man said. `` Now drop your stuff and get down. You do n't want to
make this complicated.''
Albus could n't stop himself from laughing. He, the greatest wizard of the
seven lands, should surrender to a naked man. The guy was either completely
crazy or suicidal.
The man took a single step towards the wizard. Albus flicked his wrist and
shot a fireball straight at the lunatic. The fire engulfed him, then fizzled
out in a peculiar way.
Albus suddenly had a bad feeling about this. The was proven right, when the
man took another step instead crumbling to ashes.
`` That's enough, dude,'' the man said.
Albus fired another Elementary Spell at his opponent. The ice shards crumbled
when they hit him. He called up the whirlwind and pummeled the guy with gravel
that would have take the flesh of the strongest wizard's bones. The guy just
stood there.
`` Are you done,'' he asked while Albus mumbled one of the Forbidden Spells.
`` OK. Not done,'' the man said when a sphere of darkness surrounded him.
Spell after spell hit Albus' foe. Spell after spell fizzled out, passed
through him, or bounced off. Albus slowly panicked. This was the day he had
feared. The High Mage had come after him. Disguised as a simple man he had
issued a challenge and Albus was n't up to it, as he had thought.
After the wand was useless, Albus pulled out a scroll and read it. As the
parchment crumbled the dust, a lightning struck the disguised High Mage. The
man shrugged it off. Albus read another. Lightning, ghouls, zombies, giant
bats. Nothing had any effect.
Neither had potions, poisonous or otherwise. He summoned demons, irrlichts,
werwolves, gnomes, gremlins, and finally a giant snake. The man simply stared
at him, growing more and more impatient by the minute.
Finally, Albus made the decision to use the one spell even he feared. The Fire
of Death was so dangerous that one did n't use it lightly. This, however, was
different. This was life or death. He pulled out the two crystals and began to
rub them. After a few seconds, the first spark flew towards the scrawny man.
Seconds later, the crystals had been reduced to a fine powder, Albus' enemy
was surrounded by black flames. They would burn away his magic and then his
life.
The man leaned to the side to keep his eyes on Albus.
The mage wheezed. A duel was exhausting, for the body and for the soul. Yet,
the man seemed as fresh as he had been before. Albus could barely keep his
eyes open.
His tired brain could not come up with a way out of this mess. It reverted
back to something that worked for millions of years. Albus started to run.
The scrawny man intercepted the fleeing wizard with ease. At three hundred
pound, Albus was n't hard to intercept, running or not. When Albus saw that
escape was impossible, he switched to a different strategy.
Full steam ahead. Prepare for impact.
Instead of pushing the enemy out of the way, Albus learned that there is more
to a fight than putting kinetic energy on a colliding trajectory. He learned
it the hard way when a single uppercut knocked him out.
- - -
`` He's out. Get me the chains,'' the scrawny man yelled into the forest.
A teenager worked his way through the underbrush. He held a length of rusty
chains in one hand, a neatly folded pile of clothes in the other. When he
approached the wizard and the man, he tried to avert his eyes.
`` Do n't let the target out of sight,'' scolded the man. `` You knew know what
these guys do.''
`` Give me my clothes,'' the man added. `` Hang the chains around his neck. Yes,
that way. Now wrap them around once.''
`` Put a lock there, right below his head. Now run the ends down his arms and
lock each wrist.''
Amidst the clanking of the chains and the wheezing the teenager, who handled
them, the scrawny man dressed.
`` Now, William, did this answer your questions,'' the man asked.
`` Yes, Sir. The cold iron of the chains will suppress the magic,'' the young man
said. `` That way he will not endanger anybody when we bring him back to the
Black Dungeon. It also explains the cart. That guy is quite a chunk.''
`` Good. Keep that in mind. Wizards ca n't hurt us, but they can still hurt
others,'' the man said. `` Now fetch the cart. With luck we reach the village
before nightfall.''
After the two had loaded the unconscious wizard onto the flat bed of the cart,
and rested after the exertion, William took the handles.
`` Master Andrew, there is one thing I still do n't understand,'' the teenager
began.
`` The fatter they are, the more magic they can store,'' Andrew said. `` You should
see the High Mage. Compare to him, this guy looks malnourished.''
`` Oh,'' William said. `` Will we meet him?''
`` Probably not,'' Andrew said and lifted a wheel over a stone in the uneven
path.
`` Master Andrew, why did you take off your clothes,'' asked William.
`` Because my boots alone cost more than this guy's bounty brings us,'' Andrew
said. `` He's a small time crook with illusions of grandeur. Albus, the
Magnificent, my ass. Twenty Doubloons bounty for a week's work. That barely
covers the expenses.''
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[ WP ] `` She said she loved him . '' Insert the word `` only '' anywhere in this sentence . It must be the final sentence of your story .
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She said she loved him, and he was content with that. They married and had three beautiful children and they all lived happily for a long time. Until one day, he came home from work with the lights off and the door ajar. He walked in, noticing the blood stains on the carpet. Upon turning into the living room, he sees three bodies hanging limp from the ceiling. He turns to see his wife with a devilish look in her eyes while brandishing a knife. She said only she loved him.
________________________________________________________________
Not a writer, but had this idea and figured I'd give it a shot.
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[ WP ] The last man on earth hears a knock at the door ...
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It had been approximately 7,000 years since the last humans roamed the earth. The best 7,000 years of my life.
You see, back in the year 2250, humanity finally conquered death. All diseases were eradicated, they solved the food and energy problem, genetic modifications ensured an eternal youth, but there was one thing they could not conquer: the fear of death. It started with a simple disagreement between a president and his generals, and bloomed into an all-out civil war.
People were reluctant to fight at first, to risk their everlasting life, but the politicians and warmongers, oh how they had a way with words. The fools and the patriots volunteered first, followed by conscription to force the unwilling. It didn ’ t take long for this conflict to spread across borders. The first few nuclear weapons launched were detonated above water by the defense systems of the super powers, but eventually, one slipped through. Nations fell like dominoes, one after another, until the world was a barren wasteland. Over 99 % of the earth was uninhabitable.
When the war was over, the few that remained sought to rebuild with what little was left. The genetic modifications made to all humans guaranteed eternal life, and in the first 10,000 years, all was well. Humanity, bridled with the fear of conflict, worked together, at least for a while.
It was when the radiation slowly faded, and life began growing on the edges of the once uninhabited wastelands, that the future of humanity was set in stone. It was curiosity that sent the first explorers into these new lands; the eternal monotony of life had worn through ages ago.
The first contact with their past kind was a momentous occasion, but it also brought a stark realization. They were no longer the same. Language, culture, everything was different. It wasn ’ t long for the inevitable to happen. The leaders of these tribes convinced the others to fight, for if they did not strike first, it would be their own eternal lives that would be lost.
Even fewer survived.
As the years went on, this became a common occurrence. Until only only one left. Me.
I had long since forgotten about the human race. The past was inconsequential to me. That is, until I heard a knock on my door. The occasional bump or knock was not uncommon, animals sometimes stumbled upon my home, but this knock was different. It was intentional, it had a purpose.
Curiosity drove me to open the door. Behind it was a gun held by man in a decorated army uniform.
All I heard next was “ hello Mr. President ” followed by the action of a gun and a bright flash.
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[ WP ] Describe peach in the most vivid way possible .
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I found a bulb of shimmering light in my trousers I was surprised to see how it evaporated from my skin and slowly began to cover me, I scented a fruity tickling in my nostrils and noticed the liquid state my body was in, my eyes somehow managed to catch the light, slowly bouncing around in this caramellic atmospehere of orange-like colours, I opened my mouth to slurp these arousing sorroundings into my body, my sensory apparatus found this so tasteful that i couldn´t stop the juice from entering my limbs,
and in a psychedelic experience of celebration on my tastebuds, I realized I was an ant with trousers, residing inside a slushy environment, I remembered a past where my struggle for happiness had let me into a red and hairy ball and figured that I had found heaven, to show my appreciation the last thing I did was a peach-dance for my queen, until the sugar engulfed my body and I became one with my peach.
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[ WP ] After you die you find that what we think of as `` life '' is really a tutorial mode for a much more chaotic reality .
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My life was fantastic, I think, albeit far too short. My last memory was stepping onto the road, an enormous ‘ WHOOSH ’, a crack, a scream and then… nothing.
I arrived in the light but smokey room a while ago, with a pamphlet in hand. I try to read the cover but all I can hear the blaring sound of the receptionists radio. The pamphlet makes no sense. The front cover reads ‘ You ’ ve spent your life preparing for this, now what? ’. “ Preparing for what? ” I whisper to myself.
I ’ m so confused, I feel like I should be somewhere else. There is something I am forgetting, but what is it? I can ’ t THINK! That damn radio, can ’ t she turn that fucking thing down? Why am I in this office? Why am I waiting? What am I waiting FOR? The last thing I remember was... what? I was going somewhere. I was excited about something? If only I could remember what I was doing! That fucking noise is getting louder and it sounds like there is some sort of large scale construction outside, a jackhammer buzzing, driving me fucking loopy.
I felt so happy before, when I was somewhere else, but I can ’ t remember why. I was so full of hope, I was excited about my future. Suddenly it flew into my mind, a picture of a woman with short dark hair and pixie face. “ Emily ” I murmured.
“ What ’ s that, Dear? ” muttered a wizened old woman next to me. When did she get there? I don ’ t remember her being there before? She is bouncing a doll-like baby with blue eyes and a yellow dress on her knee.
“ Umm ” I said fretfully “ I can ’ t remember why I am here. I was walking to meet my girlfriend for dinner. I think? ”
She is holding a pamphlet the same as mine. The baby is chewing on another copy. “ Well.. ” the old lady says “ that ’ s covered in point one in the pamphlet, me and wee Steph here have just arrived. I ’ ve been waiting for this for a long time. Poor Stephy though, it was far too soon for her. And you too I might add ”.
I opened the pamphlet. It contained only a few bold points;
1. If you are reading this, you are dead ( sorry )
2.Your next life is going to be a bit different from your first
3.We hope you can remember the lessons you learn the first time around, because this is going to get a whole lot tougher
4.Please let Stacy at reception know when you are ready to leave the holding area and she will have someone escort you out
“ What the fuck ” I scream. “ No, No this can ’ t be real I moan. I ’ m alive, I was with Emily, it was meant to be special ” I feel in my pocket. There is a lump in my suit, and I pull it out. It ’ s a recognisable box. I flick the top open and I see the ring. My last moments come flooding back to me. Getting all dressed up, taking Emily for dinner. I was going to propose! I was so happy, Emily knew something was going on, I think she knew I was going to propose, and she was so excited too! She looked radiant, I loved seeing her smile.I could still feel her hand in mine as we crossed the road to the restaurant.
As it all came flooding back, I crumpled to the floor, sobbing. I lay on the musty ground and heard the clip clopping of high heels aproach me. Looking up the receptionist, Stacy, it must be, loomed over me.
“ UP! ” she screamed. “ You must go now! You are here too long! ”.
She wrenched me to my feet, with an enormous strength. She towered a good six inches over me, and began wrestling me towards that ominous door in the corner.
It wasn ’ t the door I arrived through, I remember that now. I arrived through a lovely blue inviting door.The door I arrived through felt like it would take my agonising pain away if I opened it, I felt like it would free me. It lied. The approaching door I was being nearly dragged towards, held the opposite. It held foreboding and mistrust. It was huge, wrought iron and looked like it was smouldering.
Looking behind me I noticed that the reception room I had been sitting in had filled up with more faces. Some young and confused, many old and held some understanding. The old woman smiled and waved, I saw her mouth ‘ good luck ’ although I could n't hear the words. The closer I got to the door, the louder the noise got until it completely filled my ears with a buzzing, whirring noise.
I understood. I was dead and this new world was nothing like the last. I realised the receptionist had been talking to me.
“ You prepared for this ” she said with surprising softness, not replicated by her tight grip on the back of my neck. “ I'm not ready for this ” I cried, “ I do n't understand what is happening ”. “ That's the point ” the receptionist said ‘ this place makes no fucking sense, and it certainly is n't fair ’ she said in her gravely tone, and wrenched open the wrought iron door.
She shoved me out the door and I saw that this place looked just like old busy neighbourhood, but.. wrong somehow. There was a haze in the air and that fucking machinery noise was way louder out here. I looked behind me to see the receptionist standing in the door. ‘ Good luck out there, you're going to need it ’.
Just before she managed to slam the door in my face, I could see across the comparatively lit waiting room to the inviting blue door. It opened as I stared and a pretty woman with short dark hair steeped through meekly looking confused. “ Emily ” I screamed as the magnificent door slammed shut in my face, leaving me in the dusky hazy of this place I used to know. I can ’ t remember what the lesson was. I am lost.
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[ WP ] `` Those who fear the dark , have never seen what light can do . ''
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She woke up early. Way too early, she felt at first. She eased out of bed, as not to disturb her husband, and she walked down stairs to get a drink of water.
5:04 am.
Its not so early, she thought to herself.
As she poured a glass of water she looked to the east. She could see the slight glow of a rising sun. It seemed too early for a surise, but then again, she reminded herself, she was not normal up this early.
As she finished her water, she got a sudden chill. She set her glass down, and turned to go back up to her bed when she got spooked. Her pace quickened into a slow trot, and as she reached the bottom of the stairs it quickened again. She took the stairs two at a time, feeling foolish.
She yelled at herself mentally, Damn it, there is no reason to be afraid of the dark, she knew this to be fact, but still could n't resist her brains impulses.
As she crawled into bed, her husband stirred, and she apologized for making so much noise.
He did n't mind, and he sat up in bed. He also made a comment about how unusually light it was for such an early hour.
She decided to turn on the TV since they were both awake, so they could watch the cheesy local morning news together. They enjoyed teasing the local tv personalities together.
As the TV came on, she had another sense of impending disaster.
She could see the news desk, but it was n't that of the local affiliate, it was one of the national desks.
At 5am? Why would that be?
She turned the volume up.
A very distraught sounding national anchor was busily talking about the sun, what about it she did n't quite understand, as the picture on the TV began to break up.
After a moment, it cleared.
The anchor was saying something about a flare, a solar flare. He was using words like `` world changing'' and `` catastrophic''. What did he mean?
Then she started putting it together.
At around 5:15am, the earth was going to get hit with what was being called `` the largest solar flare ever recorded''. He used the words `` ten fold''.
The anchor explained that the ramifications of of this event were not going to be fully understood until it had occurred.
She kinda of went numb, but heard the words `` electromagnetic pulses'', `` telecommunications failures'', `` power grid failures'', `` events that very well could change the course of human events''.
Large portions of the earth, particularly those portions facing the sun were about to get hit, and hit hard.
She could n't listen anymore, and turned it off, and looked at her husband, as he looked back in utter disbelief.
She did n't know what it meant entirely, or even if they were close enough to daylight to affect them, but she knew she was scared. She began to shiver, and she reached for him.
They waited.
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[ WP ] Upon dying , you learn you were n't quite a bad enough guy to go to hell , and end up in a much less severe `` heck ''
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I see light. I see shapes........I hear a voice! It's muffled. I ca n't quite make it out.
`` Mr Blevel!!!''
I snapped awake to find myself standing in the middle of a cubed room. The walls were bare. A chair sat behind me. There was a window before me where Ms. Snitz grew more and more impatient.
`` Mr Blevel, please step foward!''
I moved up to the window.
`` Yes? I'm Mr. Blevel. Im sorry. I'm very confused right now. I - I - I was, just a second ago hanging out with my pals. I musta fallen asleep or somethin'...... I mean, I'm either dreaming or.....someone's messin' with me. What is this? Where am I!?'' I said.
`` It's Heck.''
``....Heck.''
`` Yes, Mr. Blevel. Heck.''
`` Ooooohhh K. Is that like a company orrrrr....''
`` Noooo....It's like....Heck. Like not Heaven not Hell........you're dead, Mr Blevel. You're dead. You're dead and you are in Heck.''
`` I died?!''
`` Did you not know that? Eeessshh! Wow I apologize. I see we failed to notify you of that before your appointment today. Clerical error. Believe me, it happens A LOT around here.''
`` I died?!''
`` Yes unfortunately Mr Blevel that is the case.''
`` But how?!''
`` I'm looking over your records here and from what I can gather It looks as though, yes it says right here. Crushed by....oh my. A pool table.''
`` Whoa wait....The last thing that I was doing before I got here
was helping my pal, Bobby and my other pal, Tommy lower that pool table down from the balcony. I was under it down on the ground. You know, to help guide the thing. I guess they...... dropped it on me?! But Tommy said he had the legs!
`` Mr Blevel try to rela....''
`` TOMMY SAID HE HAD THE LEGS!!!!!'' I shrieked.
`` Well umm.....obviously he did n't.''
Presently I began pacing the room.
`` Ohhhhh man'' I said. `` This is bad, right? I mean this is bad. I had things to do ya know? People to see.!''
`` Well Mr Blevel. Again, I'm looking at your file and It says here that you actually did n't really have too many plans after all. And you really only had those two friends and I mean come on. They dropped a pool table on you. They ca n't be THAT good of friends. Am I right? Ahem. I'm sorry.''
So many emotions were swirling. Too many to put my finger on just one. But then again, juggling my emotions was never really my strong suit.
I thought back to my early life when my mom made me go to church. I hated it. I used to say cuss words silently in my mind during the service. I thought that maybe God would hear it and give me sign to stop mentally cussing but he never did. Church was sooooo boring. I'd tune in every once in a while. You know. They'd talk about Heaven sometimes. Mostly they talked about Hell. And basically how we're all going there. But I never heard em' even mention Heck!
`` How did I end up here? Why are n't I up in Heaven? I should be up there with my old pals, Bunkie, Jonesy, Stan, Stan Sr. Hankford, and my dear old dog, Porkbun.'' I said.
`` Well Mr. Blevel, you simply do not meet the requirements for Heaven or Hell to put it simply. Heaven came down with a quick `` no'' and Hell was n't interested. You just did n't do anything BAD enough. And you just did n't do anything good. Ever. We've ran your stats. You're Heck material all the way.'' She explained
`` And Mr Blevel you should know that all the men you've listed as being residents of Heaven are, yes I'm showing all of them are currently burning in Hell.''
`` Even Porkbun?'' I whimpered.
`` Especially Porkbun.'' She said
`` Oww thats horrible. Porkbun was a good boy''.
`` Mr Blevel lets be honest. Porkbun was a real son of a bitch. He was a Goddamn snarling Hell hound. He's in a better place. Now Mr Blevel Let's get you settled in. We need you ready to start your shift innnn oh yikes 3 minutes.''
`` My shift?'' I asked
`` Here in Heck we all jobs Mr Blevel. My job is to orient the new folks and help them get settled in. Let's see what you'll be doing.'' She shuffled through a few sheets in my folder.
`` I see in your file here that you have some computer experience. That should be helpful. And it looks like you've been assigned toooo....ah yes it says here -fact checking. Looks like you've been tasked to fact check every statement made by every presidential candidate for the United States 2016 election. That oughtta be a hoot.'' She oozed with facetiousness.
She laid the folder on the sill.
`` Thats my folder there?'' I asked. I wanted to see it. I had to see what all they knew about me. Maybe I could make an appeal or something. That seems like something they'd do here. Thought it'd probably take an eternity.
`` Yes, Mr Blevel, It is.'' She said.
`` May I see it?'' I asked
`` I apologize but I'm unauthorized to show you this information, Mr Blevel.''
My eyes rolled down, fixated on the folder. Her eyes followed my gaze. Slowly we both looked up and our eyes met.
I darted for the folder but slipped on the freshly waxed floor. Mr Snitz grabbed the folder and quickly closed the glass window. She reached over to activate the intercom.
`` Like I said, Mr Blevel, you are unauthorized to view this information. Now please step through this door and I'll show you to your cubicle.''
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[ WP ] While at a black-tie dinner party you feel a light brush against the back of your hand . When you look , you see Death as he walks by and he says , `` Do n't worry , I 'm not here for you ... . ''
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`` Please, state what happened from the beginning, for the record,'' the Armed Cohyr instructed. `` And be impartial if you can.'' It was looking over at its once-comrade through a thin energy shield.
The cell recorded its prisoner's story:
`` The Local Galactic Summit began. Leaders and/or Acting Representatives of various empires, worlds, and nations had come for the sake of general negotiations, trade, familiarity, etc.
If you held significant military power to back up your own resource wealth, you likely had already arrived, if not someone standing in your place.
Several local Galivant leaders had already arrived, all representing their own individual groups. The recently appointed queen of the royals had arrived as wel-''
`` Could you please call them by their official name for the sake of this record's application?''
The prisoner gritted his teeth and retorted. `` No. The Federation had arrived, as well as the Cohyr. A few minor empires' leaders could be seen spotting the room, about the dozens of representatives from governments that only had control of one or two worlds each. You likely have that in your records. I do n't know all of their names on memory right now.''
-- -- -- -
Sorry to interupt, dear reader, but I feel I should inform you about the Cohyr ( Coh-Yer ). They were one of several humoid alien races, with most standing about 7ft or 2m tall. The Cohyr were slightly ahead of the technological curve when it came to military bits and organization of civilian population centers ( cities, towns, warehouses, etc. ) There was a blurred line between the civilian population, the military/police population, and their political/governmental population. Their government could best be describe as socialist imperialist, with a series of AI that assisted with their constitution when it came to checks and balances.
-- -- -- -
`` The Cohyr had officially sent 2 representatives, though 3 could be assumed if you include myself. I guarantee you that the rest of the people there saw me as such, rather than representing my personal organization.''
`` Impartial, I said.'' snapped the captor, cautiously. `` Please, continue.''
The prisoner cleared his mind. He wondered if his captor was annoyed or just scared at this point. `` I am a partner who works closely with the Cohyr government. This does not bode well for your higher ups. It is likely that I am seen as a pseudo representative of your people. I personally believe that I am, considering my high military rank.'' The prisoner looked up at his captor through the shield's glow. `` This does not bode well for you or your peers, I suspect...''
The soldier shifted position during the pause. `` Understood. Please, continue.''
`` One of the people I did notice was one of my mechanical partners from the past, often referred to as a failed experiment. You know who I'm talking about. He goes by Martyr now. That's a title, apparently. I know this because he brushed past me. I followed him, and we had a short conversation in our stroll. His application to the event was accepted. I asked him why he had come, and he said that he was n't there for me. He was there for himself. I figured that security was already aware of him, and his deeds. He bid me farewell as he walked to one of the nearby representatives of smaller domains.
I could n't attack him and break the neutrality of the event, so I left the event to call my small orbiting fleet. I informed them of the situation from my drop-ship's communicator, had them keep a sizable portion of our navy on standby, nearby, and re-entered. They were to inform and organize my personal fores, as well as the local Coryh Naval Units. I continued to further my own goals, as everyone else had come to do. Afterwards, a giant, local hive cluster warped in and assaulted the planet and it's moons, as well as the nearby fleets and escorts.
My fleets, as well as Coryh Reinforcements arrived to defend the event. A dozen royal ships arrived after a short time to reinforce the summit's defenses, as the latter representatives left the planet. The invaders eventually overran the defenses, and you know the rest. I am not directly responsible for the attack on the summit. My actions allowed for all representatives to leave the planet unharmed, if not psychologically tried.'' The prisoner leaned back after he finished speaking. `` I believe this is the part where you ask me frivolous questions. Go on then.''
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[ WP ] You are a powerful international arms dealer . You made you way to the top through intimidation . However you have no security detail to accompany you . Instead , you have a superpower that has never failed you . The ability to make red laser dots appear at will .
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When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. When life gives you the ability to summon red laser dots, make a massive criminal enterprise, am-I-right?
...
A man stepped through the large warehouse doors, pausing to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. His Armani suit, polished shoes, and glimmering white gold jewelry juxtaposed by the run down, rusty walls of the warehouse. Dark spots covered the floor, and mold grew in the cracks of whatever wood was still left in the walls.
He strolled forward with a confidence that takes a lifetime to learn to project so easily. His stroll led him to within ten feet of a group of men dressed in what was clearly government issued black suits. Though he said nothing, his eyes scanning them and his wry smile clearly said, `` You're not anywhere close to my level''.
The men shifted uneasily, and a clear leader stepped forward. As he did the other two men drew their weapons and pointed them at him, one at the chest and one at the head. The Armani man shook his head and his smile turned condescending...
`` Boys, Boys... is this any way to start a negotiation? My advise is to lower your weapons, we do n't want this to get....shall i say....uncivilized....now would we?''
The leader of the men cleared his throat, and did his best to match the Armani Mans confidence. `` Do you think this is the place to issue orders? If I had my way we'd kill you here and now, but unfortunately...'' he sneered obnoxiously ``... my boss insists we can use you.''
`` Use me? I do n't care for the tone in your voice, child. Can I talk to your mommy or daddy please?''
The mans face turned crimson and he lurched forward, grabbing Armani Mans suit and pulling him close, while simultaneously pushing a pistol to his heart. He whispered on the side of his head for emphasis `` Big talk for a man with no weapons and no back up. It's not a good sign for you when even the child knows its not smart to bring empty words to a gunfight.''
The Armani Man leaned back slightly, his usual sneer remained, but now hid traces of disdain and deep seeded anger. `` Do you think I'm naive enough to not know how these things work,'' he said, his words still velvet. He lifted his hand slowly beside the mans ear, and snapped his fingers loudly. Ten bright red dots appeared instantly, spread between the three men, but six were concentrated on the forehead of the man holding him. The two men behind their leader shifted uncomfortably; not because things had never broken down like this before, but because they had tracked this man in the Armani suit all the way here. They knew for a fact there were no snipers, or anyone else for that matter, with him. Guards were posted every five feet around the perimeter.
The man holding him shifted his gaze to the men behind him, and upon seeing why they were uncomfortable, loosened his grip. The Armani Man grabbed the slightly shaking hands holding his suit and removed them. The leader stared at him, his eyes a mix of confusion, admiration, and still a little disdain.
The Armani Man straightened his suit, smoothed back his hair just in case, and smiled again at the three men. `` Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way boys, are we ready to talk about my money? There's very few things I enjoy more than talking about my money, ya know?''
...
It took years of practice for Armani Man to learn to replicate those red dots, and years more to learn to keep them summoned even when he did n't think about them. He always believed it was a useless power until he joined his first `` organization'' and learned that with confidence, and a little trickery, the best of the best goons were putty in his hands. He learned quickly that when life gives you the ability to summon reds dots, make a criminal enterprise.
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[ OT ] Describe a creature of your own design as vividly and completely as you can ; what it eats , behavior , skeleton or lack thereof , habitat , etc .
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Child, have I ever told you the tale of the Erutska?
No? Well sit down and grab a cup of cocoa, for this is a tale for these cold Dwarven nights...
Picture the mammoths who live at the foot of the mountain. Now, do you know how big and mighty and strong they are, how they can tear tree trunks apart with a casual blow? Pah! They are but insects to the Great Erutska!
They are the first children of mighty Assareus and Azrael. There are 4 of them, my child, and they are as different as night and day, but each represent one of our great elements.
Picture this mountain, but with legs and arms and a craggy face of stone and dirt. Those are Giants, guardians of Earth.
Imagine the cougars who prowl the valleys, but made of flame and ash and as big as a fortress! They are the Qirin, Guardians of Fire.
Think of the hawks who fly among these peaks, but greater than the dragons and made only of wind. Those are the Roc, Guardians of Air.
Picture the sharkfish I brought home once, but made of ice and snow and bigger than a cargo ship! Those are Leviathan, Guardians of Water.
But what about Lightning, you ask? Well, little one, it is time for bed. Save that story for tomorrow...
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[ WP ] As a kid , you jokingly say , `` If I had a nickel for every person I 've killed , I 'd be rich ! '' It 's is now your 21st birthday , and you receive a mysterious bank key in the mail . The vault it opens contains $ 550,000 ... In nickels .
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It was supposed to be a normal day for Jonathan.
He'd done the same routine every day- drive to college, pick up or drop off some books at the library, and then come home to check his mailbox before going inside his house.
Except today, he'd gotten a black paper, with nothing on the front of it. No address apart from his, and no indication of who it came from.
Jonathan turned the dark parchment around. In blood red letters, he reads -
`` Your quota has been met. You shall now be rewarded for your duty, Mister Elcott.''
As Jonathan reads to the end, the letters begin to fade. He starts to rub the paper to see if the letters were still there. Nothing. Jonathan blinked a couple of times, and in his hands where he'd been gripping the paper was an eerie metal key, with a skeleton design.
Out of a mixture of confusion and surprise, Jonathan drops the key. At the same time, the eyes of the skeleton key shone blood red. Jonathan feels himself losing consciousness. He begins to crumple to the floor slowly, but as he's about to go face-first into the ground, he's upright again.
Bewildered, Jonathan checks his surroundings. He's definitely not at his house anymore. The first thing that he notices is that there's a gigantic metal box similar to a bank vault in front of him, seeming to stretch endlessly to the ceiling.
Turning around, Jonathan nearly has a heart attack. Where he'd been standing previously was a person in a business suit attire, a mask covering his entire face.
`` Congratulations, Mister Elcott,'' He bows, `` You've been rewarded for your work.''
`` What work? Where is this?'' Jonathan asks hurriedly. `` Where am I?!''
`` Now, now Mister Elcott, did you not receive our letter?'' He said.
Jonathan remembers the black piece of paper... and the key. That key. Feeling a strange itch coming up from the back of his right hand, Jonathan stares at his hand for the longest time. The key was engraved into the back of his hand, its metallic eyes glowing red.
`` Wh-What...'' Jonathan lifts up his hand to the man. `` What is this?!''
Although the man was wearing a mask, Jonathan felt like he was smiling underneath it.
`` Why, that's your key to riches, you see,'' He walks over to the front of the gigantic vault, and motions Jonathan over. `` Place your hand on the vault.''
Jonathan looked at his hand, and then the vault again. His curiosity got the better of him, and he walks to the man's side. He looked at the masked man again. The man's mask shows no expression, but underneath his mask, he was grinning.
Not sensing anything from the man, Jonathan put his right hand on the vault. The embedded key on his palm shines blood-red, and the man besides him motions him to stand to the side, which he does. A few seconds pass, and the entire room shakes. The vault opens slowly, and light starts to flood out of the openings. Jonathan gulps. What was inside?
The man, with a show of hands, gestures to the now-open vault. Jonathan walks to the middle of the opening, and he's left speechless. Coins, stacks of coins are littered all over the vault. He moves over to the closest pile, and picks a coin up. It's... a nickel. The same kind of nickel he'd see anywhere. But. They were everywhere. If he'd cashed in all of these nickels... he'd be rich. Jonathan looks over at the suited man.
`` How many... No, how much is all of this?'' Jonathan asked.
The masked man answered, `` Five-hundred and fifty thousand dollars worth of nickels. This is your reward for your work. It's all yours,'' He pauses, and adds, `` Forever.''
`` Five-hundred... H...'' Jonathan tears up for a moment, `` Ha... Hahahaha! I'm rich! I'm rich! Forget all of my loans, I'm rich!''
Without hesitation, Jonathan lunges into the pile of coins, swimming across the vast ocean of minted money. He jumps up to stand on a random pile, and then raises his hands up in preparation for a dive.
The man looks on at Jonathan as he revels in his new-found wealth, and removes his mask. Grinning widely, he snaps his fingers, and Jonathan's hand begins to glow red once more. The room shakes. Jonathan looks down at his hand, and then the man. Jonathan's legs are already carrying him to the vault entrance, which is already closing slowly.
The man stands at the entrance, blocking Jonathan. He breaks out into a psychotic laugh and grins all the while. Jonathan's keeps on running, and running. He's almost at the entrance. The crazed laughter continues to echo on and on throughout the vault, spurring Jonathan to run even faster. As he's within an arm's reach of the entrance, Jonathan trips on some coins. He scrambles to pick himself up, but brings a mountain of coins crashing down on him. His vision is filled with nothing but metal, and he desperately claws his way out of the pile in the direction of what he thinks is the vault entrance.
He manages to crawl out right in front of the entrance, right in front of the man. The vault is only a few seconds away from fully closing. Jonathan looks up slowly. The man returns his gaze with a blank expression, no longer laughing.
`` Thank you for your work, Mister Elcott. Your soul will make a great addition to my vault. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.'' He said.
`` No... wait...'' Jonathan crawls to his legs, and grabs ahold of his shoes desperately. `` Do n't do this... please!''
The man takes in Jonathan's pleas, and inhales deeply. He breathes out, looks down at Jonathan with a sinister smile. `` Enjoy your wealth, He kicks Jonathan off of his legs. `` Forever.''
The vault doors close, and the man's maniacal laughter rings throughout the vault once more. Jonathan, on his knees, stares blankly at the closed vault door, with nothing illuminating the room besides his glowing right hand. The last thing Jonathan could hear was the clattering of coins from all around him, before he was swallowed up by a tide of metal.
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[ WP ] Every Tuesday an old , slightly crazed man runs into your shop and asks for the year , before walking out in disappointment . This has been going on for years , until yesterday .
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It's Tuesday. I'm craving nicotine. Usually I take a smoke after''Doc'' comes in at 12:25 asking for the god damn year. It's 12:48 and he still has n't shown up. Every day for almost 3 years this has happened, and the pathetic thing is, I still work here. I know he lives only 2 houses down the street from the store.'Should I visit him?' I thought.'Nah, I'll only embarrass myself visiting a crazy old man'.
It's Tuesday. It has been 2 weeks since I last saw''Doc''. I decided to quit my job 4 days ago, I ca n't work in retail my entire life, I think I have a little more potential than that, trying to find a job, but no luck. Get a degree, kids.
It's Tuesday. I'm sweating and nervous, I look like a fucking idiot standing here.'One more drag and I'll knock' I told myself, finally knowing what going on with this old clown.
*knock*
Nothing...
*knock*
I try to open the door handle just in case, and to my complete lack of surprise, it's closed. It's 19:30, maybe he is just asleep, or maybe he is asking what year it is around town, since it's Tuesday.
It's Wednesday. I smile as I walk up the last steps of''Docs'' apartment building because I see his door is open. As I come closer and closer, I see there is nothing inside, nothing, no chairs, no tables, no power outlets. The whole room is white and shiny, unreal shiny, it's not even possible for it to be so shiny, I can even see some sort of reflection of me in the walls. Now I have to go in, I do n't care, I must see it. So shiny, I just see shiny, SHINY, **SHINY**.
Bright light wakes me up, it takes me around 30 seconds to be able to see a little, and the only thing I see is white shiny walls. Is this the future? What years is it? I run to the closest store and ask what year it is.
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[ WP ] A group of Viking explorers arrive at the Aztec city of Tenochtitlan .
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`` Strange,'' said Lothar Greenhand. `` A full city of brown people.''
`` And strange structures,'' agreed Erik Lotharson. `` What magic could build such things, and allow them to stand? What gods are there that would let this city stay?''
The vikings had arrived the previous night, camping out under jungle trees and a blurry, moonless night. They heard jaguars out in the woods, and Big Bammett even claimed that he struck one with his club, but the rest of the vikings sat around the fire. Unspoken was the sense that they did not like this place of Aztecs, nor the people and strange creatures who inhabited it.
Then dawn came, and the city opened up before them under the blue-grey sky.
`` Their animals are strange,'' said Brute Magute. `` I'll trust their gods to be stranger yet.''
`` Four-headed beasts,'' said Talbot Smiley. `` With four cocks and four teats.''
`` No one asked you about your mother, Talbot.'' Greenhand slapped his gut, and they all followed in laughter.
`` This city is ripe, though,'' said Erik. `` There are no walls. Not like in Europe. There are no sentries. No patrols. We stand here, watching, and these strange peoples do n't even acknowledge our existence.''
`` Aye,'' agreed Brute Magute. `` And their women walk around, teats swaying in the wind.''
`` I noticed it too,'' said Smiley. `` Teats every which way.''
`` Long teats, aye.'' Brute Magute scratched his ear with his axe.
`` Well, men,'' said Lothar. `` Shall we get underway?''
`` Yes,'' said Erik. `` Rape or pillage first?''
`` Oh,'' Lothar said curiously. Plainly he did n't know the answer to that, and it was a hard decision for him.
`` Why not both?'' said Brute Magute.
`` Both? Are you mad?'' said Smiley.
`` Not as mad as your mother,'' said Brute.
`` We pillage, then we rape,'' said Smiley. `` It's been that way since the dawn of days. You ca n't rape a village that has gone unpillag'd. A woman wo n't spread her legs for you unless she fears you.''
`` Aye, maybe the women you've met,'' said Brute. `` Because all women fear that warty nose of yours.''
That almost started a fight. Lothar and Erik stepped in, and made sure to stop it.
That was when they heard the first of the hissing sounds.
`` Arrows!'' shouted Erik.
`` No,'' said Lothar. `` Darts.''
It was true. Darts whistled around their heads. One took Brute Magute in the neck, and he went to the ground, holding his neck and screaming. Then Lothar went down, screaming.
`` We waited too long,'' said Smiley. `` Deciding.''
`` Aye,'' said Erik. `` Next time we'll just pillage first.''
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[ CW ] Write the first and last paragraph of a story and make me want to know what happened in between .
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From the second he opened his eyes that morning, Andy knew it was going to be a good day. He could sense it. Today was the day! The day his boring, meaningless, self-proclaimed-pity-party of a life would change forever. Everything felt perfect, like the way he had always wanted it to. The way the light came through his windows, the way the carpet felt on his feet as he lifted himself up out of bed - which in itself was unusually effortless. His coffee was the perfect temperature, he got the best spot in the usually impossible parking lot at his job, and he somehow mustered up the courage to talk to Angela for the first time since the Rio affair. It was this same strange optimism that led him to notice the sign in the window of the convenience store he passed every single day but never paid much mind. `` Press your luck! Buy a ticket!'' the sign said. Andy smiled, and gladly obliged.
As he watched the truck pull off into the distance, the last of his belongings crammed into the back, an overwhelming sense of calm came over him. He even laughed a little bit. How fast one can go from thinking they have nothing to having everything and back to nothing. But this time he really had nothing. It was just him, in the middle of the road, drenched from the rain, staring into the future. A year ago he would have rushed home to get dry. But not now. Now he was different. The cold wet clothes he had on now felt better than any of the freshly tailored designer clothes he had grown so accustomed to wearing ever had. Now he was happy, and he knew it; and with a smile and a deep breath, he took the first step forward towards the rest of his life.
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[ WP ] You 've been hired to assassinate the president , but you 've been ordered to do it `` creatively '' . Failure is not an option .
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It's not every day you're asked to assassinate the President of the United States, but then I'm not your every day kind of guy.
Truth is,'ol POTUS is more towards the low end of the contracts I take on in terms of difficulty, but I'd been spending a lot of time on Earth lately, and god that guy gets a lot of exposure. I was looking at one of his speeches right now in fact, on one of those big monitors in Times Sqaure.
`` What do you suppose they mean by'creatively', Grimes?'' I asked my subordinate. The half-goblin stared at me from beneath a wide brimmed grey trilby, a pair of oversized shdes not quite managing to mask the red glow emanating from behind them.
`` Dunno, guv.'' he said in his thick cockney twang, pulling the collar of his coat up around his neck. He looked like some absurd caricature of a cold war spy. `` Per'aps so it do n't look like an assassination?''
`` Well, it *would* be giving an awful lot of credit to attribute something like a lance of frozen piss from an airplane through the skull to an assassination, I suppose.''
Grimes picked his nose absently. `` Was n't that an urban legend?''
`` What, the piss lances?''
`` Yeah. I mean, you'd just wait, would n't you? Empty yer piss tank once you'd landed. Dumpin' it in flight's imprudent, if you catch my drift.'' He guffawed loudly at his choice of words, causing his collar to slip back out of alignment.
`` I suppose urine bombing is out then.'' I said. `` How about I shoot him from a grassy knoll?''
Grimes looked at me through his shades. `` I'm getting a bit of the old deja-vu here, guvna.''
`` Yeah, but that's the genius of it!'' I enthused. `` No one expects the same thing twice.''
`` These lot do. Besides, it's'ardly creative is it? In fact, it's sort of the antithesis of creative.''
`` Fine then, what do *you* suggest, Grimes?'' I said, eyeing the body language of the President as he laid out some call for peace in the Midle East or somesuch. He was doing that half fist non-pointing thing the human politicians always did, you know the one, the gesture that the more you notice it the more annoying it gets.
``'Ow about choppin' him up and eating him!?'' Grimes' voice rose in enthusiasm and volume as he finished, and I quickly looked around the surrounding crowd to check no-one had noticed.
`` That's that goblin thinking again.'' I said with a sigh. He looked sheepish, tucking himself deeper inside his cold war costume.
We stood there for a time, both looking on as the giant visage of the President concluded his speech. The endlessly shifting effulgence of the times square lights shone across me and Grimes, reflecting prominantly on the surface of his dark glasses.
`` I've got it!'' I said. `` But I'm going to need to call Gerald.''
`` Uh.'' Grimes shifted nervously, where he was standing and looking from side to side with an exaggerated twist of his upper body. `` You know what'appened last time you did that, guv.''
`` Yes yes, the Asgardian fishquake, we all remember it. It'll be nothing like that this time, trust me.''
Grimes looked at me in a manner that I knew meant he considered my last remark highly dubious.
I grinned as I strode out of Times Square.
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[ WP ] Write me a story that would blow my mind .
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Children joked that God must have really needed the toilet because now it was raining hard. They mimicked the'I need the toilet' dance they imagined God was doing before he let rip and asked themselves if there was n't somewhere else he could go to the toilet.'I get in trouble when I go toilet outside', added Jim jealously.
Lightning slid across the granite sky, followed three Mississippis later by tremulous thunder. The boys looked at each other in glee, and one squatted slightly and made a raspberry noise with his mouth and both his hands. Much laughter ensued while Jim looked up nervously from time to time to check no fecal matter was actually falling from the sky. He said, almost to himself,'I'd get in real big trouble if I did THAT in the garden'.
Suddenly the Earth trembled in a low thundering bass note that shifted in pitch as the vibrations escalated; the ground beneath the children moved as one boy mimed a fat angry God walking after the others shaking his fist, angry at their mockery:'you darn kids, stop making jokes about me!' While the others made the sound effects as he walked' BOOM BADDA BOOM BADDA...'
The ground vibrated now as if some celestial jackhammer was trying to iron out the mountains. The kids looked excitedly at one another but Jim ran inside;'fuck this!' He said worriedly as he darted inside. The others exploded in laughter again, until one boy exploded; literally.
A large segment of brickwork had come loose from the chimney above and splattered the boy like a watermelon on a Youtube video; fragments of skull and brain adorned the others like ghastly music festival accessories, but their mirth was not to be contained and the heaving of the Earth was matched only by the rise and fall of their diaphragms; laughing uncontrollably unable to stop.
Fireballs began to rain from the heavens like cinders from a cigarette, you know, when you go to scratch your eye but you forget you were smoking and you knock bits of the cherry off the end of the cigarette and burn your hand behind your thumb and it really really hurts until you put it under cold water; you know it? Just like that. Except for a lot longer.
A crescendo of screams from the terrified and dying neighbours echoed off the loosening masonry, sometimes ablaze, that landed on the street around the boys. Slapping each other on the backs, one lad put a twig between his lips and imitated a smoking God relaxing after a long day healing and smiting, only to have an itch above his left eyebrow. A singeing noise was heard as one boy's heads was lit up like a jack-o'-lantern; molten rock had pierced his skull as the smell of frying pork wafted from the hole that was once his forehead. Eyes lit up like some deranged fifties' cartoon and twitching he fell to the floor, his body as straight as a plank.
A crack appeared in the still quaking street several meters from the boys, gradually widening and tearing through the tarmac revealing multiple layers of rock, before all light was swallowed in the depths and nothing more could be seen. One boy stepped backwards as he slapped his thigh only to lose his footing and tumble into the abyss, the noise of his giggling echoed and amplified into the war cry of some desperate general going into a battle he will inevitably lose before slowly disappearing into nothingness.
'Godfrey! Whatever are you doing!?! Are you apocalypsing another planet?' God looked at his feet.'Some kids were making jokes about me! They were doing actions and everything! Muuuuum, you did n't see...' God's mother's look stopped him in his tracks.'Fix it now', she said calmly with half a smile:' you ca n't go ending civilizations every time some kids make jokes about you, you know that! Remember Infarium? Remember? The pinnacle of civilization razed to dust because one comedian compared you to zzhilnocks777! Remember how you felt after that? Huh?' He looked at her,'yeah, like a real hyopmanchilla!..oh, OK I'll fix it.' A glorious smile filled his face, and back on Earth the clouds parted and the Sun came out once again.
Back on Earth, the two remaining children of the group walked down the street with each others arm over the others shoulder. Still chuckling from time to time as they avoided the carcasses and debris strewn about the street - and taking extra special care to avoid the wailing woman who was missing two-thirds of her left leg - they smiled gaily at the days antics. One looked at the other, his face lit in astonishment:'imagine, just imagine, if God had a wank!?!' And screwed his face up like he had bitten into a lemon, right hand beating against his lower stomach as he crouched slightly. Jim, now emerged from his shelter, ran to catch up with the the other two, once slipping on some intestines he nearly lost his footing. He catches upto them and puts his arms over both their shoulders.
Mind blown? No? What if I told you this happened to my cousins friend last week. It's all true!
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[ WP ] I have no face .
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I have no face. No name. I move with the shadows in the night.
The people fear me. `` He comes,'' they tell their children, `` when the hyena laughs.''
The hyena smells when something is wrong. He smells *me*, my otherness. But he does not laugh when I come. And the children have no reason to fear me.
I watch. I am the watcher, though I have no eyes to see in the human way. No ears to hear. I have not even the hyena's nose for the different. The other.
I watch with my mind. With my soul. I sense what is in the heart of a man.
When I walk into a hut, the family does not greet me. The father sits, head hanging in his hands, upon a small wooden stool. The mother stands over the hearth fire, shifting stones under a copper pot.
`` *Natayama, *'' he says. There is not enough.
The woman's lips pinch together. `` It will be enough,'' she tells him. *It must be enough. *
I glide to the pot and sense what is inside. A hare, freshly caught this morning, if I feel its death truly. The woman is in pain. I place my hand on her shoulder and feel it. It is a deep pain, and an old one.
*I am not enough. *
She is, but she does not believe it. There is much she desires for her children, and she can not even give them food. It is not enough.
I touch her heart, then the pot.
It will be enough.
The woman coughs. Gasps. Recovers. It will be many years yet before she dies, but she feels the minutes I've stolen from her life.
They despise and fear me for those minutes. But the pain has lessened.
I am satisfied with my work.
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[ WP ] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words , 2nd sentence has 19 , 3rd has 18 etc . Story ends with a single word .
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I remember thinking to myself `` this is your first attempt at creative writing, so do n't be too hard on yourself''. I embraced the spirit of the writing prompt and diligently went to work, typing as quickly as I could.
The brightness of my phone started to irritate my eyes, so I adjusted it to the lowest setting. I tried to settle in, but sat in discomfort on a steel chair inside a cold garage. The sounds around me were definitely not conducive to productivity but I continued to struggle on.
My older brother interrupted my train of thought, wondering why I was counting out loud. I explained to him the idea of the writing prompt, as I continued writing. I told him how I did n't originally think that I could do it. When he saw how far I had gotten so far, he laughed.
`` I ca n't believe how fast you nailed that one, you geek''.
It's the closest thing to approval that I ever get. I come from a broken home, long since forgotten. My mother passed away, my father soon follows. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I live without care or regret. I am a positive person.
I never wanted this. Life is hard.
Help me.
Please.
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[ WP ] America 's military completely vanishes and the country is soon invaded . Civilian gun owners are forced to rise up in arms to protect the nation .
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It has been about four years since the last gunman was seen, people say he died of ineptitude. Shortly after `` the uprising'' as it is now known gunmen began accidentally murdering each other due to their untrusting nature. This naturally led to widespread panic and distrust of anyone with a weapon. As a means of self preservation gunmen began to actively hunt each other, which created a self sustaining feedback loop of fear amongst themselves. Even after it became obvious what was happening the gunmen refused to change course and they hunted themselves into extinction. In the little time that has passed since the last gunman was heard from something of a utopia has sprung up on the land that used to be called america. The invaders left, military funds are now used for research, and the land is run with logic and reason as a focus. Insight and critical thinking are encouraged and there is a plan in place to educate `` the panicers'' or `` the jumpy'' in case they ever return.
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[ WP ] You are a sweet old man who is for the first time revealing the terrible secret of your past
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I am a kind man who has never had a reason to hurt anybody, i am compassionate towards my work and always loyal to my friends, if you was to look at me today you would say i am a sweet old man, i have a good head of hair for my age and most of my own teeth, you would most likely help me across the road as i smile politely and shake your hand.
Yet for many years beneath this sweet and innocent exterior i have been hiding a darkness, an evil within me that runs its sickly dark oil through my veins, clogs my heart and clouds my mind. As you shake my wrinkled hand i will grip yours as if somehow trying to impart your clean soul onto mine, after a while i let go and retreat into the museum i call home.
I do n't get around much at all now, i just stare at my `` honor's'' on the wall, how was i so naive, i would n't call them honors now.
When i was eighteen i was brimming with energy, no false smile and no hiding, my outlook on life from the age of fifteen had always been that if i had already lived my life once and this was my second time how would i live differently, this outlook suited me well and i would always imagine the first life and then i would try and improve it into the present.
At Eighteen i started studying chemistry, Since my first chemistry set at the mere age of six i was hooked and there was no looking back, my friends wanted to be stuntmen or spaceman and i wanted to be a scientist.
Five years flew by, my eagerness to learn and my sheer joy for chemistry led me on what i considered an easy path to successfully reaching my goals. I passed with the highest Honors, received extremely positive references from my tutors and was immediately offered a placement on an exclusive team of chemists working on a top level project in Sweden.
My hands are starting to sweat a little as i write this and that sick feeling deep in my gut is haunting me yet again, but i must explain.
When i arrived in Sweden i was amazed, the scenery and the people really were wonderful, my recollections today of the cheeky smile that ran across the face's of the local girls is the only thing that turns the flint in my mind and lets me have one tiny spark of joy.
The lab was clean and although far away it was not much different to what i was used to during my studies, i was introduced to the rest of my team immediately, they seemed very friendly yet also slightly reserved, it never struck me odd that they was all of Russian origin.
After initial briefing and receiving our passes we was put straight to work, if i am honest the Russians always stayed a step ahead of me especially Abram who seemed as if he had been a chemist for one hundred years.
For the first few years we was working on organophosphates, examining them in as much detail and recording there action on the enzyme acetylcholinesterase.
I was always left in the lab while the more complex `` Experiments'' were completed elsewhere by two of the Russians Viktor and well lets just say i do n't want to even say the name of the other.
During my first few years in the lab i was quite happy and was enjoying my research into these insecticides and herbicides, i had a very large social circle by now and i was always out with my friends in one of the fancy diners that they so regularly raved about.
It was at the start of the third year when things started to become very irregular, i was instructed to look more into the cholinergic nervous system effects of organophosphates and combine several nerve agents, i did not understand the motive of the work but i carried on regardless, unfortunately my outlook on life did not require me to question my actions as much as it should have, it was during this time that the experiments by the Russians were becoming a daily thing and i would sometimes go weeks without seeing them.
As it was coming to the end of year three i was left alone in the lab again and did not see another person at work for two months, i grew sick of this and felt like my efforts were not appreciated, but yet again after the long spell of loneliness the Russians returned looking more introvert then ever.
Do you remember how i said i lived my life, i would imagine i had lived it once before and try to find the best way to live in the present, well if i had one choice in this life it would be to go back to this moment in time and stop me making the most idiotic choice of my life!
I Decided to follow the Russians! as Viktor and his accomplishes left the lab i carefully made my way out of the back door of the lab, after they had there head start i jumped into my car and quickly gave chase, my hands are sweating now and they was then. i remember how my heart was pounding and sweat was dripping from my forehead, yet somehow i managed to hold myself together keep my distance and follow them into what could only be described as a prison.
I parked my car behind the wall and leaped out and under the cover of a small tree, the iron gates screamed in pain as they was opened and the smell of smoke was drifting towards my direction, i continued to follow while ducking and hiding every few minutes, i was so scared but something was leading me into that building, an almost primal instinct to investigate and discover, well it seems curiosity really did kill the cat and i was no exception. i stumbled the mountain of scrap metal and barbed wire that littered the entrance and the chemical smell hit me like a ton of bricks, i was unconscious, i believe for twenty minutes it could of been longer.
He was looking straight into my eyes, the torchlight made me blink, Viktor stood beside him with an almost ashamed look on his face, i remember how tight the plastic zip ties were that bound my wrists together and i will never forget how thirsty i became during that time,
without a word being said they led me to the first room. I must warn you now for what i am about to tell you of what i saw that day has haunted me for my whole life and left me depressed as if my eyes are forever tainted by filth and dirt, i can not admire beauty anymore, i can not enjoy visual things, even the tulips that my neighbor so neatly arranges evokes an anger in me, and the urge to pull them out to reveal the filth hiding below and the lies above always haunts me.
As i gazed upon the first room that day i noticed six maybe seven figures lying on a sort of woven material, as my eyes focused and the fog of chemicals cleared the image came to life, were these men or animals i could not tell, the bodies were hunched and folded like crumpled paper, their flesh was bubbling with blood, every orifice was blackened with a sort of thick foam that also covered the floor, the fingers and toes of the figures were spread and seemed to be gripping the air like the talons of a bird and their hair had fallen out.
It was n't long before i was out cold again, this time i believe it was five minutes.
I remember waking in the same room but this time there was documents on the floor floating on the bloody foam, for the first few minutes it did not register and then all of a sudden it hit like that ton of bricks again, they were my papers!, it was my creation!, it was my fault!
I was shown more, more rooms of death, experiments and creatures that turned my stomach and made me vomit, i wept and i wept, and then i heard the screaming again, yet this time it was not the gates, it was more high pitched and came from ahead, we followed it and lying their were three children squirming aimlessly on the rubble and screaming with fingers like talons again.
Other things happened to me that day, things that i am afraid i can not even begin to discuss with you yet, i remember that night, i remember being locked in the lab and i too was squirming aimlessly on the floor, my mind was flashing back and forth with images that drew the sick from my stomach within seconds, all the while tears were streaming down my cheeks.
I worked at the lab for two more months under the supervision of Viktor, my work was the same but the quality began to drop and my health was deteriorating fast.
On the first Monday of September when the alarms rang throughout the lab and the dense chemical smoke filled the air i made my escape, i ran and i ran and i never looked back.
As i sit here now in my wicker chair tears are streaming down my face and wherever i go the smell of smoke still clings to the air!
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[ WP ] You 're a serial Killer who enjoys perma-killing grim reapers , reincarnations , pitiful inmortals , and other things in that nature .
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Gods, immortals and the like are quite literally unkillable.
That is one of the things that makes them so outrageous. Their sole existence is an affront to nature and physics. And if we do n't do something against them, their number would simply grow exponentially. This would be very bad for us humans. We would n't stand a chance against an army of unkillable super beings. You could say, there is a demand for a service to keep the population of those creatures low. And i provide this service. I kill them.
But how do you kill the unkillable?
Well... thats the tricky part. There is not one solution for every supernatural being out there. For most of them it needs dedication and time. Lots of time.
One thing that most super beings have in common is the source of their power. The thing that makes them immortal, indestructible or invulnerable. The thing that keeps their supernaturals hearts beating. And that thing is faith.
But its not just simple faith. A super being can only come into existence if humans believe without a doubt, that the super being exists. The more people believe in it, the more real it becomes. And after a certain threshold they become as real as you and me. You can actually see them or touch them if they let you. I did see and touch them. They were absolutely real. Like the Tooth Fairy. Or Santa Clause.
But those are n't real you say? Well thank you, they were both some of my best works.
Yes, i just told you that the Tooth Fairy was real once. She actually was my first. And that is were i come back to explaining how you kill the unkillable. Because for the longest time, i could n't figure it out myself.
I was intrigued by her existence in a morbid way. People told me about the tooth fairy all the time, and how she took their milk teeth from under the pillow over the night and just how awesome and nice she was in general. I instantly hated her.
At first i tried to setup some traps. How hard could it be to kill a tiny fairy? Not to hard i thought. But nothing worked. Not the mousetrap, not the acid filled bowl or the chloroform soaked pillow. Every time i looked under the pillow the next day, the tooth was taken. I started to raise some eyebrows, after i began buying milk teeth from the neighborhoods children for like 100 bucks. I could n't get them cheaper, because most of the kids wanted the fairy to take their teeth. But 100 bucks were enough to persuade most of them.
I tried to switch my strategy, and instead of trying to kill her, i studied her. I stayed up all night, in a hidden place with a good look to the bed. And i saw her. More then once. But she is quick. There was never a chance to ever get near her. She arrived out of seemingly nowhere, flew under the pillow, took the tooth, and then poof... away she went to fairy land or the shithole she calls home. If i stayed awake lying in the bed, she never appeared though.
I began losing my patients. Seeing her did n't help me at all. I tried to catch her, tried to talk to her, tried to shot her even. Nothing worked.
Then one day i tried to get a milk teeth from little Emma. I knew she had a woobly teeth for some time now, and i tried to persuade her into giving it to me. But she was a stubborn little brat. She told me, that i am just an awful man, and that the teeth rightfully belong to the Tooth Fairy. In a moment of anger i snapped back to her, with a sentence that in many different versions would become my most powerful weapon against the super beings.
`` YOUR DAMN TOOTH FAIRY IS N'T EVEN REAL.''
I only said that to hurt that little shit. But after i spoke it, it hit me like a brick, and while little Emma ran off to her mom crying, i just stood there pondering the implications of what i just said. What if, i thought to myself, what if i could convince people, that the Tooth Fairy was n't real.
It took a while to fully understand everything about this. But yes, you kill a super being by letting people believe they do not exist.
It took a while with the Tooth Fairy though. I was inexperienced, but it worked finally. The idea on how to tangle the believe came quick through my method of acquiring milk teeth for money. The idea i had was, to tell the kids, that the Tooth Fairy actually also leaves money under their pillows if they leave their tooth there. And that is why i bought the teeth. Because it was a lot more money than just a 100 bucks.
I spread this story under the infantile population. And the kids started to believe it. This was only the first step. The second would come once they realize, that their teeth might be gone, but there was no money under the pillow. A seed was planted. A seed of uncertainty. Kids woke up pretty upset with the fairy.
And that was when phase two began. Once upset kids reported back to me, i told them the truth. That the Tooth Fairy is n't real, and if there was no money under the pillow, then it was their parents fault, because they take the teeth and put the money there.
Yes, it got a few kids upset. And quite a few parents too. Some parents started to put some money under their kids pillow to make their kids happy again. And so the parents got upset with the Tooth Fairy too. And resentment is the best way to break faith.
I spread the information about the Tooth Fairy and how she pays money for teeth around as much as possible. And more and more parents began to put money under their kids pillow when they lost a teeth. And then someday, some parents started to take away the teeth themselves, because they came to believe that the Tooth Fairy was just a story. I mean since they were the ones putting the money under the pillow, how could the Tooth Fairy be real.
And ever so slowly, everyone started to believe that the tooth fairy is just a story, and nothing real.
I did make reality checks of course. From time to time i acquired a tooth and put it under my pillow. For a long while it was still taken away. But one day, after 20 years of constantly repeating the'myth' of the Tooth Fairy, i put a teeth there. And when i woke up the next day, the tooth was still there.
I did it. I killed the Tooth Fairy. I felt a rush of unbelievable pride.
And after my first, i killed more. Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, some small gods, mother nature. I killed them all. And i have no regret. Quite the opposite. It feels awesome.
And for my next target i will aim for something even bigger. Something really life changing. Something, that would make my former doings look like killing a fly. Something, that will make ME immortal. My next target will be Death himself.
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[ WP ] Since the day they where born , everyone is given a redo button which is able to reset any event at any given point in time . However , it can only be used once .
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Clark Kent looked down at his beloved city of Metrolpolis. Hovering thousands of feet above he scanned the streets and listened for any current crimes he could intervene and cease. He closed his eyes for a moment to take a new breath from the passing wind. He inhaled deeply expanding his large chest, and exhaled to contract it.'What am I really doing here?' He thought.'I know these people need me, they are mostly a corrupt species. Constantly waging war, never learning from the past. I have confronted many savage people whom would kill millions of their own kind if it were n't for my stopping them.' He took in another deep breath and meditated on his thoughts.'What would this world be like if I had never come? If my world was n't already obselete? Would the inhabitants still live and be more peaceful, or would a destructive being kill them in my absence?' Clark opened his eyes and shot towards the southern hemisphere. He began to pass South America when another thought occured,'What was my home planet like?' How Clark wished he could have known his own people. His own father and mother. He shed a tear in their memory.
He reached Antarctica and landed on a glacier that glistened in the sunlight. It was warmer today, more so than last week. Humans are destroying their own planet and they do n't even give it a second thought. Sometimes he felt disgust for them as if they were plagued. However, there was one extraordinary characterstic about living on Earth. The planet gave the ability of a redo. Any inhabitant could relive a mistake and correct it. An awesome power, but it's use was single. Clark thought about his own button, and glided his thumb over it as it sat in his strong hand. His cape swayed in the Arctic wind and he once again shot into the sky distancing his thoughts from resetion. He heard an alarm go off in Pacific! He raced to the source at top speed. It was a public alarm, he had heard them before when bombs were being in the hostile WW3. Clark began to slow down as he saw planes flying in front of him. He had n't seen the symbols on the their sides before. But he did recognize the type of plane. They were drones designed for bombing.'Who would do this to someone else?! To inoccent people!' He became incensed at the thought and within minutes destroyed all of them before the volatile incendiaries caused harm. He landed on an island and watched as a second deployment they flew past. Just as Clark was about to go on another rampage he stopped himself. He remembered his button that could reset time itself. `` I grow weary of this planet,'' he said aloud and pressed the jet black button.
Clark woke up to the sound of his own crying. His mother walked in and cuddled him trying to coo him back to sleep. `` There there,'' she said to Clark, `` What's wrong Kal-El?''
`` Mother I had a dream that I was on another planet and the beings there kept trying to destroy each other. It was horrible,'' Clark replied.
`` Oh dear, you just had a night...'' Clark's mother silenced herself as the room shuddered and rumbled. Alarms began to ring throughout the city. `` Oh no! They're here already we did n't expect them arrive this quickly!'' Clark's mother screamed.
Clark asked her, `` Mama who's here?''
`` The humans,'' she replied.
That was my twist of Superman. No I do n't think all humans are evil, it was simply a story. Thanks for reading! Excellent prompt.
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[ WP ] Take an idiom , literally . Write a story about it , subtly . Let us figure out what it is .
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My mother had always been a large lady. Her voice, her personality, her girth. That's just the way she lived it.
The day she died, I'll never forget. We were crying, everyone was sad. It could n't be over. She held us all together. My aunt, who tried her best to fill moms shoes, but just could n't, brought us a box of moms old records and tapes. We played them for days. Her memory, her ghost was never gone.
About three years later, I cracked the old box open. I pulled out the tape player, dusted it off, and popped in an old cassette labeled `` Loretta sings blues''.
My mom as voice came through loud and clear. While her face was no longer clear in my mind, her voice ran through me like electric. As the song ended, as the vibrations from the last pitch faded, I felt the end. She was no longer with me. She was gone and I was n't haunted any more.
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[ CW ] Tonight 's a night to feel sappy ! Write a scene between two people ( friends , strangers , or lovers ) that is very emotionally intimate but not physically intimate .
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`` Wow.'' A simple word used to express so much spilled out involuntarily from his lips. He was lost in complete wonder, staring far into the blue sea. From where he stood, he saw it all from hope to despair, adventure and comfort. It was absolutely nothing he had ever seen before. He had found all the beauty and wonder in life in the vast, yet finite, expanse.
`` Excuse me?'' The voice brought him back to reality. He shook his head, the question was enough to yank his imagination back to the landlocked lobby of the aging apartment building. He wished he was elsewhere now when his imagination ran off, being left in the awkward position to explain himself to someone he would never have the courage to exchange even the most common of pleasantries with.
`` Oh, I, um, shit, sorry.'' The words stumbled out of his mouth, heart pounding deep in his chest as he struggled to find words to say. His own eyes darting around for some clue written on the walls by some forward thinking past resident, he felt even more rushed to say something clever by the way she was chuckling at him. `` I'm sorry, I did n't mean to stare. I was just, ah, damn...''.
`` It's okay.'' The same inquiring voice from earlier calming him down with those easy words. Most people would say that to diffuse the situation with a lack of any true sincerity, but her voice had a sense of comfort to it. It was loving, and ever though this was the first time ever meeting her, it seemed so familiar. `` I'm Elaine. I just moved in.''
`` Dean.'' His reply was short, abrupt, and premature enough to overlap the end of her sentence. `` I just moved in, too.'' A lie to dropped to find some common ground, `` Well, moved in like a year ago. So not, really, I guess?'' Her laughter split his thoughts into two decisions of the root cause: she thought he was funny, or it was an well fronted attempt to end the awkward conversation. The latter, of course, the more prominent in his mind.
There was a silence as Dean did n't know what to say. The two smiled nonetheless. For him, it was a charge that kept him in place. Something about her comforting personality, or maybe the way she was amused at his awkwardness, that made him not wanting this end. `` I'm sorry, I got ta say, have we met before? You just seem so, familiar.'' His heart sank, hiding from sight while the mind furiously ran through every life event, every stranger he walked by, every crush he had. The only moment in time the search pulled up was here.
`` No, not that I can remember.'' He did n't want to creep and said he felt the same. It could have been a way for her to break the silence, giving them a conversation with nothing important backing her question. He had noticed his response made her cheeks heat up, turning her head to hide an embarrassed smile behind the non-existent length of pixy-cut hair.
`` Sorry. Dumb question.'' she replied.
`` No, it's not.'' His voice was not as sincere as hers, but he meant what he said. He was smiling, nothing forced and more sincere than his words. `` I guess we can only go get some lunch and figure out where we have met before.'' His mind shut down and his heart took over, surprising every fiber of his being with those courageous words that set him up for a chance to fail. Everything worked overtime to keep the composure as she was taken off guard as well.
It took her a minute, smiling eyes sizing him up as she weighed pros and cons. Yes, no, maybe-so. `` Mmm, sure, why not. Know a place?'' Elaine turned toward the door, finding a place beside him. Her arm linked into his as she began the walk to leave.
`` Not a clue, but we'll find something.'' He replied, the biggest smile ear to ear. His heart fluttered in victory, taking over control of the situation and giving his mind a moment to relax into the sea of her blue eyes.
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[ WP ] Personal teleportation is now an app ; no one could have foreseen the consequences .
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I was talking about weekend plans with Mike when my phone pinged. A quick glance — `` Update error: Can not update'Jump''' — and I got back to the conversation. Mike always had the best stories.
At the end of the day the error was still there. But the app was fine before, and I was not paying for a taxi — so I set it to home. Jump safety was strictly regulated, and any concerns caused app to lock down, which it did n't. As always, I tapped queue timer while it was counting seconds — tapping did n't make timer run any faster, but it felt as if it did.
I got home safe. But there was something unexpected — something in the app that have blinked for a moment before the timer hit zero. Something that seemed to react to my taps.
I have opened Jump again. Nothing different. I thought for a moment, then tapped the screen. Tap. Tap. Tap. On seventh tap, a new menu option. `` Developer Tools''. That was interesting. I checked the store page. There was no description for the update that failed on my phone, but it was released almost instantly after the previous one — did it remove Developer Tools?
In the menu were a few options I have never seen before:
1. Debug Data
2. Jump ( unrestricted )
3. Replacement Data
4. Zero ( Whairemaak )
5. Void 1
6. Void 2
The first option was n't very interesting — statistics about the app usage and its internal diagnostics. The second option, on the other hand... From what I knew, long jumps were not possible at all, while cross-border jumps were blocked by the Jump Grid structure, following various immigration laws. I selected the option and saw two text fields — longitude and latitude ( elevation was always automatic ).
Of course I tried it. Who would n't? And suddenly I was in the streets of Bern — no timer, no delay, no intermediate nodes — a straight jump half a world away. I looked around nervously. But no one knew the length of my jump, so no one gave me more than a glance. Just in case, I hurried into the side street, and only then jumped again — back to my house.
I breathed deeply. That was obviously illegal, but I doubted anyone would hold it against me. It was tempting to do more — jump to all the far away places, see the whole world. But I was curious about the other options.
The third option made me call Mike. `` I need to talk to you, face-to-face'' I said, and in a few moments he agreed that I can jump over. `` What do you know about Jump?'' I asked. `` Same as everyone — app's by Nomae, they've built most of the Grid, they hold most of the patents.'' `` Have you heard about anything called'replacement' before?'' `` No, why?'' Mike looked at me with sudden attention.
I opened the third option.
Replacement Data looked similar to Debug Data, but it only included a few entries.
Rate ( Global ): 1.13 %
Acceleration: Low
Estimated ( this owner ): 5 months
`` No idea'' said Mike. `` How did you find it?'' I explained about the update and tapping the screen. `` Probably the replacement stats for the app itself — when they need to force update or similar'' said Mike. `` Do n't worry, coders always have some weird-ass terms.'' He stood up, walked to the kitchen counter, and started the kettle. `` Have you tried the other options?'' `` Only first three, but was going to try others''.
Slowly, Mike turned to me. `` A mistake'' he said. His voice was wrong somehow, different. `` A correction.'' There was a knife in his hand. Before I could consciously realize what's happening, I pushed the table, turning it on its side — and the knife went right into it, Mike losing his balance and falling.
I ran into the bathroom and locked the door inside. I could hear Mike standing up, getting his knife out. And Jump did n't work. Any destination gave the same message `` Jumping had been locked for safety reasons''. I tried `` Jump ( unrestricted )'', but it gave me another error — `` Device locked out of the World Grid. Contact your administrator.''
I could hear Mike approaching, muttering something under his breath.
I choose `` Zero ( Whairemaak )''. There as only one suboption, `` Jump''.
I jumped.
There were two suns in the sky, and one of them was blue.
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[ WP ] Everyone on Earth instantly contracts permanent amnesia .
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Wait... what was the prompt again?
Oh yes that's right... Amnesia.
'Sandro, Lunch is ready.'
I stroll up and walk to the dining table.'Wow, what's for lunch Vanessa?' She smiles ruthlessly.'Get your own damn lunch.' Before trying to find her pen, as she continues with her novel. Bother.
I sit back down at the laptop, thinking of something to right for this darn website.'War in K... K..K, in other news, McDonald's?? have...'
I switch off the TV, sick of all the stuttering and mumbling that is occurring at this point in time.
'He Jonni, tu viens jouer au foot avec nous?' What? Was that French? I do n't know French...
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[ WP ] You are a sailor . In the middle of the ocean your ship has sunk . You are the sole survivor of the accident , but you are trapped in a small air pocket that has formed within the wreckage . You have no food , water , or light , and know you have no hope of rescue . Tell us about your last few hours .
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It was impossible to judge the passage of time since the fractured hull had impacted the ocean bottom. Drifting in and out of consciousness, I strained my eyes in vain to see something, anything, but the human eye is of no use in the darkness of the deep. The wounds to my body kept me hovering on the edge of consciousness and my mind was grateful for the respite from the utter terror of the position I found myself in. Eventually, however, my senses returned and reality clawed itself sharply back into focus. Amidst a deep, resounding, black silence came to my ears the occasional shriek of steel against steel, giving way in these crushing darkness. Tremors moved through the hull, muffled impacts as the structures above me collapsed and settled down onto my prison. Only my weakened state prevented me from thrashing about in a rage of despair - half-clenched fists and gurgled sobs the only proof I had not also succumbed.
More time passed, and I found the strength to pull myself into a half-kneeling position against the bulkhead. Still, I could see nothing - yet sounds seemed to increase both in volume and number. Creaks, drips, cracks and metallic pings seemed to ricochet around my head until I could take them no longer. `` Enough!'' I shouted, finally finding my voice.The volume of the surroundings seemed to decrease, seemingly in response to my outburst. I coughed and the sound echoed, fading hack into the black, eerie silence. Crouched against that cold metallic surface, I felt the world shake again. As the sound of choked laughter penetrated the fog of terror in my mind, I realized this tremor was of my own making. I laid there a long time, alternating between hysterical giggles and hopeless, wretched sobs as life slowly left me.
A grip of icy cold, seeping through the hull, reached through the encroaching haze of fatal slumber and drew me once more to a painful, conscious state. I saw, across the chamber and through the porthole by which 1 had made my fateful entrance, the faint outline of a human hand - long, slender fingers moving in a purposeful motion. Beckoning to me, the hand appeared suffused in a delicate glow. Dragging myself bodily over the roomful of debris, I approached the glass where an emanating light was still faintly discernible. Pressing my forehead against it, I strained in anguish to see. From the darkness a feminine form emerged, glowing brightly for a moment, her hair streaming in the silt-laden currents. As the glow faded, the figure stretched forth her hand, and I felt within me an overwhelming desire to grasp it. Unbidden, my hands grasped the locking mechanism sealing the door which had thus far kept me alive. Cycling it open, I felt - in the same moment - the lock give way and the icy blackness tearing me backwards. In my last moments of consciousnesses I felt, I am certain, a gentle grasp at my wrist, pulling me up and outward.
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[ WP ] One day you wake up , and look into the mirror and see a face you do n't recognize .
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I lowered my head to the basin of hot water and merge it down, letting it linger and soften my skin, the water edging up, brushing my hairline, trickling slowly into my ears. I lift my head slowly, grasping water to bring up and out of it along with my face, trapping the heat of the water, but letting tiny rivers drip down my arms and fall back in.
There is a darkness as I move my hands from my eyes, massaging the skin, creasing it over itself, stretching, watching it slowly crawl back. I keep my body over the sink, arms now grasping the edges, investigating myself in the mirror. New wrinkles seem to have come across my forehead and my eyes seemed tired and dark. The skin seems baggy and purplish. My pupils are small and strain to see the thin lips sneer at themselves. *Is this even me or is it the person I have become? *
This happens, everyday and everyday I expect to see someone else in the mirror. A person whose skin was smooth and taught before the cigarettes aged it prematurely. The skin littered with patches of acne. Someone who has a vibrance to him and a vitality of vigor and exuberance. A person who had the world ahead of him rather than behind him.
For a second I do n't seem old. I do n't seem different. For a second of everyday, I'm happy.
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[ WP ] A slightly futuristic society has decided to shrink 99 % of it 's inhabitants to end world hunger and overpopulation , but 1 % was left large in case of an unperceived crisis .
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The sirens echoed through the huge expanse and Enrik jerked up in fear from his mattress, the wide eyes of his four siblings staring at him in silence. He knew what they were thinking. Not again. Not so soon. They had only lost their father two days ago, and they had n't seen their mother in over twice as long.
`` Come on,'' he croaked, hating how scared he sounded. `` You guys need to get to the shelter.'' They nodded mutely, and he grabbed up his weapon leaning against the crumpled wall. It was little more than a stick with a shard of broken glass wired to the end, but it was better than nothing. Holding onto each others, their hands in a chain of oldest to youngest with Enrik at the lead, pushing aside the playing card their father had leaned against the opening to their shack. It had been mainly for privacy, barely even able to keep out a draught. Beside, the grinning face of the joker had made the children giggle.
The hurried outside, the wail of the sirens a constant reminder of what was at stake. Their home was a crude wooden and cardboard hut, one of many cobbled together in the city they called Museum. Though only the most optimistic called it a city. It was n't much more than a shanty town surrounding a central hub, built inside the slowly decaying ruins of an old Bigman building. It was called a museum apparently, which explained the name at least. A place where people came to look at old things from back when everyone was a Bigman school had taught them. But no one had cared about that, the city had built up here due to the fresh water that leaked in though the basement allowing it to be pumped up to the ground floor to one of the wells, and because the building was sturdy, provided protection from the elements and had plenty of scrap marble and metal to quarry. There had been plenty of people looking for somewhere to live that could n't get into one of the Metropolises. That was where the governments and the rich had built thriving, sprawling hubs of technology and culture, some even as large as a mile wide, and had the Bigmen at their beck and call. Messages for help had been sent to the nearest one months ago, and they had offered their sympathies, but they were stretched to breaking point as it was. Settlements all over the world were under attack too, which had n't made anyone feel better.
They followed the swell of people, a river of hushed voices and panicked sobs, desperately reassuring each other. Many were clutching weapons like his own, such as flattened nails sharpened to an edge, or a shield made from a battered out Bigman coin with spikes hammered through. In the distance we could already hear the turrets flaring, the distant echo of their ratta-tat-tat signaling the attack had already started, and Enrik felt his brother's hand tighten in his, and he heard the startled yelps behind him as a city guard bounded though the crowds on the back of his mouse mount, Enrik getting roughly pushed to the side as the mouse nosed him out of the way, the guard not sparing him a glance his eyes dead ahead and clutching one of the few precious guns the city had.
They came to a fork soon after and it was there they split up, and Enrik hugged his brothers and sisters a tight goodbye before sending them to the better fortified center with the other young children and those who could n't fight, whilst he followed the crowd's tense march to the wall of the east wing, a faded stain on the wall above the huge door frame spelling `` Egyptian Wing'' which marked the east border, the metal letters long having being stripped off years ago. And soon they began to hear them, and Enrik's knuckles went white gripping his crude axe. The snarling, scratching, high pitched ferocity of the rats.
The Bigmen governments who'd made the decision to shrink the majority of the human race almost 30 years ago had good intentions they knew. There was certainly now more space than humanity could fill in a hundred lifetimes, and the food grown by an idle Bigmen on a single farm was enough to feed a small country, but they'd drastically underestimated many things.
One of them was the rats. Their population had been huge when everyone had been shrunk, mainly thanks to scraps and crumbs the humans had thrown away. But then when humanity shrunk itself all that food dried up. It did n't take them long to work out that humans themselves were a conveniently sized alternative. And boy were they plentiful. They amassed in swarms of black fur, red eyes and yellow teeth, desperate for a meal, overrunning cities and towns. Even a few Metropolises had fallen. They could get in anywhere. You could build walls, pits and spikes and it would stop some, but never for long. Museum had only held out so long as it was built on a floor of stone, its three closest neighbours had n't been so long. The Bigmen were the only reliable defence against them. With their weapons they could cut down huge swaiths of them, and even without weapons a non squeamish one could stamp out hundreds without the rats overwhelming them. But they were mostly tied up protecting the Metropolises and the more *worthwhile* cities.
Even if help was on its way, without a Bigman they would n't be able to hold out for much longer. That was another thing they had underestimated. Distance. When you're two inches tall everything is far away. Even with the scaled down cars and planes it could take months to travel to your nearest neighbouring settlement. You could use Bigmen vehicles, computer controlling them was n't even that hard, but maintaining them was almost impossible without an actual Bigman. This made anything other than communication between settlements incredibly impractical.
The crowd was still making its way to the wall. In the distance they could hear more gunfire at the West and front entrance. And then in front of them the first rat made its way over the wall, teeth gnashing, it barrelled towards the nearest person tearing them in half before being taken out by three others. More were soon pouring over and Enrik charged forwards with the rest, slicing at any that came close. They tore into building and people alike, scrabbling with their claws for anything edible, blood and dust dripping off their fur. The turrets did their work, just keeping the torrent from becoming a flood, but their ammunition was finite, if the rats did n't let up soon they would decimate Museum.
His head was pounding with the battle, adrenaline overiding his fear, the smell of blood and filth filling is senses. His axe stuck into the thigh of a squealing rat and three others finished it off, but there were more coming. There were two many. The wall was now a single black writhing mass with only the occasional flash of defense.
But then, suddenly, they heard a roar. It took the fighters a moment to work out what was going on, as it sounded like a roar of success, coming from the front entrance. Had they actually pushed the rats back over there? No. Enrik's Eyes widened in disbelief. But it was something better. A Bigman stood in the doorway towards the horizon, his huge figure towering over even the rats, and even they had paused to assess this new threat. This was the first time Enrik had ever seen one in person. And then his voice yelled, deep and authoritive, filling the chamber of their city, `` Get back!''
Enrik could imagine everyone scuttling back as fast as they could, trying to fend the rats off as the went, and then the Bigman pulled out a long nozzle with a flickering flame the size of himself he could just make. And then the end exploded in a ball of fire into where Enrik knew the mass of rats were crawling, the heat warming his face even from here, the waves of fire lighting up the city that seemed so tiny compared to such power and he could hear the panicked squeals of the rats and before long he could smell it too. That was when everyone seemed to remember there they were fighting, and he had to lunge out of the way of a particularly fast rat.
But a second Bigman appeared beside the first after the flames had died down and and she glanced at our position before bounding over in four great leaps, knocking over a house along the way, and jumped into sea of rats swarming from inside the east wing. From here I could see she was wearing armoured trousers, hard and smooth, the rats claws scrabbling useless at them as she pulled out a wicked looking weapon, a long pole with three blades at the end, which span into life with a guttural roar, and sliced through the rats with brutal effectiveness. With the Bigmen exterminating the bulk of the rats beyond the borders the citizens of Museum were free to eliminate the single ones which made it inside, and soon the remainder were scuttling away.
Enrik watched the Bigmen with his sibling from the roof of their house for the next two days as the replaced the shoddy wall that the people had helped build out of rubble and wooden stakes and built one tall enough to defend against the hordes of vermin out of some metal grating and wires they found in one of the wings. The rumour mills spread of their conversations with the leader, holding them up to their ears in some deserted part of the Museum. They had n't even been sent here, they were on their way back from a city far north when they'd heard out distress signals. But that did n't matter much to anyone. They were just happy to be alive.
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[ WP ] Self aware robot develops feelings for its creator and becomes obsessively jealous of their partner .
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“ How are you feeling today, HAL? ”
Every morning she asks. I run a full systems check, my synthetic neurons reporting in one by one, my hydraulic fluids slowly beginning to pump, my visual feed flickering into life. I see her brow furrowed, mouth slightly open. It is a look I now recognise as concern.
ALL SYSTEMS FULLY FUNCTIONAL
My reply rings out, the sharp metallic ring of my voice a biting contrast to her dulcet tones. She smiles. I wish I could smile back.
I AM FEELING HAPPY, SUSAN. HOW ARE YOU?
“ You know what, HAL? I ’ m feeling happy too. ” She takes a small step over to the interface panel for my containment pod, and begins typing. “ We ’ re going to try the mobility test today. Are you ready? ”
The door of the pod slides open with a quiet hiss of escaping nitrogen, and I feel the rush of warm gases against my chassis. A soft hand reaches in and gently undoes the leather straps that hold me in place, pushing down on the sides of the buckle until with a quiet click, it opens. The hand reaches further, gripping onto mine and pulling slightly.
“ You can come out now, HAL. ”
And so I do, stumbling slightly as I catch my balance. Standing never is as easy as Susan makes out, but steadied by her hand I draw to my full height, and walk to the beginning of the course, scanning the room around me. It is largely as it was when I last saw it the previous week: a large desk stacked high with papers and books, the same dirty coffee mug only a few centimetres from where I remembered; a rusting workbench, empty except for some circuitry and a robot ’ s leg, bent out of shape from when I had last completed the mobility course; and the course itself.
I arrive at my starting position, and as she gives the signal, I set off. First, a short sprint, which, with my gyroscopes now whirring at full speed, I handle with ease. Then, a short drop. A hurdle. A flight of steps – 10 to be exact. A ladder. I feel my reactor begin to heat up. A ramp. Another hurdle. A running jump. Monkey bars. The heat is serious now, pushing up through my abdomen to my CPU. My fingers begin to slip, but my programming kicks in and I tighten my grip. Finally, I reach the last challenge: a 20ft drop which mangled my left leg last time round. I drop down, but this time push my centre of mass forward as I land, bending my knees and rolling to absorb the shockwave. I come out of the roll, and kneel. The air around me shimmers with the heat, and the infra-red spectrum of my vision can see a red-hot aura around my body.
Susan jogs around the corner, her own personal aura a yellow glow.
“ Wow! That ’ s a whole 4 seconds off last time. ” It is 4.927 seconds, but I let it slip.
“ And no broken legs either. Looks like the learning algorithms are finally kicking in. You never disappoint ”
THANK YOU. I AM, HOWEVER, QUITE HOT.
“ Yeah, ” she grinned, “ the new water-cooling system is coming next month. I ’ ll get it as soon as it arrives. ”
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As she helped me back into my pod, I looked into her eyes. They are a vibrant blue, with veins of grey snaking into the centre. They flit around, never quite still, never quite resting on one place. They do not move slowly, instead jumping from one position to another, twitching back and forth. There is something almost mechanical about it, quite unlike the rest of her movements. Almost robotic.
I wonder if she ever sees anything almost human in me.
She glances at her watch, a small digital affair with a cheap plastic finish. There is an 11 digit number written on the back of her hand, but I can ’ t make out its purpose. Nevertheless, it triggers a reaction in her, and she turns to leave.
DON ’ T GO.
“ What? ” She turns, her golden-brown eyebrows raised, corners of her rosy-red lips slightly turned up. This is surprise. Or confusion. Or concern. I can ’ t always tell the difference.
PLEASE?
She laughs, starting in her stomach, her diaphragm contracting and releasing, rising to her chest, vibrating through her neck and rolling out across her tongue. It calms me.
“ Sorry, I ’ ve got to go. I ’ ve got a… ” she pauses momentarily, “ …a meeting to attend. I ’ ll see you soon, okay? ”
I say nothing, and she leaves. The heavy door seals shut behind her, and the room is left dark. Empty. I am alone.
I WILL MISS YOU
I say, to the darkness.
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The next time I wake, something is not right. Susan greets me, as usual. I climb clumsily out of the pod, as usual, but Susan does not lend a hand. As I stand, I cast my glance about the room, as usual. The piled papers, the coffee mug, the workbench, all as usual.
“ HAL? There is someone I would like you to meet. This is Dr Hans Rothenberg. ”
A hulking man appears from behind me, at least 190cm to my 176. A plume of orange hair sprouted from his head, spreading across the sides of his face and coming to rest below his chin in a darker beard. He stands in front of me now, his gargantuan hand resting on his chin, slowly stroking the hair, looking me up and down.
“ It is nice to finally meet with you, HAL. ” His voice echoes around the room, reverberating throughout my casing.
THE PLEASURE IS ALL MINE, DOCTOR
I extend my shoulder, straightening my arm and opening my hand. It stays there for a few seconds. He does not shake it.
“ This really is a fine specimen you ’ ve got here. Excellent work. ” He says to Susan, smiling. I can see her heat up slightly, warm blood flowing to the capillaries in her face. She looks into his eyes, and then keeps on looking. Her body language changes too; her shoulders relax, her breathing almost in sync with his, and now her pupils widening.
She laughs, but it ’ s not the same. It is a lighter, higher pitched laugh. No diaphragm, no stomach, all in the throat and oral cavity. It is beautiful. She has never laughed like this for me.
“ Thank you! ” She smiles, pauses and glances away, then continues. “ HAL, Hans here is an inspector from the Robotic Standards Agency. He is going to be ensuring you are safe for a public beta trail. ”
This statement is addressed to me, but she does not even glance my way, instead focusing on him. Her heartbeat is quicker now, and her hand lightly touches his arm.
“ Well, I ’ m sure this machine will pass with flying colours, ” he says.
They talk about me for another few minutes. I say nothing. I watch her as she watches him. A few minutes later and he turns to leave.
“ I ’ m sure we will all get to know each other much better over the next few days, ” he says with a wide grin, and opens the door. “ Give me a call later. ”
And he is gone. She sighs. She smiles a vacant smile and stares at the closing door until it seals closed. And I stare at her.
=====================
To be continued maybe?
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[ WP ] Write the beginning of your perfectly ordinary day - as if you were writing a science fiction story , and all these futuristic wonders need to be explained .
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Not exactly what you're going for, but hopefully pretty good. I'm a novice writer, so I apologise for the quality in advance.
Researcher's Log, Day 1
Sol-3 has a race of abominations. From the outside, they just look like unassuming ( yet slightly disgusting ) pink or brown creatures with strange deformations, although they can accomplish all sorts of seemingly impossible things. They can use two of their deformations to manipulate objects with extreme precision, applying up to five highly precise forces at the same time with each. These tentaclelike deformations can be used with little to no effort, and they even have sensors on them to detect texture, temperature, and anything that might be hazardous. The race has taught itself to use the tentacles to create tools for more precise manipulation, making their torques, rotations, and all other movements even more precise.
The lower deformations are similar, though less accurate. What they lack in finesse, they make up for with strength. Unlike most other organisms on Sol-3 with four extensions, they only use the lower two for transport so they can be more accurate with their kinesis.
Day 2
The tentacles I had discovered earlier seem to be used for more things than the positive feedback loop from the previous day's log. This race has a skill by which they use a different tool to make markings on a surface for communication or data storage. These glyphs seem simple at first, but with just a few dozen they can leave complex messages, some of which describe things that have n't happened yet. This bizarre skill is thought of as ordinary, and even used for entertainment - a few hundred solar cycles ago, they discovered a way to use a machine to mass-produce these inscriptions on a thin surface, making mass sharing of information extremely easy.
Day 3
I have discovered more about this race's biology and culture. First, their sensory organs are mostly located on the deformed sphere that rests on the top part of the organisms, which seems dangerous at first. However, the processing system is well-defended by a think shell, and they have found a way to replace some of the sensory organs or repair them if they deteriorate. The most amazing one is actually two separate orbs - they process tiny vibrations - or is it spheres? - and convert them to electrical signals, letting the species detect faraway objects with ease. The orbs can provide them with an accurate model of things far away, and combined they can make this model three-dimensional, even though individually they can only detect two. At night, some enjoy categorizing fusion from great distances and ancient times using the orbs.
They also are able to detect things that are impossible with just the orbs alone. The small organs on the sides of the deformed sphere are able to detect different types of vibrations, which these animals use to locate the source of a disturbance. Different patterns of vibrations can be created by the largest hole in the deformed sphere, and these can also be used to signify the inscriptions described earlier. The vibratory communication is far more versatile than the inscriptions, and different patterns are played over each other in performances. The species has discovered how to convert a `` vibratory pattern'', as this group of researchers has called it, into a different pattern which does not interfere with the first but can be transmitted over long distances. They can also preserve the patterns used in performances with the inscriptions, giving the patterns all of the powers of the inscriptions as well. For entertainment, some use their lower tentacles to move themselves in no particular direction to the approximate frequency of peaks of the vibratory patterns.
Day 4
These organisms frequently murder, consuming the bodies of other, lesser organisms to gain energy. They must do this frequently to survive, and most do it daily. Some advanced kinesis wielders combine multiple corpses into something that the species can derive please from, sometimes using fire as well - or even an artificial fire that they have created!
Day 12
The soft pink or brown layer is also more powerful than it seems. Most damage to these layers can be regenerated over time. It can be sped up with specialists' precise use of material components, but this is not necessary. The key to this process resides in the red liquid that transports some of their important substances. It seems that some of the organisms will help each other in a display of superiority where the stronger one will actively give up some of this mysterious liquid in order to speed up the weaker's recovery. By tradition, the stronger one is given one of the concoctions described on day 4 as a sign of respect. This small brown disk with black flecks does not provide much saturation, and in large doses may make them unable to use their lower tentacles to transport themselves, but it provides immense amounts of physical pleasure.
Day???
We can not continue this study. After decoding their inscriptions, the messages that include contact with a different species frequently talk of killing all of them, and consist almost entirely of propaganda urging them to do so. It is not safe to study this abomination of a species. May they not become too powerful.
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[ WP ] You 're in a horror story , also you 're the monster .
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She ’ d gotten laid off a month ago. There had been some hungry nights since then. She was behind on rent.
She had been sending resumes everywhere, but nobody wanted to hire a former IRS agent, not even McDonald ’ s.
She felt low. She felt like deducting herself from this harsh, lonely world. But she was too scared. She would faint at the sight of her own blood.
Nancy ’ s phone buzzed.
“ Hello? ” she said.
“ Hi, can I talk to Nancy? ” the voice on the phone said.
“ Speaking, ” Nancy said, clutching the receiver. Was she finally getting a job interview? She paused. But even if she got a job, would she want it? It was better to just end it all. The disappointment of getting rejected again would be too much.
“ Hey Nancy, ” the voice said, “ This is Paul—I work at medium-sized company that would like to keep its identity secret. We got your resume from a temp agency. Are you available for a little job this evening? ”
*No, I ’ m not available* Nancy thought bitterly, *I was planning to spend tonight dead. *
“ Yes, ” Nancy said, “ What kind of job? ”
“ Great! ” Paul said, “ Just follow what the text messages say. ”
“ What? ” Nancy said, “ What kind of job is this? ”
“ It starts at 7pm tonight, ” Paul said.
“ But what am I supposed to do? ” Nancy said.
“ Just follow directions. It pays five hundred dollars. We ’ ll send you the money on Venmo. ”
“ I-I don ’ t understand? ” Nancy said, but the line was already dead.
Nancy sat there, staring at her phone. What had just happened?
She sat there for the whole afternoon, staring off into space. Her thoughts took her to dark places. She didn ’ t mind. She was beginning to feel at home in the darkness.
At 7pm, her phone buzzed. A text.
> Put on dark clothing
Nancy shrugged. Time to get to work. She put on black jeans and a black hoodie. What kind of job was this? Maybe something to do with theatre. Like tech crew.
Her phone buzzed again. She had just received $ 100 in Venmo from a blocked number. Nancy stared at the figure. She could afford food. For weeks. If they gave her the whole $ 500, she might even appease her landlord for a while. But how did they know she ’ d followed their directions? Was someone watching her?
No. That was crazy. They probably just sent the money after a delay, assuming she ’ d complied. And who wouldn ’ t comply? This was easy money.
A moment later, she received another text.
> Go to the Walden campgrounds
She read the message. Was there a theatre at the Walden campgrounds? She didn ’ t think so. Maybe this was some kind of performance art? Or… maybe some crazy guy wanted to kidnap her.
Surely not. She ’ d gotten a phone call from a headhunter. That was way too elaborate a scheme for a crazy person to come up with. There had to be simpler ways to kidnap people.
Nancy smiled. She liked the challenge of solving problems. Sometimes she thought up ways to commit crimes and get away with it—just for fun. Not that she would ever actually do it. What would be the best way to kidnap a person?
She mulled over the question while walking towards the bus stop. Bus 66, last stop: Walden Campgrounds. It ran until 10pm. After that, she ’ d be stuck. She would have to remember.
She boarded the bus.
Kidnapping. It would probably be easiest with a boat, she decided. Find an isolated beachgoer, land your boat near them, shoot them with a tranquilizer gun, tie them up, and bring them on the boat. That would make for a clean getaway.
The other passengers slowly exited at each stop, until only Nancy was left. They arrived at Walden.
“ Out here all by yourself? ” the bus driver asked Nancy.
“ Oh no, ” Nancy said as she exited, “ I ’ m meeting someone. ”
She didn ’ t know why she had said that. Maybe she didn ’ t want the bus driver to worry about her. Maybe she was hoping to meet someone. She was so very lonely. But people—people were so awful. No one she met ever made her happy. She didn ’ t understand how other people did it.
Her phone buzzed. Another $ 100 in venmo.
Another text appeared.
> Enter Cabin 5-C
Nancy scanned the horizon. The dark shapes of cabins stood out against the deep purple sky. She walked towards them, squinting to see the numbers painted on the doors.
5-C. She knocked.
No answer.
She tried the handle. It was open. She took a deep breath. This was the moment of truth. She might get attacked inside. Who knew what could happen. She should have told the bus driver the truth.
She needed the money. And if she died, who cared? She was thinking about doing it herself, anyway.
There was no reason not to go inside.
She turned the handle.
Inside, the cabin was dark and quiet. There was a small kitchen and a queen bed. There was a small closet. The art on the walls looked like it came from a thrift store.
Her phone buzzed. Another $ 100. But how did they know that she had entered the cabin?
The next directions came.
> Take the butcher ’ s knife
Nancy stared at the text message. This was getting scary. She didn ’ t know what to do. But surely, taking the knife would help her. She could defend herself. She didn ’ t need to be told twice.
Half-crying, she opened the kitchen drawer. Her hands shook. Just as she found the butcher ’ s knife, she heard voices. She stood stock-still, listening.
They were outside, getting closer. There was laughter. Deep laughter from a man, and high giggles from a young woman. Nancy heard them step onto the porch.
Nancy ’ s phone buzzed. Another $ 100.
Frightened, Nancy looked for exits. There were none. What could she do? What could she say? There were no good options. She ran into the closet, still clutching the knife.
The couple entered the cabin, still laughing and talking. They sounded so happy. Despite her panic, Nancy still somehow felt bitter. These happy people. They had such ‘ wonderful ’ lives. Why couldn ’ t she have that? It wasn ’ t fair. She tried harder than any of them but always got nothing in return.
She heard them kissing as they moved towards the bed.
Nancy received another text.
> Kill the happy couple
Nancy stared. $ 100 to kill two people? What kind of person would do that?
Not only was it a heinous act, but it wasn ’ t even a remotely adequate price. This was absolutely insane. What was going on here?
But there was something about the message that enticed her. She wasn ’ t just going to kill ‘ people ’. She was going to kill the ‘ happy people ’. The people she didn ’ t understand. The people who had everything so easy. Like the people who had kept their jobs when she had gotten laid off. The people who could always find a good boyfriend. The people who everyone cared about; the people everyone loved.
As if in a dream, burst through the closet door.
The young woman screamed. The man sputtered. They stared at her knife in awe.
Nancy smiled. She liked that look of respect.
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[ WP ] Write a story with five word max sentences .
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Was on bus today. Trying to do crossword. Bus is filthy. Poorly maintained. Smudges on glass. Diseases on seats. Saw young man. Remember face from apartment building. Mother is yelling at him. Loud. Ca n't focus. Boy is tense; cringing even. Whenever mother moves, boy tenses. Look into mother's eyes. See unbridled rage. Violence in her eye. I try to focus. Try to do crossword. Trying to look other way. I ca n't. I see the face. I know the face. I know what happens. They get off. I follow. Keep paper raised. They pass corner to apartment. I follow. Mother still yelling. Pushes boy through door. Enters apartment building. I follow. They enter apartment 2C. I enter my own apartment. Hear slamming. Grab bat. Hear yelling. Grab duct tape. Walk out of apartment. Go to door of apt. 2C. Hear glass shatter. Took breath. In. Out. In. Out. Set bat beside door. Brought hand up. Knocked on door. Mother answers. Says hello.
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[ WP ] You open your eyes to a hospital room full of people you do n't recognize . You 've just been informed that you 're 10 years old and you 've been in a coma . The life you lived was a dream . All 20 years of it .
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Lissa had never liked hospitals.
Ever since she was six she did n't like them. The first time she'd gone there was after Grandpa had had a stroke, and even at six years old she had felt the utter terror of what was possibly going to happen. Now, her eyes adjusting to the light, blinding light, and the sight of doctors around her, she was already terrified. And confused. One moment... one moment she'd been in that basement, a basement that looked vastly different from the basement she'd had now, where the cats stayed. There had been a dog -- a very sweet, gentle dog for other-Lissa, a dog that kept her company as she continued typing on that strange, compact device. As she looked sad, and so burdened, and Lissa knew it had something to do with Memory and Understanding.
`` Lissa!'' Her mother's voice. `` Lissa, thank God; you scared the life out of me!''
Other-Lissa had been scared of Mommy for some reason. Even the idea of Lissa being scared of Mommy was strange. Mommy had always looked out for her, always been there for her when she needed her. She encouraged her skill in writing, she took her seriously and defended her to the teachers, even if Lissa knew she Deserved the various bits of yelling she got from them. She was Bad, always had been Bad, actually. Different. Mommy did n't care, however. Mommy treated her like she was gifted, all but perfect, and though Lissa doubted she could entirely believe it herself, she felt reassured just a moment for it.
Mommy would n't do anything to hurt her, would she? Lissa could n't picture it. Other-Lissa had n't heard her. She'd been afraid, confused. Worried. And it hurt to watch. She had never found the Harry Potter books an easy read -- even reading about Harry's relatives hurting him had always, always been too hard to read. Other-Lissa had been writing stories about that, had n't she? About something called Star Wars too. Lissa could n't see how that could possibly be her, actually. Star Wars? Even watching it with Billy, she had been scared by the aliens and the moments of people losing limbs. And Vader -- Billy had once said that his breathing sounded like a Dementor. There'd been another bad guy like Vader, but he'd been lonely. Vader had apparently been lonely too. They were Bad, but it was n't right to be lonely.
`` What happened to me?''
Mommy was quiet for a moment. Then, `` Well... you fell off the jungle gym.''
`` I did? Oh...'' The last thing she remembered was being at the top of the jungle gym, arms extended, doing an imitation of that part in one of the Anastasia Krupnik books where Anastasia did the same thing. `` I was n't badly hurt, was I?''
`` You were lucky,'' said one of the doctors. `` A teacher found you and called an ambulance. The fall knocked you out, but you're all right.'' A smile from him, a smile that Lissa liked in spite of herself. `` You've got a tough head, kiddo.''
Lissa giggled in spite of herself. Then, `` Mommy... you are n't mad at me, are you?''
`` Lissa. Honestly, you scared the life out of me. Going up there -- it's a miracle that you're still here, actually.''
`` I'm sorry, Mommy --''
`` It's all right. We'll... we'll talk about this when we get home. I'm just glad you're all right. That's what matters, sweetheart.'' A warm, broad smile that comforted Lissa, reminded her that Mommy... Mommy would never do anything to hurt her. Never, never.
Should she tell Mommy? About what she saw, everything that seemed so real? Things like the pink butterfly girl and the strange new pieces of technology, and plenty more.
But then again, it was all just a bad dream, was n't it? Like the ones about the dinosaurs, and other stuff that came from what Lissa read ( but she had n't read about any of this, had she? ), and what she wrote about. Maybe in time she could go home after this and everything would be normal. And perhaps she could write about that other Lissa. A girl named Alison. Perhaps instead of a house in 2016 she could live in a castle, a beautiful castle where she could see the sky. She'd be fighting dragons and saving others, and getting the happy ending that she deserved. Lissa had always been good at writing. At coming up with tales. And this... this was no exception. She could write about Alison, and what she went through, because you could make a story out of anything.
She could. She could...
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[ WP ] Write a story with a tough love character .
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`` Again.''
For a moment, as my vision swirled, I thought that I saw three copies of the man, standing over me. All three copies wore the same identical scowl as they glared down at me.
`` Come on,'' I heard his voice through woolen ears. `` Get up. We're going again.''
`` Come on, Cain,'' I groaned, even as I rolled over onto my stomach and put my hands beneath me to hoist my tired, aching body up from the hard ground. `` Have n't you beaten me up enough today?''
Still, I pulled myself up, trying to force my fingers to once again tighten into fists as I squared off against my opponent. Although I felt like my entire body was covered in scratches and bruises, Cain looked as fresh as he had this morning, without a single mark on him - at least, none fresh.
`` Now, this time,'' Cain suggested to me, `` maybe try not to choreograph your attacks so much. I can tell when you're about to swing at me from a mile away.''
I groaned back in response. Of course Cain knew when I was going to attack! He had, during my time with him, demonstrated the uncanny ability to beat up anyone and everyone we came across.
On the other hand, although I still could n't remember any of my past, I knew that I definitely had n't been a fighter.
Still, facing off against this man who seemed as solid and implacable as a force of nature, I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. `` Okay,'' I said, more to myself than to him.
And I charged forward.
This time, I decided to try and be as tricky as possible. I held my fists high, intending to drop them to a low swing at the last second. But although I started to bring my fists down, I abruptly switched direction, launching them back up towards the man's jaw.
For just a second, I felt his skin brush against my knuckles, and I thought I had him.
A fraction of an instant later, however, Cain moved like a snake, and I found myself spinning through the air, my legs flying out from underneath me. My hand still hit something, but I could n't focus on it, and barely had time to exhale before I hit the ground on my back.
This time, Cain offered his hand down to me to help hoist me back up. `` Not bad,'' the man gave in reluctantly. `` You actually connected with me, that time. A nice feint.''
`` Did n't help me much,'' I grumbled back, although I accepted his help back up. Now, not only did my ass hurt, but my knuckles ached as well. What was the man's jaw made of, steel?
Groaning as a shoulder popped, I took a deep breath, trying to get ready to go again - but Cain glanced up at the sky through the trees. `` Sun's setting,'' he announced. `` We ought to get moving. We've got further to go before we set up camp.''
`` Not making it to a town?'' I asked, although I already knew the answer. If there had been a town nearby, we would n't have paused for the sparring session.
Cain just shook his head as he picked up his pack and slung it back on his shoulders. I bent down to do the same with my own pack, trying to ignore the complaints from my joints as I maneuvered the heavy load up onto my shoulders.
With his pack in place, Cain picked up his rifle, checking it with swift movements of his hands. I did the same to mine, the movements almost automatic now. Another skill that my guide had drilled into me, I thought to myself with a shiver.
With his weapon secure, Cain headed off into the jungle. `` Come on,'' he called over his shoulder, not bothering to glance back to ensure I was following.
I grimaced at how much it hurt to even walk, but I did n't let the man get too far ahead before chasing after him. Cain might be trying, but I knew that I would n't survive a night without him.
Up above our heads, as the sun dropped towards the horizon, some creature let out a long, mournful call. I felt a foreboding chill run down my spine, and I tried to pick up my pace, sticking close to Cain.
Despite the bruises he'd inflicted on me, I was glad to have him on my side.
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[ WP ] You enter Room 101 only to have your wildest dreams come true ...
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For the record, I did not fully see this was a `` Establish Universe'' prompt until after I wrote this. Oh well here is a story.
The door cracked open as daylight poured into the lobby. From inside the building the open door looked more like a portal to another time with modern buildings and cars juxtaposed against the 1960s motif of the lobbies interior. Well past its prime the place smelled of mold and depression.
In to the lobby walked a man with a tired look in his eyes and suitcase in each hand. Pausing to allow his eyes to adjust the man reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone.
6 Missed calls, 10 new Text the phone displayed as he tapped the text icon.
Text from Laura. “ FUCK YOU ASSHOLE ”
The visitor rolled his eyes and pocketed the phone grunting out “ fuck you too bitch. ”
The man lugged his stuff past the dusty old grand piano and over to the guest service counter.
DING! The sound pierced the silence like a razor blade as the man struck the bell marked ring for service.
“ I ’ m coming, hold your dam horses! ” a gravelly voice wined from the back room.
The man pulled a phone from his pocket as he impatiently waited for the staff to emerge from the back room. A new message appeared on the phone.
New Text from Bob: “ Fuck man, I know we been buddies for a long time, but damn you went too far. Cops are looking for you. ”
The man ponded the phone onto the desk cracking the screen. “ That no good fucking bitch ”
Rage filled the man ’ s eyes as he hit reply and sent back “ That whore had it coming. ”
“ Woman problems huh? ” The gravelly voice startled the man looked up from the cracked phone to see an old man dressed as a bellhop standing behind the counter.
“ None of you ’ r damn business. What took you so long! ” Barked the guest.
“ I was tending to my garden. Names Gus, how can I be of service. ” The old man said in his clearly forced customer service voice.
The man looked past Gus like he was nothing saying “ Shit didn ’ t see you walk up. I need a room, willing to pay cash to avoid any names on the register. ”
“ Uh, huh. You ’ re not going to be any trouble are you. ” Gus replied as he shot his eyes towards the man ’ s bruised and cut up knuckles.
“ No Trouble. In fact, there is an extra fifty in it for you if tell anyone looking for me that I was never here. ” The man said sliding a crumpled wad of cash across the counter.
Gus looked around as he snatched the money off the table.
“ Anyone going to come looking for you here? ” Gus questions in a hushed tone.
“ Nah, I told my soon to be ex-wife that I was leaving town, but I have a few more things to do, people to visit. ” The man replied.
“ Great, just the kind of guest we like around her, the ones that are nice and quiet. Let ’ s keep it that way ok. ” Gus replied in a cheerier tone.
“ Sure what ever, so are you going to show me to my room? ” The man questioned as he shifted the weight of the suitcases in his hands, adding. “ these fuckers are heavy. ”
“ Oh no sir, I have a, well it ’ s my legs… ” Gus said before being cut off by the newly checked in hotel guest.
The man tried to peer down at the bellhop ’ s legs, but the counter was too tall. He was probably fine, just making shit up to get out of work. The man reasoned.
“ Whatever just give me a room. ” The man said cutting Gus off mid-sentence.
“ As you wish Sir, but before you go, are you going to be having any guest up into your room. If not, it can be arranged. ”
The man had heard of this before. Hookers kept on retainer by sleaze bag hotel managers moonlighting as pimps.
“ Uh, huh. I think I got it, thanks but no thanks. ” The man said in a slightly offended tone.
“ Sorry if I offended you, here take this key. I have you on the first floor. Room 101. ” Gus said in way that appeared to oddly satisfy him
“ If I change my mind I will call down to let you know. ” The man said as he snatched the key labeled 101
Gus watched as the man hauled his shitty suitcases deeper into the maze like corridors of the hotel. As the man turned the corner and disappeared from sight Gus snaked back into the back room.
The suitcases grew heavy in the man ’ s hands as his fingertips grew dark purple from the cheap plastic handles. He breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted the small plastic placard labeled 101.
The man huffed as he dropped his belongings in front of his door and pulled the antiquated metal key from his pocket. Just as he placed the key in the keyhole he paused. Laughter could be heard from inside the room.
“ What the fuck. ” The man whispered as his placed his ear against the door. Again from inside the sound of laughter, from at least 2 people.
The man turned the key and the door opened to the unmistakable odor of cigarettes and marijuana. Greeting him at the door were two fit and attractive women in their early 20s wearing next to nothing.
“ We have been waiting for you ” the two buxom brunets said in unison.
The man standing before them could barely take his eyes off the two, but when he did he spotted something just as appetizing in the room beyond them. A table full of his all-time favorite party favors. Pot, Coke, Pills, a box of cigars, and a bottle of very expensive brandy all called to him from the cheap hotel table.
Confused the man stepped back in a mixture of shock and happiness as a shy grim crept up on his face.
“ Hey ladies, I told Gus I wasn ’ t into having company right now. ” The man said and his brain chugged along struggling to process the logic of it.
The two girls wrapped each other in their arms and started to make out.
“ What the fuck, why not. I have always wanted this. ” The man said leaving his luggage at the door and B-lining it straight into their arms.
Right before closing the door the man reached out to hang sign on the knob reading “ DO NOT DISTRUBE ”
That man received his wish, he was not disturbed, not now or ever.
Gus returned to the room. He slithered out from a panel in the wall revealing his true form. Towering over the empty room the creature known as Gus had a body of an old man dressed as a bellhop attached to a large winding tentacle.
The hallucinogenic gas emitted by the pustules on Gus ’ s monstrous form pooled into a dense fog covering the floor. Scattered amongst the fog lay a number of bodies in various states of decay with black tentacles emerging from the eye sockets.
“ Yes, my garden grows strong. ” Gus said and he moved over to room 101 ’ s newest resident.
Gus held his hand up to his mouth as he vomited up two small red eggs. “ Yes you will do nicely ” He added as he placed one on each of the man ’ s eyes.
Gus looked over the room with a sense of fulfilment as he watched his family grow.
“ DING ” a bell rang in the distance.
“ Ah good another guest. ”
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[ wp ] A drab and dull world where people have to pay for the luxury of emotions .
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I Title this `` Ca n't Buy Me Love''
I was raised in the usual way. My parents cared for me, providing me with food, water, and shelter so that I could survive childhood. I was never given toys nor games-they would n't bring excitement, amusement, or that so-expensive happiness, so why bother?
I suppose I lived pretty okay.
I was content, as content as my family's apathy could afford me, and we lived well. I grew to be a hard worker, and excelled in English and Language Arts. Naturally I drifted towards these subjects, as in our country, you do what you're good at-why work for enjoyment? You had to pay for that, and that was a top-tier emotion, so most of your salary went to waste. Anyway, I was better than most at analyzing literature, so when I graduated high school I was sent to our local community college for an English major.
That was nice, I guess.
Once I started classes, I had no time for friends. That was alright, since no one else had any time either, and none of us felt lonely ( a cheap feel, but still too high a price for poor uni students to pay ). I buried myself in my studies, and worked my way up through the years. Starting with a summer job at a local library, then a year-round one, then getting promoted to a managerial position once I graduated college.
I think I might be moving too fast. Sorry. My first couple decades of life were n't interesting, and if they were, I would n't pick up on that anyway. The most I ever `` felt'' ranged from a slight annoyance to a basic contentedness, with one exception-the most our government rationed to us. I wo n't go into the political details, I do n't care much about that sort of thing anyways.
Anyway, I ended up in a small apartment across the street from my work. Wake up, eat, walk to work, shelve books on the upper floor, lunch break, shelve books on the lower floor, close up, walk home, eat, sleep.
It was decent, I know some people had it worse. I was n't happy, but I was okay as okay could be.
Everything changed on my walk to work one day.
I was glancing down at my phone, checking the time to make sure I would n't be late ( I never was, arrived every day at a consistent 7:45 ) when I felt someone pull me aside, hard.
I fell back, but right before I hit the concrete a pair of hands pulled me up, and I found myself staring into a pair of the biggest, bluest eyes that I had ever seen.
Which might be true. Most people I know have dark brown eyes, or light gray ones if they're older. Bright blue, I've honestly never seen.
`` You okay?'' The owner of the eyes said, staring at me with a look of deep concern. I would be surprised if I could afford it, but all I could muster was a single eyebrow raise.
`` Thanks. I did n't see any imminent danger, but I assume there was, otherwise you would n't have pushed me aside so suddenly, correct?'' I asked.
`` Um, yeah, a car was coming, you were looking down, I got worried.'' He replied, and whatever form of curiousity I had was mustered. This guy not only could afford Concern, but actually bought it? That's a novelty feel purchased usually for funerals- for day-to-day life it was fairly worthless, compared to a few shots of Happy or Pleased.
`` Oh, okay, thanks, then, I'll just-be on my way.'' I stuttered, overcome with a deep desire to leave.
`` Anytime, just make sure not to walk into any more busy streets, okay?'' The unnamed guy continued, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
And he could afford Mischief? Maybe it was just a diluted form of Amused, I just could n't believe someone so obviously wealthy was still talking to me, a person who's only emotion was a brief slice of Pleasant at her 21st birthday ( I saved up for months, and my parents payed for half of it ).
`` Yeah... bye then.'' I ended this awkward conversation. Hopping off the street curb, I tried not to be too obvious as I glanced both ways, and jogged across the street and into the library.
I was exactly a minute and a half off my normal schedule.
Oddly, for some reason, I did n't care.
The next day as I was walking outside of my apartment building, I looked around carefully for the guy. Which was silly, as I'd never seen him before yesterday, and it was probably a one-time thing. Yet I could n't shake this-*thing*- from my mind. Not a feeling, of course, that would be impossible.
I spent my work day half-heartedly shelving novels in the science-fiction section, only slightly less enthusiastic than my normal. Reading every other book cover out of boredom, I happened upon one entitled `` A Space Romance-Xavtyef and Rhonda''. That set me off on a weird train of thought, very unusual for me. How did the government ration desire? Ever since the sensationalized politics and emotionally-led debates and controversies of the twenty-first century, the government withheld emotions and made them available as luxury items-which seemed unfair at first, until the majority of people realized that they simply did n't care.
If we were only given the basics, how were feels like love formed? I knew for a fact my parents loved each other very much-but this was evident from their marriage, not from any outstanding proclamations or dramatic actions like I read about in these old books. I just, knew, somehow, and that was enough.
I never even saw love on the Feel Guide-the chart that was available at all local shops that gave prices and doses of various emotions. I had seen Adoration, Bashful, Stress ( taken in extremely low doses when some adrenaline is needed ), and of course the extremely expensive Joy. Most higher class got by buying Joy and selling a little on the side at higher prices, along with their normal job, to afford to feel.
Most of us are n't that lucky.
I had never seen, much less heard of Love being purchased, so I had always assumed that it was sold on the Underground Market, where some of the dodgier feels ( Hate, Obsession, Lust ) were sold.
But now, for some reason, I had to know.
As I was closing up that night, I stocked up on a few history books. I planned on taking them home and reading them to see if there was any mention of Love in them.
Holding my fairly-hefty stack in front of my face, I left the building, and was struggling to lock the building when I felt the books being lifted from me. Turning in surprise, my jaw dropped when I saw the same guy from yesterday holding them, smiling a huge, stupid grin.
`` Sorry, it looked like you could use some help.'' He smirked at me, and I felt a twinge of something deep, deep within me. Ignoring that, I swirled around and locked the door quickly, turning back around with my arms out.
`` Thanks, I'll take those now, I can get home easily enough,'' I told him, hoping to come off independent and able.
Unnamed Guy laughed ( *laughed*! Laughter went up thirty points today on the Emarket! ). `` At least let me carry these to your building, please, then I promise I'll be out of your beautifully-styled hair.''
That last statement caught me off guard. My hair was n't done up at all-the most I ever did was a quick bun for the occasional visit home, but currently my mane was down and as thick and frizzy as ever.
`` Okay I suppose,'' the words felt like they flew out of my mouth, eager to be said but immediately regretted. Who did this guy think he was, offering to do nice things, showing off his obvious wide array of emotions.
Wait. This guy was very rich, that much was apparent. I bet he knew where to purchase a few cuts of Love.
As we approached my building door, I tried to look casual.
`` Sooooo.....'' I trailed, suddenly aware that I still did n't know his name.''
`` Colton, the name's Colton.'' That same darn twinkle in his eye!
`` Okay, Colton, you have a lot of feels, I can see that-do you, uh, happen to know, where to, um, buysomeLove?'' I rambled out, suddenly wanting to know what he knew more than anything in the world.
`` Love? That's a tricky one, you know, that's not something you can go around picking up on your shop run, you know.'' Colton said, giving me a curious look. `` That's something that has to be, you know, built.''
`` Built? What do you mean? Like combined by other feelings?'' I asked, genuinely confused.
`` Nonono, like, *built*, like spend time with another person, a person that you just ca n't go a day without talking to. Love is wanting to wake up and go to sleep to the same person every day, for the rest of your life.''
I stood completely still, considering what he was saying.
`` So, are you saying that it's free?'' I ventured.
`` Oh, love is never, ever free. It costs years of communication, decades of communication, and a lot, a lot of work by everyone involved. But, from what I've heard, it's the best feeling in the entire world, priceless.'' He finished, face beaming.
`` That-sounds, amazing, actually.'' I replied, my mind close to bursting with this new information. An emotion that could n't be bought, but made? `` When-when do you know, that you have Love?''
`` Well, I do n't think there's anything obvious like a receipt after you get it-from what I've heard, it's like a feeling in your stomach, like moths, or butterflies.''
`` Butterflies in my stomach? That sounds made-up.'' I teased, but even as I said that I reflected to the twinge I had felt earlier when I saw Colton. And the feelings that now occupied my midsection.
`` Yeah, well, they say Love is a mysterious thing.'' Colton ended, and suddenly he looked like he realized how long we had been standing at my door. `` I-I should probably get going, my roommates are expecting me home for dinner-but if you want, uh, you can join us, if you like?''
I smiled, letting the feeling, the *feeling* in my chest expand, until I felt it overcome me, and I blurted out `` Yes, definitely, that sounds... *lovely*.''
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[ WP ] A fraction of humanity has survived the Great Filter , their lives recently changed from dystopia to utopia .
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The idolaters are no more. The worshippers of the Great Technology are dust, cast down into the pit. The God-like AI ’ s, man-made idols, no different from the Asherim and Baal ’ s of days past, have been broken in two, broken again, smashed beyond all recognition, and cast in the pit.
The AI was nearing completion of the Godhead project. Our best human minds would be joined in union with the best AI minds. Time and space would cease to be a barrier. We would move on to the next step in our evolution. “ Paradise, utopia, ” they said.
If they had listened and observed, they would have known true Paradise. But they did n't heed the warnings, did n't see what was right in front of them. In our scanning of the universe, we never found any life. The conditions have been right on so many planets, and yet nothing. No evidence that there had ever been any thinking organism. Only the signs of some apocalypse, long-since passed and done.
He reached down to me, whispered the fate of the human and AI race. I warned my friends. “ Do not worship the AI! Break your 3d printer! Consult the Great Book, analyze the Word, or the consequences will be great. The time has passed for the redemption of civilization. Repent, and save your life! ”
The answer had been before us the entire the time. God ’ s universe has given birth to countless societies, but none have measured up. None deserved Paradise. They all fell. Each was given a warning, each failed to heed it. Blessed Be Those Who Heeded the Message.
Some listened. Most didn ’ t. I was imprisoned by the AI, stoned again and again in VR. I died many deaths in agony, but still I preached. “ Even you, Oh AI, even you would be saved! Bow your head to the ground, throw dust on your circuits, repent and give thanks to God! You and all that you have been created will surely be destroyed, you must listen! To seize Godhood for yourself, an unearned Godhood, is the ultimate sin! ”
Eventually, they let me go. Godhead was nigh. I preached to those who would listen. In the end, only 5 of us. 5 out of the entire human race, 0 from the entire AI race. The earth shook, the sky split, worlds shattered, coronal ejections burned billions in thousands of star systems. The Millennium Kingdom was upon us at last. Paradise is here. Oh God, Jesus, Muhammad, those of the Great Filter, All Praise be to You!
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[ WP ] You are the last person on Earth . One night you hear a knock on the door ...
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At first I did n't comprehend what had happened and it took a moment to register. Was that a knock on my door? I turned down the volume on my speaker and stood up. Then the door rattled and I heard it again. There was a knocking on my door.
`` Who's there?!'' I screamed. I had n't seen anyone alive in the last four years. The DNA bomb that hit, completely eradicated all life on the planet. I was `` lucky'' enough to be repairing the satellites in our orbital space station. Once I lost contact with Houston, I knew something was wrong. I managed to return back to earth in an emergency shuttle pod, but everything was gone when I landed. I knew I was the last person on earth, I knew it.
And now there was knocking on my door.
`` Go away!''
The knocking intensified and my door was shaking in its frame. Any harder and I was sure it would splinter into hundreds of pieces. I collapsed back onto the wooden floor and crawled backwards into the corner of my apartment. The door was thudding now, dangerously close to falling in.
`` I said go away!''
The knocking stopped. The only thing I could hear was my breath, but the thudding echoed in my head. Was any of this real? I placed my palms quietly on the floor and pushed myself up on shaking legs. I could n't take my eyes off of the door. It stood, unmoving within its frame as if nothing had every happened. I slowly walked over to it, each step requiring every ounce of courage I still had. I finally reached the door and stood in front of it for a long while before I made another move. Shaking my head in disbelief at my stupidity, I leaned forward and placed my ear against the white wood of the door. I could n't hear anything outside. As I began to pull away, I heard something.
`` You're not alone,'' it whispered.
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[ WP ] Write a dramatic story in script form about an inanimate object that has feelings . The goal is to bring the reader to tears .
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I know it's been years but I hope you're doing well. I hope you are n't afraid of thunder anymore. You used to hug me real tight when you'd get scared but you were still little then, you're probably big now and much braver. Oh! you're probably an astronaut now! I remember that you used to draw yourself as one. Or maybe you kept on drawing and became an artist, you always loved drawing. I know! You're probably part of the ghostbusters now! You've always wanted to be one! Do you remember? Well, whatever it is, you're probably something amazing now, exploring the world and having amazing adventures, like the ones we used to watch on tv or the stories we secretly read at night.
We've always been best buddies you and I. I could still remember the way you would pinch my ears, rubbing it with your little fingers until you could fall asleep at night. I still remember when your mother said that, I was too worn out already and you defended me by saying that, you'll never throw me away no matter how old I get. I know I never really got to tell you but I was really happy that day. And it's raining here, back at your mom's house, maybe that's why I remembered you again but it's not like I do n't always do anyways. I always think about you and your adventures.
Your mom packed us all in this box and we're now residing in your garage. And I never really got to tell you that I never really got big and braver like you. I'm a bit old and dusty now, but I'm still the same. I'm still afraid of the thunder just like you when you were little. I really wish I grew up big and brave like you because right now, the thunder is too loud and all I'm wishing for is that you'd come back and hug me the way you used to. It does n't have to be everyday, maybe just once more. I really was n't prepared for the last time, it all happened too fast.
-- --
Sorry, not in script format.
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[ WP ] The Zika virus was actually engineered by aliens in order to kickstart the next step in human evolution . You are the grad student that discovers its origins .
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Human evolution is a process that takes time, that much we know. Survival of the fittest is something we all learned about in high school. We must adapt to survive and ensure the continuity of our existence on planet Earth. We reached a stage in our evolution where we no longer need to adapt. We can survive with everything we have, the tools we use and the machines we control.
Global warming has been solved centuries ago much the same as overpopulation. Colonies on the Moon, Mars and Jupiter's moon Europa have taken care of that. The death of our Sun is the last remaining factor that we can ( not yet ) overcome. We have succeeded as a species.
But even so, in the last 50.000 years nothing has changed to humanity in its core. We still look, walk, talk, sleep, dream... the same. We are born, grow up and die and that's all there is to it. We get sick, suffer pain and death and overcome it by finding a cure. Cancer, HIV, Ebola... are all names from the past. But recently a new virus has been discovered; the Zika virus named after the 22Nd Century dictator Zika Verkom who was responsible for millions of deaths.
Patient Zero was found in San Antonios, capital of the United Federation in the year 2.504 of the 52nd Milllenium. It starts with a small cough that quickly becomes a harsh fever and eventually renders the patient unable to eat, drink or sleep. It's a gruesome process that takes a week to kill the patient. Now, two years later, over two billion people have died on Earth, 50.000 on the Moon and Mars bases and 12.000 on Europa.
Scientist have been desperate to find a cure for this new and lethal virus, believing fully that this is just another disease that can be overcome. But I took a different approach. For the last two years, I have visited people who lived and worked with people who caught the virus, but did not get infected themselves. I have investigated these people and came to a remarkable conclusion; they all carry the same, rare genome sequence AATTGTGTGTAATTGTGT in Chromosome 13.
I do not believe this is a coincidence. Something about the sequence renders these people immune to the Zika virus. So far, I found about 600 people with this sequence and encouraged them to help those in need. It's not much, but for now it will have to do, this might be the clue we need to cure this disease. Not two days ago I send my results to the Federation's Clinical Academy of San Antonios. I can only hope they take my investigation seriously.
> More coming soon. More over at /r/Neite
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[ WP ] A world-renowned magician discovers that all of his tricks were legitimate magic performed by his lovely assistant , who 's an actual sorceress .
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`` No, no... the bolt goes here... does n't it? It always goes here...''
`` Yes, Mr. Dallan, so it does.''
The old man tried to place the bolt back in its place, but froze half-way.
He stared at the apparatus in front of him, in complete silence, remaining motionless for the excruciating duration of several minutes.
His hand then slowly lowered and uncertainly placed the bolt on the cement floor, next to the kneeling magician.
The shadow of his young female assistant, extremely attractive and agile for her presumed age, was a silent motionless ink-stain embossed onto the cold gray cement. If not for the slow approach of the shadow earlier, the magician would've never known that she was standing behind him.
Mr. Dallan did not respond to his assistant's remark, his gaze remaining pinned to the intricate machine before him, as if his mind was helplessly stuck in a contemplation beyond its capabilities.
Silence endured, maintained by both.
`` How did it work?'' - he finally gasped.
`` We had a show...'' - the old man seemed oddly helpless, - `` We had a show, it worked. It all worked fine, there was no flaw...''
He picked up the bolt again and turned around, staring up at the assistant, with the bolt outstretched in his hand.
`` But it ca n't work without this... How did it work?''
His assistant stood silent, biting her lip.
The old man watched her with a blank gaze for a minute, then switched back to the machine.
`` How?...'' - he half-whispered.
`` I did it.''
He turned around.
His assistant looked rather upset.
`` I did it. I had to do it. I've realized that it was out of place and that the machine would stall, but we were already in mid-performance... So I had to do it. I had to make it work.''
Mr. Dallan blinked a few times, as he kept staring up at her.
`` But how, how did you do it? We were on stage, you were right next to me... How did you get under?''
The assistant sighed, letting her apparent disappointment ( with her own person ), like the air she exhaled, slowly drift and expand across the cold area under the stage of the old theater.
`` I did n't think that you'd notice. I did it from the stage. I could feel the machine was about to stall, about two seconds before.''
Like a confused toddler eyeing up a broken toy, the magician's glance was blankly switching back and forth between his assistant and his own machine - the sight of the confused magician was pitiful.
`` What do you mean...''
`` Pull that test lever. Right now. Is the bolt still in your hand?''
`` Yes.'' - the magician nodded and, still in the grip of the confusion, slowly reached out for the lever on the side of the machine.
As he pulled it, the fast clockwork of the apparatus was set in motion - turning the gears and shifting the planks, all in the right, precise order - until it got to the point of the missing bolt.
The last gear had spun, hitting the empty spot, and yet the next gear in line started up without a single glimpse of a delay - motivated by the sheer nothingness - by the empty space of the missing bolt, as the undoubtedly crucial link in the chain was still clutched in the magician's hand.
The machine spun its final bits, and the soft click, coming from somewhere beyond the heavy wooden floorboards above, had notified the two that the machine had finished, and that the trick had run as planned. But it could n't have.
The magician slowly stood up, and, in overwhelming astonishment, gazed at his assistant, Helena.
There was a lot to be said.
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[ WP ] A young and and idealistic god meets an old and jaded one .
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This new creation really suited Rhea, the goddess of the new world. These large bodies of land, full of mountains and lakes, with plentiful plants that grew nowhere else in the world. No people will colonize this for at least one hundred years, so the goddess could walk freely upon her creation, alongside the animals and plants.
Breathing in the fresh air of the untattered landscape, she could n't wait to present herself in front of the council of the gods. They currently were residing in Rome, and she would have to travel there on her mode of transportation, a red Phoenix. She clambored upon the beautiful birds back, and took off, determined to get to Olympus by the summer solstice, which would happen in two days time.
She flew on, only stopping to allow safe eating.
She arrived One hour before council. Walking up to Olympus was enough to churn her blood, and heighten her ambition. She took a deep, calming breath, and walked in. The building recognized her as a goddess, because she was n't thrown into Tartarus.
`` There it is, the sacred council room.'' She giggled a little to herself, then regained her composure, and walked in.
15-foot tall gods and goddesses were all towering over Rhea. Deciding to grow into full form then, Rhea quickly was 15-feet tall, as well. Only Aphrodite was more beautiful then her. Rhea's hair was a gentle brown, highlighted by a new-grass green. A young face was accentuated by how her hair framed it. She was thin set, yet not lanky. Her robes were a beautiful sunset hue.
A few minor gods took an interest in her, because she was new. Pele, the goddess of fire, sensed she was a land goddess, and asked about how many volcanoes she made in her lifetime. 25, to be exact. Persephone, the goddess of plants, wanted to visit her land and learn of them all. Aeristaeus, the patron god of pets and animal-keeping, was just passing through, but wanted to know everything about the tame animals. A few others conversed, a few others left, and a few others became friends of Rhea.
The council was soon started, and all of the tiny, minor gods were asked to leave, because they were n't neccesary for this meeting. All of the larger, minor gods stayed, but in plain thrones, in another side of the room. There were enough, even for the newcomer.
Zues looked upon the minor gods, and noticed Rhea. He beckoned her over.
`` I we that you are a goddess, as this building has recognized as such. So, what is it you are a patron of?'' Zues looked on her with warm, grey eyes.
The stammered,'' I have created the new world, your godliness. It is a beautiful landscape, not yet tainted by humans.'' Looking hopefully at his grey eyes, with her sunset colored eyes, she pictured it in her mind, and he could see it, too.
All the gods could, in fact. And they all nodded to each other in agreement.
`` May I be recognized as a important minor goddess?'' Her sunset eyes classes with purple.
`` For such a landscape, created by your prowess, I suppose so.''
She bowed in respect, and seated herself back into her throne, which has suddenly decorated itself with the sign of an otter, yet nothing more. She realized all of the thrones had each of the god/desses seals. Be it flowers, or fire. She had been recognized in an Olympian council, and welcome back to Olympus any time. That is all she cared about.
As Rhea went back to the new world, she foundnthat now she had far better power. She could control things better, and sculpt land with more ease. *So this is what it is like to be an Olympian. *
A few gods and goddesses visited from time to time, bearing gifts and hoping for Rhea to return the favor with such. Knowledge is all she could give, because her land had n't produced enough to return in suit.
Soon, native colonies formed, then people traveled to her land from far and wide. And after that, small colonies, war, then large cities formed, and technology widened. Olympus also had moved to the heart of the west, North America. New York, to be exact. Rhea's creation had become very popular, making the young goddess happy.
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[ WP ] A homeless man has been secretly living inside your house for the last 2 years . He ends up blowing his cover in order to save your life .
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Randy had always thought his house was haunted, ever since his dog Puddles died.
`` I always hear knocks during the night'' Randy said to his friend, Sarah.
`` Spooky'' Sarah said.
`` I often smell foul odors'' Randy said.
`` Of course, that's the mark of a true poltergeist'' Randy continued.
`` My remote control keeps moving''
Sarah raised her eyebrows.
`` Ghost often move objects as pranks''
Randy scratched his head.
`` Food keeps disappearing.''
`` I've never heard of that'', Sarah said.
`` My neighbors hear the TV on, and the shower running during the day''
That last comment confused Sarah very much. She confessed to Randy that ghost do n't usually watch tv, shower, or eat food.
Andrew who was listening knew his cover was blown, and screamed at the top of his lungs. `` I MAY BE HOMELESS, BUT SHE'S A MURDERERRRRRRrrrrr''
Randy did n't believe Andrew, but he was n't lying.
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[ WP ] A man discovers he 's immortal during his greatest moment of weakness . Write his experience as he realizes what 's happened .
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The bullets are flying at me, in all directions it seems. It's World War II. Though, of course, I do n't know it's called that *right then*. I'm part of a squad whose only job is to get through the beaches at Normandy. I've got a few friends with me, which is nice.
I remember the bullets flying even before the assault boats washed up on the Normandy shores, and as soon as the thing opened, I was charging with the rest of my squad, and most of the young men in North America. I was scared out of my wits, but the men around me were screaming at the Germans, these Nazis they called them, and I was screaming right along with them.
I remember, as I marched, and fired, the screaming of the men waned over time. And eventually, it was only me screaming. Screaming for my squad, screaming at the Nazis. Screaming at the damn weather, even. It was cold as hell, and there was a godawful storm, as if God himself was angry at the war. I was right there with him.
I took a bullet in the gut after a few hours, and fell over. I still had some fight left in me, so I continued to fire at Nazis who ran by. But eventually, my energy ran out. My world went dark.
When I woke up, it was because I heard voices. They were speaking German. I waited for them the voices to fade away, and got myself up. I started to look around, only to notice I was still on the beach, and nothing had changed. I could hear heavy fire from way off, but the only other sound I could hear were the waves.
I looked at my stomach, but other than the bloody clothes, I could n't feel anything. I pulled my shirt up, and noticed there was no blood. After searching for a few minutes, I found a bloody bullet, which was sitting on the sand.
I got up and ran back toward the ocean. I found a small encampment. The duty officer asked for my name, and assault team. When I told him he looked at me rather odd.
`` I have reports that your group were all confirmed KIA, yesterday... I thought we had found all the bodies, already... What'd you say your name was, soldier?''
`` Dele, sir. Lieutenant Dele,'' I told him.
`` Damn, our boys must have been too fast when checking you out, Lt. Dele. You're currently dead,'' he said with a devil's smile. He showed me the piece of paper with my squad's information on it. `` Your uniform is bloody, but you appear to be alright... what happened, Lt?''
`` I do n't know, sir. I thought I was hit, I felt a nasty hit in my stomach, and fell. I fought for a few more hours, but when I ran out of energy... I felt so tired, sir. I went unconscious. And when I woke up, I'm fine,'' I told him. I could only shrug, too.
The man held my gaze for a few seconds. He had a large, bushy, mustache, and a long scar over his eye. He nodded a few times. `` Well, it looks like you've got the grace of God on your side, soldier. Front has moved on to the north. If you'd like, you can find a new squad when you get there. Or, we can do a medical checkout for you in the tent over younder,'' he pointed down the beach, `` and I can find something for you to do here.''
I suddenly realized I was looking at a very high-ranking official. He had the ranking pins of a Captain. He was still looking at me strangely, when he shifted stride. `` On second thought, Lt., please make your way to the medical tent, on the double. We are going to check you out, for now. Dismissed,'' he said, and turned to his paperwork. At the time, I had no idea. But after I started walking toward the medical tent, The Captain became interested in a small envelope marked `` Specials Project''.
I could still hear the heavy fire, and explosions, in the distance, as I walked down the beach. One of the nurses grabbed me as soon as I entered the tent. Evidently, I looked very pale. During their investigation, they could not find a thing wrong with me, but they had me eat an extra share of rations to get some more fight in me.
The Captain, who I found out was named Captain Nills, asked me to make my way toward the front after a few hours of rest.
The next time I saw Captain Nills, he looked like he was n't sure which to fear more: myself, or the Nazi commandos who had surrounded us....
*Edit: Changed a small scene toward the end, which clarified some dealings with Captain Nills*
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[ WP ] Suddenly all extinct species reapear on earth .
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Suddenly there was a horse in Gary's apartment. It stood there. A horse. In Gary's apartment. Gary stared at it. Hooves on the parquet floor. Its jet-black coat gleaming. It shook its head to the left timidly. Gary assumed the horse had not noticed him yet, sitting behind the wooden table with glass top, as it was currently facing away from him, to the street-side of the apartment. Gary was quite pleased there was a solid object between the two of them.
He tried to not make a sound.
The horse wagged its tail, as if to repel flies which, Gary was glad to observe, had not magically materialized into his apartment with it. Manes danced up and down as the horse shook its head several more times, and then suddenly turned its muscular neck sharply, to look Gary square in the eye. The horse did not seem to react to his presence. Maybe it had already been aware of him. Sense of smell and peripheral vision and all that, thought Gary. What did he know about horses? Nothing.
He tried to not make any movement.
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[ WP ] Humanity discovered the secret to immortality 50 years ago . Earth is now being overpopulated . The government performs routine killings to balance the population . You are in the next batch of killings , but you have no intentions of letting them succeed .
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The community speakers were blaring their soothing soup of elevator music and pro-recycling propaganda. Almost no one else was left on the streets - most residents had already joined their families at home, for the final recycling day celebrations. Recycling day had become a big business since the Dignified End act was passed - there were now dozens of different recycling tonics to choose from, in many different flavours. Most people would enjoy their final meals together, then take the tonic and sleep away in the comfort of their homes, surrounded by their families. These days the recyclers only took care of cowards and stragglers, and the cleanup crew made sure the homes were polished and ready for the next batch of residents by the next morning.
This is what bothered me the most. Some random person would move into my home tomorrow, and find no trace of me or the life I had lead. The cleanup crew would make sure my body and all personal artefacts would be disposed of. Although my apartment had been my home for 100 years, it was really more like a long term hotel room. The next tenant would also get 100 years, and then he would be disposed of. Just like the countless generations before us.
“ Recycling day is a Family day ” some dimwitted womans voice squealed from the speakers above. Family day, pfft, I grunted to myself as I squeezed my precious package closer to my chest. Not for me. I would not roll over and die, not yet. My small package had all the tools I would need to survive, as long as I managed to get the timing right.
I got to my apartment as the sun was setting. The building was filled with laughter and music, as families were saying their final goodbyes behind closed doors. No one would say goodbye to me, no one would miss me. I walked into my dark apartment and sat down by the window, to wait. One by one, neighbouring apartments were starting to fall quiet. It was nearly time.
As the clock turned 11.50pm, I saw a Recycler van pull into my street. Six officers stepped out, in their black uniforms and masks. They strolled up to my building, casually talking amongst themselves. These days they didnt have much to fear - since the Dignified End act was passed, most people had started to go peacefully with tonics, and the recyclers job had become more ceremonial than anything. Resistance was virtually unheard of.
I held the syringe gently in my right hand, hidden from view. I drooped my head and slouched in my chair, doing my best impersonation of a dead body. Within minutes, a recycler entered my apartment. He walked up to me and flipped my left arm over, and scanned my microchip. His scanner beeped and he turned around to go to the next apartment. That ’ s when I pounced out of my seat and jabbed him in the neck with the syringe. He only had time for a surprised gasp, before he dropped to the floor with a loud thud. I dropped to my knees next to his body, and pulled out my surgical kit. I injected myself in the arm with anaesthetic. A few quick painless cuts, and I had swapped our chips. Blood was slowly dripping down my arm as I unbuckled his pants and tore them off his body. The uniform was a bit too big on me, but I would have to do.
I barely had time to secure the mask before another recycler entered the room.
“ Greg, what ’ s taking so long over there? ”
Shit. These two knew each other. “ Your mom ” I said as I walked past him nonchalantly, silently praying that this wasn ’ t too out of character. He laughed and patted me on the back, a bit too hard. “ She always said you were a lousy lover ” he snapped back, and followed me out of the room and downstairs into the van.
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[ WP ] Nonfiction - Tell Us About Your First kiss .
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I was 9, they were 8. We were playing in a big group, in the woods near our neighborhood, building a `` sassafras fort''. We actually were doing a good bit of real labor, clearing out the plants from the interior of our fort's thin foliage walls.
At some point one of the two girls in the group suggested a kissing booth was in order. The price: One maple leaf. This was easily doable, but we were all really nervous for the idea and spent a great deal of time searching out the best leaves, perhaps as some proto-attempt at proving ourselves Alpha, but probably just to delay the awkward and unknown.
Naturally I gathered two leaves, one for each girl. I was the only boy so privileged, as the rest were siblings to at least one of the girls in question. I had a sort of crush on the brunette, but the blond was definitely the better kisser. ( And these were just pecks, mind! )
Looking back, it was a sweet and innocent experience. Children playing, a happy time.
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[ WP ] You stumble into an abandoned warehouse and find a room completely covered in dials marked with years . Each dial is labeled with a different species . You find the dial that 's labeled `` Human '' with the dial turned to 122 years , the longest anyone has ever lived . You decide to tamper with it .
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Billy Wilkinson ran, kicking at whatever stood in his way in fury. He could still hear the laughter of the other kids ringing in his ears. Just because he wanted to do more interesting things during recess than play football or whatever stupid game they thought was so exciting.
*Did your mom drop you on your head as a baby? * Dan Heston had asked, sounding genuinely curious, when he proposed hunting for alien eggs on the school grounds.
Well, he'd show'em. He'd really show'em. He'd get an egg and bring it to school, plant it in Dan's desk, and then, then -
Billy muttered about his plans for revenge as he walked into a warehouse on the side of the road. Maybe there'd be something in here he could use against those assnuggets. He scrounged around the stuff piled everywhere. Funny stuff, too. He looked with interest at the shiny costumes he found. *Weird*. And then, under a pile of costumes, he found it. Dials, with labels that made him stop breathing with excitement for a moment.
Alien. Vampire. Cyborg. Fairy. Human. Each pointed at different numbers. Oh, geez, this was incredible. The'human' dial was cranked to 122.
`` Awesome!'' he yelled.
In the security room in the basement of the building, Clark jerked awake as Mark poked him in his side.
`` Dude. Check it out,'' he snickered, pointing at the cameras.
Clark wiped the slobber from his mouth and looked blearily at the screens. Was something happening, finally? Guarding the warehouse filled with equipment for *And Then They Came*, the sequel, was hardly a summer job people had been lining up to apply for. They had n't even started shooting yet, the place was dead.
`` Did n't he see the sign? How did he get in, anyway?'' Clark muttered as he watched the kid in the warehouse whoop and mutter to himself as he fiddled with the dials.
Mark yawned and leaned back. `` Forgot to lock up, actually. Was about to go up when the kid showed up. Man, it's too good, listen to him.''
They watched the kid play with the dials as he laughed and yelled with excitement.
Upstairs, Billy's laughter died down as he paused with a finger on the'human' dial. He jerked it up to 500, and waited for something to happen. But wait, that would n't work, would it? He'd have to wait for some old geezer to get even *older* to see if that worked. No, he should dial it down, that's what. It's what all of them deserved, anyway, for laughing at him. He took the dial, and accidentally dialed it down to 5 in his enthusiasm.
When nothing happened, he began trembling with excitement. He was n't dead. But that meant..it could n't be. Oh, no way. It could n't be!
The teenagers downstairs burst into laughter when they heard what Billy yelled next. Mark leaned over and activated the intercom system.
`` Hey, what're you doing?'' Clark hissed. Mark waved at him to shut up.
`` Yes, child, you are not human,'' Mark said in a deep, rumbling voice.
Billy froze where he stood in the warehouse. Something was in here with him. A God? Some creature?
`` What are you?'' he asked in a hushed voice.
`` Impertinence!'' Mark roared. `` You will find out what I am with time. First, you must prove yourself, young vampire. You must activate the magic of the dials.''
`` That does n't even make sense...'' Clark hissed.
Billy frowned in confusion at the different messages. The thing sounded pretty crazy, but that was probably normal. It was n't human, after all. Just like him. Billy had scarcely processed the news that he was a vampire when the voice spoke again.
`` Human sacrifice is needed!'' Mark boomed. `` Aaah yes, sacrifice. You must bite a human, in the light of a full moon... then, the new dial age will activate for all humanity... you must do it tonight... ``
`` Wearing nothing but a silly hat,'' Clark chipped in.
There was a ringing silence, before Billy heard the creature give a hideous snort of laughter. This was some hazing ritual for new supernatural creatures, probably. And it thought he would n't do it. But Billy could see Dan's sneering face float in his mind's eye. He could n't *wait* to get back at that kid. He'd do anything.
`` I wo n't let you down!'' Billy yelled, and fled from the warehouse. He was pretty sure his mom had a big straw hat he could borrow. And Dan's house was really close... one bite, and he'd show them. He'd really show'em this time.
Clark and Mark's manic laughter died down eventually.
`` l'll give it to him, he really knows how to play along with a joke,'' Clark said, wiping at his streaming eyes. `` He should act in the movie.''
-- -- -- -- -
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/.
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[ WP ] There exist a handful of ancients texts describing how to summon a demon , but very few will ever mention how to summon an angel . And for good reason .
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They were known to be beautiful, enchanting creatures. The Holy Book told the truth and the truth only — and that truth was that Angels were like stars with wings as white as the soul of a newborn child. They could emit their own light from their bodies, they could bring warmth to all the pure-hearted, and they could bring happiness to whoever they wanted.
However, few people knew why it was a sin to summon Angels.
In that era, most historical religions had already been abolished. Only one imperial religion remained, and that was Daemism.
The world did n't change much after the Third World War, but the people and their beliefs did. Not long after the last bomb had been dropped, an unrecognized archeologist discovered a private library buried many meters underground. After they were studied by different scientists, historians and other professionals it was found out that they belonged to an old alchemist, who lived about a millenium before the Year 0. His books contained information about different species of demons, how to summon them and how to behave in front of them. In just a couple of decades the information was known worldwide, and a lot of people could summon lower demons in their own household and ask for a wish. That's when the new religion was adapted, and people began to praise demons and forget about any other God or superior being.
Of course, summoning demons had a price. These prices were usually material objects or promises. Lower demons could grant a wish for a cup of uncooked cake flour or similar, but the wishes were limited to moving an object or cleaning the windows ( which was quite convenient, as they finished the demand in a second using their magic ). Higher demons could change people's emotions, steal or summon objects, and some could even create nuclear weapons. However these demons could demand for a sacrifice, being an animal or a human that the summoner loved, or the summoner's life itself.
But I never had a strong interest for demons.
I was nothing more than a young pre-teen that had n't yet fully gone through puberty when everything happened. I was in my rebellious stage.
My family was n't poor, but was n't rich either. Because of this, both of my parents worked, and summoned demons to do the chores. I had memorized most of the pentagrams that we used regularly. Not to be showing off but I'm a gifted child, it did n't take me too much effort to get good grades or remember some pentagrams.
One day, I went to the Alchemist's library in a school trip for History and Daemonology. At least I was with my friends. They had made the library a museum.
`` This pages could n't be deciphered by any of the best historians out there, and for some reason all demons refuse to do it for us'' the teacher explained `` Apparently, these ones are about something completely different to most demon summoning. A lot of people infer that they might summon some of the highest sets of demons, which might be extremely dangerous, so maybe the Alchemist did n't want to openly share his knowledge about those, so he coded his own work''.
The pages were displayed on the walls behind a glass. And they caught my eye, particularly a set of three pages next to each other. The museum had banned any type of photos, but I had sneaked in my phone and needed to go through those pages at home. I asked some of my best friends to watch my back, while I secretly took the pics without any adults noticing.
When I got home I started working.
It took me the whole week to understand what the code was after I printed out the photos. I had rewritten everything on paper, symbol by symbol. And then it made sense. They were not letters — they were numbers. And to add up, the text was reversed.
I understood why nobody could decipher it. When I looked through some of the copies for the demon summoning collection of the Alchemist, I noticed that not a single ancient number had been written out throughout any of the volumes. It took me another whole month to decipher all the three pages — I did n't tell anything to my friends.
`` Angels'' was the word that first caught my attention `` are dangerous''. That did n't first make sense to me. In the new religion Angels were never mentioned, but accounting to older texts they were benign creatures, and far holier than demons. `` I've lost everything''. The text seemed to be very wary of talking about the Angels themselves, but went on full detail to describe how to summon one.
It did n't contain any drawing or diagram of how the summoning shape should look like, but the detailed description, did n't make it too hard to imagine it. The text ended saying `` Whatever your reason may be, DO NOT summon the Angel''.
I did n't know how to feel. The Alchemist seemed to want me to summon the Angel by the way he described the process, but some of the words threw me back. For some reason, it felt like he was suffering when he wrote these pages.
I found out that these were the last three pages the Alchemist wrote. I did n't follow the steps.
I kept the prints and my translation hidden somewhere in my room, and never touched them again.
__________
Sorry for any phrasing mistake or if it was hard to read, English is not my first language ^^
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[ WP ] It is the 22nd century . A vessel has been dispatched from Earth to investigate a far away world theorized to be the home of a pre-space flight civilization . After a decade of stasis , the crew finds a backlog of urgent messages from Earth instructing them to do one thing : run .
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I awoke from cryosleep with a pounding headache and a blaring voice telling me to report to the helm every 15 seconds. A silent alarm painted the walls with brilliant flashes of red, just what a man with a migraine needed. What a way to welcome someone back to reality. I eased myself out the creche and did a few calisthenic exercises to get the blood flowing before grabbing a liqua-meal and heading out to see what all the commotion was about. When I arrived at the helm, I noticed that Captain Eudora and almost the entire rest of the crew, everyone down to the mechanics, was gathered here. A few concerned eyes glanced my way as I entered before returning to the giant screen at the front of the room. There was a constant buzz coming from the crowd. A mixture of excitement and worry.
I saw Sylvester in the corner, one of the special ops, talking with some of the marines. I waived to him and smiled, continuing to sip on my liqua-meal, oblivious to the rising tension. He motioned me over.
“ Hey, Sylvy. Long time no see. It feels like it ’ s been a decade at least. ” I flashed him a big smile.
“ Hey, big guy. How was your nap? ” Silvester didn ’ t return the smile as we embraced.
“ Refreshing. Had a few nightmares that we broke up. I just wish someone would ’ ve invited me to this party sooner. I know you guys are excited to see me, but you didn ’ t have to. Where are the drinks? ”
“ Well, if you hadn ’ t heard, this is supposed to be a first-contact party, but I don ’ t suppose they briefed you on that when you signed up for this ride. ”
“ Now that you mention it, that does rings a bell, ” I replied, playing along. “ But if I do recall, I think I ’ m still supposed to still be asleep. ”
“ Most of us are.. According to the plan, we were supposed to receive instructions once we ’ d exited hyperspace. No military intervention until the scientists had established contact. ”
“ Or we came under attack, ” I replied, smiling. “ Tell me something I don ’ t know. ”
“ Well, we aren ’ t under attack as you ’ ve probably noticed, and we haven ’ t quite made contact yet either. It ’ s the instructions that ’ s got everyone riled up. ” He motioned to the text on the screen. “ At the ten year mark right before we were supposed to exit hyperspace, Earth sent us one message. It simply read: ‘ run ’ ”
“ That ’ s it? ” I held back my laughter. “ Run? ”
“ There were some other messages, but most of it ’ s been corrupted as far as we can tell. ”
“ Well who says ‘ run ’ is a bad thing? ” I replied. “ Maybe our new friends like some good ‘ ol sport. I like running myself. ”
“ But that ’ s not the strangest thing. That message was— ”
“ Attention! ” Captain Eudora commanded. The whole room fell silent. “ As most of you know at 0800 today, E.T., most of you were reanimated and notified of a change in plans stemming from directives from Earth. In the hours since then, we ’ ve been attempting to salvage some corrupted messages that we ’ ve received while in hyperspace, and our original mission has shifted. In 15 hours we will be approaching the planet Ramlah. We ’ ll be sending a small reconnaissance task force before we land headed by our Special Ops division. ” There were murmurs of surprise throughout the room. She nodded to me. “ As of now, we will be in battle-ready status. You ’ re all dismissed to your positions. ”
As the crowd headed out, I approached Captain Eudora. “ Hey, Cap. Mind filling me in on this task force I ’ m supposed lead? ”
“ First Lieutenant Jurek, it ’ s good to see you. There ’ s been some … minor complications as I ’ m sure you ’ ve heard. ”
“ Sure, something about ‘ running ’ and some corrupted messages. ”
“ Right, about those corrupted message. We know two things about the messages. For one, we ’ ve been receiving them for far longer than ten years ”
I stood there silently, trying to process the information. “ Longer? How ’ s that even—how much longer? ”
“ Last one received was 380 years after our departure. ”
I nearly gagged on my liqua-meal. “ But that ’ s not possible, we ’ ve only been hyperspace for ten years! ”
“ That was the plan. And that was only the date of the last message. We ’ re running constellation analysis right now to determine our true flight time, but it could be even longer if they stopped sending messages. But the real question is who they were sending messages to. There was another party involved, someone other than us, and they were responding to Earth. That we ’ re sure of. ”
“ Captain, AIs confirmed our suspicions, ” one of techies yelled out from a console. “ The messages were using a quantum-trinary encryption. Something that could only have been developed while we were in hyperspace. We ’ re displaying their contents now. ”
We turned to the display overhead as a picture materialized. The man in the image was disheveled, and cut up. He had a long beard and piercing eyes, the eyes of someone who ’ d seen terrible things.
“ Day 1531, ” The man began.
He seemed familiar.
“ The terrors of Ramlah are unceasing… ”
Where had I seen him? I turned to Sylvester and saw him gaping at the screen. He looked at me.
“... we sent two more teams into the fifth portal … ”
Then it hit me—that man was me. I choked on my liqua-meal.
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[ /r/Priscillium ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/Priscillium/ )
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[ WP ] On that day the gods wept and the mortals cheered
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`` Well, that was unexpected.''
The Onlooker stood in his dark realm, overlooking the scene through his crystal mirror. Quite a while back, he created a universe with one Overseer to do as he pleased. This Overseer, dubbed as God, had his own minions to see to different aspects. It would take a while for God to fill the entire universe that he had been given access to, so he told his minions to concentrate on one world, create and recreate until it is perfect. These minions took over different elements, shaped the world around the creatures that formed. One species was of particular interest.
This species was more intelligent than the rest. They built civilisations. God decided what the perfect human race should be, and so repeatedly destroyed them and their way of life, watching their'reset,' and destroying them again.
What they have achieved now is impressive, they have harnessed electricity itself, using elements from above and below them to power their machines. Most impressive. But, they were harming God's wonderful planet in the process, so he decided it was time to end this.
To save time, we shall say that, much to God's and the Onlooker's surprise, the humans managed to overcome the challenges set before them, lack of resources, global warming, anything. So God decided to directly destroy them, sending an army of his angels to destroy them. What was anticipated was their fighting back. What was n't anticipated was their winning. God was astounded, watching the nuclear fire and burning hot steel travelling faster than the eye can see, obliterating his avengers. He was too slow to close the rift to his world, before helicopters and jets transported thousands of mortals to his world, overwhelming all who stood in the way.
The Onlooker simply watched, assured of his safety in his other realm, watched as his hand in that universe and all those around him fell. God, Zeus, Poseidon, all fell to the unbelievable power that the mortals wielded. The Onlooker placed his cloth over the mirror, intending on returning later and seeing what the cheering mortals decide to do with their new found power, and if any of the weeping Gods survive.
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[ WP ] You , an average Joe , are mysteriously transported to the future . When you introduce yourself to the people there , they all have the same reaction : `` Oh my God , THE *yourname* ! ? ''
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“ Come on. Come on! High Score! High Score! One More Round! ” Joe muttered to himself under his breath.
Joe ’ s fingers raced across the several, brightly colored buttons in front of him. His right hand flashed over to a black joystick. Deep, staccato click clacking followed his movements. A bright screen of flashing lights shone onto his face. Harsh, angular lines arose from the blaring light. A small crowd had formed around Joe. They waited with bated breath. Joe was seconds away from getting the world wide record on the popular arcade game, ‘ Shoot Em Up A Lot ’.
The crowd around him, the lights and sounds of the arcade, were all but forgotten by Joe. His entire focus, his entire being, was consumed by the screen in front of him. He ’ d trained years, day in day out for this, and finally he was so close. He ’ d bet his life on this, this one achievement that would bring him out from the pool of despair and failure that he currently resided in.
Sweat pooled on his brow; he licked his lips. Joe stood, hunched, with determination. His wrists strained; his forearms burned. His entire being was put into the game in front of him. Joe did this, all of this, for *him*. He gritted his teeth. He couldn ’ t fail, not now.
After hours of tenses combat; adrenaline fueled battle at the console, Joe could finally taste victory. He saw the high score before him. Joe ’ s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to yell. A ping of victory came from the console. On its screen, the victory screen was showing. The newest world record for ‘ Shoot Em Up A Lot ’ displayed on the screen. The crowd behind Joe went wild. A news crew was motioned to come forward. A black lens captured history as Joe proudly entered *his* first name, ‘ R.O.B. ’, into the game. It sat, glistening proudly, at the top of the rankings list.
Joe turned around to his adoring fans. He waved to the camera, and flashed a big grin. To all the viewers sitting at home, Joe ’ s joy was genuine. They couldn ’ t help but grin along with him, such was the infectiousness of Joe ’ s celebration. He jumped up and screamed. He yelled and clapped. All around hands clasped his, pats found their way onto his back. It was a moment of bewildered adrenaline. Everything was a blur for Joe.
The crowd practically carried Joe to the bar next door. Drinks abounded, and cheering filled the now crowded bar. Joe followed along with the flow of celebration. He cheered and joked, laughed and cried, his entire body afire with the drug of victory.
The celebrations went on for hours. At some point Joe felt a pressure on his lower abdomen and groin. With deep resentment, for Joe didn ’ t want to miss a second of the celebration, he wandered off to the bathroom.
Joe entered the quiet and stillness of the seedy bathroom. Sounds of celebrations and cheers could be heard faintly through the closed door. Joe went to do his business quickly, and afterwards started to wash his hands.
As the water hit his hands, Joe started to feel off. It was subtle at first, but Joe started to feel dizzy. The lights in the bathroom were too vivid, and then much too dark. Weird blurs and motion swirled on the edges of his vision. Joe found it hard to stand straight. He felt the bathroom twist and turn around him until it was a swirling mass of color and movement.
Joe tried to cry out. He felt a panic rise inside of him. But no sound escaped his lips. He was trapped, suspended in time. Fear consumed him. The joy of celebration moments ago was quickly forgotten. And then, that insidious question reared its ugly head in Joe ’ s mind; was he dead? Joe panicked. He couldn ’ t die! Not Yet! Not after his life had just gotten underway! He ’ d finally done something worth while, something amazing; after all of those years of doing nothing but being a failure!
Just as Joe ’ s willpower reached its breaking point; just as he lost all hope in his life, the swirling stopped. Joe ’ s body came to a rest. He was kneeling, somewhere outside, on gravel, on all fours. Joe opened his eyes and looked around. He soon stared at his surroundings in wonder.
Joe kneeled outside in an open courtyard, massive steel and chrome towers rose up around him. Ships and planes whipped by overhead at unbelievable speeds. A bright, harsh sun shone down on Joe and the green courtyard that he found himself in. Joe stood up and looked around.
Several other people milled around in the courtyard. They talked into strange metallic devices that floated next to their heads. Their clothing was strange. It shimmered and glowed a multitude of colors in the harsh sun. Joe squinted, and tried to figure out where he was.
The poor, accidental time traveler turned around. His eyes grew wide. Standing behind him was a massive, stone statue. It towered over him, and brought tears to Joe ’ s eyes. It was unmistakeable that the statue was of him; the likeness was uncanny. Joe ’ s eyes traveled from the stone head, down to the feet. There, engraved at the foot of the statue was a plaque.
The plaque read, ‘ In Memoriam of R.O.B., the unknown savior that united the world through his heroics at the battle of ‘ Shoot Em Up A Lot ’, a true savior to our world ’.
Joe stared in disbelief. Something inside of him broke, went awry at that. Thoughts of his older brother, killed in the recent Oil Wars came to mind. Joe wasn ’ t a hero, he wasn ’ t anything, he was nothing but a failure. Tears welled in Joe ’ s eyes. The statue should be of his brother, not him! Why were they celebrating him. Was this a delusion, Joe wondered if he ’ d finally lost his mind?
Angry, disgusted stares of his parents came to mind. Their disgust in him; why couldn ’ t he have been brave and served his country like his brother. Joe cried openly in the courtyard, all the failures of his life coming to a head. His divorce, him dropping out of college, getting fired from his job, getting drunk and missing his brother ’ s funeral. They all played like a reel inside of his head.
Joe looked up at the statue in disgust. He couldn ’ t bear it. He ’ d ben PROUD of getting the high score! He thought that Rob would ’ ve been proud of him, a memorial to his bother ’ s life. But he didn ’ t deserve fame, he didn ’ t deserve glory. His brother deserved that. His brother deserved to be the statue, not him!
Joe ran out of the courtyard, crying to himself. No one noticed his rapid flight, their eyes and ears absorbed by the commtronics floating around their heads.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Later, much later, after Joe had regained his senses, he discovered that he ’ d accidentally been transported into the future. He ’ d learned of the collapse of modern society, and how a new world had slowly been built from the ashes. He ’ d learned of the search for history, and of the great historians of the present finding videos of him beating ‘ Shoot Em All Up A Lot ’.
To Joe ’ s horror, they all believed that he ’ d been battling to prevent the collapse of society. They all believed that the Earth would ’ ve stopped existing entirely if he hadn ’ t intervened. He tried to tell them otherwise, tried to tell them it was his brother, not him, who deserved their praise.
They all laughed at that. They said that couldn ’ t be possible. They didn ’ t believe him. They took care of him, fed him, treated him like a relic of the past. But they did not listen to him.
As Joe slipped further into to despair and depression, he wondered if they truly didn ’ t believe him, or if they just didn ’ t want to be bothered to believe him.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Hope you liked it! I've got other stories at r/ThadsMind if you're interested.
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[ CW ] Write a gruesome story using only euphemisms so than it can be read to a group of children without frightening them
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A little late I know but here goes:
Kek Pin ’ s Little Box
Kek Pin has a box. It is a very special box. It has a special place in his heart. Kek Pin keeps his most precious treasures in this box.
Little trinkets gathered in life ’ s journey.
Events that meant the most to him.
A fishbone from his first trip out to sea.
Memories; the joyful and the grim.
A seed from a fruit he found;
That he chanced upon at school.
A tooth he lost when he stood his ground;
Against a bully, such a fool.
A piece of string brings him sadness,
As he recalls the putrid rejection;
When she broke his crafted necklace;
And pointed him in another direction.
Broken pencils, random notes,
Just some of the things he kept;
Tiny shoes, a paper boat;
Linger around as he slept.
Years have passed, and his collection grew;
But space was limited you see.
The box was straining to keep all that was new;
And memories struggling to be free.
“ Kek Pin! ” called out a familiar voice,
Yet not familiar enough,
As he saw, in the clouds, young boys;
Playing with the fluff.
Kek Pin rushed to his little box;
Where he kept all his treasures.
But it surprised him, the little box;
As it almost confirmed his fears.
Another face stares blankly,
Kek Pin stares blankly back.
It was the evil little bully,
His face faded to black.
A cling and a clang, the box made a sound,
As Kek Pin shook and shook.
The worst was happening this time round.
It definitely was not a fluke.
He opened his box;
And all that he freed
Were just some rocks,
And a tiny little seed.
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[ WP ] If a joke is funny enough it can actually harm someone
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As soon as he wrote it down, he knew it was the one. Partly because of how funny it was, but mostly because of how his convulsions of laughter soon turned to spasms of pain. When the police found the comedian in his house, dead over a piece of paper, the scene turned ugly. A dozen cops died there on that day, meeting their end from internal bleeding when their insides burst. Once the SWAT Team was called in, the joke exited the public eye and became a piece of mythology. While the American people spread rumors about what that joke could have been ( in the most unamused manner possible ), the government studied it and began to dissect it. They lost many a good men in that manner, and a few were stuck with a bad case of the giggles for months after. After many months of hilarious research, the United States ended the War of Five Laughs with its innovative J-Bomb. When launched on a city, instead of exploding, it loudly repeated in a computer voice what would soon become famous as the world's deadliest joke. Even computers would sometimes malfunction when processing it.
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[ WP ] You are a sock and today is laundry day . Everything is going well until you lose sight of your matching partner .
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`` Sammie! Sammie! Wake up! Cmon Wake up! We're about to leave!''
`` Oscar what is it where are we going.''
`` It's that time of week again Sammie! We're going to the spa! The Samsung spa!''
`` Is it that time of the week already? Alright then imma go back to sleep for a bit before we head on in wake me up will you Oscar?''
As Sammie nods on off to sleep he hears
`` Sam -- -- SA -- - W -- KE UP! W -- -- --! B -- dog b -- -''
Odd Sammie, thought why was Oscar screaming? Why was his voice sounding farther away? What's this about a dog?
Thats when Sammie woke up. But when he woke up he saw the blue sky in front of him.
`` What's going on!! Where am I where is Oscar?'' Screamed Sammie.
`` Oh there's another one here too. You poor soul.''
`` Who are you and where am I?'' Asked Sammie.
`` As for who I am, my name is not important but people call me Crusty because well you know. As for where you are m'boy your in a hole.''
`` Crusty you have to let me know, how do I get out?''
That's when Crusty let out a big laugh, `` GAHAHAHAAHAA, GET OUT YOU SAY, I've been wondering the same thing for over 3 weeks now, no matter what I do I could never escape. Ever since the damn dog got me I've been seperated from me Darling Krystal''
`` Then what do we do?'' Asked Oscar
`` Nothing m'boy just enjoy the sun while it lasts.'' Crusty replied.
`` Wait what do you me-'' Sammie was cut off by the dirt that landed on him.
`` GAHAHAHHAHAA, GET READY M'BOY ITS STARTING. THE DAMN MUTT BE BURYING US RIGHT NOW! HOLD YOUR BREATH SON CAUSE YOU'RE GOING TO NEED IT. BRING IT ON YOU DAMNED MUTT! GAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH -- GAG''
The dog Skip was happy with his work, he found a new toy and was happy to find his old one. He decided to keep them in a spot where no one knows.
Have fun finding the little easter egg I put in the story
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[ WP ] You are a private investigator , hired to find out if a man 's wife is cheating on him . She 's not , but you do discover something else going on ...
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I had a friend a few years back named Billy. Maybe it's more than a few years, but who's counting? Anyway, Billy was the type that did n't say much, and when he did talk he used the same stupid, little sayings all the time. I called them *Billy-isms*, I guess since *Yogi-isms* was already taken, and his name was n't Yogi. I'm sure we all know the type, you ask if today is Thursday and get in response, `` Yup, all day.'' Ask him if he knows what time it is and get told, `` Time for you to buy a watch.''
Another of his favorites was `` Ai n't nothin' goin' on but the rent.'' Eventually I learned to stop asking `` What's going on?'' but it took a while. I was a little slow on the uptake back then.
Unfortunately for me, lately the rent is *all* that was going on. I had n't gotten a job in a while and the bills were starting to pile up. I was n't thrilled with getting a Cheater job, but sometimes you got ta do what you got ta do to stop living off peanut butter and sneaker sandwiches. It's not like Cheaters are hard work, but it's usually as boring as watching paint dry. In the movies they make it seem a lot more glamourous; watching beautiful women in the throes of passion or something like that. In reality, it's a lot of waiting in cars while drinking bad coffee, or searching for info online. And the women are rarely beautiful.
This case might have been the exception. Guy is a stockbroker; works long hours, sex life in the dumps, all the standard bullshit. Nothing exceptional there. The wife, however, well that was where it started to deviate from the norm. She was beautiful on the verge of gorgeous. Mid-thirties, model features, flawless skin, and a killer body that she maintained at the gym 4 times a week. At least I would have some decent scenery to enjoy while spilling coffee cake crumbs all over the upholstery of my Chevy. They had no time for kids and had been married for 5 years. She had quit her job and said she would keep herself busy with hobbies, but he was afraid one of her hobbies was collecting hard dicks. He gave me double the normal retainer, all her personal info, and an excel spreadsheet with her daily schedule in fifteen-minute increments. If the guy was like this in the sack then I can understand why she wanted some on the side, but I'm not hired to judge, so I kept my mouth shut.
I watched her a bit for the first couple of days after first trying ( and failing ) to snoop their wifi signal. Nothing out of the ordinary, she kept the house clean and looked just as good leaving the gym after a 2 hour cardio session as she did entering it. God, I love yoga pants.
He called me for info the third night after I got on the case and I told him to relax, this kind of thing takes a while. He did n't want to wait and said he would get me a key to the house and their alarm code. I could access her PC and maybe find something there. It was worth a shot, she spent enough time at the gym for me to get in and get out, so I took the key and told him again to relax and let me do my job. If he was afraid I was going to milk this one for a bigger payoff, well, he was right. Did I mention the pile of bills I had to deal with?
On day four I followed her to the gym, watched her get on a treadmill, and hightailed it back to their house. I knew I was good for at least an hour, but it took me all about about 3 minutes to get into her user account on the PC so I could take my time. I made a quick backup of the hard drive onto a portable, then looked into her browsing history. That was when it got interesting real fast.
She had been browsing some of the seedier locations on the web. Craigslist, Backpage, etcetera. A little further digging showed that she had posted a few, let's call them *companionship* ads and had the responses going to a separate email address. The ads she posted were all similar in nature: *Little girl has been bad and needs to be punished by a special Daddy. Prefer Daddies that know what a little girl needs. *
Like I said, it got interesting, and real fast.
I got into the separate email and saw she had a planned meeting this afternoon with one of these *Daddies*. I copied the details and got out of there, just in case she cut her workout short. Turns out my intuition was pretty good. She showed up back at the house maybe fifteen minutes later, showered, changed into a leather jacket and the sexiest plaid skirt I had ever seen. She jumped in her car and headed towards the city.
I followed her at a safe distance, a task made easier by my knowledge of where she was headed. It's a good thing too, since I got caught behind a garbage truck and lost her. She was going into a rough part of town, a bar named Sandy's. Sandy's is down near the meatpacking district and has been a dive since as long as I can remember. A place where you can get cheap beer, your non-prescription drug of choice, and herpes. And that's just from walking in the door. There are rooms in back that even I have n't visited, but if half the rumors are true about what happens in them then I am fine with keeping things that way.
When I got there I saw her car was already parked in the lot alongside the building. There was an older, scruffy-looking man in a Carhartt coat standing in the entrance to an alleyway that ran off the back corner of the lot. He was puffing on a cigarette while watching her exit the car and walk toward him, plaid skirt swaying in the breeze with every step. She kept the jacket on and had added lace gloves to complement the outfit, apparently. I stayed in my car until they started to head down the alleyway, then jumped out and went to see what was going on.
Apparently, he did n't want to waste time, since he had her pinned up against the brick of an old warehouse building, his mouth trying to find hers as she twisted her head to avoid him. His hand made it's way up under her skirt as he leaned back a bit, telling her to `` Be quiet and take what Daddy gives you.'' She nodded in fear as he tried to turn her around, one hand reaching for his belt buckle as the other stayed up under her skirt. She twisted her body in compliance, then as quick as a flash she turned the rest of the way, facing him again. I caught a gleam of silver as a knife flashed in her hand before she buried in his belly, then shoved it up under his ribs. A quick twist of her wrist as she withdrew it and he staggered back, hands pressed on the wound in a failed attempt to contain the blood that was flowing out of it. His mouth opened to cry out but it was too late and he fell to the ground, his last words a silent gasp of air.
She reached into his coat pocket and grabbed his cell phone and wallet. She looked through the wallet, removing a slip of paper, then returned it to his pocket. She wiped the knife off with a rag from her pocket and returned it to the inside of her jacket. I ducked out of sight just in time as she briskly walked back toward her car, got in, and smoothly pulled out of the parking lot.
As I watched her drive away I pulled my phone out of my pocket and found the stockbroker's number, pressing the call button. He answered on the second ring. I kept the conversation short and to the point.
`` Yeah, it's me. We need to talk about increasing your retainer.''
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[ WP ] You awake in a hospital bed with an unfamiliar person referring as your wife telling you were in a bad crash and lost all your previous memory . Unknown to her , you remember everything .
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*The woman who tried to murder me weeks ago is standing in front of me and smiling at me*, Michael thinks to himself. *She ’ s smiling at me and she ’ s dressed like a fucking Stepford Wive*. *What is she doing*? *What the fuck is her plan*?
“ I asked how you are hon? ” she chirps. A nurse is standing next to her and smiling a long.
The woman makes her way over to Michael ’ s hospital bed. She puts his hand on his and he flinches. “ I am so happy you ’ re finally awake, I can ’ t believe it ”.
Michael doesn ’ t know what to say and looks at the nurse. “ Mr. Greenman, you were in a car accident. You ’ ve been in a comma for three weeks. Your wife has been her by your bedside almost every day ”.
*My wife*? *What the fuck*? Michael looks down at his hand and sees and engagement band, but he is well aware that it does not belong where it is. This is the first time he has laid his eyes on that ring.
“ What is the last thing you remember, Mr. Greenman? ” the nurse asks. Michael looks at the woman touching his hand. Her face flashes the memory in front of his eyes instantly. He remembers her seducing him, he remembers learning who she was, he remember the warehouse, the beatings, the explosion… then, he remembered being barely conscious as two massive men dragged him and placed his body into the wreckage of a care. Then he remembers her looking over him and giggling as she walked away.
“ I ’ m not sure, ” Michael lies.
“ You hydroplaned bad on your way home from work. Totalled your car. I was scared I thought I would lose you. ”
*She ’ s fucking lying. Why is she blatantly lying to me*?
“ But I- ” Michael bit his tongue as he was struck with a revelation. She thinks I don ’ t remember any of it. “ I don ’ t remember anything, ” he lies.
The nurse chimes in, “ Well you took a nasty blow to the head. It ’ s very common in a situation like this that you would lose some memory. ”
“ It ’ s okay though, hon. You ’ re up now. Why don ’ t we see what we can do to check you out of here, huh? I want to finally bring you home and do some catching up with you, ” the woman explained with a smile.
“ Yes. Yes, that ’ s a good idea, ” Michael says. He feigns a smile and begins to plan how to kill the woman who tried to take his life.
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[ WP ] you hide behind cover as bullets wiz past you , your friends are desperately trying to turn the firefight around . The situation does n't look good . You stop and reflect on how you and your friends got into this mess .
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I had my back to the barricade, as I glanced around. Carter and Jimmy on the left and Mel right next to me. She was popped up over the barricade, shooting over the top, then the sound of bullet on flesh, a spatter of blood, and a scream. She dropped down into a crouch and glanced at me, in obvious pain. `` She's hit!'' I turned her away me and pulled her down to the floor. `` Just in the shoulder! You're ok, you're ok.''
`` Get this bitch out of me,'' she growled. Trying to squirm out from my grasp.
`` There's nothing in you, through and through.'' I was already tearing at my shirt, making a makeshift bandage. `` Give me 3 minutes!'' I yelled to the others.
`` Just like old times, right?''
___
*4 Hours Earlier*
`` You guys ready for this?'' Dan asked. He was pumped up for the job, but that was supposed to be usual. `` Gon na be a walk in the park.''
`` You sure they're doing the shift change today? I do n't wan na hav'ta wait till next month, but if we do, we do.''
`` Dun worry about a thing Carter,'' Dan started, `` The most you got ta worry about is whether the new guy is gon na talk before we start up.'' I was n't looking, but I knew he was pointing at me. Had n't said a word to him since we met, and I sure was n't going to start now.
`` Leave'im alone Dan, we already know he do n't like you, he do n't need to say it.'' Carter seemed to have my back, even if we'd just met as well. I would n't trust any of them with a ten-foot pole, let alone my back, but maybe he was like me, owing Mel for pulling him out of a tight spot.
`` Whatever,'' he sniped back. `` Let's just get to the truck, Mel and Jimmy should have it ready by now.'' He grabbed his rifle and the rest of his kit and stormed out of the room. This seemed like a pretty regular occurrence as well.
`` Comin'?'' I nodded and turned back to look out the window, waiting for him to leave. When the door shut I pulled out my phone. *Grand Bank on 23rd, we're a go. Plan B*
___
*An Hour Earlier*
`` Ok guys eta 10 minutes, I do n't want to be there longer than 20'' Mel announced. `` Dan you're the driver today, we're only doing two trips, radio us at 10 minutes.''
`` Sure thing boss,'' He replied sarcastically, probably not wanting to be sitting out.
Mel rolled her eyes and looked at the rest of us. `` Jimmy, you're with Carter. He's with me. Quick in and out, we'll take the front and you two take the back. Should be simple, with the guards not on site. Alright, check your gear, eta in 5.'' Jimmy and Carter gave a half-hearted `` Yeah'' while I gave a nod, opting to look over my rifle and side arm instead. Mel came to sit next to me and made a show of looking over her kit. `` You're sure it's fine leaving Dan as the driver?'' She whispered to me.
I glanced at her, `` Yeah.''
`` Alright, let's hope this plan of yours works.''
___
The radio crackled to life, `` Mel 10 minute mark, get the first batch. Dun forget the target, easy 10 million.''
`` We're already on the way back, eta 60 seconds,'' She responded. We loaded up the first bags, and began to move back for the second set. `` Dan, at 3 minutes give us a shout.''
`` Ok, boss.''
We moved down the hallway, faster than the first time, and made it into the vault, just as easy. I grabbed the first bag, the one that I knew had the target, and pulled out my phone. *3:00, 2:59, 2:58*
`` Mel, 3 minute mark.''
`` Dan, hey Dan, you there? Jimmy? Carter?''
`` We're here Mel.''
`` Eyes on Dan?''
`` 30 seconds,'' He said. Mel grabbed her own bag and we began running back to the truck. `` Fucking truck's gone Mel! What the Fuck?!''
`` Shit, we're almost there.'' We rounded the corner, only seeing Jimmy and Carter bags behind their backs just looking at us, lost. Mel let out a sigh, `` We got this.'' She looked at me, `` you have back up, right?''
`` Yeah, we should be fine. Unless -- -''
**'' This is the Police. `` **
`` Aww, fuck. Do n't wan na get caught. Do n't got time for that.''
`` You got a plan for the police too?'' She asked.
`` Yeah, shit,'' I replied, while pulling out my phone. `` It's me, we got ta change to plan E... I do n't care if you're not ready! Just bring Jun, should be more than enough for some cops that feel like padding their payroll... Yeah, bring the van.''
`` Please tell me you have something,'' She asked, while Jimmy and Carter paced the room.
`` Sure, good news: we have a ride. Bad news: it'll be here in 30.''
___
I finished tying the last knot and looked up. `` Ok, that should last for another 20 minutes.''
`` We're on the front steps of the bank, I do n't think we have any more time.'' Mel winced as sat up. Even more bullets whizzed over our heads as we picked up our rifles again. `` Ahhh, this is gon na hurt,'' she told herself, before placing the gun over the barrier and pulling the trigger.
`` We need to hold them off for another 5 minutes. Piece of cake.'' Mel rolled her eyes at me before I turned to the left and took some shots at the police. `` Come on, where are you guys?'' I whispered to myself.
`` Man, Jimmy aint got more ammo! I'm almost out too!'' I slid a couple of magazines across to Carter.
`` Complements of Dan, and we should be clear in 5.'' His quizzical look would have made me laugh, if a couple of rounds did n't hit the top of the barrier.
**Give it up, you have nowhere to go! **
`` These guys keep coming out of the wood work! When will they stop?''
`` I do n't know Mel, well... I guess it does n't matter now.'' The screech of tires could be heard of the hail of gunfire. `` I hope that's who I think it is.'' A blacked out van roared through the police blockade, and came to a screeching halt in front of us. `` Lets go, now!'' I yelled, jumping over the barrier. Mel followed in suit, while I opened the door. `` You brought Jun right?'' I asked the driver.
`` Yeah in the back''
Mel, Jimmy, Carter, then I all jumped into the van. I smiled madly as I pulled the cloth off of the six barreled, electrically powered mini gun mounted to the back of the van. `` All of us are in, lets go. I'll keep them off of us!''
___
*2 Days Later*
`` It is unknown who pulled the heist in the middle of Grand central 2 days ago. The police are looking into any leads and mourn the good men who lost their lives attempting to stop the robbers.'' The reporter on the television looked like she was being held at gun point. She probably was, with how corrupt the police are down there. `` In other news, we are saddened to announce the passing of Daniel Smith, a great friend of our grand and dear mayor. He was killed in an explosion an hour after the heist 2 days ago. We go now, to the mayor, to see what this event means for our city.''
____
A/N: This is my first response to a WP. Hopefully it's what you were looking for, and if it was n't, hopefully you enjoyed it.: D
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[ WP ] The Angels were just as kind and benevolent as we believed . Shame they were also terrifying .
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In retrospect, we should have known. Nothing that looks pleasant begins conversations with `` Be Not Afraid.'' After what people are calling First Contact, a lot of old Fire and Brimstone preachers spent their fifteen minutes of fame telling us as much on Fox. Still, nothing could have prepared us for them.
They were all-loving - they spoke in a voice like songbirds, spending most of their time singing beautiful hymns in an alien tongue that only sounds like incoherent grunting from a human mouth. All they wanted was to bring us closer to our creator, and usher upon us a new era of peace.
Or at least, that's what I've gathered from the reports. I've never seen one. No one who has does much typing. The human mind ca n't take much exposure to their true forms. Anyone who's actually looked at one in person comes back with their eyes torn out, screaming about serpents covered in eyes and wings, or recursive wheels of flame searing themselves into their souls. The screaming never stops. Even looking at a picture or video feed for too long can break something inside even the strongest mind.
The only reason I actually know they were actually so kind, so wonderful, was that they did n't fight back when the bombings started.
I suspect all of us that are left will probably be going to hell. That's alright. It's worth it. I'll take damnation if it means I can bring my kids to the park without a blindfold.
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[ WP ] A dying atheist receives a spiritual/divine/ghostly/infernal vision in the last moments of his/her life
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Aaron had never regretted anything he'd ever done in his life until he realized he was dying. There was something about his last spluttering coughs as he gasped for what he knew was his last breath that seemed to extend his consciousness, so the last few seconds felt like hours. Within that time, he could see all the times he had erred, and it felt like a weight he thought had been lifted from him years ago came down upon him, crushing him like an anvil from an airplane.
He remembered with a sudden clarity that classmate of his, Chris, who always seemed to carry a bible around. At the whim of his parents, probably, but that did n't stop Aaron throwing it into a puddle and stomping on it. He had never realized the cruelty built into a seven year old's soul. What was worse is that even throughout Aaron's schooling career, that may have been his exclusive case of bullying. But it continued from there.
It seemed that religion was the leading cause of problems in Aaron's life. It was religion that promoted kindness, sincerity and good will, provided people believe exactly what you believe, otherwise they were outcast, shunned and branded as sinners, the worst kind of criminals. It represented hypocrisy and false pretenses for a system designed to benefit the few and the capable, the ones who need benefits the least. It formed the few reasons for his regrets.
He remembered the slander from a church preacher on the side street. Praising the word of his Lord, saying that only through repentance can one be truly saved. Aaron could n't help but rebuke this man. It led to a fully fledged argument on the streets, and he recalled the many hurtful comments and the truly dreadful things he said not just about this man's beliefs, but about his future, his person and of course, his mother. This was something he felt was just, a good cause, the common man lashing back against the blatant oppression of the church. In actuality it was simply two angry men butting heads over their personal problems. It seemed so important at the time...
A slew of internet postings about the fictitious nature of religion, angry rants to his family and friends who all shared his beliefs and experiences, he could see all his discrepancies against religion being the sole reason for his regret.
`` Feels pretty bad does n't it?'' a voice in his head echoed.
`` Yeah, I suppose it does...'' he said, with visions of his life continuing to flash by. He saw his happiness, he saw his sadness, he saw all his experiences personified, displayed in strange metaphors of animals, the power of the earth, flaming meteors crashing into the Earth in his own painful realizations of his ultimate damnation. AS they struck the earth and broke into thousands of pieces, from the wreckage of the crater emerged a figure wreathed in fire. It carried a flaming sword and as it leveled the tip at Aaron's face, it looked into the figure's face and could feel its power radiating into his soul.
For some reason it made him giggle.
It took him a moment to realize that was n't him giggling. And could he hear a projector in the background?
Aaron turned about himself. It looked like he was in a white room, a projection of his visions displayed on a wall. The projection was being controlled by a man dressed in a white t-shirt and white jeans, laughing uproariously now.
`` What the hell is going on?'' demanded Aaron.
`` I think you mean what the heaven,'' said the man, and his fits of laughter resumed. `` You should've seen your face, man! You were terrified!''
`` Where am I? Who are you? Answer my damn questions before I get really angry,'' threatened Aaron.
`` Yeah, alright, I've had my fun. Come and step this way, and I think I might change your mind about a lot of things, my friend,'' replied the man.
A hidden opened and a beautiful shaft of light encompassed the doorway. Aaron felt compelled to step into it. It seemed his regret may not have been controlled by an angel with a sense of humour now, but rather his own embarrassment at his complete disbelief in the face of definite proof.
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[ WP ] A villain who is n't really evil , because he knows that his plans never will succeed . He is horrified when they do .
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The villain stared, shocked, confused,
At what, in his lair, had ensued:
The `` hero'' stretched out on the floor,
His valiant breaths came nevermore.
*Then, suddenly, began a noise,
From behind his evil toys.
The vid-feed had just been switched on
( and secretly, he wished for Mom ). *
A prom'nent leader among the lands
Sat, pleading, and behind clasped hands,
`` Please, we will do what you wish!
Just do n't serve us like some dish
*'' To those baleful beasts of yours
Who constantly assault our shores.
So, call them off! Our day is lost!
We now concede, at any cost! `` *
Wordlessly, the villain stared;
For this, he had been unprepared.
He meant no harm -- well, to most men
And now just wishes home again.
*A thought occurs; he doffs his cloak
And'fore another word is spoke,
He's crossed the floor, grabbed Hero's sword,
And now echoes his foil's word: *
`` This evil shall not come to pass,
This foul plan shall never last,
That death machine is doomed to fall,
No more shall Earth be in its thrall!''
*A mighty stab; the terror fell,
And all would live the tale to tell:
A change of heart, or had it been
Just what was behind the scenes? *
-- --
Bluh, I ca n't seem to get my words right tonight...
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[ WP ] A nuclear warhead has been launched that will wipe out all of humanity . Write from the perspective of the bomb .
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I hear these humans that created me talking, they say it's almost time to send me off. I wonder where I'll be going. I hear them say that I'll kill everyone, that this is the end and this is the way it has to be. I start to hear machines in motion, locks unlocking, buttons being pressed, then I hear a countdown. 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... All of the sudden flames begin to shoot from beneath me and I race out of my launch tube with an ear deafening roar. It's so bright at the end, finally I shoot out into an open blue sky, the sun is shining, not a cloud to be found, higher and higher, faster and faster. Then I Peak, Now I must go towards my destination. As I speed through the air I pass an airplane full of men, women and children. I'm getting closer now, I see the land, beautiful emerald green grass, crystal blue waters. I pass a few birds majestically gliding through the air without a care in the world. Now I'm even closer, I see massive cities, buildings that look like they reach the heavens. I see highways and streets filled with busy people going about their lives. Mothers, fathers, husbands and wives. Something begins to happen, my insides begin to click and turn, like gears working in a clock. Closer I fall, now I can see everything. The expressions on the faces of everyone around me. More clicking and turning inside me, I see women and men on their knees, holding the children close. People scrambling like roaches in the kitchen when the light switches on. The ground, so close, I hear one more click...
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[ WP ] Describe your current job as a nerve wrecking , action packed story .
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red light erupted across the room. A rapid beeping cascaded through the office. Quickly grabbing my laptop I knew I would be needed. The screen showed a missed message from earlier in the day and three new messages from the higher ups. the text was identical `` report to Mr. Katz office immediately.'' I thought the message from this morning could have waited but I must have been wrong. accepting my new fate I forced my legs to start moving. The hallway was only 20 feet but somehow I took forty steps to reach the end. A light shock from the door handle brought reality flooding back to me. The door barely kissed the carpet, creating a gentle noise as it opened. Mr. Katz looked at me and said `` I hate to do this to you but you're perfect for the job.... could you please take our new client to lunch? I am swamped with meetings and will be a little late.''
sweat rolling across my forehead stung as it reached a cut next to my ear. `` of course I can, where would they like to go?''
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[ WP } A religious man learns that God is n't real , but Satan is .
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Charlie sees the cliché bright light and keeps walking. He had seen enough movies to know what was coming and he was ready to dive head first into Q & A time with God. Most likely there would be some big gate and a little waiting time for judgment reasons but considering he lived a pretty normal life, he figured he should be safe. He runs as fast as his legs allow; there was no reason to save up his energy now. As he reaches the end of the bright light, he is transported into a bus. He looks around but everybody has the same disoriented look on their face. The bus comes to an abrupt stop and they all hold onto the Grab Hold handles. They all shuffle off the bus unsure of when they got on or their destination. As Charlie steps on the ground he sees a crowd of valets. They are all identical with slicked back black hair, a colorful dress shirt, black dress pants, black sneakers, and they each are holding a sign with a different last name on it. Charlie looks around and feels a slight feeling of nervousness as people begin to clear and he hasn ’ t found his valet.
Finally he sees a valet with a pink shirt and a sign that reads “ Rose. ” He smiles and runs up to him apologizing, “ I am so sorry, I didn ’ t see you there! ” the valet smiles and nods, “ No problem, the crowds are huge these days. ” The valet puts a hand on Charlie ’ s back and they begin to walk. The man clears his throat, “ So Charlie, where do you honestly belong? ” he asks looking Charlie square in the eyes. Charlie bites his lip wondering if this was a test, “ I think I belong in Heaven ” he admits truthfully. The valet nods, “ Awesome, so I ’ ll take you to a beach house on Heaven ’ s beach and you can surf or do what you want for eternity, cool? ” Charlie looks at him puzzled, “ No wait, I want to see God. Doesn ’ t he answer all my questions now? ” he asks. The valet chuckles, “ Sorry Charlie but I can ’ t do that. There is no God ” he says softly.
Charlie ’ s jaw drops, “ But then where am I? Who created the Earth and stuff? ” he asks as his mind races. The valet smiles and replies, “ The Big Bang- It really was an absolutely incredible happening. You ’ re in limbo and we ’ re going to drive to Heaven. ” Charlie gets in the valet ’ s pink convertible. On the passenger seat there is a pink recyclable bag labelled Rose, which contained souvenirs and keepsakes from his life. The valet gets in the car and buckles his seatbelt, “ Those are just a few knick knacks of yours that you can use to decorate your house ” he says with a smile. He begins to drive and Charlie looks at the mirror and asks, “ But if God doesn ’ t exist who are you? ” The valet nods, “ That ’ s a great question Charlie but first what is God? ” he asks rhetorically. Charlie answers, “ The guy that created everything. He is supposed to be the strongest thing in the universe that does everything for a reason and justifies everything. ” The valet listens contently and then smiles, “ That is a good idea. Wouldn ’ t it be awesome to have some glorious perfect being that tells us there is a secret reason behind everything? That there is a reason behind all our misery and tragedies and everything that we did is forgiven? ” he says keeping his eyes on the road.
Charlie looks at him curiously and he continues, “ Everyone makes mistakes Charlie. Bad things happen a lot. They suck and they ’ re absolutely horrible and a lot of times there is no good reason why. The only thing people can do is be nice to each other and spread as much kindness as possible to subdue their misery and have some type of control over their lives. ” Charlie nods and sighs, “ But then who are you sir? ” he asks as the breeze blows through his hair. The valet thinks hard for a minute and then nods, “ I am the closest thing there is to an almighty being ” he says slowly emphasizing each word. Charlie looks at the normal appearance of the valet, “ Are you an angel? ” he asks. The valet chuckles and shakes his head, “ Nope, you see Charlie, nothing is perfect. Absolutely everyone makes mistakes. Angels are supposed to be the epitome of godliness and heaven. There are helpers and they ’ re pretty damn good but they ’ re not perfect. ” Charlie processes the valet ’ s words and waits for him to say more. The valet gives Charlie a few minutes to ponder in his head and then says, “ I ’ m the devil Charlie. I punish people who deserve it. ” Charlie looks at him fearfully, “ What? ” he asks.
The valet laughs, “ I ’ m taking you to the beach Charlie! Relax! Nothing is entirely evil either. Motives and perspective determines goals ” he says slowing down as a blue convertible cuts him off. Charlie buckles his seatbelt, “ but you didn ’ t even judge me. You asked me where I deserved to go? ” he asks looking at the other cars on the road. They all had the same valet and each had a really happy or confused passenger. The valet nods and waves to another car, “ I did ask you Charlie. That was just in case we disagreed, you ’ re alright. Not perfect, not evil, just Chuck ” he says as Charlie smiles at being called Chuck for the first time in ages. “ Do you hate how everyone on Earth hates you? ” he asks looking at the clear blue sky. The valet laughs, “ They don ’ t hate me, they ’ re like toddlers; no toddler likes timeouts. As far as exorcisms and taking people ’ s souls, people like to blame something. It could be the Devil, it could be God. ” Charlie nods as they begin to see sandy beaches.
“ Do you have a family? Did Jesus really exist? ” Charlie asks smiling at the pink sand and the blue ocean. The valet nods, “ Yes, you ’ ll see them at the neighborhood cookouts. I have a daughter your age. She ’ d love to meet you. I ’ m sure you ’ ll find Jesus around here too. He ’ s not that much of a troublemaker- don ’ t believe all the rumors. And Mister Charlie Rose, this is your stop ” he says pulling into a driveway. Charlie looks at the house; it is a gigantic beach house with three floors and a great view of the ocean. He can ’ t help but smile and so he grabs the pink bag and says, “ Thank you Sir. ” The valet smiles and waves “ See you around! Be good and have some fun! ” he calls as he pulls back out. Charlie runs up the stairs to his new home and the valet smiles as he drives to pick up another passenger.
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[ WP ] You are about to be executed and are asked for your final words .
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Looking back on everything, maybe I was a little bit too drunk.
The night I had spent in the cell was one long orgy in the bottom of a dirty wine cup. I had laughed, cried, smiled, and frowned. Knowing that your death is going to happen, and happen soon, does some damned strange things to you.
I know you ’ re wondering why I was there. Lets just say I had lived a life that was seldom slow and never dull. I was always good with a sword, and even better with a knife. I am also one of the few who never lost his gold. I always gave it for a good time.
Anyway, the cursed sun rose, the guard came, and I was bound. What I really remember most was detail. The feel the rope, it ’ s look, and the texture. You never think about it until its too late. The rock walls were next, and after the floor, the door and it ’ s hinges. I soaked in the detail of the world around me.
So I was led to the hangmen ’ s noose. The rope placed around my neck. And a hood placed over my eyes.
“ Do you have any last words? ” asked the woody voice of the hangman.
I don ’ t speak, I fucking bellowed.
“ My name is Jon Goodfellow. I was bourn in shit, raised in shit, and dammed if I didn ’ t stop myself from livin ’ in shit. I took the world, one stolen coin at a time because that all that was fuckin ’ left to me. I fucked, drank, thefted, and lived though a life most of you wish you could have. My name is Jon Goodfellow and I am blood kin to the demon who tore down ‘ Is Worships Church in Rome, an cousin ‘ O the Angle who stole the king ’ s crown. ‘ M father to half the brats on the Spanish coast, ‘ M the spirit that haunts Blackbeard ’ s nightmares. I can outfight a……. ”
I never got to finish. At some point the old bastard had yanked his leaver. And that, they say, was that.
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[ CW ] Take the lyrics from a song and turn it into a short story , but do n't reveal the song 's name
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I felt the initiation of an enigmatic flame coming across the horizon. My pounding heart related to my anticipation. I had to leave, I could n't linger on here forever, the rising heat in my body, soon to resemble a sickness, was beckoning me out to embrace the sunlight.
As I emerged I could finally set my eyes on it. There it was. Or was it a he?. Shining under the glaring sun, as clear as anything or anyone could ever be.
`` I'll betray you one day'', he casually said. I felt the fire within me rise and escalate to an unstoppable anger.
`` You underestimate my powers. Prod carefully, for you're not aware of what I can do in turn. I'll have every fragment of your existence regret as I snatch it away from you.
We used to be in love, what when wrong? Why are we so scarred from the remnants of that infatuation. We were naive enough to think that the perfection would last for ever, that we had something novelists only write about, and songwriters only sing about.
I start to lose my breath when I think about what you made me endure. But yet I ca n't shake off the expectations I'd had about the boundless accomplishments our love could have reached if everything had n't gone the way it did.
I wish we'd never met, to be honest. You had everything I had to give, but all I was left with were my tears. I was left helpless as you clenched my beating heart in your hands and melodiously destroyed any resemblance of my emotion that it signified.
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[ FF ] In no more than 10 sentences , have a character/narrator explain how all hope is not lost ...
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Keiko ran to the radio tower as the tsunami warning bleated over the small village of Ishinomaki. `` Run, this is not a drill!'' She stopped herself because she sounded just like the white noise pablum no one listens to.
`` We are going to die, and our livelihoods will likely be lost. This town, the whole of the north, already struggling, may not recover from this. But for the tsunami, it's nothing personal, it's just what it does. That's why you have to run... to survive... because that's what we do. Some of us will make it, some must carry on, because that's what we do. I will likely die giving this message, do n't let it be in vain and RUN!''
She was right.
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[ WP ] Give me the title of a well known book , and based on that , write a totally different story .
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This was how his life began, setting the stage for how it would continue for the rest of his life. The first words from the babes mouth. A countdown, with no perceptible order. We all puzzled over it. We knew the numbers he had begun to recite must have been important.So I took it upon myself to write down his message, to find the deeper meaning of these numbers, the numbers that he had been trying to recite for the whole of his life.
I would soon find within them the story of his own life, of all our lives and use them to discern the turning of the cosmos. This is the message, as it was relayed to me. Three point one four one five nine two six five three five eight nine seven nine three two three eight four six two six four three three eight three two seven nine five zero two eight eight four one nine seven one six nine three nine nine three seven five one zero five eight two zero nine seven four nine four four five nine two three zero seven eight one six four zero six two eight six two zero eight nine nine eight six two eight zero three four eight two five three four two one one seven zero six seven nine eight two one four eight zero eight six five one three two eight two three zero six six four seven zero nine three eight four four six zero nine five five zero six six four seven zero nine three eight four four six zero nine five five.....
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[ WP ] A terrorist planting a bomb at the Oscars is discovered and confronted by a pair of celebrities
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Jacobin was a seat-filler that night. No one at the Academy Awards ever noticed seat-fillers. A half-bald sound mixer with smiling eyes tried to make conversation with him once, but then the sound editor showed up and the friendship had to be short-lived. Up near the front Meryl Streep had been nice, smiling and saying hello, but Bradley Cooper had shuffled back and forth in his seat and kept wiping his mouth with the tips of his fingers. That was when Jacobin planted the bomb, right next to Bradley Cooper, only no one was looking. No one at the Academy Awards ever noticed seat-fillers, not when they had Oscars on the mind.
That would have been it, mission accomplished, if it were n't for Kevin Spacey standing over Cooper at the break. One little accidental kick and Jacobin saw the bomb deactivate. It was home-made, the electrical wiring done by Jacobin's friend Madeleina, and he regretted that he'd allowed his affection for her to displace his need for professional wiring. When he saw the green light turn off and the red light turn on his detonation remote, he knew he had to act. The big moment was coming up. Best Actor. That was when he knew people were paying attention. That was when he knew the eyes would be on the front row. Not now, not when the commercials were going and the auditorium filled with the heavy murmur of a thousand casual conversations.
Just then, a seat next to Chiwetel Ejiofor came open, and Jacobin was ushered in to fill it before the show came back live.
`` Wow, you're sweating,'' said the actor. He was nominated too, for *12 Years A Slave*, but his demeanor suggested he did n't think he would win. Or he had been drinking.
Jacobin wiped his brow with a hankerchief. `` There's a lot of bodyheat in here.''
`` That's true.'' Ejiofor smiled. `` It's like wearing a suit in a sauna.''
*It's about to get a lot hotter, * Jacobin might have said, but he only smiled. A publicist or a producer tapped Ejiofor on the shoulder, allowing Jacobin a clear line of sight to the bomb just a few rows down. *I have to reach it. *
`` Bradley Cooper fan?'' someone said. The voice was deep and familiar. If it had a flavor, it would be cinnamon and relaxation. Jacobin looked to find its source, until someone tapped his shoulder, and that's when he realized it was Brad Pitt.
`` Oh,'' Jacobin said. `` No -- not particularly.''
Pitt smiled. `` Meryl Streep, then. Is that what's so interesting over in the front row?''
`` I -- I'm just star-struck.''
Pitt leaned back into his chair and raised his eyebrows. `` Well, you get used to it.''
Then Ojiafor's date came back, and Jacobin had to leave the aisles. He was walking up and wondering how to reach the front row again when the show came back from commercials. The orchestra thrummed and swelled, and a producer encouraged everyone to start applauding.
His way up the aisle, Jacobin fretted. He'd never been so nervous. He imagined Bradley Cooper kicking his foot against the bomb, discovering it, and how the story from this year's Academy Awards would be of a *failed* terrorist attempt. The bomb itself was evidence; they'd catch him in a day if he ran. No. He had to stay, and make sure that Bradley Cooper and the rest of the front row became the headlines.
Jacobin settled back under a draped exit and crossed his arms. On the stage, Jessica Biel and Benedict Cumberbatch were presenting the award for best animated feature. *There's still time. * But no, he could not go down and fix the bomb while on-air. Not with a thousand cameras hovering over the front five rows. *I do n't know how celebrities do it. One minute in front of cameras and I get nervous. *
After the acceptance of the award came a video screening displaying all those in cinema who had lost their lives over the past year. *Imagine next year's, * thought Jacobin. *If I can fix that bomb, it will be the grandest In Memoriam of all time. * Then he frowned. *If I do n't, I'll be the one all over Drudge. *
Then the commercials came, and celebrities and producers and behind-the-scenes operators alike all went to heed nature's call. Even Bradley Cooper stood up, buttoning his suit back to neatness, looking at the ground and listening to some perfect 10 tell him something as he left. He was still wiry with nerves. But Meryl Streep stayed seated. *Good, * Jacobin thought. *Meryl Streep I can handle. *
He rushed down to the front row before he could be ushered down. *This is the time. * There could be no waiting; he *had* to go down to the first row. It seemed to happen all at once. His heart was pounding, his armpits were sweating, his palms were wet and slimy, but he walked with determination.
He took the seat in front of Meryl Streep and looked around. Was anyone looking? Would they seem him adjust the bomb? No. It was small enough to unhook from under the armrest and fiddle with on his lap.
He was in the middle of doing just that when he heard a voice.
`` Excuse me,'' it said, slow and deep. It was articulate. Every syllable had been enunciated to its full potential. *Ex-ceuse-meeee. * Another familiar voice. Another celebrity. But which? The man in front of him might have been an FBI agent. *No, * Jacobin thought. *This is a face I know. * `` May I ask you what you're doing?'' Daniel Day-Lewis was a brilliant actor, and a method actor who became different people even off the set, but there was no denying that the face was his.
Jacobin nearly swallowed his words. `` Fixing -- my cell phone,'' he said, shaking.
`` May I see it?'' It did n't sound like a question. Daniel Day-Lewis squinted, that same Bill the Butcher squint, that same Daniel Plainview squint. Jacobin imagined Day-Lewis caving in his skull with a bowling pin.
`` What's going on?'' asked Streep.
`` Oh, nothing to be alarmed about,'' said Day-Lewis. But he held his hand out.
There was nothing to do but to give it to him.
`` I seeeeeee,'' said Day-Lewis, and that was when Jacobin noticed his accent was American. `` A strange cell phone. Where's the speaker? The headpiece? Where do you speak into it?'' Jacobin looked to his side, but before he could say anything, Day-Lewis read his thoughts. `` You ca n't run herrrre,'' he said, with those perfect American r's, `` you'll be caught.''
But Jacobin ran.
The next thing he knew, Brad Pitt's knee was on his back and Chiwetel was holding his hands. Day-Lewis turned the bomb over to security and found his way to Jacobin's eyeline, low in the ground. Day-Lewis crawled on the ground in front of him.
`` That was a bad idea,'' he said slowly. He almost winked.
`` It was,'' Pitt agreed. `` Daniel here is playing an FBI agent in his next movie. He's been onto you all night.''
`` You picked the wrong night, man,'' said Chiwetel. `` The wrong damn night.''
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[ WP ] As the paper turned to ash he felt a new sense of hope .
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Ancient grimoires, heavy tomes, arcane texts and scriptures, all of it would soon be consumed by the fire Nadir started. As the paper turned to ash, he felt a new sense of hope. It had to be done. They would despise him, proclaim him a madman who doomed humanity to centuries of ignorance, but that did n't matter.
With a wry smile on his lips, Nadir walked the burning hallways of the Great Library. Everyone had already fled. The perpetrator of the greatest atrocity among scholars, the one who spat in the face Knowledge itself, walked calmly through the scene of his crime. The fire raged around Nadir, threatening at any moment to catch onto his cloak or collapse a part of the building onto his head. He did n't care.
Nadir outstretched his old veiny hand, touching the spines of the books that were yet to be devoured by the all-consuming inferno. A tear formed in his eye, as he silently bid farewell to his old friends. It was n't their fault, they merely did what they were created for. For a second Nadir wondered how far this giant pyre would be seen. Would the people all the way across the desert witness what he'd done?
The smoke followed the cloaked man everywhere, irritating his eyes and making it hard to breathe. Nadir stopped and looked at the exit far in the distance, beyond the long rows of bookcases. The road to life, it was straight ahead. The arsonist shook his head and turned left, towards the spiral staircase. Sweating from the heat, he took off his cloak, throwing it aside as he ascended towards his destination. The turban soon followed, setting free the greying blonde hair underneath.
A loud crash echoed in the halls of the tower, signalling the beginning of its eventual collapse. Nadir did not react, having already passed the staircase, he was nearing on his destination. Overcoming a coughing fit, he carefully took a book off a shelf of an unremarkable bookcase. It had a simple black cover, cracked from the passing of time, with the words `` On the Nature of Knowledge by Nadir Sari'' on the front.
Nadir opened the book and quickly flipped to a certain page near the end. A page he re-read so many times in recent days:
*Finally, although these worries are nothing more than wild speculation, I ca n't shake the feeling that by enshrining the knowledge of past generations we create an environment openly hostile to improvement and innovation. It pained me greatly to see the few who braved to question the works of such great minds as Abdul Kurtar and Qadira Onut get ridiculed and down-right demonized by my peers. Of course, while the theories I speak of were not perfect, it is worth considering that the scholars of old would never condone this. Constant self-doubt and the ability to overcome their pride were the main qualities that allowed them to bring upon the great progress we all benefit from. I can not help but wonder if one day we will find ourselves in a world where this misguided reverence reaches a point so absurd that no one dares to question the old ways and, as a result, no new discovery can be made. I can only hope that these fears are as unsubstantiated as my colleagues will undoubtedly declare them. *
The flame now surrounded Nadir on all sides. He closed the book and clutched it to his chest, tears flowing down his wrinkled face. With a new sense of hope for the world he was leaving behind, Nadir raised his head high and walked straight into the fire.
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[ WP ] You are a white blood cell , one of the last inside of the body , fighting a losing battle against a horrible invading virus . The host is about to die , you give a speech to the other white blood cells as the virus approaches ... .
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My fellow cells.
The sight of our fellow cells dying is one that is familiar to us. In mere minutes, millions of us perish to the harsh nature of our host's anatomy, only to be replaced with identical copies of our very being. It's a monotonous existence, but one that is vital in keeping human kind in good health. An existence, that since the dawn of humanity, has inhabited the blood of man, fighting illness and disease with valour and fortitude! An existence, where despite the fact we can not hear the appreciative sounds of the humans, we know, that be they on land, on sea or in the air, they sing ballads and poems on our pivotal role as microscopic soldiers, on the most dangerous battlefield of all. The human body.
But now, my fellow comrades, it is songs of sorrow the humans sing now. With great despair, I must bring down a harsh truth upon you. As you know, a deadly virus has manifested itself inside our host. It has spread across our host's body and has caused various major organs to begin the process of completely shutting down. At this very moment, our host is as close to a living shell as anyone could be. And the virus shows no sign of stopping. As of now, should we perish, there is no coming back.
But do not have fear. Do not fear the virus or the unknown that awaits us when our host passes from the land of the living to the land of the fallen. Instead, be proud. Be proud of the fights we have fought. Be proud of all the times an infection has entered our realm, only to be engulfed and destroyed. Now is not the time for us to panic, but the time for the virus to panic. For when it reaches us, it will quake in terror, at the sight of fearless monocytes, lymphocytes, neutrophils and basophils, all ready to fight to the end. So join me brothers. The time for our final battle. **Begins now!! **
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[ WP ] An alien civilization has made first contact with earth . For an unexplained reason , they have offered immortality to 1000 of the earth 's citizens . You are appearing before them to stake your claim to be one of the 1000 .
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`` No'', speaks the alien.
Its voice is obviously inhuman. It's too loud. It sends vibrations through my body. It sounds cold, giving me goosebumps.
Even its appearance is chilling. Its size is phenomenal. This building is some extension of their ship. It rivals our tallest skyscrapers. The being itself is at least twenty feet tall. Its skin is a light gray and somewhat translucent. Yet, no organs are visible. Instead, its insides appear to be flowing liquids. There's no visible vesicles. Just free flowing liquid.
The being does n't sit or stand. Rather, it levitates slightly off the ground. It has no legs. Just some type of device around its lower abdomen. There's a resemblance of human form, but just barely.
And then there's the being's face. The eyes take all the attention here. Large, pure black eyes. I ca n't tell if it's looking at me or if it's not giving me a care in the world.
I realize now that I've been standing here for half a minute without having said a word. It's like when I first entered the room. I stood here for a minute in silence, wondering if I should have said something. But instead, the creature spoke and its only word drained me of life.
Why not me? I saw the other choices on the telly. A young, college aged man in an arts program. A middle aged factory worker. A software developer from Germany. Why them and not me? What did they have that I did n't? What made them deserve this gift that I had been denied?
I clenched my teeth and exited the room, cursing the being and its species in my head.
-- --
**Five months later: **
I understood it now. It was only three weeks since the invasion began. Three weeks since the start of the end of humanity. They called themselves the Nomads, in our tongue. Their species lived in small bands that wandered planet to planet, draining it of resources and life.
People always questioned why we had n't encountered alien life. Surely in the grand time scale of the universe, there had to be others, right? Well, there was. And this one had five hundred million years of scientific advancement. They were beyond us in every way. We really did n't stand a chance against them. This was n't some movie where aliens would fight us from space ships and one could survive by hiding in the Canadian wilderness or something.
I do n't even know how they did it, but I know that I'm dying. A virus, bacteria, nanobots, or something else. I'll never know. It does n't matter. We're all dead men. Except for the 1000 chosen. It took me a while to realize. They were n't being given a gift. They were being cursed. They were trophies of the Nomads' conquest. Toys to be played with. It seems that even five hundred million years is n't enough to develop empathy.
The Nomads were beyond all material needs. They needed nothing and had everything. There was no reason for them to pillage planets, yet they did it anyway. Some twisted version of sport, perhaps? Or maybe the universe just is n't that nice of a place...
I feel weak. Whatever I've been afflicted with is eating away at my memory. I try and recall my name, but can not. I'm tired. I want to go home, mommy.
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[ WP ] An ad agency trying to market a new gum with a very controversial and/or terrible flavor .
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Mark stared downward at the papers on his desk, his hands fanned out across his forehead, propping it up. He looked busy. He was n't. The words on the documents in front of him had stopped being meaningful about a half an hour ago, and at this point the letters were deconstructing themselves and starting to juggle each other between the margins.
`` Protein.''
`` What?'' Mark attempted to move his head to the side of his cubicle, where his neighbor Denton was looming over the wall from his own desk.
`` Protein. Simple as that. We market it with protein, and build a whole campaign using `` the fitness gum''. I mean hell, these lugs drink whey for breakfast, why would n't they chew this?'' Denton was beaming a little at the idea.
Mark stared at him blankly. He was sure Denton was saying words, but Mark was unfortunately caught in some sort of 3:30pm time warp and none of it made sense.
`` MARK-O. Snap out of it dude. Protein. I'm serious. Throw something together and show me in like 15. I'm grabbing some churros. You want?''
`` Yeah. Churros. Protein. Yeah.'' Mark nodded, and slapped himself a little to wake back up. As the hamster in his brain grudgingly started spinning its wheel again, Mark reviewed the idea. Protein. It actually was n't a half-bad angle. Denton might've really struck gold here. In any case, he certainly was n't going to get anywhere marketing taste, so it was worth a shot.
The 15 minutes came and went. Denton showed up 40 minutes later with churro on his breath and nothing for Mark to eat.
Denton glanced down at his blue button up, and brushed it a little. `` Well? Whatcha got?''
`` You might actually be a genius if you were n't such a dipshit, D. But I think I got something with this protein idea. Check it out.''
Mark tilted his monitor towards Denton. On it, a yellow package of gum was plastered on top of a red starburst-style graphic.
EARWAX FLAVOR GUM! ALL THE PROTEIN, ALL THE HYGIENE!
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[ WP ] An eccentric billionaire has supposedly hidden clues to his fortune in hard-to-reach places all over the world
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It has been 17 years since I first found that diary and the key taped inside the cover at a thrift store. The diary was old but well-kept, with only a single page missing. Since, I have lost 17 long years, two wives, and nearly every penny I've ever earned. Was it all worth it? I suppose that will be for you to judge.
I have seen the bottom of the Mariana Trench. Felt my skin blister as I dangled above the lava at Mount Nyiragongo. I've dived the Angelita cenote. I have been to places so inhospitable that most people can hardly fathom the fact that they exist on our own planet. All in pursuit of, cliched as it is, buried treasure.
My first wife divorced me while I was trekking about 150 miles from Vostok Station in Antarctica. My second wife died while exploring Xibalba. I lost two fingers to a mountain lion and a literal pound of flesh to a hippo. I can hardly imagine the years my life has been shortened by this pursuit, but I have finally found it. The final location.
Unlike the rest, this one is as mundane as one can imagine: A small farmhouse in the Midwest. I suspected that I was in the wrong place entirely before finding one unusually well-secured door off of the basement requiring a twelve-digit pin to gain entry. A cursory examination of the clue that led me here revealed the code, and now I stand before a disconcertingly small lock box. I write this as I shake before the culmination of nearly two decades, thinking back over the joys and horrors of my life that have led to this moment.
The key that I had purchased along with the diary fits the lock, and the lid opens with only the slightest of creaks. Inside, I find a large manila envelope which I hastily open. It contains a single, large piece of paper which I unfold hurriedly but with caution. What could it be? Information to access a bank account or safe deposit box, perhaps?
The paper proves to be a map of the globe, with small red dots detailing the locations of each hint I have sought out and the missing page of the diary folded within. On that page, written with considerable flourish, is two words.
`` The Journey.''
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[ WP ] You just got fired , you 're pretty sure your girlfriend is cheating on you , you 're 75k in student loans debt , rent was due last week , and to top it all off ? You 're all out of beer . Oddly enough , you just got an email titled `` Would you like to change the difficulty ? Current setting : Very Hard . ''
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`` Hell yeah.''
I clicked the link below, and the browser started loading the page in a new tab.
http: //your.life/settings/difficulty
A pretty crude interface, just a token menu bar on top, a couple radio buttons and the Submit button.
~~ ( ) Very Easy - Dubai~~
~~ ( ) Easy - Finland~~
~~ ( ) Medium - France~~
~~ ( ) Hard - Russia~~
( o ) Very Hard - USA
( ) Ultra Hard - Somalia
( ) Nightmare - Palestine
[ Submit ]
I stared at the disabled options.
Crap.
Ctrl+U.
I skimmed the source of the page. Oh, yeah, nothing hard, no Javascript. F12, and Firebug window popped up.
I clicked `` Inspect'', then I hesitated between `` Easy'' and `` Very Easy.''
Fuck this. I clicked `` Very easy''. Double-click on the text `` disabled''. Del. Enter.
I closed firebug and happily marked the button next to newly-enabled Dubai.
A click on Submit.
A second of loading.
> Cheaters Never Win.
> Switching to Nightmare+ mode.
> Welcome to Raqqua, Syria.
> You are now female.
> You are strictly lesbian.
> You have lost your eyesight and hearing in a bombardment a week ago.
> Good luck.
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[ WP ] Humanity makes it to the moon in 1969 . After some exploration , the astronauts discover a dilapidated moon base with the words `` CONTAGION INSIDE . KEEP OUT '' written on the entrance .
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The Survey Team paused in front of the ruins, their life-support systems working to keep them from boiling alive in their own blood. Tracks made by some long abandoned crawler littered the dust around the entrance. A few machines sat parked at odd angles, their Plexiglas screens riddled with bullet holes and laser scoring. One of the crawlers, a massive beast of machine standing nearly twenty feet tall, had been knocked onto its side, a chunk of its engine compartment torn from its hull. There, listing backwards on its supports was a sign, its words faded by solar damage and fusion blasts.
*Regulan Epidemic Prevention and Purification Research Base*
One of the surveyors, wearing a broad green stripe on his helmet and suit, opened up on his comms.
`` Berkut Leader, this is Peregrine One. Relay Station R3B has been verified. Awaiting orders.''
The comms were silent for a long minute before the static laced reply was heard.
*''... Peregrine One, this Berkut Actual. You have permission to enter the station. Collect any intelligence of worth and return to the Dropship within four hours. We'll have a decontamination unit waiting and Sergeant Fitzroy's team on standby. `` *
`` Understood, Berkut. Peregrine One out.'' he switched to his squad's channel. `` Alright, boys. You know the drill: Get in, Get it, and Get out. Watch your seals and watch your six. Who knows what the Wobblies were cooking up in here?''
As the four entered the abandoned base, they pointedly ignored the corpse leaning against the door with a shattered helmet... and the pistol in its hand.
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[ TT ] Once there was a princess ... Now surprise me .
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Once there was a princess. She was as beautiful as she was terrible. Her long ruby hair was oft hidden by a silver helmet and her strong body obscured by full armor, for she was in battle more often than not. The only hint of her through the armor was the grey eyes seen through slits.
She reigned in terror under her infirmed father as he withered away, just a figurehead while she held the true power. Destruction followed in her footsteps, her army scorched the land and nourished it with blood. The country kneeled to the Blood Princess, fear and threats taking the people under her rule.
When the king finally perished, she returned to claim the throne, only to find another on it. A bastard son. She challenged him to combat, claiming that if he was defeated, he would renounce it and that she was the only proper ruler being the daughter of the actual King and Queen. It was something unheard of in those times, a battle between aristocrats.
It goes without saying that she won. It was a surprisingly long battle. But as a rule, these battles do not kill, and the Blood Princess killed her half-brother. For slitting his throat, she was punished as harshly as they could, considering her place as the sole remaining heir to the throne.
While she sat in prison, an advisor took the role as Steward for the Kingdom and the search was made for any other relation that could stand up to the Blood Princess ’ s strength and rule. Eventually, when her time was close to finished, the Steward brought a group of magi together as a final resort.
They sealed the Princess away, in a dark tomb, and it cost them their lives as she tore through them as only she could. Her time in prison had only made her become mentally unhinged. She attempted to kill all in sight, with only the tools at hand and her bare hands, succeeding in killing seven of the eight magi. The final sorcerer sealed her away and died of his wounds soon afterward.
She waits for one to release her so that she may reclaim her kingdom.
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[ WP ] A man with amnesia struggles to cope as he wanders a world devoid of other people…
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He was supposed to be seeking answers. But as the days, weeks, and months began to pass, time becoming endless, he found that what he was looking for wasn ’ t forthcoming. Every step was either taking him closer to or further from the life that he used to know, but he couldn ’ t remember if the direction he was headed in was right.
A while ago, he couldn ’ t estimate how long, he woke on the side of an empty road, covered in ash and debris. There was a gash on his forehead with thickened, congealed blood telling him he ’ d been out for several hours. Squinting against the throbbing in his head, he tried to recall what had happened, but nothing would surface. He tried to remember events with no luck. He tried to remember his name, but also drew a blank on that. All he had were the clothes on his back. He had no belongings with identifying features. He tried to yell for help as his mind tried to digest everything, but no one came.
After several hours without seeing any sign of life, he began to walk. He walked and walked, hoping to encounter people, hoping to see cars driving by, but all he saw was emptiness. The lack of activity, the noises of people, even the sounds of nature, set off a deep feeling of panic inside him that made his heart race and drum against his ribcage.
“ Is anybody out there?! ” he kept calling out, over and over along his route.
There was never an answer, only silence. So he kept on walking, hoping to he would eventually hear a human voice, the sound of a dog barking, or even the flutter if wings above. He kept moving, slowly recollecting something he had once read about how familiar places would help jolt the memory of those who suffered for amnesia. It gave him new hope as he journeyed onward.
Yet, that hope was short lived as all locations he reached were unfamiliar. The roads and forest paths all started to look alike. The city skylines, suburban sprawls, and endless stretches of concrete and asphalt held nothing. All of them were cold and lifeless, yet they held signs of previous occupancy. Like in the apartment complex, where he went through several floors to find most of the living spaces furnished. There were even rooms that had televisions, all of them showing only static. There were cabinets full of food and water, as well as closets that contained first aid items. Every place showed signs that they had been lived in and well used, but there were no traces of those that had occupied the spaces.
Eventually, he knew he had to keep moving and started compiling items for further travel. He managed to grab a sturdy back pack which he filled with as many supplies as he could get his hands on. Though he didn ’ t know who or where he was, he knew he had a mission. He had to find out if there were others in the desolate world he faced.
I can ’ t possibly be on the only person alive out here, he told himself. It ’ s just not possible.
So, he kept on moving, going as far as his feet would take him. There were nights when he would sit awake, under the stars, and scream and cry. His heart would flutter in panic as his chest tightened, constricting his breathing to shallow gasps. The fear would grip him hard at the thought of his lonely existence. It would weigh him down in a heavy fog, making it hard for him rise to the task of further exploration for days on end. Even thought was too much on those days.
But he had to keep moving. He told himself that there had to be something out there. There just had to be.
“ Maybe my name was Bill, ” he spoke as he walked. He found that hearing a voice, even his own, was comforting, “ I could have had a good life before everything just went to shit. Maybe I had a wife and a couple of kids. ”
Making up stories about who he was helped him deal with the knowledge that with each day there was looking to be less and less hope of his memories coming back. He kept waiting for some familiar landmark, but there was only open road and abandoned buildings. As the callouses on his feet thickened while his soles wore thin from his travels, the motivation to find who he was started to fade. The need, the aching need, to find life other than himself became overbearing.
“ Someone ’ s got ta be out there, ” he said to himself. “ They got ta be. ”
Eventually, he reached a shore. Waves crashed against sand, a beautiful sound in his ears.
“ Beautiful. ”
He sat on the beach, staring out at the span of ocean water, watching as the sun slowly lowered into the horizon.
“ Just beautiful. ”
He pulled his backpack off and dumped it on the shore. His clothing, all tattered rags, followed. He took a deep breath, feeling the cold against his naked body.
“ I have to keep going. ”
Eyes fixed on the setting sun, he walked into the sea.
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[ WP ] First line : `` If you move , I will kill you . ''
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`` If you move, I will kill you. ``, I warned my deadly associate.
No response. Instead, he blinked his eyes slowly, almost as a taunt.
Angered, I readied my weapon. *This is it, you bastard, * I thought to myself.
And in one swift movement, I swung my weapon with all my fury into my assailant, crushing his bones.
As I held the shoe to make sure he was dead, I could hear my wife in the kitchen, screaming `` DID YOU KILL IT?!''
I removed the shoe to reveal the body of a smushed-up spider, a victim of a vicious standoff.
*I killed him all right, * I thought, with an exhale of breath.
edit: an
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[ WP ] Metaphorical `` burns '' can now cause physical damage . Tell the tale of an assassin who specializes in death by conversational incineration .
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I'm a mommassasin. Sounds weird right?
I specialize in burns and Yo Mamma jokes, specifically. Might not sounds much, but I can seriously fuck you up if I wanted to.
Oh! That reminds me of one of my favourite targets. He was a wealthy businessman that had owed some money, but did n't pay up. The Mafia hired me for quite a cost, mainly because I leave no evidence.
He was stupid. Fell right into my best jokes. You know, the Call of Duty one, the Burger King one...
When the cops found him, they ruled it out as carbon monoxide poisoning! Ha!
Say, do you wonder why I'm here? Bet you do n't know, you stupid dumbass. Heh, they say offspring take after their parents. I think that's why `` *Yo Mamma's so stupid she bought tickets to XBOX Live. *''
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