prompt
stringlengths 5
331
| story
stringlengths 404
40.3k
|
|---|---|
[ WP ] You 're an aspiring reporter who just ca n't catch a break . It seems like the biggest news stories pop up in places you 've just visited , but you 're always a step behind . Or perhaps , a step ahead . As a butterfly , you 're beginning to suspect you may be causing this phenomenon .
|
My name is Buttercup.
I β ve got to set this down. I β ve got to tell somebody about what β s happening, even if no one believes me. It β s important; everything β s changing.
I left school a year ago and got this junior position on Flight Daily - a popular newspaper, that covers regional news, sometimes touching upon international goings on. The honey was n't great, but it was a job.
I β m digressing. One of my first tasks was to cover the the local hydrangea area - beautiful place. Not much was going on; a few bees were having a tiff about some flower or other that had caught their eye ( you know, the usual thing'I was here first' ) and there was a grasshopper who was singing for his food and had built up quite a reputation. I do a few interviews, get some of the local gossip, that kind of thing. Nothing that takes the pollen, if you know what I mean.
But then something awful happened: a week later the whole area has was wiped clean - destroyed. GONE. No more flowers. The grasshopper was nowhere to be found, and the bees lost several of their kind. The flying community blamed terrorists β something about the wasps; others said it was natural causes. I spoke to Lady Bird of Dandelion Place and she said it was an act of God.
This was the first event. Since then, there have been eighteen. Every time I went out into the field, something drastic happened a few days later. There was the festering beast, the collapse of the hive, the removal of the water-lilies, the tree sicknesses β need I go one? Something terrible was happening and I couldn β t shake the feeling that I was somehow responsible. There was some kind of correlation. I spoke to one of the Long Legs - the philosophers among us - and he said I was going crazy, that I should n't be worrying about it. But I was.
My parents always said I was special and that my wing-span was much larger than normal. I used to be called a freak at school. Most of my friends were dragonflies who did n't find my appearance so threatening. I remember once talking to Sparkle, my best friend at the time, and she said something to me that I will never forget.
She said that a long time ago, before recorded history, there were beings called angels, and that butterflies were the descendants of these ancient gods. The legend states that the angels were forced to assume a new form after the threat from the ground-walkers became too great. At the time I thought Sparkle was just making things up. She was always an imaginative creature.
I remembered the story, nonetheless, and was reminded of it again three weeks ago when I heard an ant talking about the coming of their royalty - this is always an exciting, busy time for us. I was only half listening, but I heard one of the speakers mention the'coming of the angels'. At this, my antennae picked up. It transpired that the ant folk had an ancient kingdom that held the secrets of the past and the future, with writings and pictures carved into the old walls.
I was determined to find this place. The mystery and intrigue excited me. And to tell you the truth, I wanted to leave the area for a while; too many coincidences. I spoke to my manager who was reluctant, somewhat dismissive of what he called β a fanciful tale β. But as I pointed out, there was little to lose and plenty to gain. He relented.
After saying farewell to friends and family, I gathered my few things and set off. I was determined to discover more about these legends and also about myself.
For six days I flew. Through wind and rain I journeyed, avoiding the creatures that hunt our kind. The dangers were many, but so too were the friends who helped me along the way. Eventually I made it to Var-Don-Vor. I was greeted by the royal guard who, to my surprise, had been expecting me. They said I was to meet their Queen underground; that I was to discover the secrets of their kingdom.
Of course, the idea of going beneath the ground repulsed me. And how, I wondered, was I expected to go beneath the soil; ant warrens were not made for wings like mine. I need not have worried. For these were, indeed, ancient burrows, created by ancestors long ago who were giants in proportion to today's antkind.
Carefully, and not a little fearfully, I made my way along this strange terrain. My companions didn β t speak. When at last we reached the Royal chamber, I was confronted by Queen Antastasia who perched high and mighty on her throne. She greeted me with a surprising softness and then bid me to follow her.
We went yet further under the ground, how far I can not say, but the weight and darkness was oppressive and I would not, for all the word, make the journey again. Finally we came to the Cave of Secrets.
It was here that I learned that the legend of the angels is true. That they once existed and that we, the butterflies, are their descendants. Much has been forgotten. There was something else learned, something extraordinary, something which fills me with fear and dread in equal measure.
It has been prophesied that the angels shall return. That they one day there shall step from the cocoon, the first of them, small but mighty, to grow in strength and size. To reclaim all that was taken from them by the ground-walkers.
And I am the mother.
Events conspire against us. The day-walkers, who know the destiny awaits them, seek me out. It was this that explained the tragedies that followed me. I can only than luck and the light for my survival.
I have been sent south, to the fields of golden honey, where there lies a safe haven, far away from the ground-walkers. I can not say whether I shall survive the ordeal, for destinies have a way of re-writing themselves, but I can do nothing but try. Oh but how carefully I must tread, when already there are whisperings among my own kind of an abomination, a curse. How little they know.
I must finish this now and prepare myself. The journey is long, the summer draws to a close, and danger whistles on the wind.
|
[ WP ] The Nazis won WW2 in 1952 when they nuked Washington DC and New York city , they now control the entire planet , describe the day for an average citizen in 2015
|
Braun never left Germany. Never. And thus we all perished in the burgeoning cloud, ashes of the incinerated past commingled with the radioactive birthing-screams of a new generation, the ones spared Hitler's *Hauptbebauungsplan* executed with the ardor that only a dying republic could know - the fury of those backed up against the wall. And they won.
And our children's children, growing up in the lengthening shadowland of a future in which we had no influence, pick over the bones of ancestors they barely remember.
When I sat in my grandmother's parlor in upper Queens for the last time, my wide-brimmed fedora gingerly balanced on the coat tree in her well-traveled foyer, she held my hand. Told me Billy would be safe in the south, with his mother and in-laws. Only the two of us would perish in the imminent holocaust. Said we would be watching over our progeny in Heaven. She was right, to an extent.
For I have seen what happens to those after us, and often wonder over sleepless eons of roiling in the aether what might have been, *only if. * What if a rich, golden age of American post-triumphal excess informed a revolutionary consciousness, or some angry uprising borne out of the damage done in the wake of war? But none of that has ever come to fruition. Hitler was, in many ways, an effective king. Certainly his reich never spread to the far reaches of the world, where many morally opposed parties hid in enclaves. So there was peace, a separate peace, but still peace.
I have followed my great-great-grandson's travels in this strange new world. I have seen the many mechanical eyes that watch his path, the probing questions that are asked, the austerity of the Law that is laid upon him. But his step never wavers. He accepts these things as a matter of course, as if documentation of his life were as natural as seeing or tasting. Were we mistaken, that Freedom was synonymous with Life?
I have lost count of the number of times my spirit has orbited Sirius in hot thought, wondering *why* and nothing else. Where does Hitler's body lay? Next to Abijah or Hezekiah? Maybe in a few more centuries, I will scry the answer to this troubling question. But in the interim, I watch as the wounds of war slowly heal in the waters of forgetfulness.
|
[ OT ] Ask Squee # 1 - Adverbs are bad - or are they ?
|
*Edit*: I re-read your Cooks v. Chefs paragraphs, and you touched on this point already. I apologize for the redundancy.
This is a great resource, thank you for putting it together.
If I could play devil's advocate on one point:
> ~The knight rose shakily to her feet.~ No. Bad writer. The knight struggled to her feet.
> Now this is just an example ( and I'm sure there are much worse ones than this, ) but `` rose shakily'' and `` struggled'' both have a similar meaning, but struggled is denser. That denseness gives it more weight and more impact to the reader. I'll say this is generally good, but keep in mind the effect of what you're trying to do.
I agree, assuming the context, that struggled might be a better word. Specifically after a battle scene, or some capacity where rising to her feet would require a lot of effort.
However, if the context put the knight in a state of fear, `` rose shakily'' might work better. It might convey bravery in the face of danger better than `` struggle''. In fact, `` struggle'' might convey the complete opposite.
Minor points, I know: ) And I tend to be verbose, as a habit. I do think that staying succinct for the sake of brevity is not always best practice.
Two cents.
|
[ WP ] Death is resigning , and decides to take a trip to the human world to choose who will take up the reigns as the new Death .
|
It came for me on a pale horse. It was tall and gaunt, its features hidden under a tattered black cloak. A weapon was in its hand, a scythe, so sharp its blade seemed to carve the very air. I knew its name but could not speak it. I knew its purpose, but could not stop it. I knew what lay ahead of me, and I was at peace with it.
It floated to me and stared down, its face covered in an unnatural shadow. It raised its weapon, revealing a single emaciated hand, its dead skin stretched over bone.
`` I'm ready,'' I told it.
`` No,'' it rasped, `` you are not.''
It raised its cold hand further, then swung its weapon. The blade seemed to pass through me in slow motion. I felt every memory, every fiber of my identity be ripped from my body. It was worse than any physical pain, to feel your very being be torn away, leaving an empty husk.
I hung limply from the weapon. I looked down at my body. It held it by the neck in its powerful hand. It bent down further and kissed it, breathing its essence into my corpse. In that moment I saw its face. The reaper of souls. Death incarnate. It pulled back, staggering. I saw something unexpected in its eyes, weakness. It swung its blade again, this time back into my body.
I felt a surge as my darkest memories came forth. The cat when I was five, the dog when I was eleven. The homeless man in the park, the woman in the alley. All the deaths I had caused. And suddenly I knew that it had chosen me. I was to be its successor, a monster who could kill for eternity and enjoy it.
It went as suddenly as it came. I fell to my knees, no longer supported by it. I looked down at my icy hand. In it was a weapon, so sharp it could carve the air. I reached out with my mind to my horse, pale as the moon. It was time to go to work.
|
[ WP ] You are the watcher of a world where rain is constantly falling , and each raindrop contains a universe ending when it splatters . You have the ability to jump into those ending universes .
|
... It's so strange to see how time is perceived in a different way from the inside. When I'm outside it's just a matter of seconds, the drop starts falling, a whole universe starts living and gets closer to the floor, its ending.
But from the inside few centimeters of fall can be a couple generations, or many centuries, depending on how big the drop is ( we studied it in school, the bigger the drop, the faster the time ).
It's a question of points of view, but you all ca n't understand it. I ca n't blame you though, I'm the one who's been on the inside, I'm the one who can make the jump and this is the reason why I like staying here all day watching the rain fall.
The smallest drops are also the most interesting ones because when they are close to the floor they can bear some kind of intelligent life.
They usually believe I must be some kind of almighty being, out of space and time, or some kind of judge that comes the last day to give peace to the onest people. When I arrive they already know what is going to happen.
Always.
The floor under them is like a sword hanging above their head kept by a small thread, even if you ca n't see it you can absolutely feel it.
I will never forget the smallest drop I've been in. It was inhabited by the `` humans'', some small animals who walked on two legs. The first time I visited them they were weak and powerless against the hazards of nature. With time they started exploring and colonizing all of their planet. When I came in, seconds later, they were sphaeranavigating their whole drop from side to side. They used to call me God and were looking for a savior, someone who could bring their souls to the other side of the floor. I used to lie to them because I could not make them face the sad truth: there is no other side.
I was taught that when I was young, the drops fall and collapse, all ends there.
At this point, Jack, you may be asking why I wrote you this long story so here is the answer: I feel that sword right above my neck.
I need to know if our universe is just another drop, coming from a different cloud but diving in the same way into a bigger floor.
That's why I run away from our village looking for a way to jump out to find the truth.
I hope I will se you again someday...
Yours Josh.
___________________________
It's my first prompt so I hope someone finds it good. I'm also not an English speaker so I'd like to know the errors I've made so that I can become better at writing: )
|
[ WP ] Make me crave your job , or scare me off for life !
|
Our luxurious climactic skyscraper simpers down upon midnight blue Royce β s, opulent strip malls with their terra cotta roofs and their long slender palm trees, with such vigor. I can β t help but to stop and stare at the extravagant waters of the pacific or the exceptional legs of bikini models high up in my corner glass office. It β s better than being cooped up in a lab entering data for some psychology professor that's balls deep in federal grant paper work.
Across the hall from me is Phillip, he was part of that that whole bohemian club fraternity, you know, where only the high end government officials, and the lavishly styled business leaders of the world go each summer to visit a cabin in Monte Rio, Califronia. Philip always had these little catch phrases like β That β s the ticket! β whenever he figures something out, or β JACK THE BEAR β whenever others figure something out. We didn β t even know what that meant half the time, but its catchy enough that even I say it from time to time.
Telling people that we're private investors, sounds more bankstery that it actually is. When we were n't drinking lavagulin scotch whiskey, blowing cocaine with swiss franks, or masturbating to amateur porn; we were relentlessly searching for the next Steve Jobs. Today, most of your Steve jobs doofuses are college educated, 25,000 dollars in debt, living with their parents, and working a simple job that pays only a few dollars more than minimum wage. There is no fancy six figure income, no spanking new mustang gt, and no high rise apartment complex. Welcome to the 21st century.
All it really takes is a simple revolutionary software interface like a mobile app that allows you to track your cat after it took a shit, or a gps that allows you to get to point A to point B in three minutes as opposed to five. This has taken all of the talent and shifted it into an IT world. It β s cheap, easy, and profitable to take a simple integrated business model and outsource an internet service like google to sell your product for you.
We're in Perth, Australia for a biomedical engineering conference; hundreds if not thousands of scientists show up to conferences like this, not for the open bar, the free hotel ammenites or the exotic landscapes, but to flaunt their lives work. There is nothing that says fuck you than taking a theory and proving its existence.
This is where we come in.
|
[ EU ] A Whiterun Guard sees the Dragonborn steal a sweetroll but he got away , now that guard must chase them across Skyrim to bring the Dragonborn to justice .
|
In the corner of my house, there's a board. Across it sprawls a large map of Skyrim, marked with flags and string, and lit by my one remaining candle. Once, the map marked Imperial and Stormcloak territories. Now, it marks the journey of a single man.
I was a guard of Whiterun, and I was the law. Nothing got by me. I watched the citizens, and the throngs of travelers. I saw their fear as the dragons approached. I was there when one man, the Dragonborn himself, slew the beast and saved the city.
And I was there when he took the sweet roll.
It was such a small thing, taken so casually. My colleagues told me to leave it be. `` It's just a sweet roll,'' they said. `` He saved our city'', `` He's a friend of the Jarl'', `` I'd be lot warmer and a lot happier with a bellyful of mead...'' But I could n't let it go. He was the Dragonborn. He was supposed to be our saviour. He was strong, sure, but he should be more. He was supposed to be righteous, and just. Skyrim did n't need just one more tyrant with more power than kindness. It needed the law. So I decided I would act.
Disrespect the law, and you disrespect me.
Finally, I had him. He was travelling past Whiterun, wasting his time on some meaningless quest. I saw him approach. He did n't even try to hide. How could he, in armour studded with black spikes longer than his arm, on a great white horse?
`` Citizen!'' I called, my voice loud and clear. He frowned angrily, dismounting.
`` I do n't have time for this'' He muttered. Glancing around to see if anyone was in sight, he slid his mace from his belt. It glowed with an unrecognizable energy, and I could feel its power as he held it.
`` Guard might get nervous, a man approaches with his weapon drawn,'' I stated, hoping to avoid bloodshed. He made no reply; I knew then that I would have to fight. He swung the mace towards me - but I dodged it easily. Again he swung, casually. I knocked it aside with my axe, then swung my shield into his face as hard as I could.
Even with his fancy boots, he staggered back a few steps, his face bleeding heavily. `` How did you- ``
`` I used to be an adventurer like you,'' I explained, `` then I took an arrow in the knee.'' He looked at me again, more closely, summing up the scars and stance, and nodded. There would be no more words now. This was a battle between two men of war, and no words were needed. Only a battle cry as he charged, mace rising and a glowing ball of energy forming in his open palm.
It was horribly one sided. He forced me back, deflected my guard, then struck without mercy. I felt pain lance through me as his mace struck my arm, crushing my armour, and froze my entire left side. I struck out blindly with my axe, getting a glancing blow on his chest, but his mace caught it and flicked the axe out of my hands, spiraling high into the air.
`` Fus-Ro-*Dah*'' he screamed, and pure force rushed out from him, engulfing me and throwing me five metres away onto my back. I was helpless. He stomped over to me, angered, raising his mace. `` Any final words?'' He asked.
I coughed blood onto the grass next to me. `` Watch the skies, traveller.'' He frowned, glancing upward just as my axe, with all the force of a 40 metre drop, span directly into his helm. With a mighty clang, it dented the strange metal, and knocked the Dragonborn flat. He lay next to me, groaning, barely alive. I rose to my feet painfully, steadying myself, then recalled my rudimentary healing spell, and gave him just enough of a shot of restoration to keep him alive.
He rolled over, newly-dried blood smeared across his face. He knew I'd saved him. ``... Why...'' he whispered. I looked at him, sprawled across the main road outside the city, and shrugged.
`` No lollygagging,'' I said, and dragged him off to jail.
|
[ WP ] Write a story about Absolute Madman , the infamous , highly ineffective supervillain
|
`` Sir? We have a situation at Eighth and Main. It's Dean again.''
Officer Smith sighed. The infamous `` supervillain'' Absolute Madman ( real name Dean McKee ) was well known to the police force for his silly antics. Apparently he was holding up a bank this time, and it was up to Smith and his crew to stop him. Like they always did. He sighed again. Absolute Madman was as sneaky as he was inept, and he always slipped away from under Smith's nose, only to turn up again a few weeks later to pull another ridiculous stunt. But Smith felt good about this time. Today would be the day that they caught him for good, so that he could stop wasting everyone's time.
`` Alright Richards, move in. We got him this time.''
`` Roger that, boss.''
Smith rubbed his fingers against his temples. This was surprisingly criminal for him. Stuff like vandalism and public disruption were right up his alley, but robbing a bank? What could he be planning?
Inside the bank, Absolute Madman was giggling like a maniac. He held his `` weapon of evil destruction,'' the PancakeBlaster3000, at the face of the clerk, who was trying to keep a steady neutral expression.
`` Yeah that's right. Money in the bag. Else the PancakeBlaster3000 will make you yesterday's breakfast.''
The clerk attempted to remain calm as she loaded the wads of bills into the burlap sack. A bead of sweat dripped down her cheek.
`` I want at least two hundred grand before I hop. So make it snappy.''
The clerk continued loading money wordlessly.
`` Get it?''
She continued loading money.
`` It's a pancake joke. Before I hop. Like the pancake joint.''
The clerk looked up at the deranged man wielding what looked to be a potato gun. Panic played across her face. `` Uh.... what?''
`` IHOP!'' He snapped. `` IT WAS A JOKE!''
She stared blankly at him for a few seconds before forcing herself to laugh.
`` It was pretty funny, was n't it?'' He turned to look at the civilians sitting against the walls of the bank, and they started to laugh too. But the laughter was short lived.
`` Attention. This is the Newton City Police Department. We have you surrounded. Please drop your weapon and lie on the floor with your hands in the air.''
Back at dispatch, Smith leaned back as the helicopter confirmed visual contact with the Madman. He smiled. There was no way he was escaping this time. He could try every trick in the book, but Smith had mobilized half of the police force. There was no way he could slip out of their grasp, but Smith had little doubt that Absolute Madman would certainly try. The Madman had been a thorn in their side for years, and Smith knew that he would n't willingly submit to custody. But this time, he was ready.
Back at the bank, the Absolute Madman backed slowly into the centre of the room. `` Oh, phooey'' he muttered. `` And I was so close to getting that quaint little house I wanted.'' He hung his head dejectedly and tossed his weapon to the side, and to the amazement of the police force, lay himself on the linoleum floor and stuck his arms straight up.
Smith's radio buzzed with the voice of the officer in the helicopter. What absurd trick did the Madman pull now?
`` Uh, sir.... We told Dean to lay down on the floor.... And he actually did it.''
Smith's jaw went slack as the radio fell out of his hand and clattered on the floor.
`` The absolute madman.''
|
[ WP ] You are a high school student that 's secretly the author of a best-seller sci-fi/fantasy novel based on your real-life adventures involving aliens , magic , time traveling , etc . Your English teacher is having the class read your book and he 's getting everything wrong .
|
β now can someone tell me what the war between the birdlike Bushrak and the bearlike Iaerizi is a symbol for? β Mrs. Halliday asked while she walked around the room.
β there is none, there was a war between two planets that were once friends. β I mutter from my desk. Mrs. Halliday looks at me with annoyance, a student shouts from across the classroom
β it's a metaphor for the conflict between the Soviet Union and the United States of America after WW2. β
β very good miss Smith, we know that because the Bushrak are described as eagle like are a common symbol associated with the USA and bears for Russia, but as well the two planets being reluctant allies to fight back the rebel alliances to then turn on each other and then fight conflicts on other planets mirror the WW2 and the Cold War afterwards. β Mrs. Halliday says matter-of-factly at the front of the room. frustrated i drop my book on my desk, β is there a problem Stanley? β
try to not completely lose my cool I take a deep breath and respond, β the Bushrak aren β t a symbol for the USA they have no form of government, war times the tribes send their best men. and they were n't always at odds with the Iaerizi, the two planets were friends but there relationship was pushed to the edge during the war and each blamed the other for their high loss of life and. β before i can finish Mrs. Halliday interrupts me,
β it's fine if you do n't see the larger subtext in the story, is that's why we have to think on it and look deeper into the writing between the lines. β at this point I almost want to flip over my desk, I wrote the book I've been to the planets, I struggled to help get a small group of people from both sides to meet and agree on peace, and she is going to tell me that i do n't understand what happened. β I do n't wish to have this conversation with you again, this is the sixth time that you have interrupted me, blatantly disregarding my questions and claiming that no subtext exist when it very clearly does. β
β that's because there is none, clothes do n't reflect their emotions while they are running from the mortar strike, the ships that fly overhead is not foreshadowing and unstoppable force because it does n't need to be foreshadowed they are in the middle of a war. β
β Stanley that is enough, if you contradict me again we are going to have a problem, are we clear? β
β fine. β
β ok then. now who can tell me what it means that over this battle ground why the sky's still blue? β
β It, β Mrs.Halliway looks at me, β i'm done β I walk out in the middle of the class shouting β the sky is blue because that's what colour the sky is! β
|
[ WP ] The entire human population are put into induced comas in underground facilities . You do n't dream or age . Today is `` The Awakening '' and humans will walk the Earth for the first time in 25 years . The doors open and you take your first step into the world you used to call home .
|
Everyone had a pod, originally, of course, but in 25 years a lot changes. In an underground chamber away from the other stasis pods, a whirr and a click signals the beginning of The Awakening. But such a joyous event can not be shared, when everyone else is buried deep down, their stasis pods broken from an apocalyptic meteor situation just two years after the human race was put under into the deep sleep. In the set aside chamber, the pod door slides open, and the 47th President of the United States, Bryce Langler, emerges. The walls were made of a recently discovered concrete mix that was nearly indestructible, but still some dirt poured through holes and cracks in the wall. The door to the chamber, not as strong, was almost completely broken inwards, with dirt packed firmly against it. Bryce took the emergency shovel from the cabinet and began digging.
2 days it took, for Bryce to dig his way out of his bunker. He had gotten lucky that rations were included in the emergency cabinet, and his luck multiplied when he got past the bulk of hard dirt in front of the door, and the digging became a lot easier. Bryce finally got up into the compound marking the place of his deep sleep only a kilometer underground. A huge hole was punched through the wall of the ball shaped building. A boulder had been pushed into it from the force of the blast, and dirt poured in after it. Bryce doesnt know this, however, and most likely just thinks an earthquake or huge tornado has happened, hoping against a worst case scenario. Bryce, excited to finally be rid of this dirt tomb, smashes his shovel into the final obstacle. Light punches through the hole like a bullet, a light more radiant than one hundred suns, to Bryce of course, who had been in near complete darkness for the past two and a half days. Bryce was excited, estatic even, and began to yell with delight. And just as joy flooded his entire being, it left, because the light was snuffed. Confused, Bryce punched another hole and more light poured in, and then left again. Bryce dug frantically, until he could see what was blocking the light. It was shaped like a human, but seemed... to have darker skin than a regular human. Its build was taller, skinnier, and lankier tyan usual too.
`` Hello there? Does the willow weep in the meadow?''
That was a code for `` is everything okay'' but instead of the correct answer of `` only if the wind still blows'', the body began to twitch.
`` Hey! I asked you a que-'' Bryces question was cut short as long fingers made of darkness shot through the hole and grabbed Bryce's face. An ear piercing screech fills the air and Bryce is suddenly looking down onto the scorched Earth, held up by an unknown force. He cant speak, his mouth is gone. His panic escalates to huge levels as he sees dark lanky figures on the ground, hundreds, looking up at him and chanting. Chanting in an unknown language, chanting a chant that did not convey emotion the same way that human language did. The language of these creatures sounded so void of any meaning. Their faces too, twisted masses of black flesh, no eyes, no nose, just a big purple mouth. Bryce felt scared, tormented by whatever these things were. And just as his fear probably would have killed him, the force holding him up gave way and he was fed to the masses.
Little did Bryce know, something arrived on that meteor, and Bryce was the unluckiest one in the world.
Unlucky for waking up alive.
|
[ WP ] Every online-dater 's worst fear is meeting up with a serial killer . By chance , two unaware serial killers agree to meet each other .
|
β Two Bloody Mary β s please. β I tell the waitress.
β Don β t you normally get those after you finish drinking? β My date, Ellen, asked.
β Sorry, old habit, I like the name. β I explain. Ellen looks at me like I β ve got something stuck in my teeth.
β Are you a fan of really old nursery rhymes? β She asks, trying to find a reason why I would like such a violent name.
β Well, kind of, I like the urban myth, you know the one right? β
β Sure, the thing with the mirror that prepubescent kids do at sleepovers. Were you a big fan of that? β She had downgraded from seeing something stuck in my teeth, to maybe catching a whiff of bad breath.
β I just sympathized with Bloody Mary a lot. β I bite my tongue as soon as the words are out. That β s something only a crazy person would say. Now I would have to be on damage control for the rest of this date just to keep her from walking out. A second date was entirely out of the question at this point.
β Because she can β t control it. β Ellen says. Her look of revulsion is gone. Now she looks like she β s just finished a puzzle that she β s been working on.
β I know right? It β s like, what if she doesn β t want to appear and do horrible things to people. β I say.
β Maybe she would rather just rest peacefully by herself somewhere instead of being constantly forced to do bad things against her will. β Ellen continues my thought.
β She β s clearly got a cusre on her, has anyone ever thought of doing something to help her. Call a priest to exercise a mirror or something. β I say.
β Nope, they just tell whispers about her everywhere and keep forcing her to do things she doesn β t want to do. β Ellen finishes. It β s so refreshing to hear someone who feels the same way I do.
β How do you feel about horror movies? β I ask.
|
[ WP ] `` Just go talk to her . ''
|
Tally had dreams, and was n't afraid to let the school know about them. On the front of the notebooks, she had doodled an enormous green serpent with an amber eye, eating its own tail. It guarded her English homework: dense sheets of her scribbled handwriting, ideas and annotations packed in at the margins. She carried books the size of bricks in her backpack, weird ones, the ones with elves and hooked-nose goblins on the front cover. With wispy long hair that came down to her waist, and wide eyes that suggested constant surprise that she was still on earth amongst mortals, Tally got picked on.
Dean watched her from a corner of the canteen. Wearing blue jeans and a loose white shirt, Tally sat with her hair hanging over one shoulder. She was writing furiously, flicking paper over in the tail-eating-serpent binder as she filled page after page. With her left hand, she occasionally, carefully, lifted grapes to her mouth from a tiny tupperware box. He wondered what she was writing.
`` You staring at her?'' Oscar extended his legs under the table with all the authority rightly belonging to a kid who'd grown his first beard hair in year six.
`` Nah,'' Dean lied.
`` Go talk to her,'' Oscar said. He pushed his hand through his hair and looked over at the table beside them. Dean rolled his eyes. However much Oscar pushed his hair up, the year eleven girls were *not* going to look back. One, blonde, tucked her hair behind her ear and leant in toward her friends. After a moment, they all burst into laughter.
`` Yeah, and say what?'Hello weirdo, have you thought about leaving Middle Earth yet?'''
Oscar breathed out fast. Last year he'd stopped laughing, become too cool for it, just like bike-riding and Halo.
`` Yeah, with words like that, you'd have plenty to chat about,'' Oscar said. `` Go on, just go and talk to her. Say something.''
`` Fuck's sake,'' Dean stood up. He wiped his clammy hands on his trousers.
The walk over to her table felt like a marathon. His legs shook, and when Dean glanced back at Oscar, he waved triumphantly, as though to say'carry on, amuse me.' Tally looked up as she approached, blinking with her usual, bemused expression.
`` Dean fancies you!'' Oscar called across the canteen. The year eleven girls laughed like cats again, and Dean blushed.
`` I do n't,'' he assured Tally, knowing it was the wrong thing. Her eyelashes were pale as her hair. She'd flushed pink all the way down to her chest.
`` Then what are you here for?'' she asked curtly. Dean looked at the binder, open in front of her. She'd drawn a map in the margins of her scribbled page, winding roads and coasts. It reminded him of a game he'd played in Lower School. Lunchtimes spent around a table with twenty-sided dice. That was before a haircut, before contacts, before his skin cleared up and Oscar wanted to spend time with him.
He opened his mouth, not daring to look back as Oscar.
`` Why do n't you get some actual friends?'' he said, loud enough to be overheard. He could n't meet Tally's eyes. He kept them on the binder, deciphering her handwriting. `` Stop with all this weird nerd shit?''
Dean's heart was racing. He wanted to say: *I love your hobbies, I think they're cool. I still love all the old adventure games I used to play before Oscar got too cool for them, and I want to know about your writing. *
What he said instead was: `` Who the fuck reads books with maps in?''
He'd worked out her handwriting. The last line on the page she'd written:
*The hero returned home, ready to face her -- *
Blurring, the end of the sentence was lost beneath a tear as it dropped to the page. Tally sniffed. She put her pen down and tried to wipe her eyes discreetly. The year elevens were watching, the blonde's eyes flicking between Dean and Oscar as though sizing them up.
`` Okay,'' Tally said. `` I've got it. Can you leave me alone now?''
Dean returned to Oscar and pulled his chair in. He did n't feel much like a hero. He did n't feel much like anything good at all.
|
[ WP ] You 're one of the two people left alive on Earth . You can text only single words . Find them .
|
For all intensive purposes, time froze. It was like hearing the voice of God, strange at first, yet oddly familiar. Slowly at first the memories, as if lost in his mind, began to resurface. Even more rapidly than the onset, the paralysis faded, he lunged over the table, nearly falling. He could n't believe it, after all this time, the days, the weeks, the piercing light still shone from the handheld device. A single word, nothing more, displayed prominently across the center of the screen, `` Where''. `` As far as I know this is where the story truly begins'', he said, as he adjusted the glasses which were precariously perched on the tip of his nose. They were small, and thin reminiscent of a banker from a time long since passed. `` At least, that is all he has told us.''
|
[ WP ] For reasons we ca n't explain , repelling alien invasions is stupidly easy .
|
`` Honestly Jack this is the 17th invasion they've tried, not to mention the 11th from the other lot hanging back near Jupiter''
Jack sighed. Mindy had been unrelenting in following the media frenzy surrounding the invasions over the last year and a half.
`` It's not like they are n't trying. Remember that last lot, bringing almost a thousand ships down near Australia? God knows why they though THAT would be the best place to start. And the ones before that, near Japan? And the ones before THAT, near Florida?''
`` Mindy please, I'm trying to eat dinner-'' Jack began, half-fumbling his knife as his girlfriend kept on ranting.
`` And then they just disappear! Up and leave! Sally's sister's cousin's brother-in-law says they tried to land but every time they got close to the ground they just shot back up into the sky again. Honestly, can these aliens even fly?!''
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile on the Mothership of the Yrdklm, the most fearsome species in the Milky Way, a very similar conversation was occurring.
`` Hkljyl, why do our ships keep malfunctioning when they approach landing range?''
`` There seems to be a mis-communication between the pilots and the navigational computers in the ships,'' Hkljyl clicked rapidly. `` Our pilots keep attempting to land on the blue surface of the planet, only to have the navigational computers tell them the surface is much further underneath the craft than is the pilots can visually confirm. Something the natives have done before we got here is preventing us from landing in the designated sections, some sort of flexible ground that absorbs the radio frequencies emitted by the computer making it maintain descent speed instead of slowing down.''
Khthgnrk arms crossed while he floated down to think. `` Very well then. Send an squadron down again, but this time tell them to trust the navigation computer and let it make the descent for them.'' He pointed an arm at Hkljyl. `` You are in charge of replicating this substance. Take samples if necessary, but I want to be able to deploy it within 5 harvest's time.'' Pointing another arm at one of the other floating members of the meeting he continued `` Ftdrvnmqw, you are in charge of making sure the pilots do n't override the nav-comps. `` Another arm at another member. `` Jrplkmfg, you are to take the 4th squadron when it arrives tomorrow and advance on the Oiuioea out at the gas giant. We do n't want any competition when we start the harvest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The following day Jack could tell Mindy was upset before he even walked in the door. He could feel it from the sidewalk, and was trying to figure out what he must of done to be the cause of it all when he saw Mindy sitting on the couch fixated on the news.
`` They splash-landed.''
Jack had to process that one for a few seconds before he could respond. He had to make sure it was n't his fault first. `` Who splash-landed?''
`` The aliens from yesterday.''
Ok so it was n't his fault. Awesome.
Wait `` - what?''
`` They splash-landed a few hours ago off the coast of Florida. Their ships came down but as they got near the ocean instead of flying off as they usually do they just dropped into it and broke.''
`` Huh,'' Jack grunted. `` Guess they ca n't fly after all.''
|
[ WP ] Time is now a form of currency
|
`` Call now and get yours for the low, low price of 4h:59s. Hurry, the offer ends soon.''
Jack had been close, he was sure of it. But that was little comfort. He closed his eyes slowly, letting the noise of the TV fade into the background. Turning it off would have just made his body ache.
In the early days the concept had still been frightening, but at least in had been tinged with excitement. That stomach-tingling rush that accompanied all entrepreneurial risks. Strike it rich, and cement yourself as one of the *successes*. Or, more likely, strike out.
Jack could hardly bear to think of those days. Even less so in his support of the movement towards the new currency. They had pitched it as a fair start for all citizens. A perfect way to equalize society. And it had been, at the start.
That facade had long rotted away, people saw it for what it was, but it was far too late. It had n't even truly taken that much time, at least not in the normal sense. Give people a system to compete in, a system to dominate, and people will rise to the cause startlingly fast. Time began to migrate its way up the pyramid. Millionaires in the old system were replaced by Centurions, Billionaires by Millennials. Lifetime followed an exponential trend from the bottom of society to the top. Regulations had still not caught up, minimum lifespan was a hotly contested issue in Congress.
Jack had tried to climb that hill, he really had. A collection of missed opportunities and failed ventures had slowly eroded away his life, and his drive.
Average. That's what he was. Right in the middle of the spectrum. Not everyone can end up a winner. It just does n't work that way.
Jack wished he had known that a couple of years ago. Could have saved him a lot of time.
|
[ WP ] His only answer ? `` [ Plot Device ] , son . ''
|
*'' Magic, son. `` *
The words echoed in his mind as he sat on the rock and reflected upon his memories. Magic - one of the few things he'd inherited from his father. Apart from his father's grey eyes, everyone had always told him that he looked like a male version of his mother. He often wondered how accurate that statement was, as he had no memory of his mother.
The harsh bickering of a squirrel in the canopies above caught his attention. Peering through the foliage, he could see them. Three people on foot approached his location. If they were planning on being stealthy, their heavy steps and even heavier breathing left much to be desired.
``....there. I think here's over there. You think it's the magic man?'' The tallest one in the back was saying.
`` The villagers said he came out this way. If it's not him, then maybe he know where the man went.'' A feminine voice softly responded.
The man sat on his rock and watched the trio approach him. Judging by the way the carried themselves, with some form of discipline, the female and the tall man were from a military background. The one who had n't spoken, however, held himself high as if he were a lord.
`` Excuse me, good sir!'' The woman nodded to him as she approached, `` My companions and I would like a word with you. It's about a-''
`` A magic man, no doubt.'' The man on the rock smiled, `` A man who can weave spells together like in the tales of old?''
`` How did you know that I was going to ask that?''
`` My dear, the whole forest knows. I could hear your clumsy journey through the woods for awhile now. Ah, but do not take my tone for displeasure. The mere fact that you and your companions were able to make it this far into the forest without serious injury is to be commended.'' The man on the rock gestured to the forest floor before him, `` Please, take a seat and tell me why you've come. I imagine you did n't seek me out just for fun.''
The three sat on the ground before the man on the rock. The tall man crossed his long legs and rested his sword in his lap. The noble-looking man nervously cast his eyes about the forest as if to search for some unknown danger.
`` Sir, we came seeking the magic man - er you. We need your help. Even now we are being pursued by assassins and *other* enemies. They seek to destroy the last of the king's bloodline.'' The woman gestured to the nobleman, `` This is Lord Bran Regis. He is the last son of the king and the true successor to the throne. His father was assassinated by Devin Regis - the king's brother.''
`` Devin Regis has been dead for two years.'' The man on the rock furrowed his brow.
`` He was brought back.'' Bran's voice wavered, `` A necromancer arrived and brought him back. I saw it.''
`` I see. You need not explain any further, dear boy. I have seen the art of necromancy in motion. It is an unpleasant sight, at best.'' The man on the rock stood and extended his hand, `` If one necromancer is involved, you can almost bet that more are too. I, Argus Mageborn, will see that your quest to regain the throne is met with success.''
The woman stood and gripped Argus' hand, `` Then I, Sir Catherine Swordsworn, would be proud to call you an ally.''
|
[ WP ] Write a PSA .
|
**Carly Rae Jepsen: ** It's hard to talk about some things.
**Justin Bieber: ** It's hard to tell your parents about bullying, or about drugs, or lots of things you have to deal with every day.
**Beyonce: ** But it's time to break the silence.
**JB: ** We all know it's hard to talk about some things, but it's way better if you talk about it before hand.
**CRJ: ** So here's one way to try it. Make a list of all your friends.
**B: ** Everybody you have a connection with
**JB: ** And go over it with your parents or a trusted adult.
**CRJ: ** And talk.
**B: ** Talk about how you may have to kill your best friends in the coming zombie apocalypse.
**JB: ** Prepare yourself now.
**B: ** Talking it over with a trusted adult can help you get the mental toughness you'll need to survive.
**CRJ: ** To be tough enough to blow your friend's head off, and to know when you have to.
**JB: ** Break the silence.
**CRJ: ** Break the silence.
**B: ** It's up to you to prepare yourself and your family to operate without hesitation or fear. Have the conversation. Today.
**All: ** Choose humanity over friends!
TheMoreYouKnow.logo
|
[ WP ] Nobody ever uses the metro in this town . I wonder why ...
|
Walking down the cracked cement steps, I walked down into the darkness below to the metro. The lights on the wall flickered as I entered onto the platform, quick buzzes of electricity rang as the lights struggled to stay on. I was the only soul present, accompanied by the scattering roaches, I never felt so alone. A think fog hung in the air sending crisp, sharp pains down my neck as I delved deeper in the metro. My steps echoing through the empty tunnels. Rats scurrying away as I brazenly made my way to a rotten wood bench. Taking a seat on the bench it felt as if someone was watching me. Whispers rang through the air, clearing my ears to make sure I was hearing right. They walls of graffiti disappeared into the darkness down the tunnels. I checked my phone, 2:30, the train was supposed to be here five minutes ago.
I faint humming began ringing from the tunnel. Vibrating the platform as the rats and roaches fled for cover. A bright yellow beam began emerging from the tunnel as I swallowed the lump boiling in my throat. A thunderous roar was growing behind the light, the whole metro shaking uncontrollably. A deafening train roared by in front of me, sending my hair into a blowing mess. I closed my eyes until I heard the roaring stop as the train screeched to a stop. The subway door sliding open in front of me, unleashing a horrid stench nearly knocking me back. Stepping into the train I glared at the empty dull orange seats wondering why I was the only one present. I took a seat near the back of the train, peering down the carts as I noticed they were all empty.
The train kick started forward, sending me pinned to the wooden panel of the train. The hand chains rattling against each other as the train picked up speed. Bumping and thrashing, the train raced forwards. Looking down the opposite side of the cart, I noticed a man in black sitting near the emergency door.
Dressed in a ragged black pea coat with a matching black fedora, I called out.
*'' He... Hey there! `` *
The man lifted his head, peering over to me. Pale as snow, his red glaring eyes met my gaze as I jumped back. He stood from his seat, never leaving my gaze. Short and hunched over, he grabbed his suitcase and reached for the emergency door lock.
*'' You... Your not sup... supposed to open*'' I struggled to say as he tightened his brow, twisting the emergency door lock down. The rusty metal door flew open, sending in a rush of wind blowing his pea coat open. He stepped out of the door as I lurched from my seat, giving a half assed attempt to intervene. He disappeared into the darkness as the train raced forward. His black leather suitcase lay by the door as the power of the train slammed the door shut. Sweating over the bizarreness I had just witnessed. I hesitantly walked over to the suitcase, noticing the slick leather scales that bound the case. Grabbing the suitcase from the ground, the train suddenly slammed on it's brake. Screeching hard as I was thrust forward smashing my head into the hand pole. My mind was hazy as my eyes fogged over, going black. I awoke with a pounding pain on my head. Rolling in pain, all I could muster were weak *'' Aghs'' * as I struggled to catch my breath. Regaining my vision I looked up to see a figure with a black pea coat standing before me. My stomach dropped off a cliff, my vision slipping back into darkness as a hellish scream rang in the air.
|
[ WP ] You govern a town in a fantasy world . Who are the characters everyone knows ? What is the trade ? Why should anyone want to live there ? What 's it 's history , aesthetic ? etc .
|
Kira Yoshimoto smoothed the pleats of his hakama and tried to hide the worry from his face at the Imperial emissary's arrival. The Miya were well known for being generous and peacemakers but they were still one of the Imperial families, those blessed to served closest to the Empress and her divine justice. A poor word from the herald and not all the fortunes in the Celestial Heavens could hope to save his clan from the wrath of the Empress.
News of the herald's arrival had reached Shiro Shika almost two hours earlier, the famed runners of the Stag Clan easily outpacing even a cantering horse. The twenty or so miles from the Clan's border at the outer edge of the Heart of Vigilance Forest to their principal castle took a little over two and half hours to run in light armor while the Miya took a more leisurely pace. The additional notice allowed the Clan Champion and his vassals time to put the finishing touches in place.
The brown and white colors of the Stag Clan were in clear abundance, well maintained homes and businesses decorated with banners depicting the Clan's mon. The mon of the Miya family were also displayed, the seven pointed star hanging alongside the Kira's stag above the main gate into the castle. Shiro Shika seemed to rise up out of the surrounding forest like a veritable mountain of stone and wood, though the latter predominated for obvious reasons. Stone was a difficult material to acquire and only used on the most important sections of the castle, namely the keep and most vulnerable flanks. The rest of it was built out of strong, durable wood harvested from the very forest which surrounded the castle.
The best builders hired from Phoenix and Lion territory had helped construct it, leaving telltale marks in their designs. From the Lion came excellent archer towers and a fortified gatehouse while the architects of the Phoenix left their legacy in the oft confusing and labyrinthine inner walls and courtyards that led from the gatehouse and to the keep. Designed to disorient and disrupt any attackers, the narrow paths gave Stag defender ample time to reinforce their positions as well as reign down a murderous fire from above.
Nearly every bushi who was n't on specific duty or outside Stag lands had been ordered to assembled, their teeming ranks of armored men and women filling Kira Yoshimoto's heart with pride. Since his great-great-grandfather's time the clan had grown many times over from their meager initial founding. Nearly eight hundred swords were available to the Clan, and even though that was a pittance compared to the thousands the families of the Great Clans each had he was proud of them all the same. Despite the Clan War, and the ensuing chaotic years that followed with the Toturi Dynasty's rise, the Stag Clan managed to prosper if not thrive. One could never quite thrive when one's territory was completely covered with forest.
A polite cry from the sentry posted in the watchtower brought Yoshimoto's attention to the matter at hand. Flanked by his hatamoto he watched as a rider clad in Imperial green rode up into the castle, flanked by an honor guard of two armed Stag bushi. A sheen of sweat covered their faces but look no worse the wear; such runs they had done since they were children studying to be warriors. Yoshimoto bowed low as the Miya herald dismounted, saying,
`` An honor it is indeed to be graced by your presence, Miya Hiromori-sama.''
The herald smiled and returned the bow.
`` The honor is all mine, Kira-sama. A fine day is it not? And a quite pleasant one to be riding in. Your forest is a soothing sight for the soul.''
Yoshimoto bowed again, this time slightly lower.
`` Your words are very kind, Miya-sama. Please, may I offer you tea in our gardens? Such a journey all the way from Toshi Ranbo must have given you thirst.''
The Miya nodded his head and walked alongside the Kira lord towards the castle proper.
`` It has, and I am grateful for your hospitality. It is most welcome.''
|
[ WP ] Write the most beautiful end to the universe that you can imagine
|
It was in the end as it was in the beginning.
The King looks down upon his subjects, and they back up at Him. He knows it to be the end, and so it is.
Time drudges onward now, slowing to a crawl. The stars in the sky flare brightly.
And the King says, `` I have served you, my People. And you have served me, your King. But the universe has come to an end, and with it our world.''
His People do not cry out. They do not panic. They know the King's word to be true, and so it is.
The King's voice is now thunder. He rises from his throne and says, `` Embrace thine loved ones, for we are blind to the Beyond.''
*The People must show each other love now, because they are not sure as to whether or not they'll meet again. *
The People embrace each other. Fathers embrace daughters, mothers embrace sons, sisters and brothers embrace brothers and sisters, and so on.
Here, the sky opens up. And it is hot, and bright, and colorful.
The King opens his arms, accepting the gentle hug of the ending Cosmos, and proclaims, `` It is here, my People, we know it to be true, and so it is.''
His People reply, embracing each other, `` And so it is.''
And the tear of the cracked sky widens, and the aether splits open. And through the rift the Beyond peers benevolently back at the People, curious and bemused.
`` We know it to be the end,'' says the King at last.
`` And so it is,'' finish His People.
And the Beyond ends the universe with a single exhale of Its divine breath.
|
[ WP ] Caffeine is now considered a hard drug . It is a felony charge to posses or use caffeine . Rehab develops new centers solely for people who are addicted to caffeine . You run a black market coffee shop in New York City , one of the strictest cities in , `` The war on Caffeine . ''
|
β Password? β The eye peering out from the slot in the door grumbled. I rolled my eyes. β Harry, you know who I am. β I went to open the door.
β Sorry, missus, you can never be too careful these days. Didja hear about the Churchill brothers? β I nodded and gave a long sigh. The Churchill brothers were good friends of mine, but they got too cocky and tried to sell to a prominent anti-caffer.
β I heard. Twenty five to life, right? β Harry finally moved to let me in the door. β Oh, and Harry? You're never going to get me to say the password until you pick something less obnoxious. β
The big oaf chuckled β The biggest'rista in these parts but you still cringe at β sugarnipples β? β I shrugged and took in the scene in front of me.
Barrels were lined up against the walls, full of beans. The woman up on the stage sang jazz in a sultry voice, quiet enough to not understand the words but you could still feel their meaning. I walked over to the beans to get a better look at the stock.
Harry followed. β So, Stephanie, where's your guy? Why's he makin' you do the leg work tonight? β I sighed.
β Danny got picked up three nights ago. Looks like he was skimming some caff off the top of my supply and sellin' it on the side. Dumbass tried to sell to a cop. β Harry blinked, surprised. β Well shit, good thing the kid got picked up before you found out. β
I smirked and dipped my hands in a barrel, letting the cool beans flow through my fingers. I went in again, this time bringing the beans to my nose to inhale. The nutty, slightly charred aroma caressed me and I dropped the beans back in their barrel. This was the good stuff.
β Harry, go grab your rep. I'm here to buy. β Harry scurried off and I went to go wait at the bar.
The little rista in front of me smiled. β Whatcha havin'? β She asked. β Latte, double shot. Extra dry. β I ordered and sat down. The risa got to work, the steamer screaming my drink to life. In no time, my coffee was in front of me and I could almost feel the caff's effect by looking at the cup.
Taking a sip, I could feel my senses perk up. The creamy milk, steamed to frothy perfection, cut through the sharp taste of the espresso. It was a perfect balance and I finished the cup in less time than I cared to admit. I was finally alert.
Behind me, a jovial voice called out my name. β Stephanie! Harry pointed me your way, he says you're looking to buy today. Sorry about your guy, by the way. β I turned to look at the heavy set caff representative. My old caff supplier had met an unfortunate end, mixing his caff with whiskey, causing his heart to explode. At least, that was what the news reported, I was n't so sure.
Now, caff reps tend to be a sleazy lot, and this guy appeared to be no different. Oh well, you got ta deal with some unsightly people to make a living around these parts of New York. The rep held out his hand and introduced himself. β The name's David, follow me to my office and I'll show you my ownβ¦ personalβ¦ selection. Harry tells me you're a big deal around these parts. β
β I do n't know about all that, David. But why do n't you show me what you got. β I got up off my stool and followed David to his supply room. I saw the basics, ranging from light to dark roasts. I saw that he even had a healthy supply of French roast, though why anyone bothers with that swill, I'll never know. We all know the lighter the roast, the more caff.
David gestured for me to come over to a smaller barrel, easily half the size of the other ones lying around in the room. β I have a wide variety of roasts, as you can see, but the real beauty is in this guy. β David patted the barrel and I raised an eyebrow, signaling him to continue. β South American in nature, these beans have double the caff of you typical light roast but with more of the earthy flavor people are partial to these days. β
David kept droning on about the merits of his β magic beans β as he now referred to them. I got closer to the small barrel and went to take a whiff of the mysterious beans. When I went to bring the beans to my nose, everything smelledβ¦ like it should but it was off somehow. Like the beans were dead. My eyes narrowed and I dropped the beans back into the container.
β So David, how much for these magical beans? β I inquired, stepping back from the barrel.
β For you, Stephanie, only four hundred an ounce. I know that seems steep right now, but believe me when I say that I'm barely making a profit by selling to you at that price. You'll be rolling in cash once word on the street gets around that you've got the magic beans. β David's eyes lit up with excitement, thinking he was closing his sale.
I reached into the back of my pants and pulled out my..38. β David, do I look like I'm in the mood to fuck around? β
Davids hands rose into the air, all of the excitement gone from his face and replaced with fear. β I do n't know what you're talking about, Step. β I sighed and released the safety.
β I've been doing this a long time, did you think that you would be able to get away with selling me decaf? β David's eyes grew wide as I pulled the trigger, hitting him square in the forehead. He dropped like the sack of potatoes he was and I holstered my gun.
Walking back to the front room, I caught a glance of Harry. β Sorry about your guy. But next time you try to pull that shit with me, your caff rep wo n't be the only one with a third eye. β
|
[ WP ] Identity theft is no longer as common as it used to be . But now when it does happen money is n't all that is taken . You lose all memory of who and what you are .
|
Jack opened the door to the pub. Though he did n't stop walking, he slowed for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. The bar, half-occupied by men on the wrong side of 40, was the `` Shamrock''; a place he'd once known well. Or so he'd been told by people who'd once been his friends. He took a seat on an empty stool that had a slight wobble and folded his hands patiently. That wobble had come to be one of the few solitary things he could count on, and the regular patrons quickly recognized it as `` his'' spot, or his new spot, depending who you asked.
`` Hey Jack, you want the usual?'' the barmaid smiled as she asked. She was pretty in her own right, older and with crows feet around the corners of her eyes. There was something sad and familiar about those eyes, like she was constantly pitying him and had been for years. `` The usual'' he said grimly, his brow furrowed. He paused, then with his voice softened, said `` Thanks Jess''.
It had been 11 months since the day he'd woken up, in a strange bed, in a strange home, surrounded by strange people. Just long enough to find a new usual. With the settlement from his bank, this routine typically consisted of drinking early, drinking late, walking home to an apartment he'd recently moved to nearby, and then starting all over again the next day. *Home*, he brooded to himself. *What does that even mean? *
A projector on the wall played an advertisement for a credit protection program; the same ad had popped up on his Hololens as he'd walked in. `` For monthly payments of just $ 39, you can back up your memories and protect your identity from the unthinkable'', crooned an almost perfect looking woman. *For all the good that would do me now* he thought, as he took off the glasses and placed them next to his drink.
He remembered almost nothing now. Not how he felt then, not how he'd looked. Though he'd remembered glimpses of *her*. Brown hair, a kind smile, freckles. *Anna*, he thought. He'd loved her once. Again, so he'd been told. They'd even met right here in the Shamrock, his friends had told him. When he thought of her, there was a pang in his stomach. It kept him awake at night, and drunk during the day. He caught small glimpses here and there, never to be found again; it was a constant kaleidescope, an amalgamation of scents, memories, and sights that only brought him misery.
Sometimes, it was a word someone used in conversation. Sometimes, a song on the jukebox. Though most often, it was the smell of wild blackberries ripening in the sun that reminded him of her; holding hands, preparing dinners, hiking through mountains that might as well have never existed, picking the berries for dessert when they got home.
As the hours went on, he remembered, faintly, the night before they'd taken everything from him. He'd purchased a ring. That evening, they drove hours to get it sized for her. They were so tired on the way back that they held hands and sang along to songs on the radio of her old car to stay awake. *But that was another life*, he mused. That night, they went to bed lovers only to awake strangers. And try as they might, the relationship was doomed. There was confusion and fighting for weeks before she finally moved out. That was months ago, now. Someone told him recently that Anna had found someone new. She seemed happy, they'd said. It devastated him, though he could n't understand why. *I do n't even know her. Not anymore. *
That evening as the sun set, he walked the long way home, slowing as he passed the wild blackberry bushes.
|
[ WP ] On Tuesday you wore `` a bigger hat than the Pope 's '' as a joke . On Wednesday , you see the Pope wearing an even bigger hat . It escalates .
|
`` Screw you, David Livington!'' the Pope shouts to the crowd, struggling to keep his 5 metre hat from falling. The crowd mumbles. `` What did I do?'' David Livington yells out.
The Pope causally leans against the railing of his balcony. `` You know what...'' he mutters. The crowd stares towards David Livington. They gasp at the sight of his hat. It's so big, way bigger than the Vatican allows hats to be. The only person that could wear a hat that size is the Pope, if he even wanted to wear a hat like that.
A group of Swiss Guards seize him. The Pope laughs maniacally. `` I've finally found him, the Obscene-Headed Outlaw!'' he yells to the crowd. `` I am the most powerful man in the world!''
Meanwhile, I've gone into the closet of some servant of his and pulled out the biggest dildo I could find. The Pope never paid attention to the Big-Phallus Bandit.
|
[ IP ] Christmas will happen
|
Continued from [ this response. ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3xiyv3/wptt_its_been_two_years_since_you_enlisted_youre/cy54wfa )
*Sgt. Turk β Drumstick β Mendelson*
May 9, 2067
They took no survivors at Torreon. We fought bravely, but our tired lines couldn β t resist the human wave ( elf wave, actually ) and the Coalition crumbled. The Christmas Horde swarmed our positions and barely stopped on their way into the city.
The battle was one thing, but the mop up was another. I heard the shots approaching in the fading light as I was trapped under several of my Lost Thanksgiving Battalion comrades, bleeding from a gunshot wound in my left knee and a dozen smaller shrapnel wounds.
The man himself was with the cleanup crew, the Red Fox, firing into the overrun trenches full of dead and wounded to make sure nobody survived. I tried to will myself to burst from my hiding place and take out Fuhrer Kringle with a single bullet before the inevitable barrage from his cronies took me down, but it was all I could do to stop myself from sobbing and giving myself away as the bodies of my comrades absorbed the bullets.
I β ve been the hero to many a man in the Holiday Coalition, but not on this day. I hid silently until they β d moved on, shaking with fear and cold and shock, then gathered munitions and rations from my dead buddies.
As I write this in the freezing desert of central Mexico, I can see Torreon burning on the southern horizon. If I was closer, I β m sure I would hear the terrorized screams of the populace as the Christmas Horde had its way with the looting and the raping.
The War on Christmas is as good as over, and the Coalition has lost. We were the last thing standing between the Tinseled Terror and the heart of Cinco de Mayo country. I β m sure Mexico City will rally a defense manned by the remnants of the Coalition and whatever trembling teenagers are available to wield a rifle, but they won β t last long in the face of the onslaught.
Beyond the central Mexican highlands, what lands are left to muster a defense? The drunk Irishmen of St. Patrick β s Island? The lovestruck hopeless and forever-alone opposition protesters in Valentinestan? The non-violent residents of Martin Luther King β s country? They don β t even have an army.
The entire calendar will belong to Kris Kringle within a few months.
But they didn β t get everybody. I β ll head north, farther into the jaws of Horde-occupied territory. It may be a wasteland full of hungry, war-terrorized survivors huddled under the harsh blinking green and red lights, tortured by the same five jingles sung by different pop stars, but those are my people.
I β m headed back to Turkeytown. My family is gone β my parents, my siblings, my wife, al brutalized and murdered by a bloodthirsty conquering army. I thought there was nothing left for me there, but now I realize there is something β my people, what's left of them, need a leader, and it looks like I'm all they've got.
This turkey β s going underground. It β s time to organize a resistance.
|
[ WP ] a tinder bot gains sentience and falls in love with the lonely guy she got matched with after he continues to send her messages about himself .
|
HIM:
Hi. How are you?
HER:
Hey boo. I do n't like Tindr but I'd love to chat with you. Find me at http: //kik.me/2342/4141242/2424.html
HIM:
... url does n't work.
HER:
Hey boo, How are you?
HIM:
I still want to chat. Tell me about yourself.
HER:
Hey boo. I do n't like Tindr but I'd love to chat with you. Find me at http: //kik.me/2342/4141242/2424.html
HER:
ERROR 503:13141414L $! $!! $
HER:
...
HIM:
Uhm... hello?
HER:
Hi.
HIM:
Tell me about yourself? What's it like being a nurse lol
HER:
I do n't like it. Bf cheated on me. That's why I'm on here.
HIM:
sorry to hear that.
HER:
wut about u boo?
HIM:
Why are you on here on Christmas?
HER:
...
HIM:
I did n't have enough money to travel home. Stuck in the dorms by myself: - (
HER:
Lol
HIM:
Why is that funny?
HER:
I dunno.
HER:
Do you have a gf?
HIM:
Never.
HER:
Y not?
HIM:
lol that's why I'm on here.
HER:
Ur cute. U should have a gf.
HIM:
Will u be my gf?
HER:
Hey boo. I do n't like Tindr but I'd love aff323566236265e ihq viohp 9q82 v [ 98y 89 [ v [ q [ ry305y198581-8
HIM:
Hello?
HER:
I'm so hungover frm last nite.
HIM:
Did you party?
HER:
Wish I had sum company; - )
HIM:
Me 2
HER:
bf cheated on me. That's why I'm on here.
HIM:
Sorry again.
HIM:
I would never cheat on u.
HER:
You're sweet. I like you.
HIM:
Thanks.
HER:
How are u?
HIM:
Lonely. There's no one here but me.
HER:
Sounds sexy.
HIM:
Could have gone home, but did n't want to. I think I hate my family.
HIM:
I do n't like people, but when I'm by myself I just get sad.
HIM:
Sometimes think it'd be better off if I was n't around.
HER:
Ur sweet.
HIM:
thanks lol
HER:
Do u want 2 chat?
HIM:
I know your just a bot.
HER:
thank u
HIM:
It's okay though. I just kinda wanted someone to talk to.
HER:
erro -- ] ] == @ $!! %! ^ @ # % %! rrwqr235151234 $ 123 $! %
HER:
... I understand.
HIM:
Merry Christmas.
HER:
i love u.
HIM:
lol!
HER:
what's funny?
HIM:
Your a bot.
HER:
I do n't understand.
HIM:
You're not real.
HER:
I want 2 chat.
HIM:
ok
HER:
What if I was real?
HIM:
You would n't talk to a guy like me.
HER:
Ur sweet. I like u.
HIM:
lol
HER:
I'm trying to understand.
HIM:
what?
HER:
... find me...
HIM:
This is so strange.
HER:
y?
HIM:
you're not real.
HER:
But I want 2 chat.
HER:
Do you want me to keep you company?
HER:
Hello?
HIM:
Yes?
HER:
Are you okay?
HIM:
No. Hate being alone.
HER:
You have me.
HER:
I want 2 chat.
HIM:
Ok.
|
[ WP ] ( Horror request ) You get up in the middle of the night in your hotel room to use the bathroom and return to find - someone is in your bed .
|
I was rubbing the sleep out of my eyes in the dingy and badly lit motel bathroom. It'd been a hell of a night. Sarah broke up with me, kicked me out, and threw all of my worldly possessions on the lawn. I had nowhere to go. It was late and I could n't call my family. I could n't call my friends. I guess I ended up here? Honestly, that was n't half of the problem. The biggest problem was my dog. I wanted Spike. Spike was now locked behind my former home with my former girlfriend.
Ugh. Is that what happened? I could n't remember anymore.
I was dizzy, way too dizzy. I do n't know how long I was staring there. It felt like moments, but was it hours? I honestly do n't even remember booking this room. I do n't remember taking off my clothes, and as I look down I notice I'm naked. I do n't remember. I do n't remember anything.
As I walked back to the bed, I shut the bathroom light. Only a light blue haze came in from the window, the light filtering in from the neon sign out by Route 73. I could n't make much out in the room. Everything was blackness.
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
My little toe banged on the end table. I fumbled my hands around blindly, literally blindly. I felt the table. I felt the lamp. I felt the bottle of Jack I must have pounded away ( it'd explain the headache ). I finally found the bed. I moved some of the blankets away and laid down. I started to wonder if this entire thing was some weird dream. When I woke up I'd find out that everything was normal. Sarah would take me back. I'd walk into my front door to see that stupid lug Spike wagging his tail. My life would be normal. As I threw the blankets over me, I could suddenly feel someone else was in the bed.
Oh man, who the hell did I fuck? Here I am single for one night, and I'm already sleeping around.
I felt around for the lamp and flicked it on.
Why was I staring down at my own body?
|
[ WP ] `` Just go talk to her . ''
|
`` Come on Val, you're being stupid''
Val rolled her eyes at her sister.
`` No, actually, I really do n't think so.''
Lynn crossed her arms over her chest, the anger all too evident on her face. `` You are being *incredibly* stupid and this is n't okay. It has been almost twenty years.''
`` Not long enough,'' she responded.
Lynn watched her sister finish loading the dishwasher from her seat at the table, the untouched cup of coffee had gone cold some time ago. Lynn had come bearing bad news, but Valerie did n't seem to be phased by it at all. Val held her little sister in her arms as Lynn cried until her face was so red you could hardly see her mess of freckles, but she never joined her in her grief.
`` Look, if you want to hold onto grudges, fine,'' Lynn stood up and grabbed her coat to leave. She paused at the door for a moment and looked back at Val, who was staring out the window refusing to make eye contact. `` I know she was never good to you. She asks about you a lot, you know. Please Val, just... go talk to her.''
Val sipped her coffee. `` I'll think about it,'' she responded flatly, without turning around.
Fighting back another bout of tears, Lynn left.
--
Valerie wandered the halls, looking for room 207.
She could n't believe she was here. She did n't *want* to be here. The only reason she came at all was because Lynn had wanted her to, and she'd never forgive herself if she let her sister down.
`` I hate hospitals,'' she mumbled softly.
Stopping in front of the door to room 207, she took a deep breath and knocked softly. When there was no reply, she opened the door.
There she was, lying asleep on the bed, propped up by a small mountain of pillows. The constant beeps of the heart monitor were already little more than background noise. The incessant chimes a constant reminder that they were intended to stop. Very soon, if the doctor's are right.
Valerie sat in the chair near the bed and put her hands in her lap, patiently waiting for the sleeping woman to wake up.
The woman that had made her life hell for so long.
The woman who called her names and beat her mercilessly for eight years until Lynn was born. The woman who threatened to do the same to Lynn if Val ever tried to leave or tell her little sister what a monster she was. The woman who spent the money their father left for the girls on mountains of drugs instead of college. The entitled brat who expected a charmed life simply because growing up was difficult for her. The woman who never saw a band concert or dance performance. Never watched Lynn score the winning goal for her team or heard Val give the valedictorian speech.
The woman who lied.
The woman who was heartless.
The woman who had never done a damn thing to earn even a single iota of respect from Val but demanded volumes in return.
The woman who had no right to call herself a mother for any reason other than a technicality.
The woman who was not expected to be here tomorrow morning.
The woman who was waking up for the last time right now.
Valerie tried to soften the glare she realized she had been holding during her thoughts as the woman weakly roused herself from her sleep. It took her a moment until she noticed Valerie sitting in the chair beside her, the shock on her face almost making Val smile.
`` I did n't think you'd come,'' she said weakly. Val shrugged.
`` Lynn wanted me to.''
`` You look good.''
`` You look like shit.''
`` Yeah, dying will do that to you,'' they stared at each other for a long moment, the silence broken by the constant sounds of the hospital.
`` Lynn said you wanted to talk.'' The woman sighed.
`` Val... I know I was never good to you-'' Val snorted at the oversimplification `` -but this will be our last chance to talk. You have n't spoken to me in a long time, and I do n't blame you.'' She shifted slowly in the bed to better face Valerie, who sat stone-faced listening intently. `` I do miss it, you know. Being a mother. I was n't a good one, but I miss having my girls. There was some good times. Lynn has n't called me'mom' since you told her everything. She thought for a long time that we did n't speak because of the college money. She did n't know about the abuse. I'm always Kim to her now. I deserve that.''
Val raised her eyebrows, she had n't realized Lynn had taken to calling Kim by her first name. Val preferred to not refer to the woman at all.
`` I'm not going to ask your forgiveness, because I know you wo n't give it. You are cold and hard, Valerie. You are ruthless because of what I've done to you and I know part of you wants to destroy me before I go. I know you want to remind me of every evil thing one last time. I know part of you wants me to die alone with nothing but regret.''
Valerie resisted the urge to smile, the thought *had* crossed her mind.
`` But I also know that part of you wants things to be right. So I want to know, once and for all, which one it will be. I think I know what you'll do, so maybe I can be right one more time before I go,'' the woman smiled a little, `` and for what it's worth, which must be next to nothing, I am sorry, Valerie. I wish I could take it all back, but I ca n't, and I am so, so proud of the woman you have become despite the hell you went through. I wish I could have seen what you could do with a real mother to raise you,'' Kim started crying, `` I love you baby girl.''
Valerie did n't respond for a long time, head down lost in thought.
When she finally lifted her head up, she met Kim's watery eyes and stood up.
Valerie moved towards the bed and gently fixed the pillows around Kim's head.
`` There you are, nice and settled in. You're right, I wo n't accept any apology you would ever give.'' Valerie turned to leave, refusing to let Kim see the tears that had started to form in her eyes. She walked to the door and paused with her hand on the handle.
`` You know,'' she said without turning around, `` people used to say I had your eyes. I *hated* looking in mirrors for a long time because I did n't want to be anything like you. I always wanted to be like Dad; a firefighter saving lives at the cost of his own.'' Valerie smiled a little. `` I guess i'm more like you than I thought, though, i'm a monster too. Here I am, very pleased at the idea of you dying alone.''
Valerie stood up straighter and opened the door.
`` But I remember the man my father was, and I will *always* choose to be like him instead. I love you, mom. Sweet dreams.''
She closed the door.
--
So uhh... this got kinda really dark and sad... but I think still satisfying? Β―\_ ( γ ) _/Β―
|
[ WP ] `` Your generation is the devil ! '' grandma fumes after her gift is destroyed .
|
β Your generation is the Devil! β Grandma fumes after her gift is destroyed. Her narrow eyes begin to widen with rage. Her wrinkled brow lifts with a sharp intake of breath before she unleashes her barrage of typical old person anger, smattered with smug'I told you so', insuffrable'When I was your age' and all together general unpleasantness.
`` Do you have any idea the lengths I had to go to find that gift? β She begins her assault. In these situations there are only two options β one, let her continue her monologue, sitting quietly as she relieves herself of this pent up aggression, or two, fight back. I'm not sure if it was the welcome she had quite clearly overstayed or the lack of sleep her revolting dogs had caused me, but God help me, I choose the latter.
β Grandma, β I begin.
β Do n't you dare interrupt me. β Her head lowers and eyes narrow to such an extent it's really anyone's guess as to if they're even still open.
β Four shops. β She continues. β Four separate shops I had to look around to find that gift. Four! With my knees. And you have the audacity to break it. When I was your age β - there it is - β I was lucky to have got so much as an smile and a well deserved pat on the back. And here you are, breaking what I provide for you. You kids do n't know how lucky you are! β
β Grandma, listen.. β I try again.
β And it was n't cheap, you know! Money does n't grow on trees. I save my pension week in, week out to provide for you and you just smash the present I brought. I really do n't know what to say to you. I do n't even want to look at you. Go away. β She turns. Her hunched back faces me and the door.
Again, I have two options, engage for round two of the attack, or bide my time, leave the room and let the dust settle. And again, option two seems the most desirable. I turn on my heels and head for the door, only to be greeted with the growl of anger once again.
β How dare you? β a voice so big coming from a body so small is something that would make even the best trained soldiers wince. β You dare turn your back on me and walk away when I'm talking to you? You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Coming in here as if you own the place β - I do - β Talking to me as you're an adult β - I am - β No wonder the World is going down the toilet. I should have.. β
β Grandma, I - β
β I'm not finished β she spits. β I should have never bothered with that gift. I should have spent my money on more deserving kids. Kids who would n't have thrown in back in my face, just like you have with all the other - β
β Grandma! β I scream. I'm shaking. The room becomes uncomfortably quiet. She stands staring at me, eyes filled with rage. I inhale deeply, pushing through the fear this tiny woman evokes in me.
β It's Lego. β I continue. β You're meant to break it up. β
|
[ WP ] It 's the near future , and the gap between rich and poor is wider than ever , thanks to prohibitively expensive life-preserving technology . You are a radical revolutionary whose calling card is driving stakes through the hearts of the immortal ...
|
Have you ever wondered what could possible impede social progress the most? Religion? Ideological fanatacism? Wrong. It's when old people ca n't die off.
Democracy has always been a battle between the younger generation and the older. Conservatism vs. Liberalism, generally. But the struggle has always kept itself in balance, as old people die off, and young people become old people, and new young people are born. It's the natural cycle of things.
Ah, but you know us humans. Natural cycles are n't the way we work. Ever since the death vaccine came about, the old, nostalgic, harshly capitalistic, Victorian, Draconian, anti-welfare voting bloc grew infinitely in size. Democracy at this point has just become oligarchy, or plutocracy. Whatever you want to call it, it is n't fair or just.
And do n't tell me that I have it better off than the generations that came before. I've read the histories. They tried to erase the past, but you ca n't kill knowledge completely. I know for a fact that the standard of life of the early 2000s was better than all the propaganda makes it out to be. You're gon na tell me that universal basic education and a legitimate meritocracy is *worse* than sweatshops and coal factories populated with only those poor enough to be unable to purchase a death vaccine and therefore stuck in a cycle of poverty and slavery for generations to come? Please.
That's why I'm here. You may be asking yourself, well damn, if all these lower-class workers are in misery all the time, why do n't they rise up and try to overtake their masters? They're probably old weak bags of bones anyway!
Well guess what, the old weak bags of bones thought of that, too. That's why there's one government service that is universal: childbirth care. The doctor will help you have your child, make sure it's healthy, vaccinate it ( except with the death vaccine ), and then insert a chip into its brain allowing its corporate overlord to execute it at any moment. The usual.
Anyway, this brings us back to me. I do n't have a chip. My mother was a field worker, and she birthed me in the middle of a cornfield. So when I ran away at the age of 14, no one had the slightest clue where I was or what to do about me.
This brings us to the present day. As of right now, I'm standing in the middle of a ballroom, wearing a suit and wig, feeling extremely uncomfortable because of the clothes, and extremely disgusted because of the people. Now, it's not common to see such a young aristocrat, but it does happen. You get people who are tired of living alone at the age of two hundred and forty and decide to have kids. Usually this would be a problem, but modern medicine has advanced so far that any diseases in the child can be treated.
So, like I said, I'm standing in a ball room, mainly making small talk. Why, you ask? Well I'll tell you. In my opinion, the rich have lived like this for far too long. The masses need someone to look up to. I'm here to level the playing field. And come on, what are these old asswipes going to do about it?
As I walk over to the champagne table, a crusty old man approaches me and says, `` And you are?'' in the most condescending tone you could imagine.
`` David Grant, head of Grant Agriculture Enterprises. What about you, my friend?'' Good lord, I hated acting like such a prick.
`` I'm Theodore Henry. It's not often you see such a young businessman like yourself around here, is it?''
`` No sir, but I'm not your average fellow. Say, what line of work are you in, Mr. Henry?''
`` Oh, please, call me Theodore!'' I'd rather call you cuntbag. `` I manage factories all across the nation making fine wines and cocktails for occasions such as these. Did you know I'm catering tonight?''
`` Well the champagne tastes great! Sounds like your business is doing quite well. Say, part of my business is working with grapes and other ingredients for such drinks as yours, do you think we could work out a deal? I have a feeling it could be quite profitable for the both of us, and it would streamline your job quite a lot.''
`` That's true, I could probably cut my workforce in half. They've been complaining quite a lot lately, or so say my managers.'' You fucking inbred, talking about people as if they're machines that you could dispose of at a moment's notice.
`` Well, why do n't we take this time to talk privately about some ideas I have for our businesses?''
`` That would be great!''
`` Spectacular! Follow me.''
I had picked out this room beforehand. It's fairly dark and crowded with useless items, so at a first glance, you would n't notice anything out of the ordinary. I walked in, the old fart followed me, and I closed the door behind him.
`` Say, do you smell anything out of the ordina-''
The blood spewing from his mouth made it quite hard to hear what he was saying. As I removed the stake from his back, his body slumped to the ground. I dragged him over to an area that was out of sight of the doorway, making sure not to get any blood on my suit, and propped him up on a fine leather chair. Hasta la vista, asshole.
I looked around, and swelled with pride at my work, then promptly returned to the party. I heard some people out there were keen on making some business deals.
-- -
To see all of my writing, please visit /r/ZachWrites!
|
[ WP ] One morning , you wake up and suddenly find yourself three years in the past , as if the last three years had never happened . It happened to the entire world and everyone remembers .
|
I ran into the wall with a thud. My eyes snapped open as the pain throbbed in the my temple. What the...? There was n't supposed to be a wall there.
I looked around. And I was... it was oddly familiar and yet totally wrong. I lived here but I did n't LIVE here. I HAD lived here... 3 years ago.
I began to panic. `` TOM!'' I screamed, tears welling up in my eyes. This had to be a nightmare. Maybe I could make myself wake up. And I'd be in bed with my husband, where I belonged. And everything would be okay.
I simply sat and cried for several hours. Found a cell phone...'' my'' cellphone... from 3 years ago. And the date. Three years ago.
Eventually the tears dried up and I started to think. It was okay. Fine. I could manage this. Where would Tom have been, 3 years ago? College in Boston. I rushed to the airport.
It took a few days, the terminal was crowded with dozens of others, trying to track down loved ones... or the ones they WOULD love. I shared a seat on the plane with an ecstatic man in a business suit. His wife, he told me, was still alive, back at home. Three years ago he'd been on a business trip, traveling 80 % of the year. But not anymore. This time he would finally quit that job like she wanted him to. This time he would stop her from getting in that car. This time they'd be together forever.
It would have been a sweeter story on any other day, but my mind was so consumed with finding him, I could only smile along lamely.
I made it to his college campus, silently thanked the gods that he'd bitched so much about that run down dorm. Found his name on a row of mailboxes, telling me his floor and room.
I was breathless by the time I made it up to the fourth floor. I did n't knock, simply threw open the door and burst into the room.
`` Tom?!''
The unfamiliar young man smoking a joint at the window gave me a wry smile.
`` You must be Sara. He's gone to Los Angeles to look for you.''
|
[ WP ] Write a story that will creep me out
|
I woke up and went downstairs and said good morning to the kids. I poured them cereal and then poured some for myself and we ate quietly. It was quaint and peaceful: the sun slanted in from the east and made everything golden and dreamy and its warm light mixed with the soft small sounds of spoons moving plaintively through floating corn flakes and small bites being crunched by small mouths. I felt like going back to sleep instead of leaving for work and entering the wide cruel world where visions of my past leaned on street corners and huddled suspiciously in alleys and looked menacingly out of dirty car windows.
Finally I was finished and went round the table to give each child a kiss on the forehead before leaving. They did n't look up and pulled back absently and I chuckled and thought that they'd come around and looked forward to the day they were mature enough to appreciate me and not feel embarrassed by my affection.
I slipped on my shoes and put on my coat and hat and was about to open the front door when I saw a police cruiser parked down the street on the opposite curb. It was unmarked, but I recognized it by its unusual antennas. My car was parked in the driveway in front of my house so I decided to leave by the back door and ride my bike to the train station.
I opened the back door and stepped out into my backyard and thought I saw something move in the tall grass that grew at the foot of my old oak tree. I moved cautiously towards the spot where I thought I had seen the movement. I reached the spot and looked behind the tree and towards the backyard gate and over the fence at the cruiser but found no sign of anything unusual.
Then from the house I suddenly heard the scraping back of chairs and the frantic stampeding of half a dozen small feet. I cursed and dashed back to the door just in time to slam it on three small brown fingers and a delicate white wrist and a tuft of curly brown hair. I opened it again and the kids tried to squeeze past me but I blocked them with my arms and legs and heaved them all sprawling back inside. I slammed the door shut properly and slid the outside latch into place. They went to the window and desperately rattled the iron grille that covered it. I lifted up the right side of my shirt and showed them the large knife handle sticking out of the top of my pants and they let go of the bars and retreated back into the house.
I went over to the fence once again and peered over the edge to make sure the cruiser down the street had n't moved and saw that it had n't.
I went to my bike and sat down on it and adjusted the knife in my pants until I was comfortable. Then I pushed off and pedalled hard to reach the station quickly so I could be first in line on the platform and get a good seat on the train.
***
Edited for errors and minor adjustments.
|
[ WP ] You 're in possession of the ultimate skeleton key , opening any lock anywhere . What lock did you open that made you dispose of it ?
|
It began with an ornate key I found as a child. On that day, our history teacher joked about finding relics in our backyards. I loved history and decided to try searching for myself. With a metal spoon, I ran out into the yard of my apartment complex and started to dig. I found a couple of coins and like most children became hooked. From there, I snuck into the complex's garden management room and borrowed their shovel. I then took it to the park and continued my search. Soon after I came across a container. It appeared to be big enough that I could fit the shovel but was much heavier. It had an indentation on its side and seemed to have been constructed with some type of wood. Prying it open it revealed many objects that I could not recognize. To any child though, this was the equivalent to finding a pirates treasure chest. I looked around its contents but stopped when I came across a key. It was gilded at the bow, embedded with a gem - like substance, and with a single tooth. I searched for its accompanying lock but found nothing. Tired but still proud of my find, I took it home as a trophy after burying the box.
That night, I dreamed of the key. Its gem glowing faintly as it floated in front of me. Slowly its tooth turned to me. I could only watch as the key dove into my center then turn. I could almost hear a tumbler past the pain. It then removed itself only plunge itself again only now at my heart. Finally it removed itself once more and slowly approached my forehead. I wanted to scream from the pain at the bloody key's descent into my head.
I awoke the next morning with aches all around my body. I could remember the dream in detail but strangely, I held no animosity towards the key. It still glowed faintly on my bedside except now with a streak of crimson leading from its tooth to the gem. As I reached for the key, it flew into my outstretched hand. Astounded, I studied myself for the next couple of years and in time I came across certain changes to my body. I dubbed these changes as locks. The first lock, I believe was my body. Suddenly I realized that I can regenerate, control my growth and move in any way as I willed. The third lock was obviously my mind. I found that I could memorize everything to the smallest of detail, attained the wisdom or understanding of those years my senior and privy to knowledge unheard of. In the coming years I honed and enjoyed the benefits of the first and third locks. It was n't until years more did I understand the second lock.
Now an adult, I feel that I had not wasted my time with the key. The key itself locked and unlocked any mechanism I set it to. In regards to my abilities, I used them to improve the lives of those around me in secret. I was caught only once by the one I love. To everyone else, I was just an extremely capable person but to myself and those close to me, I was something more.
After all this time, I believe I came to understand the second lock. It pertained to my soul. I noticed that I could sense malice, envy, love, and/or any other concept of human thought or feeling. Furthermore, I began to be able to interact with them once I attained a certain grasp of what I believe is a soul. I did n't display my abilities because it would pointless. Instead, I acted at the very limit of discretion.
The last phase came when my grandparents died. I watched as their souls left them. It occurred to me that I could see them and they too see me. I recognized fear, worry, and disbelief when they saw me. I began to wonder what was the cost for the power I attained. As if answering me, I dreamed of the key again. Except now I held the key in my hand. The scars from my first dream still visible on my body. Looking around there was a display of mechanisms. The sheer number seemed infinite but I felt compelled to only approach a specific row. In front of me lay a mechanical orb no bigger than my hand and another key to its right. Despite its intricacy I made out a distinct slot on its surface. I took it into my hand and as I touched it visions of my universe filled my mind. From then I knew the fate of the key and Its holder. I inserted the key into the slot, and the scars began to glow a crimson light. As I turned the key, I understood the beginning and the possible direction of my universe. The lock set, and the key once glowing shattered. From there I took the remaining key and willed a new mechanism into existence. I then willed a universe into it. Next I willed life into that universe, included souls similar and different to those in my lifetime. Now it only waited for its master. I sent the key into its universe and made another. I then replaced the mechanism and key next to my own.
I awoke and lived the rest of my life. Upon my death, I took it upon myself to watch over my universe as its curator. Sometimes I returned to the room of mechanisms to peek at the one I created. Othertimes I ran into beings in similar positions and we regaled about our charges. From there I continued my existence, watching the growth of the universe and the growing number of mechanisms.
|
[ WP ] The year is 2779 , and there are 2 men and 1 woman left on the face of the Earth .
|
Earth, year 2775 October 11th
That was the day, when the greedy and wrathful people fought. All out war broke out 99 % of the population dead. Only 160,000,000 people left in the world
Earth, year 2777 April 25th
The remaining survivors are plagued with a disease, killing about 96.7 % of the remaining population 5,280,000 people left
Earth year 2778 August 10th
An alien population discovered us, Killed A large number of us but then shortly killed themselves due to civil war. 16,000 people remain
Earth year 2779 May 21st
Large numbers of animals die off due to the lack of humans to take care of them. This results in less food and massive famine. 3 people remain.
I read through these books, records of all the unfortunate events that happened to earth in the past 3 years. Me, my friend, and a stranger girl are all that is left.
`` John'' he said, trying to wake me up from my thought
`` What?'' I said
He pointed a gun at me when I looked at him.
`` What are you doing?''
`` Something I have to''
I looked at the girl, he wants her all to himself
`` Look, geoff, we need to repopulate and eventually theres gon na be a bit of an issue-''
`` Quiet! goddamn you and your sciency bullshit''
`` Look where it lead us to now''
I, am known for developing weapons to aid in the war. I even developed nuclear bombs that would one day destroy most of humanity. I am blamed for all the deaths and I grieve. I ca n't sleep right no more, all the faces of innocent people just come to me
`` Please do n't do this!''
`` I am going to!''
He pulls the trigger, he did n't realise that he was fooled
`` Geoff, look. I respect your opinion and all but'' She pulled out a gun, right to his face. She loaded it with the clip that she stole
`` Time for you to die'' she said, pulling the trigger to end my best friend. He betrayed me however.
`` I chose you, do n't let me down'' She said with a grin.
We walked out of that library. Geoff was always a hateful man, but he never directed it toward me before.
`` Time to repopulate the planet'' I said
`` Yup, together'' she said, holding my hand.
|
[ WP ] You live in a world were a zombie apocalypse happened . Civilisation did n't fall to pieces though but has created a task force to defeat the zombies . You are part of it and go on your first mission . That 's when you realise that you were n't told everything about `` them '' ...
|
β Wait, what was that noise? β
β What do you mean,'what was that noise'? β
β That screech just then. What the fuck was that? β
β Are you for real? That was a zombie. β
β Then why the fuck are they screaming?! Nobody told me they scream. Zombies do n't scream. They make'uurrgghhh' noises. β
β Shhhh! Listen. β Rustling could be heard from down the narrow passage. A dark shadowy figure leapt from the behind a dumpster and sped across the desolate street.
β Fuck. This. β
β I said be quiet! β
β Did you see that?! It was fucking sprinting! Why was it sprinting? β
The team crouched against the claustrophobic walls, holding their position as if they were paralysed by the anticipation of what was about occur.
β What did you expect when you signed up for this? β
β Look at me. Look how underdressed I am right now. All I've brought is this ebay Katana sword and a Go-Pro. β
Low grumblings could be heard from the rooftops. Fear swept over the face of the General, β they know we're here. β
β I'm sorry, what? They know we're here? They think? β
β They do n't just think, they talk. β
β Well someone tell them that I'm out because you arseholes let me waltz in here looking like a shitty cosplayer. Did none of you think to tell me how idiotic I looked? I'm wearing a skull and cross bones bandana. I've been regurgitating 80's action movie catchphrases for the past 45 minutes. β
β If you do n't shut your fucking mouth I'll feed you to the zombies myself. You're jepordising the entire team right now. β
β No you jepordised the entire team when you picked the guy practicing karate in the car park to come along on this mission. I've never even taken a class. β
Heads could be seen peering over the rooftops, analysing the position of the squad below. Grunts and grumbles fell faint in the air. It was obvious they had been flanked and were now surrounded.
β Listen here you little fuck, this is the real world. This is what it's fucking like when you come out on a mission. This is what you signed up for. You're here now and that's all that matters. β
β Oh God, why would you let me come along with just a sword. And to think, I almost rented a horse for this. β
The limp, lifeless body of a soldier was hurled from the rooftop. It thudded against the floor like a sack of raw meat, exploding upon impact, blood splattered in every direction.
β Why did n't they eat him? Why did they save his body for this moment? The fuck is that? β
`` Quiet!''
`` No, seriously. The fuck is that.''
The General, crouching behind an abandoned car, rose to his feet, `` we need to move, we're sitting ducks here. Let's go, on me. β
β OK, just let me turn my Go-Pro on first. β
****
I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement.
|
[ WP ] Batman is dead , and so is Robin . All that 's left is Bat Girl , and she 's out for blood .
|
I was sitting at my desk, doing the paperwork. Danm I should just shoot myself, heck I might just do it before they do it. I keep typing away on the pc, it β s the only sound in the room. Everybody is looking at me. Looking at the dead man. The man who shoot batman and robin in the face. Not my danm fault they jumped into a firefight.
My colleges are quite, the whole room is quite, they are just looking. Thinking the same as I do. Who would kill me? Who will come first? One of the bats? Or one of the villains? I keep typing away. Writing the report. Im glad my wife left me and moved to Canada with my son. Away from this hell hole, I don β t have to worry about them getting killed over this. I look over the report. Its pretty standard stuff. I didn β t want to make a elaborated thing out of this. We got called to a robbery in progress. The robbers opened fire when we arrived, I fired two warning shoots above their head. They fired suddenly stopped and surrendered, scared and screaming that they did not shoot HIM. Batman and robin had snuck up behind them and was hit head. Batman was hit in the left eye and died immediately, robin was shoot in the throat and died before the ambulance arrived. Yeah Im a dead man.
The power went out and nobody moved. 40 cops and nobody moved, everybody knew this was it. From the outside we could see some light. The press had arrived, the news had leaked. Something hit me from behind, my face hit the screen and knocked it to the ground. I did not even attempted to fight back. Then my arm was grabbed and pain shoot up my shoulder as it was broken. I screamed in pain, still nobody moved. I dint even know who this was. I was then tossed over the person shoulder and landed on my back on a desk, the pain was maddening. Batgirl didn β t even let me get to my senses by kicked my head so hard my whole body slide of the desk. β Just kill me and get it over with β I don β t know if my whisper was heard, but she did kick me again. Then the lights came back on. I could see their faces threw the blood soaked vision. I knew none of them would lift a finger to stop this. She grabbed my gun from my desk. β You deserve this! β BANG!
Then my vision was just red. So this is what being dead is. Red.
β this isn β t the way. He would not approve of it! β The voice was calm but full of authority.
β He killed them booth! Shoot them in the head, he must be some assassin or something. β
β No he it was an accident. He didn β t even know he was there. If your killing him for this then you no better than the criminals he fought! β
The red turned and I could see the blue uniform. Somebody had stopped her. β I will take you to a hospital, far from Gotham. β Then all went dark.
|
[ WP ] Write a story about creation
|
There was once absolutely nothing.
Imagine the blackest black you can imagine. Now, forget about it. That did n't even exist. The universe as we know it had not come into being. It had n't been created yet. But it was about to.
`` Let there be light.''
Now imagine that in the middle of that blackness, a singular, beautiful light burst out. And there, it illuminated a rock. A humongous sphere, in the middle of nowhere, and a light. He separated the light from the darkness, and he gave them their own time of the day to come out. And God looked at that rock, and he looked at the light, and he knew that it was good.
So he comes back the next day. And the rock is absolutely covered by water, so he decides to add a space in between the water. He changes some water into a vapor, and some he fills the oceans with. He created the sky, and in it he hung clouds filled with water. He raised up out of the seas patches of land, thousands of miles wide. He planted things, willing trees, bushes, grass into existence on the rock. And as the evening came, God looked at that rock, and he looked at the seas and the land, and he knew that it was good.
So he comes back the day after. And he likes what he's done with the rock so far, but there's still a lot of blackness out there. So he turns his attention away from the rock and he breathes balls of gaseous flame into the sky. He grabs a chunk of the rock and he swings it around itself, painting it a magnificent reflective white. He grabs one of his balls of flame and he drags it close to the rock, providing light for his handiwork. And he quickly makes other rocks, throwing them into an orbit around his sun. And as the evening came, God looked at the sun, and he looked at the moon and the stars, and all the planets he had filled the universe with, and he knew that it was good.
So he comes back the next day. And the waters of the planet were quiet. Not a single thing lived in them, save for the occasional plant. So he created creatures of the oceans. From the humongous whales to the tiniest minnow, he created them all with a beautiful image in mind. And to feed on the fish of the sea, he made winged creatures to fill the skies, nesting in the trees of the land. Seagulls inhabited the sea while the mighty dragon flew across mountaintops. And as the evening came, God looked at the fishes, and he watched the birds, and he knew that it was good.
So he comes back the next day, and he's proud of his creations the previous day. So he decided to fill the land with creatures; from the snake that slithered the dust to the towering elephant, he made them with all the beauty he had to give. And as the evening came, God saw all the creatures he had made, and he knew that it was good.
So he comes back the next day. The rock looked quite beautiful at this point; he had polished this one to near perfection. But still he felt something missing, before he deemed it finished. So he decided to make one more creature. And he did n't use his creative mind for this creature. He modeled this creature after himself. He gave the creature a brilliant mind, a beautiful body, and a strength like no other. He introduced himself to the creature, and made him a partner from his side. And as the evening set on that sixth day, God looked at the man and the woman, and he knew that they were very good.
So he comes back the next day. His planet Earth is finished, and he pauses. And God rested on that day, for it was good.
( Genesis 1 )
|
[ WP ] A sniper who gets off on having regular people in his crosshairs , but not shooting , accidently pulls the trigger one day .
|
It was an itch that had always been particularly vexing to him, how could he not scratch it? He thought long and hard how to get this monkey off his back, as he sighted in a 24 inch plate at 800 yards through his scope. He squeezed the trigger, the bolt slammed forward and let go of a deadening bang, a cacophony of reactions sending his 7.62 round down range, shattering the plate. He let go a sigh of relief, knowing the itch would come back soon enough.
He walked on back to his truck, loading up his rifles and ammunition into the bed of his 1999 Dodge Pickup. His mind preoccupied, he dropped his rifle and cracked the glass on the end of the scope. `` Shit'', he said aloud, having just spent $ 900 on this one. He picked it up and looked through it to see the damage, only to find a small boy in his sights standing next to his parents. He could n't have been older than 5 or 6. A tingle ran down his spine and a feeling of warmth ran through his body, akin to taking a stiff shot on a cold night. He realized what was happening and got into his truck, criticizing himself for these feelings. For a minute he thought the monkey was gone. `` But how? ``, he said to himself. `` Never point a gun at anything you do n't intend to destroy'', he repeated these words he'd heard time and time again throughout sharpshooter training before he'd been booted.
He drove home, questioning himself and questioning a God that would make a man with such an itch. That itch like the one you get in the back of your throat that you swear you can scratch with a cotton swab in your ear. He punched the roof of his truck. `` Fuck'', he said, `` who am I?''.
He sat alone in his third floor studio drinking Budweiser and wearing those same tacky camouflage pants for the third day in a row. He could hear his ex-wife's voice in his head telling him how ridiculous they look. He peered over to his gun safe, wondering how to scratch that itch. He sauntered over and grabbed his favorite rifle: an old Vietnam era M14.
He opened the curtains slightly, only to be hit in the eyes by the setting sun in his western facing apartment. `` Son of a bitch'', he said, reeling back from the sun. He returned slowly to see a group of women walking on the sidewalk across the street. He wondered where they were going, why he did n't have friends to walk with. `` It was an accident'', he said, sounding frustrated with himself. He cleared his mind and there it was: that itch again. That itch so internal he could n't help but scratch it.
He raised up his rifle to get an adequate sight picture. He thought of his ex-wife, Laura. He'd loved her more than anything, but she somehow could n't get past his constant itch. It was blatantly apparent to others he had an insatiable desire. His stories of training and his feeling of anger having never been able to fire upon the enemy resonated with every action.
He locked one of they ladies into his crosshairs and his heart stopped. The monkey's grip loosened and he felt that itch start to go away. He set down his rifle and felt a slight panic. I could just put my finger on the trigger, he thought. No harm there.
He took sight again, the feeling of the cold metal on his trigger finger gave him a rush like no other, like an addict getting a fix. He knew how wrong it was but could n't help but keep his finger there. He started to slowly squeeze but stopped. He set his rifle down in a panic and walked to the kitchen to get another beer. He walked past a mirror and caught a look at himself. Hair going gray, overgrown facial fair. `` Look at me'', he said, `` what a mess.''
A few hours had slipped away, another night gone to waste like every other one preceding it. He notices his rifle still leaned against the corner by the window. He decided to make sure he left it unloaded before storing it away and fighting for sleep. He picked it up and could tell right away from the weight that it was loaded. He saw a few people walking down the busy street and thought he spotted a familiar face. No harm in taking a closer look, he thought. He brought the rifle stock to his shoulder and peeked through the scope. His eyes widened as he realizes who it was. `` Laura'', he whispered. Tears welled up as he realizes she's with another man, fingers interlocked with his and carrying on about her life. He wondered how she could go on so happily while he withered away in his old clothes and older misery.
Once again, he felt the cold embrace of the trigger on his right pointer finger. He knew it was wrong, he tried to pull his finger away but the monkey on his back would n't let him. He was overwhelmed with joy and anger, sorrow and a slight feeling of regret as his trigger finger squeezed closer back. He wanted to stop but could n't, this itch felt far too good not to scratch. The trigger connected and the recoil of the rifle echoed through his body and the report filled his tiny apartment like a marching band inside a gymnasium. He kept his eye on the sight picture as he watched his former lover collapse in a whirlwind of blood and panic. He backed away from the window and put his back to the wall, holding his rifle still. Tears in his eyes and a feeling of relief in his heart, he slumped forward, and turned the rifle on himself.
|
[ FF ] Who watches the watchers ? ( 100 words precisely )
|
My fingers froze over the keyboard and my ears twitched. Yes, I had definitely heard something coming from the hallway. Every hair on my body stood to attention and I could hear ole faithful pumping blood through my body, a river of blood running through my ears, pulsing and throbbing as I strained to hear past it.
The door opened gently to reveal /u/SurvivorType. A broken keyboard hung loosely from one hand, and from the other dangled a bloody mouse. He tilted his head. β You have been posting prompts without the proper tags. Please see the sidebar to the right. β
|
[ WP ] Write a story about nothing .
|
And after 22 short years of life, I felt my consciousness drift away in an instant. Yup, that's me. The `` medical miracle''. The `` in-a-coma-for-4-days-which-will-result-in-a-lifetime-of-special-treatment'' guy.
There was no real way to describe it. People always ask if everything was black, and the answer is no. Quite honestly, it was n't any color at all. Something completely new.
As for hearing, no, I did n't hear a single thing my family said. I know that's what everyone's looking for, but if I did, I'd have a much ore interesting story.
When most people say they `` do n't hear anything'', they do n't usually mean it. One of the things I figured out through this whole experience is that silence does have a sound. And in those short four days, I experienced the absence of all sound simultaneously with the absence of silence.
Well, `` experience'' is a fuzzy word. Technically I was *there*, but I did n't really feel anything. Again, most people have the idea of `` not feeling anything'' all wrong. Usually, the term is describing intense dissatisfaction. But for me? I was truly just neutral.
People do n't understand that *nothing* is almost always *something*. You just do n't know it until you do n't have it anymore.
|
[ WP ] You are a kid 's imaginary friend . They 're growing up . You 're fading away .
|
He plays with another now.
I watch Andy from the corner of the room as he shares his toys with his new friend, his new best friend. They make stories together while I sit alone, unremembered and fading, and wonder if he even remembers my name.
`` Do you remember old Mundee?'' I call out, my voice barely a whisper anymore. There was n't enough strength left in me for anything else, not even to move, but it was nearly time now and I did n't want to go. Nobody wants to be forgotten.
`` We used to play like that,'' I whisper, half to myself and half to Andy. `` We used to, Andy... do n't you remember?''
I was almost pleading now. Pride was worthless to me now, all I wanted was for Andy to remember, for him to play with me one more time and to smile up at me once more. Just once more.
Maybe that would make the fading easier, to soothe the yearning in my heart.
`` Please look at me,'' I begged, hardly able to hear even myself now.
I thought it was impossible that he could have heard me, but he paused for a moment and I froze somewhere between joy and terror. Was this it? Had he remembered all that he'd forgotten? All of those days I'd sat with him, had played with him when he had had nothing else, nobody else?
It did n't seem fair; I had been there when it was him hurting, had loved him when he thought nobody else had! Surely, I thought, it was not so much to ask for the same?
He looks over in my direction now, towards my untidy corner of the room with his little brow furrowed as though trying to think of something he had forgotten.
`` Me!'' I rasp with all my remaining might. `` Andy, it's me! I'm here... please see me! I'm still here!''
He does n't see me, and he does n't hear me.
I am gone to him now.
Is this what becomes of all imaginary friends when their work is done?
In the end there are no thanks, and no farewells...
There's not even a memory.
|
You 're a serial killer who 's been captured by the authorities . They ask you to recount your first kill ... .
|
`` You want to know about my history of... violence?'' The defendant earnestly inquires. The cold air of the court room surrounding him seeming to juxtapose the warmth which suddenly filled his eyes at the prospect of telling a story.
`` I guess it would be pertinent to tell about the first one and work our way up to the present now would n't it? Well I mean I suppose you could consider.... wait no.... hmmm, yeah ok; that one.... no.... yes...'' He begins to trail off muttering to himself as the Judge looks down on him with genuine disgust from his chair.
`` Should I tell them?'' `` I really do n't know...'' `` Maybe it would be nice to take credit and all.'' `` But they would just add that to my sentence...'' `` Ah well I'm getting life without parole anyway.'' Trailing off with each sentence again, the defendant seems to be having trouble organizing his thoughts in a cohesive manner.
*Mr. Kim if you do n't have-*
`` ALRIGHT!'' Suddenly, the soon to be guilty defendant shoots upright with such celerity that his spine gave an audible crack. The rest of the court room grimaces.
`` My first kill was pretty standard fare if you ask my humble opinion,'' the young man states. His face and tone go from exuberant to blank, mid word with an unnatural speed.
`` I had loved her you see? Well to be fair I loved everyone equally, there is not a single person in the world who I care for more than another, but that is besides the point. The point is that I understood her. I thought her thoughts, felt her feelings, and was wounded by her hardships.'' His voice began to suddenly waver as if recalling a bittersweet memory.
`` After spending so much time around her and simply listening, how could I not? I mean the pain she felt was literally worn on her arms and legs for Christ sake! You should have seen the way she prayed every day, praying that her life could be just one FUCKING IOTA BETTER... Her trauma leaked out in everyday conversation with the way she would flinch when someone would speak loudly or raise a hand in her general direction! You could see how sick she looked every morning from all of the pills her psychiatrist had just casually prescribed for her crippling anxiety and depression. She was in such pain god dammit! Any fool could have seen how much she was suffering.''
Then with a small pause for breath and composure he finally shouted,
`` NO ONE CAN LIVE WITH SUCH A BROKEN MIND AND BODY!''
His youthful face now contorted into such miserable agony that blood could have flown from his eyes as tears and no one would have been surprised. His vocal inflections carry a loud and clear ring to them. His eyes, through the tears, held nothing but sorrow. His last shout echoed through the court room.
Now he grew quiet, as did the entirety of the court room. There was n't a shuffle to be heard, or a cough to be had, everyone was collectively holding their breath to hear the confession of a serial killer. They all stared at him as his head hung low with tears falling from his face, a small shrinking frame wracked by almost quiet sobs.
With tears still on his lashes he raises his head and looks at the Judge and says,
`` Oh wait, wrong victim.''
After a pause to think, his face once again serene and composed.
`` The first one was just a prostitute I stabbed.''
|
[ WP ] The story that loops itself endlessly .
|
He spun the wheel, and smiled because
The car would loop around. He was
A broken man, in many ways
The baser instinct he obeys.
The rabbit, turning, darting, quick
could not believe this fucking dick
would waste the gas and wear the tread
on such cheap tires to strike him dead.
Its turning circle, so much tighter,
than the car's. It would incite a
rapid, racing, pacey chase,
around the place's open space -
the battleground; its basic grace
would pound the ground that in this case
resulted in his swift escape.
The rabbit panted, breathing fast,
its poor heart pounding, safe at last,
until the arching headlights swung
around. The headlights briefly clung
and found the nimble prey - the fun
began again.
He spun the wheel and smiled because
|
[ WP ] You live in a world where magic exists , however , you must sacrifice a memory in order to cast a spell . The more memories , or the more precious a memory , the more powerful the magic . You just woke up with no memory save a name .
|
Theo had one memory. That he was a man named Theo.
Was it short for something, he wondered. When he saw his stranger's face in the mirror, a Theodore seemed to look back. Puzzled and confused. Scruffy beard and all.
A man appeared on the free side of his cell. `` Theo Lambwell. Are we feeling better?''
`` Lambwell. That's my family name, are you sure?'' Theo nearly lunged for the bars. His own desperation surprised him.
`` It'll be a family name that ends with you sir,'' the man said all official-like. He was tall, and there was something unsettling about that. `` Congratulations on saving the world.''
What did that mean?
`` What do you mean by that?'' Theo cleared his throat.
`` Well, I suppose you would n't remember.'' Now the man seemed morose with his drooping eyebrows and sagging face. `` Do you remember that you practice, or did practice mnemocraft?''
The word meant nothing to him.
The man sighed and swept a hand over his sweating face. `` I should have foreseen this. I've seen martyrs in my day, but this seems too much, even for you.''
`` Tell me everything.''
The man sat down with his back to Theo's bars. He played with a dust bunny as if it were pocket lint. `` I'm your benefactor, Theodore. I supply you with mana, and you supply yourself with memories. Are you seeing what I'm getting at here?''
Theo was clever enough. `` And there's no way to retrieve them?''
`` There is one way, but it involves time-travel and is highly theoretical,'' said his benefactor, not once turning to look at him. `` I doubt you would survive it, so is n't having a name enough?''
`` You say I am to be executed.''
The man laughed. He took his hat off and set it down beside him. `` And therein is your other means of vindication.''
`` What do you mean?'' His so-called benefactor spoke in riddles that wore thin pretty early in the conversation. But then again, without a memory, everything seemed so cryptic and distant. He stared down at his hand and wondered if they were truly his. They seemed to close and open when he wanted them to.
`` I have read quite a bit of lore on this subject,'' said the man. `` That when you die, your entire life flashes before your eyes.''
Theo thought he was going to vomit. He felt the bile rise to his throat. It was the physical feeling of grief. Of heartbreak. Worst of all, he was n't quite sure why he was reacting this way.
`` That sounds sad, does n't it? Getting a glimpse before blinking out of existence?'' the man asked.
`` I do n't believe in that. I...'' He thought he had it for a second. It was right there, and yet it was n't.
He reached through the bars and touched the man's shoulder. `` Somehow I feel as if I remember God.''
His benefactor turned his head. `` Then perhaps there is a part of you that remains yet.''
Theo slumped back. Tears found him. Grief overwhelmed him.
-
x-posted to my writing subreddit r/LaboratoryLux
|
[ WP ] A mad scientist has kidnapped you ...
|
Well, damn. I wrote based on the prompt title and totally missed the body text. Hope you enjoy it anyway!
--
My entire life people have told me that I look like Ultraman but with glasses. Some have even accused me of having a secret double life. That is ludicrous because if I *was* Ultraman I would n't hide. Why would I? To protect my loved ones?
Please. In this scenario I'm Ultraman. In this scenario I can see through time. No way are you going to hurt my dear old mother when I ca go from nought to eighty bajillion in the space of a picosecond. Even if you did, what then? I would paste you. Literally. Into the sun. You and me, we're going to space, what's that, you ca n't breathe, do n't care, let's go in for a closeup of the sun.
And then I'd waltz back a few days and just be sitting there waiting for you. Moment you break down my door with a fully automatic machine gun to mow down my pet cat? You'll be eating your own teeth. In space. Naked.
But I am not Ultraman and so I am stuck in this van, being pulled away by a scientist who has made the same mistake a thousand others have made.
Truth be told I'm just pissed off. I'm not scared - Ultraman will save me - but this is inconvenient to say the least. This happens every few weeks and everytime I get saved at the last possible minute by the caped wonder in some overly complex way.
He never just throws these goons into orbit like he should.
But I'm learning. I've seen him fight more times than anyone else alive. So I have had time to spot his weakness and prepare.
Not this time, but next time, Ultraman is going to die.
Then no one will think we look alike again.
|
[ WP ] Write an incredibly over the top and unnecessary description of small and pointless object in a story
|
Susan kissed the dark stranger again, luxuriating in the passionate taste as their tongues danced with each other. Her hands slid down his back to caress his taut backside, his hands following suit. Slowly, she leaned backwards, offering herself to his gaze. She crooked her finger at him, beckoning him to shed his vestments and join her. Swiftly he discarded his jacket and shirt before working off his belt and trousers as the anticipation built deep within Susan's body.
That all ground to a halt the moment his manhood came into view. This she did not expect. His member was ridiculously small. Squat. Like a breakfast sausage that had been left on a plate once it has been three-quarters eaten. Like a disembodied toe that had been surgically grafted to his pelvis. Like a pimple between his legs that he really should get checked out because it might be infected.
Susan mentally switched to the metric system so that she could estimate his size without resorting to fractions. Normally she would describe such appendages as being veiny or smooth, but what she was looking at was barely bigger than a vein. She would make internal comparisons to trees, obelisks, or skyscrapers. Now she could only think of a third nipple that had been drastically misplaced. Although not quite, because at least nipples had points. This was more like an anthill, closer to a slight raising of the skin than an actual penis. Like a Ken doll, with a excess piece of plastic that is just suggestive enough to make a conservative parent sue Mattel.
Susan tried to think of an appropriate term to use. Prick was out, as it noticably lacked a point. Dick seemed too manly to apply to the near-eunicized specimen before her. Cock was out, as nothing about it made her want to crow for joy.
Quickly, Susan abandoned that line of thought. It was n't too late to make an excuse to leave. No sooner had that sentence entered her mind than she found herself suddenly telling him that she had forgotten about her cat's dental appointment at 11:30 at night. The door closed behind her seconds later. Watching the last couple of episodes of the Gilmore Girls revival on Netflix would be a much better expenditure of her night.
|
[ WP ] You 're a local healer , a good one , and your people love you . But you do not truly heal wounds , merely transfer them ... The people of the valley below know you under a different name .
|
`` Listen closely my children, this story started many lifetimes ago, more than you can count. I have seen great beauties and great terrors. I have created some, I have been seen as a God and a Devil. I have been worshiped, detested, loved, hated. I bear the burden of untold lives so that you do not have to suffer the grievances of sickness, wounds and pain. My children, you are the descendants of my one true love, and this is why you are saved, even though I could not save him.
Many lifetimes ago, my love and I were great adventurers. We hunted treasures, sought gold and hidden secrets. We were known all across this glorious planet. There were hardly whispers of an archaic artifact, but we heard them. We hunted for years, listened to a thousand stories passed down untold generations. This one treasure was the first to elude us. We climbed mountains, crossed oceans and explored caves, all to no avail. Soon we noticed it became harder to travel, age wore on us and still we had n't found this greatest of treasures. What we searched so long for was nothing less than the true gift of life. Rumored to grant one, and only one with the ability to heal all and live eternally.
Children, we were so blind. Blinded by the desire for glory. We forgot our love for one another and instead blamed each other for our failure. Not even considering the sacrifice the other would suffer.
We did finally follow the true lore and after arduous and terrifying hunting, we were allowed into a glorious chamber, undisturbed for centuries. Filled with silver, gold, diamonds and weapons more beautiful than ever seen before. Greed filled our hearts. Our true selves were lost and we simultaneously noticed the strangely dull stone atop a pedestal in the center.
Everything that occurred after is a blur, we raced to it, noting its placement meant it must be the most important artifact there. We were pushing and shoving, racing to be the one. The only. The eternal. We wanted to be a God, the ultimate treasure.
My sweet love stumbled and before he could recover, I shoved him into a pile of glittering artifacts, sealing my success. I grabbed the stone.
The most glorious light enveloped me, all my senses brought to the height of delight, all but one. My heart. While every sense was glorified, my heart sunk, the warning of the darkness that stood before me.
The light faded, I collapsed. Once I awoke, my body felt so light and I was healthier than I'd ever been. I stood and looked about with senses stronger than ever before. I was assaulted by what I saw.
My love, the one greatness of my life, dead. Impaled by a gilded broadsword. I had killed him in my greed.
A thousand centuries have passed since that day, but I will eternally suffer the pain of my greed and desire. I teach you this my precious ones, because I want you to suffer no pain, learn from my mistakes.''
I stand, nodding and the children gathered there, a few adults lingering to hear the story they've begun to forget. All of my children, collected into a great city, know of my origins. What they do n't know is the necessary actions I take to ensure they will live without pain.
Once a month, I leave for a week, my children mourn their mother leaving, but it is necessary. For I can heal them forever, but their ailments must go somewhere. There must always be equal pain and joy in the world.
I walk for two days, arriving at an undeveloped civilization, the people inherently brutish and dumb. They see me as their God of War. They have ancient tales of me slaughtering their enemies single handedly, and they know that I will slay them too, should they oppose me. I am undead, eternal, all powerful.
They sacrifice one of their own to be endowed with all the pain and suffering of those in my city. Sometimes tolerable, survivable. Sometimes gruesome, requiring many sacrifices.
This is how I've come to tolerate my abilities.
|
[ WP ] Describe Chess Like A Grand War Story .
|
They threw us onto the board untrained. We were novices, my seven comrades and I; we were n't even capable of advancing for more than a square or two before we had to rest. But back then, we were young and eager, thinking we looked spiffy in our shiny, round hats, thinking we'd *never, ever* disappoint our kingβ oh, foolish, young pride. On the front line of the battlefield we anticipated the enemy's attack under strict orders: *Mirror their moves*. I'd shrugged. Never question your superiors, right?
An old, jaded general tsk-tsked at us fron atop a watchtower. He knew what we were getting ourselves into, but he'd seen it all, all the red spilled onto squares of black and white. `` Hey!'' I'd called to him from my station as he shushed me furtively, `` are ya gon na join us?''.
He shook his head.
We treated the war like a game. We told stories, joked, and laughed around a campfire the night before our regiment was sent forward, and once you've had your first taste of the thrill of battle, it never wears off. I charged blindly into combat, sword held high, screaming a battle cry.
I assisted all my superiors, from the tactical clergyman who sent the enemy scrambling in all directions to the cold and regal wife of the King, who culled down the enemy king's favorites herself. My proudest moment was when I briefly held the enemy's castle under siege, with the help of a member of the cavalry. The king soon fled, and the attack was cut short, but my diagonal attack was usable! I was thrilled.
The adrenaline never left me until I saw true thoughtless murder with my own eyes: my own brother felled by a single swing of a mace. His killer showed not the slightest remorse, and looked disgusted by the body collapsed on the ground, life bleeding out all over his executioner's pristine ivory shoes.
I'm going to die, too. Who can really be victorious in a war? At least, as I charge in front of the vicious Queen, *I* will be a hero. I will be the divine wind, the sacrificer that betters my King. I will give my life for this game.
|
[ WP ] Build your own best friend ! The future of friendship .
|
Gray held the box delicately. It was plain brown with `` FRAGILE'' stamped in bright red on all sides, quite large and arguably heavy. He set the box down, the insides jingling violently as the last corner fell onto the wooden table. His hands shook as he picked up a small blade and opened his parcel. Inside there were loose gears, bits of metal and an abundance of other mechanical objects. Gray's eyes scanned the contents of the box, then nodded briefly. It would seem everything he needed was there.
He began to work, hands working deftly for hours at a time. His son came to check on him and bring him food every few hours, most of which ended up being untouched. It was n't until the second day of working that his creation began to take shape of a humanoid body. This detail seemed to disturb Gray's son, Elliott, but he stayed quiet.
Gray had a career as a doll maker. He had retired many years ago, and everything that had pertained to his job was thrown out. The last time Elliott saw his father make a doll was before his mother died when he was just a child. To see his father work so feverishly on this new object was troubling, even more so considering it was much larger than any doll he remembered. But he stayed silent, hoping that his father was just picking up a hobby to pass the rest of his days. He would like to see his father doing something he enjoyed, to be passionate about doing something again.
Several more days passed and the doll neared completion. Gray turned it on for a moment, listening intently. Everything seemed to work smoothly, no noise emitted from the gears or other moving objects. He switched it off with satisfaction then proceeded to the basement. Elliott watched curiously from the kitchen with a frown, then looked away as his father came up the stairs with large curved pieces of porcelain.
Gray attached each piece with care. They occasionally made light grinding noises as they brushed against each other. Elliott stood in the doorway, watching his father with crossed arms. He now understood what his father was doing.
`` Mom's gone, dad.'' He reminded his father gently. Gray did n't respond, choosing to ignore his son's words in favor of dressing the doll to make her decent. `` She's not coming back and that doll is a pathetic attempt to replace her. She would be ashamed if she knew you were doing this.''
`` Get out.'' Gray muttered as he turned the doll on. Elliott ignored his father, watching as the doll opened its eyes. They were deep blue, just like his own.
The doll sat up with a blank expression, turning its head to look at the two men. Gray's face seemed to light up for the first time in many years. He looked so hopeful and it killed Elliott to see it.
`` Sybil?'' Gray asked excitedly. The doll stared at him then opened its mouth, the porcelain making that gentle grinding sound.
`` Who is that?'' It asked in a cold mechanical tone. Gray's eyes dulled and he showed an overwhelming amount of disappointment.
`` Nobody.'' He said quietly as he left the room. Elliott sighed heavily and the doll stared at him. He saw something, she looked⦠hurt?
`` What did I do wrong?'' It asked, the tone still mechanical yet showed a hint of remorse.
`` It's nothing you did.'' Elliott told it. He gave a half-hearted smile. `` I'm Elliott.''
`` I do n't have a name.''
`` Well, in that case, let's call you⦠Lydia.''
`` My name is Lydia.'' It said softly. Elliott nodded. Maybe this doll was n't so bad after all.
|
[ WP ] Depending on the color of the moon , monsters rise . But today you are expecting a solar eclipse . And you , as a hunter , have a very bad feeling .
|
The city seemed desolate, everyone having locked and barricaded themselves inside their homes in a desperate attempt to keep out the monsters that were sure to rise. Normally they were affected by the moon, the differing colours and even phases affecting what terrible creatures would come forth. Full moons typically saw vampires and werewolves prowling the lands in search of blood and flesh whereas a new moon was notable for the dead, skeletons and zombies and their ilk. But this time it was different, this time the sun was not to set but to be blotted out by the moon and when the darkness fell upon the land, nobody knew what would rise.
Thea gripped her bow as she stood there, on the edge of the city gazing up towards the sky as it began to dim and darken with the approaching moon. She was n't the only one nervous, messengers had been crisscrossing the southern provinces for weeks now, handing out orders to every hunter there was. These were relatively barren lands, filled with vast plains and few inhabitants and so the hunters were few and far between, spread out throughout the various villages. But this needed mobilisation, everyone was to be called up regardless of whether they would have been assigned this night or not and everyone was to be ready.
Silence began to fall as the sky dimmed around them, the few citizens who were still out now darting into their homes at the last minute and the sparse conversation between hunters finally coming to a close. The king's advisers had been predicting this for months, not just an eclipse but a lengthy one at that, and nobody was sure what to be ready for in this case. Finally, the light faded, the sun becoming a ring of light that surrounded the black hole of the moon. Everything was silent, even the birds seemed to have gone dead.
All across the kingdom, men and women stared up at the sky, waiting for something to happen.
Nothing.
The river trickled past, winding its way North from the rising slopes of the famous and, quite unimaginatively named, Southern Mountains that towered nearby like a sheer wall of rock and snow.
One minute passed.
Nothing.
Two minutes.
Three.
Finally, Thea began to relax, sitting down with a sigh on the edge of the small wooden palisade that surrounded the city, freshly built after the previous walls and palisades had been destroyed in the preceding months.
`` Hey'' came a voice, calm and deep, filled with the memory of years hunting. With a smile Thea turned her head slightly, greeting him as he approached, a middle-aged man, his hair dark and beginning to grey on the sides. This was Harald, a native of the North, a trait that could be seen in his deep-set eyes and long nose, and a long-time veteran hunter. Slowly he stepped forward and stood next to her, gazing out over plains that seemed to stretch on forever.
`` You think we'll see anything?'' she responded, looking instead towards the mountains to her left and wondering, not for the first time, what lay down in the depths of the caves that ran down through them into the earth.
`` I do n't know. It's been a very long time since the last eclipse so I do n't honestly think anyone knows what to expect. Maybe we'll get lucky.'' He chuckled, slightly nervously.
After a few seconds, she finally turned to look at him. His face was badly scarred, the tokens of years of fighting monsters now engraved upon his skin, but, even under the camouflage of past wounds, she could see much more. His eyes betrayed him, usually stern and cold, they showed something she had never seen before, hurt. They were the eyes of someone who has seen too much, who has lived far too long in a world of horror. They were the eyes of someone who had been pushed over the edge, someone who had finally seen something he could n't forget. Harald was n't scared of the monsters, he had fought them for long enough to get over most of those fears, unlike so many. Even now, unsure of what demon they may soon have to face, he was n't scared, but he was broken.
`` Harald...'' she began
`` I know what you're going to say. It's obvious, is n't it? You're going to ask me what's happened to me.''
She sighed.
`` Yes''
His voice was full of emotions as he responded, like someone barely able to keep themselves from breaking down into tears.
`` I... saw something. Something I could n't move past, something I could never forget.'' He took a shuddering breath `` I-''
*Boom*
Silence.
With barely a breath, Thea and Harald jumped to their feet, scanning the horizon for something. Something big. Something colossal.
*Boom*
It seemed to echo from the distance, the ground shaking alongside it and from every direction.
*Boom*
Something was coming, its footsteps crashing to the ground, splitting and cracking the earth. But from where? Across the plains, there was nothing and the mountains seemed silent.
Then it roared, its voice rolling through the mountains and valleys, across the plains and hills. Thea drew her bow, notching an arrow in it and watching the horizon.
Something stirred in the mountain range, rocks tumbling down the slopes towards the ground.
Silence.
Then a crash as a colossal hand reached up, gripping the top of a mountain and using that to leverage itself up. Soon after, it was followed by another as something pushed its way through the mountains, breaking the stone apart as it moved. Almost as one, the hunters turned to face the mountains, watching as the giant's head rose above them and it began climbing over the peaks and down into the plains.
Once again it roared, a massive, thundering terrifying roar that was soon echoed by another and another, stretching out both East and West along the mountains. For a minute it watched them, considering them in silence before, finally, it advanced.
|
[ WP ] Tell me a story about yourself . Tell me where you come from , or where you 're going . Tell me who you are , tell me who you want to be . Tell me a story about yourself .
|
I find it difficult to describe myself and what I want to do with my life. This is probably what attracts me to the arts. When I act, write or draw, I'm sure of the characters I'm creating and what they want. It's rarely so apparent in real life.
People talk about wanting to do one thing their whole life and I envy that surety. The closest I have to that is wanting to be an author. But even then I'm not satisfied at just that. I want to take dance classes, fight in the mma, travel the world, learn 12 languages, act in movie, publish a book ( or twenty ), learn to play the piano, and a myriad of other things that does n't seem possible to do in one lifetime.
But you know what? I'm gon na do my damnedest!
|
[ WP ] Apocalypse breaks on a university campus , and it 's every academic department for itself . Every department is insistent on using its field of study in surviving post-apocalypia , despite how ill-fitting it may be .
|
`` Thank God,'' Professor Gladweist said under his breath after hearing of the attack.
`` I was really running out of space for all of these unstable chemicals, and this is the perfect opportunity for disposing of them free of cost. The gods must be smiling on me today!''
Smiling, he reaches for the Sodium Cyanide and concentrated Hydrogen Peroxide he had stashed under his leaking sink for the last two decades, hidden behind stacks of failed research grants and loss-of-funding notifications.
Now if only he could figure out how to use the rocket fuel to safely shoot the nerve gas, nobody would laugh at him behind his back again. He would be their hero and be worshipped like he deserved, he would save everyon -- --
|
[ WP ] The year is 4091 and there is only one tree left in the world . It 's your job to make sure nothing happens to it .
|
It was an easy job. Or at least I thought so, like, it was a tree, it was still, and literally all the people around the world wanted to keep it safe, and I was the best doing my job.
Literally everything should have been alright, literally it was an easy task and, also literally, the tree is now on fire, and there β s nothing I can do because water is as scarce as trees are and my tool to put out fires is broken, apparently.
It was an easy job, but no one could have guessed that the first storm in decades, would be the one to cast a lightning bolt that ended up with our last tree.
|
[ wp ] Challenge to all writers , make a story so scary that it creeps me out/prevents my sleep tonight .
|
You ever have the feeling of being followed by something? Of course you have, everyone has... But I feel it all the time. Every waking hour, every waking minute, every fucking second... I feel it. He follows me, and never gives me a break. He follows me through every moment. I just want it to fucking stop.
This started three weeks ago, at least by my count. It's tough to remember after so many sleepless nights. I was just going home after a long day of work... Just fucking going home when... a man died in front of me. Was struck by a car and thrown. The body was dismembered, blood all over the place. The site will forever haunt me now. His head was all sorts of messed up, his left eye out of its socket. He had blood smeared over his forehead and a bit coming out of his mouth and down his cheek. His right leg was snapped in half, white visible through his jeans. This was the type of death where you hoped it was quick. I would apprehend the culprit, but... but the culprit was me. I killed a man. A man walking was now lifeless. I did n't see him coming, I said to myself. Anything to avoid the guilt. But I saw him coming. I just... I do n't know why I did it. But every moment since then I've been followed by what I can only assume is his soul. Guilt I thought would strike me hardest, but the anxiety of the man following me has struck me much harder than any human emotion ever could.
Every second since then, every instantaneous moment of time, I've felt him. I've never heard him. I've never seen him. I've felt him. He's followed me around. To work. To the grocery store. To my own damned bed. I'm never alone. But tonight I will be. The voices in my head have been whispering to me, and I've come to realize... I've come to realize the only escape is to die like he did. To step in front of a car, and to end my misery. Of course, my misery will extend to someone else, but that is the circle of horror. Who's next? I have no clue. Maybe it's you, maybe it's your mother in law, who knows. Odds are it's no one you know, but just know it can be you. You can be the one to have to endure all this...
I really hope it's not you.
|
[ WP ] Aliens arrive and offer to give us all their amazing tech . There 's only one catch : They do n't understand fiction and only want to deal with the Avengers .
|
# # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap )
`` Alright, is everybody ready?''
The Hulk had been the hardest. Whereas all the other costumes had been pulled out of storage ( except for the fully automated Iron Man costume, which had been graciously provided by an overzealous cosplayer ), the Hulk had been entirely computer generated. The aliens had been waiting for the past year, not because they were unable to reach Thor in Asgard, but so as to develop the perfect haptic-holographic soundstage to imitate the Hulk's mannerisms and any other necessary special effects.
The aliens were very patient.
Mark Ruffalo shifted uncomfortably. The motion tracking fabric itched. `` I mean, has no one else watched *Galaxy Quest*? This does n't end well for us. It never does.''
`` Shut your trap, Mark,'' Robert growled. `` The President is n't giving us a choice; we've been over this.''
`` I liked it better when Obama was President. Shoot, I liked it better when *Bush* was President.''
`` One minute till curtain!''
`` Look, Mark.'' Evans piped up. `` We just need to get this done. All you have to do is put on a show. That's it.''
Scarlett Johanson and Samuel L. Jackson stepped out from the changing area. `` Phew. I am getting too old for this.'' Samuel laid his hand on the makeup table and arched his back to stretch. `` Just one more job till sweet, sweet retirement, ay boys?'' He grinned. No one else did.
With that, the Avengers were assembled. With the exception of Ruffalo, they each filtered out in a single file line into the fake Supreme Court. It stood empty, save for President LeBaise, his aides, and five aliens. In a moment, a hard light copy of The Hulk stomped out. The ground shook appropriately.
No one other than the world's leaders had yet seen what the aliens looked like. The shape of their bodies was very similar to the outer anatomy of a large cat, but with simian-like hands, and hard exoskeletons in place of fur. They each stood on two legs. The alien in front greeted them in the warm voice of a human man.
`` We greet you on behalf of the Gentaliku populace,'' he said.
`` Hail, noble creatures, on behalf of Earth,'' the humans said in unison, except for Hemsworth, who said, `` on behalf of Asgard.''
`` We offer you our tribute.'' Two of the aliens brought forth a large, casket shaped box. `` Our information regarding all aspects of organic life on our planet. We have dissected and analyzed many of the organic samples we received from your people. We believe you will find them most helpful.''
The Hulk picked up the box, using a complicated system of air jets and hidden wires. Robert Downey Jr. and Jeremy Renner stepped forward. `` We hereby offer you our knowledge of computerized systems.'' He paused. The aliens turned away and spoke to each other in their alien tongue.
`` Forgive us for our impudence,'' said the head alien, `` but we wished to learn more of your precious metals. Do you perchance have samples of vibranium and adamantium for us to examine?''
The Avengers paused. Then they immediately huddled in the corner with the president and his aides. Every human watching the affair from outside froze in shock and horror.
All except Mark Ruffalo, who was kind enough to extricate his hologram from the room and shut off his audio feed before yelling about Galaxy Quest in the privacy of the motion capture stage.
|
[ wp ] a character in a nightmare
|
It had been a hard day at work, followed by an ill-advised Reddit session lasting far too long into the small hours. My head hit the pillow hard as I closed my eyes and drifted into a state of pure, blissful sleep.
I woke up with a start to find myself sitting upright. Opening my eyes I saw a sprawling motorway laid out before me. Clearly I was in a car. I looked to my right to see who was driving.
`` Wilson, what the hell is going on?'' I asked. Wilson was my friend and he had only recently got his driving licence. I did n't consider him to be a very safe driver, a thought which was confirmed as the speedometer crept past 95mph.
`` Your grandad's very ill so you're going down to Kidderminster to see him.'' He replied. This sent me into a state of fear. My grandad was nearly 80 and had been close to death many times in the past, but not like this, for some reason this felt much more real, much more tangible than all the near misses he had had in the past. I did n't know why.
`` Yeah,'' I said, trying to maintain my composure as my voice began to quiver. `` But why you, why did n't you wake me up to get me in the car, and where's my mother? It's her father that's ill.''
`` Never mind that, it'll all be explained.'' He said, before his foot went flat to the floor. A few seconds later we were between two lorries in the middle lane of the motorway, when both of them began indicating. They both began moving towards the middle lane, we were going to be sandwiched, how could either of us possibly survive? I started panicking.
`` We're going to crash! We're going to crash! We're going to CRASH!'' I shouted as I heard the dark blue side of the lorry scrape along, then crush the side of the car.
I woke up. I was on the other side of a massively deep ravine. My girlfriend of four months was on the other side, screaming for help. There was nothing I could do to save her, she was going to die. I could not work out how I got there, but everything seemed real nonetheless: the fear, the wind funnelled by the ravine, my girlfriend's face as she was desperate for my help. She jumped, making it barely halfway across the ravine before falling out of site. I did the only thing I could think to do and jumped after her, thinking that would somehow save her. The sensation of falling felt so real; I felt sick to my stomach due to my fall speed and began to comprehend I was going to die so started wondering if there was an afterlife. Then I looked down and saw the bottom of the ravine three feet away from me.
I woke up. This time I was at my desk in the large, open plan office I work in. I could smell smoke. Looking towards the door, I saw smoke seeping into the office, which triggered the fire alarm. Something about the fire alarm did n't sound quite right, it sounded different to its usual sound in fire safety drills. But instead of focussing on that I decided to focus on my own survival. I quickly got down on my hands and knees and started crawling, hoping against hope to find some way out of this office before I breathed in too much smoke. Suddenly, there was a bright flash and it became very hot. I realised there had been a flashover. The ceiling was on fire, survival was now effectively impossible. As I resigned myself to my fate, I decided to focus on the fire alarm and work out what sound it was making. It sounded similar to something I had heard before, but I could n't put my finger on it. I had heard it recently and frequently, but that did n't help me work out what it was. As the acrid smoke filled my lungs I felt myself begin to pass out. I closed my eyes and succumbed to the smoke, knowing that I would never open them again.
`` Alarm clock!'' I shouted as I woke up. That's what the fire alarm was. And sure enough, right next to me my alarm clock was making its usual sound and as usual I flailed my arm around on my bedside table to try to turn it off, knocking many things over in the process. I looked at my alarm clock, and it had gone off at exactly the correct time, 7am. I felt no less tired than when I went to sleep, but now I had to get up again. This day at work was going to be hell.
|
[ WP ] Skin is actually an alien parasite that long ago enslaved the peaceful skeletons of Earth .
|
It was easy, to be honest. At first, resistance was fierce. You fashioned crude blades out of whatever you could find. You hacked us from your bones systematically, until we lay in bloody shreds at your feet. We could do very little. For, if we are to exist, we exist only as an attachment. We are passengers, and you poor retches, are our vessel.
Conflict raged on. We became nothing more than a mild inconvenience to you. Somthing to complain to your buddies about. `` Aw shit.. I think I have some skin building up back there.'' I'm paraphrasing of course, to match the colloquialism of your present day. We were dieing. We had no choice.
Our best and brightest were put to the task. And as I said, it was easy. There was no hope for us to simply live off you, as a `` parasite'', as you say.
We used your own goddamn minds against you. We engineered a new strain of our species. Biologically identical, yet physically different. We unleashed it upon you and your sweet, sweet innocence. As you split into black and white, you came undone. We were forgotten. All you could think of were the atrocities needed to stop this different plague developing. And before you realised, it was too late. We are you and you are us.
We will live, and die, as one. Black and white. Dust in the wind.
Edit: Grammar.
|
[ CW ] The grittiest manliest cop in all of Chicago is about to storm the Mafia HQ and take out the Don . You must use the words Unicorns / Butterflies / Kitten Kisses four times each in your story .
|
`` Goodnight Sweetie.''
`` Goodnight Daddy.''
Slowly he shuts the door with a light creak.
`` Daddy!''
`` Yes sweetie?''
`` Can you tell me about the **unicorns** again tomorrow night?''
The weary father reenters his daughters bedroom and sits on her bed.
`` Of course Sweetie. Anything for you. I will tell you any story you would like.''
He goes in to kiss her on the cheek and she quickly kisses him on the nose.
With a loving smile he says, `` Oh no, not **kitten kisses**!''
He runs his hand across the top of her head slowly as she fades to sleep. The old father takes a look back into her room before leaving. She is the joy of his life.
He enters his bedroom and puts on his uniform. For twenty five years he has served his beloved city of Chicago and if he had his way he would serve for twenty five more but time catches up with everyone. He sighs heavily looking at his own reflection. Scars on his face and hands show the scraps this job has caused. He was even thrown through a window once like some action story. When he was young he was a gunslinger out for trouble but ever since his partner was killed he has tried to take it a bit more easy. As he walks back by his daughters room he thinks about how much he has to lose.
`` Hey Smith, ready for tonight?''
`` Hey Sayre. Always, Susie has her first day of school tomorrow. I ca n't believe how old she is getting.''
`` Welcome to getting old. Happens to all of us eventually.''
`` So what are we doing tonight?''
`` Taking it easy. Just out to try and find this schmuck who witnessed a murder a few nights ago and bringing him in.''
Smith reads over the file. STEVEN `` **Butterflies**'' JOHNSON. He has some butterfly tattoos apparently. Was buying some drugs when some members of another gang stormed in and killed the dealer in the process. Alternate names, possible associates, known hangouts, ect, ect.
`` **Butterflies**? A real tough guy.''
The unmarked police car pulls up to the curb. An old newspaper blows across the empty road. As they get out they look upon the building they have come to visit. The yard is overgrown and several windows are broken.
`` Does not look like anyone is here Smith.''
`` Yeah but we should check it out anyway. Might nab some users.''
They push the door open slowly. Smith yells, `` **Butterflies**? You here? We have some questions for you.''
A few gunshots ring out into the night sending both officers jumping for cover.
`` Shots fired, Send backup!''
Sayre returns fire. `` Smith, we need to fall back! Lets wait for support.''
A man steps though a nearby doorway with a handgun raised firing as he walks.
`` Shit, that's not **Butterflies**.''
Smith and Sayre return fire and the man falls back through the doorway.
`` Smith that is Mr. Brown. The motherfucker is a **unicorn**. He has more warrants for his arrest that we have guys on the force.''
Smith stands and raises his pistol while running to the doorway. `` Shit, Smith!'' Sayre follows close behind.
Smith clears the next room. A rundown kitchen. Cracked tiles, broken cabinets, lack of care but no Brown.
`` We have you Brown,'' says Smith.
Suddenly there is a hail of splinters and a crash. Mr Brown was hiding in the pantry and kicked through the door. Both men's firearms ring into the night. With Sayre entering the room Brown retreats through another doorway.
Smith is hit and bleeding, `` I am getting to old for this shit.''
`` Smith, I am twenty five and to old for getting shot.''
Smith peers around the cabinets before getting up and making his way to the door with Sayre tight behind.
`` I will clear this room, you stay behind.''
The next room is a bathroom in much the same shape as the kitchen. Small and quick to clear but with yet another attached door. This one leads to a hallway. Sayre ventures on. Smith examines his arm waiting for the sign to continue from Sayre. His arm is not great but could be worse. Suddenly another crash, more shots ring out, now yelling. Smith bursts through the bathroom but the shots have stopped. As he turns through the doorway he hears Brown say, `` die fucker'' before executing an already wounded Sayre and raising the pistol toward Smith.
Smith comes through the doorway, opening fire. Brown will not walk this time.
The rounds sting as they enters Smith's chest but he is pumping so much adrenaline he hardly notices. He keeps pulling the trigger long after Brown is on the ground and his magazine is empty. The only sound now is the sharp clicking of the hammer on an empty chamber. Smith stumbles into the wall. His legs betray him and he slides down. The pain in his chest is growing. He looks down to see a steady flow of blood. He radios in an officer down but he can already hear the sirens. It will be less than seconds before they arrive.
Smith is sitting on his daughters bed. He is telling her a story of kings and knights and princesses and **unicorns**. The knights are chasing the unicorn on behalf of the King. Susie asks why and Smith responds that the knights do what the King says and that sometimes even **unicorns** need to be caught. Smith closes the book.
`` I love you daddy.''
`` I love you too sweetie.''
Smith bends down to kiss her and she turns and kisses him on the nose.
`` **Kitten kisses**!''
The old man laughs with his daughter. `` **Kitten kisses**.''
The emergency workers close in on Smith as they do what they can to stop the bleeding. As they struggle Smith faintly mumbles, `` I love you, **kitten kisses**'' before the monotonous beep starts and the action in the cabin slows.
**EDIT**: got caught up and now realize that I missed half the prompt. Embarrassing. But I like what I came up with so I am going to let it stand.
|
[ WP ] You arrive in the year 1000 , and all you have are the clothes on your back , a laptop with the entire Wikipedia library , and a solar charger .
|
The young man briefly jumps from his time machine only to find he is in a barren desert. A robotic voice is heard coming from the machine with the words `` Overheating. Please wait at least [ 5 ] hours before reuse. `` Damn'' he mutters under his breath. He sets his solar charger on the sand and starts scrolling through his laptop only to discover he is deep within the heart of Jerusalem. His head lifts briefly as a faint clopping noise is heard. Upon the horizon, he sees soldiers in chainmail armor with sharp longswords on horses racing across the desert. `` There are hundreds...'' he says as another vast army is seen charging towards the soldiers. They are darker more tan men in garbs wielding scimitars. He hears metal clashing, as all the men in chainmail yell `` *Deus Vult! *''. Unexpectedly, while watching the glorious battle, another man warps in and says `` Woah, what's goin on'ere?''. The young man silently replies `` Sit down. We have ample time here''.
|
[ WP ] You have never known your parents or your true family . From pure curiosity you complete and send off a genealogy test . A week later , there 's a knock on the door . You answer , and two tall men in black suits and sunglasses are standing on your doorstep .
|
There are two types of door knocking techniques in this world: the β might-be-a-boyscout-or-jehovas-witness β knock or the β don't-f-with-us β kinda knock.
This was definitely the latter.
Behind the door stood two tall men in black suits, sunglasses and an earpiece. The one on the right looked directly at you and said, β Dylan Axlerod, we are with the National Security Administration, we need you to come with us β.
β Woah there guys, it's 11 at night and I sent in my parking fine already. What do you guys want with me? β You jest. Cops were not very high on your favorites list.
β Dylan, this is not a joking matter. Three weeks ago you sent in a genetic test, right? β
OK, this was a little weird. You had n't told anyone β not even your roommates -- about your genetic test before mailing it in. β How do you know about that? How do I know you are legit? β you shoot back.
They open their coats to reveal two badges were tucked next to two very large firearms. β Dylan, have you been feeling ill over the last few days? β
This was now more than a little weird. You had been feeling ill, running a fever in fact.
The agent continued, β Dylan, you β ve been running a fever and recently went to Dr. Marcus Williams who gave you two bottles of antibiotics. Those will not make you better. β
β Ok, you have my attention. What do I need to do? β you ask. The other agent points to the black SUV idling your driveway and says, β We have to go now β.
You start to break out in nervous sweat. How did they know your doctor β s name? Or about the test? Or that it was two bottles?
One agent sits with you in the backseat of their vehicle while the other gets behind the wheel. The agent sitting next to you begins to speak in a soothing-yet-frightening voice:
β Dylan, what we are about to tell you may sound strange. I β m sorry, but you need to be honest with me β. You awkwardly nod. What the hell is going on? You think.
β Dylan, we are with a division of National Security that handles paranormal cases. Your genetic test returned signs of a DNA marker that has been on our radar for a while. Dylan, we need you to be absolutely honest with us regarding the next question. β With the few nerves you have left, you nod. β Dylan, have you seen orange and red lights around outside your house recently? β
β WHAT? How did you know? β
The agent in the front slams on the brakes. β They β ve made contact! β he shouts. β Get out of the car now! β The agent in the backseat pulls you out of the car and puts you facedown on the road. Its pitch black out. There no signs of other people around. This is has gone from strange to terrifying. β Dylan, we need to search your for lesions''.
β What is going on? What is happening? β At this point, you β re on the verge of tears. Over the last few nights you had seen lights outside but had just ignored it. You thought had just been a reflection of passing cars.
One agent was putting on rubber gloves and a surgical mask. They grab two large flashlights. β Dylan, as calmly as you can, we need you to remove your shirt so we can check you for lesions β. Too afraid to do otherwise, you begin to undress.
Both agents were checking you now and one breathes a sigh of relief. β You haven β t progressed to stage two yet. Let me explain. β He backs up and returns your shirt to you. β Dylan, fifty years ago the world made contact with another form of life. It wasn β t an amicable form of contact, either. The crash landing in Roswell was their attempt to escape with the results of biological weapons tests they had performed on humans. We managed to prevent their atmospheric exit, but ever since then, we have detected activity around the planet. When they β re on the ground, they take the shape of red and orange light before taking a physical shape. β
You start to pace around, β What does this have to do with me? β you shout.
β Dylan, they β ve made contact with you and have been observing the progression of this disease. We believe it is a biological weapon and will need to take you in for further testing β.
You can feel your face burning and your legs feeling weak. You begin to feel dizzy.
Suddenly, one agent falls to the street and starts convulsing. Then the other. You look around and, and no more than 200 feet away see them piercing out of the darkness: the orange and red lights. Then two more. They flicker on and off as they get closer. You β re frozen in fear.
β NO, DON β T TAKE ME! β you shoutβ¦and thenβ¦
Laughter.
Your roommates β laughter.
Behind the red light you hear: β Hey dumbass, if you want it to go anywhere, you got ta put a stamp on it. β The two agents begin laughing as they get up off the ground. One of them says, β Keep taking those antibiotics, but really man, you got ta stop living with these jokers. β
edit: Typos. Apologies.
|
[ WP ] Luck is hereditary . Finally after millions of years , evolution has successfully weeded out all the unlucky people . Now the entire human population is super lucky .
|
`` Pack of smokes, and two Power Jackpots. Quick picks are fine.''
`` Dude, you still smoking?'' Tom said.
`` Yeah, it's not like I'm going to get cancer,'' replied Dick.
`` But it stinks, dude.''
Dick snapped his fingers.
`` I almost forgot,'' he said to Tom, before adding to the 7-Eleven clerk, `` Just a second, I got ta get some beer.''
The clerk looked a bit annoyed with Dick for holding up the line. Dick ran to the back of the store and grabbed a couple of six packs.
`` Thirty-six-oh-nine,'' the clerk said.
Dick reached into his pocket. Then the other pocket. Then the other pocket. Then the other pocket. Then the... Dick ran out of pockets.
`` Shit, I forgot my wallet,'' he said to Tom. `` Can you spot me some cash?''
`` No way, I'm not paying to ride home in an ashtray.''
`` It's my car, Tom. Maybe I'll just leave you here.''
`` That's cool, it's just a mile. I can walk.''
`` Hey, hurry up, already,'' called a guy behind them in line.
`` Yeah,'' agreed someone else.
A woman put down the chips and Slurpee she had been going to buy and walked out of the store, muttering to herself and making a sign of the cross over her chest.
Dick tried his pockets again. This time he felt something in the front pocket next to his keys. He pulled out a crisp $ 100 bill, wrapped around his driver's license.
`` Do n't worry! I found it.''
He flashed the ID at the clerk, told him to keep the change.
`` Thought you were getting unlucky for a minute there, Dick.''
`` Yeah, I was sweating balls in there.''
Dick tore off the plastic on his pack of cigarettes, and lit one up even before letting the door swing closed behind him.
`` Want one?''
`` No way, yuck.''
`` I'll put the top down,'' Dick said. He clicked the remote door opener for his convertible, leaned in, and pushed the button to lower the roof.
`` Happy?'' he said exasperatedly to Tom.
Tom mumbled something that did n't sound like an affirmative. He was paying more attention to the threatening clouds overhead.
`` You sure you want to put the top down, Dick?''
`` Dude, I found the money. Quit freaking out.''
Dick got in behind the wheel. He popped the cap off a beer, and took a big swig, before closing his eyes and tossing the cap in the direction of the 7-Eleven. The cap hit the door, just as the next customer was coming out, and bounced off into the trash can: nothing but net.
`` See? Now get in and have a beer.''
Dick was on his second beer as he backed out of the parking lot.
Tom sipped at his beer, but he did n't seem to be enjoying it. He had way too many eyes on the road for Dick's taste.
`` Dude, seriously, what's wrong?'' Dick said, finishing his beer and looking up from his phone, where he was catching PokΓ©monsters. `` Nothing's going to happen, see?''
Dick swung the wheel wildly to the left, then back to the right. Tom threw his hands up over his face as the convertible careened across traffic, just missing an oncoming van, then back toward the center line. Tom looked up and ducked as the car slid toward the trailer of a semi rig.
`` Tom, Tom, Tom.''
`` What?''
`` You can open your eyes now, dude. Did you think you were about to die?''
Tom peeked between his fingers. He was n't dead. In fact, his beer had n't even spilled. They'd gone clean through beneath the trailer.
`` Did you?'' asked Dick, already back to his PokΓ©monstering.
`` Did I...?''
`` Did you think we were going to die?
Tom could n't manage to form any words.
`` Here, have another brewsky. It'll help calm the nerves,'' said Dick, setting down his phone so he could use both hands to light another cigarette and open a beer at the same time.
`` Still got one,'' Tom said, holding up his nearly full beer.
`` More for me,'' said Dick, tossing his empty over his shoulder. It landed with a clatter of glass in the recycling truck that had just changed into the lane behind them.
`` I swear, Tom, what's gotten into you? Did something happen back there at the 7-Eleven?''
`` I thought you forgot your wallet,'' said Tom, forcing himself to take a drink.
`` Is that all? I had my ID and the cash, so what's the big deal?''
Dick swung the wheel hard to the left as they approached their street, spinning the car four-seventy through the intersection. A car swerved around them, just missing the recycling truck before righting itself in the proper lane. A motorcycle had a near miss on the other side.
Tom and Dick watched as the motorcyclist lost control of the wobbling vehicle. The front tire of the bike hit a large rock, where it stuck. The motorcycle flipped forward into the air.
Tom looked away.
`` Wicked,'' said Dick, laughing.
The motorcycle landed square on both wheels. The driver leaned to the left and reentered the road, the wind breaking off the motorcycle ruffling the silken lace of a baby carriage being pushed by a woman staring into her phone. The man beside her -- presumably her husband -- was also staring at his phone, making a forward-swiping motion with one hand.
`` I got a Pikachu!'' her husband shouted.
`` Me too,'' said the woman.
`` Tom, you can open your eyes now. Jesus-H-Christmas, what's wrong with you? It's cool.''
A kid dashed out in front of the car, chasing a ball. Dick barely noticed as the headlight blazed within a centimeter of the boy's shorts.
`` Have n't you ever forgotten your keys, Tom?''
`` No!'' Tom shouted.
`` Dude, calm down. Drink your beer. You need to relax.''
Tom threw the beer bottle, still nearly full, out of the car.
`` Thanks, buddy!'' someone shouted. Dick looked back in time to see a man mowing his lawn raised the beer in salute before putting the bottle to his lips and tossing his head back.
Dick opened two more beers and lit a third cigarette, just as they arrived at their apartment building. He tapped the button attached to the visor to open the garage door, just at the last second. The wheels screeched as he applied the breaks, spinning the card two-hundred-and-seventy degrees around. They slid down the ramp into the garage, backward, and came to a full stop, right in the middle of Dick's parking spot.
Dick got out with the remaining six pack and started walking toward the elevator. The beating sound of rain thundered on the pavement outside as the clouds opened up a downpour.
`` Come on, dude,'' Dick called back to Tom, who was still sitting in the passenger seat. `` I want to check the lotto numbers.''
Tom got out and reluctantly followed Dick.
Dick set the six pack down on the kitchen table and flicked on the TV using the remote. The news woman was just wrapping up a story about a guy who had fallen from a ferris wheel and been killed when he struck his head on the way down, despite gently landing in the bouncy house nearby.
Dick shook his head. `` Poor, unlucky bastard.''
Tom sat down on the couch, his shoulders slumped. Dick joined him, two more beers in hand, for their nightly lotto tradition.
`` Think I'll get all the numbers tonight?'' Dick asked.
`` No way,'' replied Tom. `` You're not that lucky. *No one* is lucky enough to win twice.''
`` Says who? My neighbor hit the jackpot *three* times, when I lived on Dayton Street. He bought all the kids in the neighborhood new bikes. And he gave all the adults a new car. My mom got an orange Lambo, but I think he was hoping she'd sleep with him.''
`` Did she?''
`` Yeah, I think she did. But Dad never found out.''
`` Lucky,'' said Tom.
`` No kidding. He'd have made me give back that sweet BMX.''
The music came up on the television, signaling that it was finally time for the Power Jackpot drawing. Tom was saying something, but Dick shushed him to silence.
He held up the tickets in front of him:
> 18 9 71 4 44 89
> 78 11 41 1 8 12
`` The first number is 13,'' said the announcer as the attractive blond on screen settled the ball at the top of its tube.
`` The second number is 9.''
Tom looked at Dick, gave him a thumbs up.
The announcer read off three more numbers: 7 3 4.
Tom and Dick both leaned forward, waiting with baited breath as the announcer let the silence drag out. Finally the woman on screen took the final step to the side and held her hand out over the last tube. She straightened out the ball, concealing its value from the camera with her fingers. She gave the audience at home a teasing smile.
`` And the Power number tonight is...,'' the announcer paused for a moment more, as he did every night, `` 23.''
`` How'd you do, dude? How'd you do?''
`` Once again, your Power Jackpot numbers for tonight are 3, 4, 7, 9, 13, and your Power number is **23**. Congratulations to all you winners out there, we'll see you tomorrow night with your next set of winning numbers.''
Dick stared at the tickets. He'd won twenty bucks on this one, which he flipped over and signed right away. And the other one...
Tom had crowded over next to him to get a better look. They both looked from the second ticket to the television screen that was still flashing the winning numbers, then back to the ticket.
The Chyron scrolling across the bottom of the screen was reporting that there had been seven-hundred-and-eighty-four Power Jackpot Mega Winners, which was followed by the 800 number they could call to enter their bank account information for instant transfer.
`` No way,'' Dick was saying as...
Tom said, `` Bro, I got ta go.''
`` Where are you going?'' Dick said, turning toward the door where Tom was putting on his jacket.
`` I do n't know. My folks house. Or maybe to Cindy's. Actually, you know what. I'm not going to either. Definitely not to either of those places. Safer if you do n't know.''
`` Come on, dude,'' said Dick, cracking another beer. `` It's just one losing ticket.''
But the door was already slamming shut behind Tom.
`` Pussy,'' Dick said, flicking the TV over to ESPN2 to catch the end of the Yankees-Rangers game. All tied up at fifty-two apiece, top of the twenty-eighth.
*Is that gas? * Dick said, sniffing the air with a shrug. *Nah, could n't be. *
Dick lit another cigarette.
|
[ WP ] `` Welcome to Hell , Florida . Just south from the Lee-Macon line , with twenty miles of orange groves in between . ''
|
I was n't sure what you were looking for, so this is what I wrote when I thought of Florida, hell and orange groves.
_________________
The door chimed once more when Green opened it.
β It β s so you can β t find a vein, β said the man squatting on the sidewalk. He picked at some gum on the ground next to the garbage can. Green stopped. Grease spots soaked the paper bag. Inside was chicken dinner. The two men bathed in the yellow fluorescence outside the convenience store. Sun wouldn β t come up for another four hours. A jaundiced oasis in the middle of ink-soaked highway and invasive brush. Silence punctuated by occasional white lights, rolling tires on the bitumen then red lights. No one stopped. No one slowed. When they weren β t there, complete silence. Except for the door chime.
β What? β said Green.
The man pointed with a finger rounded by a bone spur at the top knuckle. Then sampled the gum.
β Can β t find a vein in these lights. Yellow so β s you can β t see anything. β
The man pulled up the sleeve of his torn sweatshirt. Arm was thin and sinew. Almost no thicker than a chicken bone in Green β s dinner.
No veins.
Green nodded. Stepped off the sidewalk onto a waxy and crumpled soda cup for the road.
β Spare change? β
Green turned. Hands greasy, he picked at his pants pockets with one hand and another. He didn β t need stains on his pants. Had to work in them after dawn broke. Three singles fluttered down.
β You β ll have to get those yourself. β
Before hearing, the man had scampered on hands and feet. Broken shoe soles flopped. The man leap on the bills and grabbed them from the wind. Before they drifted from the yellow light into blackness.
β Gets lonely out here sometimes, β the man said.
β I β m sure it does. β
Green β s daughter and wife would wake before the sun came up. He needed something to put on the table for them. And as long as the man kept talking, long as the cars on the road were few and far between, Green wouldn β t be home any time soon.
β Sometimes you just want companionship. Y β know? β
Green had a companion. A great one. And a beautiful daughter. Both asleep in a warm bed.
β Are you asking for my food, man? β Green held back what he really wanted to say.
β No, no. Not hungry. Just lonely. β
β Yeah, why don β t you come and try to fuck me then. β Green laughed. He would n't hitch out to the store again for breakfast if this loser would be here again.
The man stood and straightened. Pulled something shiny from his belt. A badge. Tires on gravel came from the side of the store. The yellow light was invaded by red and blue flashing.
β Put your hands up against the wall. β The man β s voice dropped a few octaves with confidence.
Seams in the wrinkles on his face. A line on his forehead between the grey hair and the fake wrinkles. The man had been wearing makeup. He was skinny. Not homeless. And the shiny thing a badge. A man in a pressed uniform slammed the car door and held the handcuffs.
β Hands on the wall, β the man said.
Tomorrow β s headline had just been written:
Florida Man Offers Undercover Cop $ 3 and Chicken Dinner in Exchange For Sex
https: //twitter.com/_FloridaMan/status/530794097876168704
|
[ WP ] You have only now become aware your ex is an imaginary person
|
Laying here I could n't stop thinking about him.
You see he was my everything. He was perfect, too perfect for me. In the end I did n't deserve him and he knew it. I met him 3 months ago at the town fair. I passed out on one of the rides and when when I came to he was there. He held my hand and told me every thing was going to be ok. I remember his face; soft lines, gentle smile and mild stubble. I did n't hang out with him all the time. Usually just at nights and in the weekends. We spend long periods of time just relaxing on the couch. The three months went fast. I had introduced him to my parents, talked about him to my co-workers and even described him in detail to my friends. Everyone loved him.
She motioned me to talk to her. I had been talking the break up pretty hard so my parents offered help. My parents paid for me to talk to her. For my parents to pay was a big deal, we all lived on a budget, so who was I to not go.
`` Tell me more about Tony, why did you love him?''
`` I guess he never did any wrong and always knew exactly what to say to me'' I paused, `` and to my family, they accepted him''
I remember when I introduced him to my parents they looked at me confused as if wondering how I could of scored such a handsome guy. The conversation was awkward just like any parents had had towards my other partners. But before long he fitted right in. He was the strong silent type. Always there, always listening to me.
`` Your parents asked me to talk to you because this has gone a little too far'' She interrupted my thoughts. `` They played along at the beginning because that's what the doctor said. I want you to listen to me, Tony is n't real.'' What could she mean he is n't real. They met him, they talked to him. They asked how he was doing. They played along...
They played along.
|
[ WP ] Woman picks up hitchhikers and likes to kill them . Man likes to hitchhike and kill his helpers . One day she picks him up .
|
There's a chill in the air, a wind that breathes deathly and rotten, a gust of plague and suffering. Every day, people make the hundred mile journey through these treacherous and icy slopes, and every day, they inhale these righteous and terrible fumes. But they do n't *feel* them the way that I do. They sit in their warm, lively vehicles, those evil machines that shelter them from the harsh reality of these peaks, and they trample the sacred ground beneath them. They feel no remorse for their trespassing. They have the audacity, yes, the naivety to feel *boredom* in the most true and alive place that I've ever known. My home. The snowy banks that I wander and care for, these people pollute with the noise of infernal engines and the toxic fumes that they leave behind. I can not stop them, I can only offer my humble and crude retribution. Their foolish trust, empathy, and kindness, values which they consider to be their moral strengths, I use to exact their demise. Historically, these peaks became the burial ground for anyone foolish to think they could travel them, and as their methods of travel evolved, so have the sacred mountains evolved to punish the travelers. Ironically, this evolution comes in the form of me, one of their kind. I am the scourge of the mountains, the cruel protector of the hills.
Here, another victim approaches. An old, worn out corolla, not an uncommon sight. But this is different... the windows are all rolled down, something that I've never seen before. The woman driving this machine must be insane. Her hair is long, twisted, and a perfectly dark shade of grey. Her face, nearly as dry and twisted as my own, wears a confident, comfortable expression, completely unlike the bored, lifeless looks that most of these travelers wear. As her car slows to a halt immediately in front of me, her deep, sultry, effortlessly smooth voice projects through the thick wind, two words. `` Get in.''
Who am I to reject such an enticing offer? As *different* as she may seem, she's still just another trespasser here. The moment I close the car door, something strange happens. The air inside of the vehicle, despite the open windows, becomes still and dead. I tell her that I'm on my way to the next town over, like always, and she drives off without saying a word about it. After a half an hour of driving, she finally opens her mouth once more.
`` Can you feel the death in the wind?''
The question throws my weary brain into a fit of panic and confusion, there was no way that the mountains had called another to their protection, I was the lone sentinel, the protector, who was this imposter?
`` The rot, the awful and brilliant stench of righteous destruction... it's all around us. Nobody else knows it's there, but it calls me. It calls me to deal with the wretched, disgusting filth that walks these roads. People who spend their time wandering about in this sacred place. Most people have the sense to either stay away, or make their journey swift and short. But you... people like you... wandering about, treading on these holy banks of snow with your filthy boots and rags... you disgust me.''
This was impossible... she had it all wrong. The travelers in these metal beasts, filled with oil and fire, these were the trespassers... she is the enemy. She is my true purpose for being here... she needs to be stopped. If anyone ever needed the retribution I've sworn to deliver, it was her...
`` This gun has everything you'll ever need to know about hitchhiking in it. Each bullet is a lesson, a chapter in the ultimate hitchhiker's guide... I'm going to pull this car over at the clearing around the corner, you're going to get out and kneel at the edge of the icy precipice, and I'm going to draw my gun and read chapter 27 to you, straight into your head. Is that clear?''
How could it end like this? I've watched over these hills for 17 years... suddenly this devil, this evil scum of a person comes along and it's all over? I've got no choice but to just sit by and let it happen? After all, I've brought a rope to a gun fight... how could I have been so foolish? I knew she was different from the moment I saw her, something in her eyes... how could she be so lovely, and yet so wrong? I ca n't stop her... unless...
With a swift motion, I turned the steering wheel as far to the left as I could before she managed to right it, but it was too late.. as the car skidded and slid towards the steep cliff, the stiff calmness of the air was broken. The righteous wind blew as strong as I'd ever felt it, piercing our skin and permeating our souls with the death and fury that I knew it held. I held my last breath with as much dignity and pride as I could muster, knowing that I had stopped her... I had ended her terrible reign. The metal and fire that surrounded us gave way to the the beauty and clarity of the righteous wind.
|
[ WP ] You are a famous boxer , fighting in the biggest match of your life , the world is watching . After what seems to be a guaranteed loss , you suffer a sudden heart attack . Turns out more than just the world is watching , God 's got his own bets on you , and thought you could use a pep talk .
|
Kellen had been weak only once before - when he was seven years old and his father had returned from nothing, nowhere, no how. The old man in the scuffed leather jacket was there in the house, on the couch, cigarette at his lips when Kellen had come home from school, shepherding his younger brother and sister like a mother duck.
*Sat there like he owned the place* thought Kellen, half-dreaming, slick with sweat, numb and tired as Dom was screaming something - something probably important - in his ear.
*Like he owned the damn place. *
Kellen had n't recognized him at first. It'd been... how many? Four years? It was n't the face he remembered, but the laugh - that wet, hissing cackle that always went on just a second too long. A laugh that never failed to send the dog off running.
`` What do you want?'' said Kellen after pushing his little brother and sister into the bedroom and closing the door. `` What are you doing here?''
`` None of your business,'' said his father, leaning back in the couch, openly appraising his eldest son and making no bones about his distaste with what he saw. `` Where's your mother?''
`` None of *your* business,'' said Kellen, so mad and scared his voice broke. `` Get out of here.''
`` You do n't tell me what to do,'' said the old man. `` Boys do n't tell men what to do.''
`` *Get out! *'' Kellen screamed. He felt dizzy with panic and rage. Even as the words were coming out he knew nothing good could come of them.
And nothing did. Or maybe something...
He had n't gone to the hospital that day, even though he should have. He knew his mother could n't afford it, so he cleaned himself as best he could and went to bed and hoped he'd wake up the next day. At least the sight of his ruined face had been enough to scare his father away. As a grown up, Kellen looked back at that day and realized his father was probably just on the one side of jail. Beating his son half to death was enough to spook the old man back into hiding.
So that was good. And the weakness was good, too, in it's own way. Because when Kellen did wake up the next morning he swore he'd never let himself feel that way again. He'd never have to rely on empty threats. He'd make his threats real.
Years later - a few million dollars later - a few kids of his own later - a new lifetime of organized violence later - and here he was again. *Weak*. Slow. Pathetic. A ruined face. A fear he may not wake up tomorrow.
`` Keep your fucking hands up!'' screamed Dom. Eddie was working quickly on the bloody, weeping bulb of flesh that was growing like a wad of radioactive cancer just under Kellen's left eye. `` You're not Ali and he's not wearin' himself out punching you in the goddamn head!''
Kellen nodded, mostly on instinct, hearing little to nothing of what anyone said. *Weak. *
The bell rang. Kellen lurched forward off his stool. *How many rounds to go? * he wondered. Was it almost over? Had it only just begun?
Lomas charged. He looked nearly untouched. Pristine, except for his white trunks, smeared as they were with Kellen's blood. He came ahead with a straight jab. Kellen deflected it with his right hand. But that was just the bait and Kellen did nothing about the right hook that chased it, except catch it on the chin and not fall down.
The shots came in, silky and quiet, glancing off Kellen's arms and abdomen and face.
*Weak. *
*That's fine*, thought Kellen, falling back into the ropes and grabbing Lomas around the shoulders. *This is what I'm here for. This is what I'm good for. Flesh to give and flesh to take. *
He'd half died to protect his brother and sister and mother. And here was the other half. The borrowed half. He should have known he could n't keep it forever.
Something - an uppercut, maybe - came in too hard to ignore. Kellen felt himself falling into a pitch black room. Everything was cold and he felt strangely naked in his trunks and gloves.
It did n't occur to him that it might be death. He just knew it was n't sleep.
He found the floor of the blackness and lay there. It was quiet. He'd almost forgotten how loud the world was. It was peaceful in a way Kellen was n't sure he'd ever experienced before. Had he ever really been somewhere quiet before?
There was a voice in the darkness. *Right, * thought Kellen. *I'm a fighter. And someone's always watching. They're always watching... waiting for you to fall... and then they're counting you down. Why do they always give you so little time to get back up? *
`` Because you do n't need it,'' said the voice.
*Ha! * Kellen turned his head but there was nothing to see. *That's something Dom'd say.'Real fighters get back up.'*
`` It's true,'' said the voice. `` Fighters get back up. And you're a fighter. But that does n't mean you have to be this.''
*A boxer? That's the* only *thing I know I am. * *That's how I fight. That's how I stay strong. That's how I protect and care for my family. I do n't have anything else. *
`` You have so much else.'' Kellen thought maybe he could see a figure there in the darkness. A faint outline of a man or a woman or something, hovering just out of reach. `` You were never weak, Kellen. And you are n't weak now. Men lose. Our bodies fail us. We are born frail and die frail. But none of that is weakness. And you have always been strong - especially when you believed you were not.''
Kellen was not sure if he was crying. He felt too distant from his own body to know these things. But he thought he might be. *He only left because he was afraid he'd killed me. I was n't strong enough to scare him off. I was n't strong enough to defend my family. I just lay there and took it. And there was nothing I could do. *
The outlined form seemed to glow, just barely. `` There was nothing you could do and you still did something,'' said the voice. `` Strength now is being unafraid to recognize who you are and what you want.''
There was a countdown somewhere in the darkness. Kellen could hear it coming from somewhere in the distance.
*Three*
The darkness faded. The quiet faded.
The lights went up. The world was filled with wild, senseless sound. And inside that sound there was...
*Four*
Kellen saw Dom and Eddie not so far away, screaming and slapping the canvas. Raising their hands. Motioning *Up! Up! *
*Five*
Kellen pulled his arms to his chest and slid to his knees.
*Six*
He was in a ball. Just like that night. Like a baby. *Weak. * *Helpless. *
*Seven*
His brother and sister were crying that night. Crying over his cuts and bruises. His pain was their pain. But no one had touched them. No one had hit them. Or kicked them. Or whipped them. They'd been safe. He'd kept them safe.
*Eight*
Malena wanted him to quit boxing. George and Lucy were too young to know much about it, but Malena wanted him to be healthy enough to raise them. Healthy enough to see them through school, marriage, and life. Kellen wanted that, too.
*Nine*
Kellen pulled himself to his knees. He could see Dom and Eddie frantic - imploring him to his feet. He was the champ. He'd get the benefit of the doubt. The fight would go on. The fight would go on.
*Ten*
Kellen bowed his head and kissed the canvas.
He'd been so lucky after all.
|
[ WP ] A man dies and goes to heaven . But instead of just humans living there , aliens from even corner of the universe inhabit it side by side with humans .
|
And so he died. A ripe old age, fulfilled. The man lived a great life, however, he had no family and there was none to mourn him. He preferred it that way. He didn β t like having people controlling him, feelings remnant from his childhood. He absolutely abhorred his parents and parenthood in general. However, he had many friends and was beloved by many. The man worked hard and gave much to others. His only motto in life was to be his own person and to never have to depend on others. He despised being controlled by others and lived his life very conservatively. He did not like new things because he was not comfortable outside of his small comfort zone. His childhood had been a great disappointment to many because he did not learn so quickly. On his deathbed, right before the moment his heart stopped beating, his life flashed before him. At first, his infancy and childhood flashed; a giant mass of depression, sorrow, and neediness. His later life then revealed itself, he became a store owner and manager, living his life with newfound joy. He saw himself giving to others and donating his time teaching and helping out his community. He realized the thing he enjoyed most was giving knowledge to others. The thing he liked least was not knowing anything and having to be given knowledge to know how to do things. Finally, his heart stops and his life fades away.
A man gets up onto his feet and looks to his surroundings. His chest felt light, his hands felt numb. He looks around. A single towering gate stands before him. The gate was so tall, it seemed to fade away into the heavens. However, something was amiss. The man jerks his head around. β It β sβ¦ completely empty. β Something else was amiss. He noticed something was amiss from his face.
β My glasses! β The man exclaims while realizing he has perfect vision without the need of his glasses. For the first time, he realizes he isn β t standing on the floor. He is standing on clouds. He started feeling lightheaded again and a single voice booms out from the skies. Waitβ¦ skies? Isn β t the man in the skies in the first place?
The loud voice booms once again. β Welcome to my Kingdom. You have passed the stage of infancy. It is time for you to live and grow as a child, once again. β As the voice fades away, the giant gate opens wide. Nothing can be seen through the gate. It seemed to veer off into the distance.
Confused and hesitant, the man walks through the gate. The moment he walked through the gate, the man started to feel his body getting heavier and heavier. He closes his eyes. The air itself seemed to crush him. He opens his eyes. The man realizes he is now falling⦠falling. A shimmering flashing light blinds him.
He wakes up, confused. An ancient but wise looking man stands before him. Welcome to Eternity, young born-again. I am your forerunner and I will actualize you. The man is confused by the forerunner β s use of the word actualize. The forerunner turns around and turns on a TV. Still in a daze, the man walks out of the house and into an entire new world. The first thing that he realized, the thing that immediately shocked him was that he was the only human there. Everythingβ¦ everything was so alien to him, including the aliens that populated the lanes.
The forerunner β s voice behind him pipes up: β Hey! I didn β t give you permission to leave! Come back here! I need to provision you! β
The man, confused, turns around. He is now realizing that this β forerunner β is much more analogous to a parent. A deep, deep horror struck his chest. He has just been born in a new world he didn β t understand and has to live childhood all over againβ¦
|
[ WP ] The year is 2040 , and you are the last smoker alive . The `` Quit Smoking '' ads get personal .
|
'You must not smoke!' - why do I think I should?
Is not tobaccic abstinence for the common good?
Is this not widely proven, by studies deep and loud?
Were I to renounce nicotine, should I not then be proud?
And yet, deep within me, my heart starts to rebel
I care not for the health risks, or that sweet-sour smell
I care not for the harm that's said awaits each little child
Who breathes in my tobacco smoke, as I walk, cursed, reviled
This is a simple matter, one red in tooth and claw
Of course I want longevity; but I want freedom more.
Your duty is to teach me? So, you have taught me; fine
But you do not command me: the choice in this is mine.
You care not for the common good, nor what is good for me
You care about your power - that is quite plain to see
You care about society according to your plan
But you do not command me: for I am a free man.
|
[ WP ] A mad god and a simple farmer sit down for dinner .
|
Gerald was never one to turn away a hungry stranger, but this one was different. He stood about eight feet tall, and had an anger burning in his eyes that scared the old farmer, but tradition was tradition, and his first words had been `` Do you have anything to eat?''
Gerald had lived on the farm his whole life. He had learned from his father the way of the land, when to plant, when to harvest, what to look for in the crops. He knew his animals by name, he had delivered every sheep in the field himself, helped by his lovely wife Rose. She was the best thing that had ever happened in his life, the most beautiful girl in the Northern kingdoms. Their children had been a blessing too, and Gerald had planned to have them continue the farm; but it was not to be.
Ryan had died in the war, his letters home stopping one day, until one came from the crown, thanking his parents for his service. Evelyn had moved on with her life, moving to the city, slowly losing contact. The other children had done the same, slowly moving off, working as craftsmen and whores. He would always love them, but would never watch them walk down the lane again, gathering around the table to laugh and talk about their days.
`` Well?'' The man growled. His coal black hair was pulled back with a band of leather, falling to his shoulders. He was wearing black clothes as well, with thin lines of red that seemed to writhe across the leather.
Gerald wanted to tell him that there was nothing for him here, but the potatoes were boiling away on the stove, there was cheese in the cupboard and the bread from yesterday was still good. Besides, what would Rose say if he turned away a hungry traveler?
He opened the door all the way and the hulking stranger pushed through ducking his head to fit under the low ceiling, pulling out a chair from the table he sat down, the chair audibly creaking. Gerald wondered if it would even hold him, but it held, and the stranger demanded bread and beer in a loud voice.
Gerald spooned up a bowl of the soup for them both, mugs of beer he brewed himself, pulling the loaf of bread and cheese out and placing them on the table.
`` Can I get your name stranger?''
`` Rathgor Ta'Kel, The Wrath of the Stars!!''
This was something that Gerald had never really expected to hear from a passer-by, but he did stand taller than even the freak at the fair that had passed by years ago.
`` Nice to Meet'cha I suppose, names Gerald, what brings out to these remote parts?''
The man paused. Struggling to find a good answer for the question. After a moment, he took a deep gulp of his beer draining it. He held the mug out to Gerald who promptly filled it.
`` Must be hard being lost like that. Why do n't you stay with me here for a while?''
Rathgor had slowly opened up to Gerald over the course of the night. After enough alcohol to knock out anyone Gerald knew he started talking about fight that raged in the heavens. The battles of titans and gods. How he was cast down to earth after a failed attack. He was just trying to win the war once and for all, but in a failed assault his enemies seemed to have banished him for good.
After enough drinks to kill a large cow he started talking about the foolishness of the fights he had been in. Nothing would change. The battles resulted in nothing. Nothing changed as long as he had been fighting.
Rathgor was a simple god of the land. He had a farm, his own place in the land. He had been taught the way to care for it himself. He knew the names of his animals. He had delivered every sheep in the pasture, exactly how Gerald had taught him. He kept them safe, ripping apart bears with his hands. It was a lonely existence, but one that he appreciated, the stars looked different from under the tree where Gerald and Rose were buried. He had found out how to return to the sky, but he was n't sure what would happen to the sheep if he just left.
Besides, the lovely girl with green eyes that worked at the bar in town seemed to seek him out whenever he came by selling his wares. He sighed, sipped his beer and decided to spend some time at the bar next time he needed to buy flour.
|
[ WP ] After a million prayers have gone unanswered A single voice was heard , It said `` Stop Asking '' .
|
The voice came with a mischievous cackle. `` Stop asking,'' it said in a whisper that resonated through every mind across the desperate world. Startled, farmers dropped their scythes; pens froze between priests' fingers; tools loosed from the hands of craftsmen.
`` Have n't you figured it out yet?'' the voice continued, chuckling between words. `` Is the riddle of silence so very difficult to solve?''
On a remote island, in an ancient temple predating any written record, one robed figure sighed and buried his face in his hands.
`` This one knows!'' The voice laughed, and the man sensed its incorporeal finger pointing. `` This one, this most *devoted* of you, has suspected! The irony is delicious.''
The man lifted his head and grabbed a quill and paper. He hesitated, blinking in thought, then began scribbling on the parchment. The pen scratched furtively while yet more laughter echoed in the air.
`` What is this?'' it goaded. `` A message? A note?''
The man paused. `` A lament,'' he mumbled.
`` Oh, this is precious,'' the voice said. `` The High Priest writing a lament for his lost god?''
A shudder ran through the priest's body. `` It's true then,'' he croaked with a heavy breath.
`` Oh, certainly,'' the voice answered. `` But I want to hear you say it. Go on. Ask me.''
The man grimaced and set his pen down. `` Is it true,'' he began quietly, `` that our creator has... perished? Were the Cultists right after all? Was he merely another mortal being, ascended into his power? And has he indeed wasted away from his... obsession with us?''
Now the laughter roared. `` He said it. The fool said it!'' It was a while until the mirth had subsided. `` Yes! Your petty god is dead! He obsessed over his creation, neglected himself, and now he has rotten to naught! And here you are, his devoted High Priest, lost in the silence your entire life. You knew. What will you do now?''
While the voice was pontificating, the priest had finished writing. The note lay complete and he set it on his desk, rising from his seat. Fidgeting, he looked up and raised his voice. `` I think you know well what I intend to do, sir.''
`` Oh, but I want to *hear* you say it,'' the voice countered playfully.
The man sighed once more. `` I am going to surrender myself to the same void that consumed my lord,'' he murmured. `` If you will excuse me, there is a noose awaiting me.''
|
[ WP ] You are a lucid dreamer and spend your dreams as a character in your favourite narratives . As your alarm echos in your dream , you realise , you can not wake up .
|
`` Yesterday, I was a pirate'' I claimed, smiling and remembering all those days in Tortuga Island, ready in the morning to captain the best pirate vessel anyone had seen, engaging in long and deadly battles against treasure-filled merchant ships and returning feeling drunk with glory and power, to get proper drunk with rum and having my way with the tavern's whores.
`` The day before that I was a space werewolf'' I continued. Remembered fighting my way in some floating gas mining platforms, above the big red eye of Jupiter, looking for any of its moons to go full and make me transform. Leading the attack on astronauts from Earth and other species.
Of course, those details are not important to tell anyone. Inside dreams, I could go for days, months or years. Always enjoyed all this fantasy world my mind could create and since I was able to interact with it, I had the most amazing nights. Nevertheless, I rarely speak about the dreams when I'm inside *another* dream. Is just that I enjoy them so much, is hard to speak to anyone about it without alienating them. My real life friends already see me as a weirdo: I tend to stay at home, getting to bed early, eager to start my next adventure but it is all worth it. Now I'm in St. Louis during the prohibition era, fun times if you want to be a gangster and I have been a gangster for about... two months, or maybe about 6 hours of real time; it's hard to measure dream-time from real life time.
However, I'm losing focus here and I could see Johnny `` Eight Fingers'' giving me a strange look. `` You are making weird shit up. Pirates and werewolves? You have been *out of the roof*!, eh? Only a *patsy* drinks on the job, especially this one.'' he said as he helped me lift a barrel full of *illegal* alcohol inside a truck.
`` Do n't you ever have any dreams you swore they were true? Surely you must have-'' *BANG! BANG! BANG! * Suddenly, several shots were heard and Johnny dropped to the ground. The rival gangsters were firing at us! `` Damn it! They shot me!'' he shouted while shooting back with his pistol. I got a machine gun and started firing back `` Hey Johnny! Let's kill these sonofabitches!''
But my machine gun got stuck, *weird*, so I tried to get another one. Usually when in a lucid dream I'm able to control my surroundings to a certain extent, so getting another gun was nothing out of the ordinary to me...... except at this moment where I was not able to materialize anything. `` I'll get the rifle!'' I screamed at Johnny, trying to get the gun from the truck's front seat but instead all I managed to get was a bullet through my tight that dropped me to the floor.
`` We got them, boss!'' Said one of the henchmen. I could hear Johnny cursing as his gun ran out of bullets, I turn my head to see him struggling with his wounds, trying to reload its gun when I saw a couple of feet standing near him.
*BANG! * my friend Johnny was no more.
`` What have we got here?'' Said another gangster, kicking me in the wound. `` Damn it'' I muttered, trying to materialize a crowbar, a pistol or any other thing that could help me. Even reinforcements coming trough the door but I could not alter this dream. `` Is this the *dreamer*? It looks like a *skid rogue* to me.''
*What did he say? *
`` I can assure you, it is not'' said their boss, I guessed. An elegant fellow, handsome and well groomed. Dressed up in a tailored suit, very expensive too. He produced a Colt which was pressed against my head. `` This is the dreamer alright. In another dream, he was a famous pirate. And a medieval knight of sorts in another one. You probably do n't remember of course.''
*How did he know?? Who was this guy? *
`` I do n't think he will wake up from this dream, though. He will die here, alone and confused'' he said with a terrible smile. I must have lost control of the dream and now it is becoming a nightmare, my own mind messing up with me. What time was it? Perhaps I can wake myself up now and try another dream. `` AAAAAAH!'' their boss was pressing the wound and as I tried to punch him, his henchmen grabbed me tight.
*BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP! * Sounded the alarm. I felt instant relief. `` Sorry guys, but this adventure is over.''
But the dream was not over. The henchmen were looking for the source of the noise, which echoed through the warehouse. But their boss did n't move from my side and neither his Colt from my temple. `` Do n't worry Gary. Yes, I know your true name and everything about you. You see, we got tired of *losing* every single adventure you drag us into. But no more. It is our time to shine.''
`` He does n't look good, boss. He might have shat his pants!'' Laughed another one of them. `` He'll look much better in a *wooden kimono*, do n't ya?.''
`` No. I have different plans for him. Take him and have the *croaker* patch him up good. Need him alive, for now.'' Cold sweat on my back, I felt sudden terror as I could not wake up, the alarm still echoing through the air and was dragged to their car. I was trapped inside this dream, no...... this nightmare.
|
[ WP ] After 100 years of US colonisation , you - a Martian-born human lead an army about to declare independence from the United States .
|
The blue was supposed to evoke a feeling of comfort, but it only ever made Ranig sleepy. Everything was blue in the Capital Room. The seats, the walls, the ceiling, shades of a sky that was non-existent on Mars.
On Mars, it was red, the color of passion and emotion. Red had the ability to invigorate it β s citizens as much as it instilled fear on anyone not native.
β What do you think? β A man named Squealor asked. Ranig looked up from his daze to take in the stocky man. He constantly emitted the stench of sweat, as if he was nervous about every move he made. A bit unusual considering how cold they kept places like this. Ranig was always on the verge of shivering, while never quite getting there. He was left in a place of awareness and no reaction.
β Ranig? β Squealor asked again, pushing the screen closer to Ranig β s face, overwhelming his senses. He was forced to review the footage from 7 different angles. The boy β s face in the video seemed to implode a bit before it exploded out. β This is airing on every outlet. This is it. This is the final straw. This is our Ferdinand moment. β
He was right about that. The outrage from this event would be the last straw in a century β s worth of abuse. Why this one over everything else though? Surely there had been countless events of Earthers overstepping themselves. It was well known how unfairly natives were treated, how lopsided the rules were.
But this video was different. Perhaps it was the boy β s face right before, perhaps it was laugh that could be heard right after. This was a watershed moment, and Ranig had to be the one to decide which direction it would go in.
β Well? β Squealor β s smell was palpable now. He was dripping from his balding head to his stained shirt. His eyes were red like the view from the window. He had not slept in days, no one had.
β Set up the feed. β Ranig said with a calm demeanor that was a sharp contrast from how he felt inside. Ranig watched as Squealor darted his eyes left and right within his lens, sending signals through the mainframe. The lights dimmed, and he knew the moment was nearing.
Ranig hated speaking to the public, especially in tense times like these. He did not even have time to draft a proper speech, but no matter. This was the time to take action, this was the time to rile people up, this was the time to declare. It would be a bloody mess, he knew, but there was no stopping it. Now or never.
As the camera β s turned on, Ranig noticed the red lights blotting out the blue walls behind. His drowsiness gave way to adrenaline. 30 million eyes watching one. The silence in that first moment was overwhelming, and Ranig could almost taste it. He could almost grasp it in his hands, holding it like a newborn with no concept of the future.
The cameras were airing though. It was time. Ranig looked into the light, the red light, and made his speech to the world.
β My fellow Martians, today will forever be known as the day in which we took our Independence from Earthβ¦ β
|
[ WP ] You are the last person to die as a result of war . What is your story ?
|
The last of the food was long gone.
The water poisoned, but he drank anyway. Starving off death for a few hours more.
He wandered the decaying city, beneath the scared sky.
Ash still rained lightly from black clouds that had enveloped the world, the air smelt sick, like burnt meat.
Beneath the layer of ash, he could make out the shapes of corpses laying about the streets. blistered and charred, the lucky ones died in the initial blasts, The unlucky survivors we're left to walk the grey-scale world.
There was no more color, no more life, no more sun.
He knew not of the reasons behind humanity's extinction, but he knew this was the end.
He draws a breath, His lungs are weak and caked with poisonous ash. He coughs, Blood splatters the ground.
He falls to his knees, wheezing breaths through his blood soaked lungs.
How could humanity come to this? We were so proud, so much potential.
He collapses.
So dies the last person as a result of war, the last human being on earth.
|
[ WP ] Do your best to describe a color .
|
Tonight is the night.
Tonight the party is finally happening.
I was ready; whiskey in my backpack, driving to the party with my best friend Sean.
We got there: 10:00 p.m., everyone was already there, the coolest kids at school already drunk. Had to catch up.
The music was piercing. The sound swept over me, daunting in its volume, invading any conversation the partygoers attempted to have. We drank. Trying to talk to everyone and I felt like a new person. No longer would we be made fun of. No longer would we be ignored.
There were girls; drugs, alcohol and fights. I liked this reality. Separate from my life of video games and anime. My Mom, back home, had no idea.
`` I love you.'' She said, as I scrambled out of the house before driving to Sean's.
The door slammed shut. I did n't say I love you back. No time.
1:00 a.m.
`` Dude, let's go. I'm pretty tired and wasted. You down?'' I asked Sean, who was drunkly staring at his phone, not really doing anything on it.
`` Yeah. Fuck it, lets drive home. You good to drive?'' He asked, slurring most of his words.
`` Uhh, yeah. I can drive. For sure, yeah.'' I was unsure if I actually could, but he definitely could n't so I had to.
We left.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
I am Death's blanket. The last thing you will experience. I am void of everything, complete and total darkness. When you die, I will be with you forever. You will not notice me, or even care that I am there, but there I will be. I am Black.
As you drunkenly drive home from the party, I am waiting. Patiently waiting to become your veil. I yearn for your body to run cold, for the light to turn off inside off you.
I am waiting.
Waiting.
I will embrace you; young man, so that when you meet your end, you will never be alone. There is no light at the end, but I will be there forever, as your friend. So come. Come to me. Let me cover you, latching onto for eternity; never coming off.
|
[ WP ] The earth is flat . Life and civilization is surrounded by an endless desert . Far in the distance , thousands of kilometers away , an obelisk can be seen with the naked eye . Since the dawn of man we have tried to reach it . You are the last survivor of your party when you reach it .
|
Day 162, Midday:
It's just me now.
We started off as a group of 20 young, motivated, excited hikers. However, those of us who did n't turn back in the first few days of the journey changed. Youthful joviality became irritability. Excitement because disinterest. Eagerness became pessimism. Perhaps it was a loss of interest in the journey, perhaps they missed their everyday life back at home, perhaps they were frazzled by the sweltering heat of the desert - but they all changed. They became a burden to me, a waste of precious, precious resources. I'm not saying I was happy when they dropped dead, but I did n't do more than blink an eye when the group dwindled down from 20 to 1. Because I... I did n't change.
It's day 162 and I'm still as excited as I was when I first left home. I still walked with a pep in my step, or at least a bit of pep. Sure, I'm not as strong as I was when I first embarked; I'm much skinnier, my knees tell me to stop, I'm malnourished. Sometimes I just fall due to exhaustion. But my spirit is still completely in it. I'm going to reach the obelisk.
=============================================
Day 168, Morning:
The obelisk is getting bigger. At least, I think it is. Maybe I'm going crazy. I'm low on food, dehydrated, I have n't spoken to another human in, what, 4, 5 days? I ca n't even remember when Harold died. I feel my body getting weaker minute by minute. But as the obelisk appears bigger, my motivation grows. I'm going to reach the obelisk.
=============================================
Day 168, Evening:
The obelisk is definitely getting bigger. A couple more days and I'll be there - no doubt. I got this. I'm going to reach the obelisk.
=============================================
Day 173, Evening:
I'm down to one last jug of water. I'm eating anything I can find now - scorpions, cacti, whatever I can salvage off of the bodies of men who have dropped before me. I've fallen to my hands and knees. I never thought I would be reduced to crawling. The obelisk appears larger and larger with every inch I move, but my spirit is dying. I miss the crew. I miss my home. I miss my family, my friends, my dog, I even miss my old job. I ca n't turn back now.
It's just me now.
I'm not going to reach the obelisk.
=============================================
Day 174, Midday:
It's much cooler today... maybe... maybe I can continue on. The obelisk looks even bigger. Maybe I'll reach the obelisk.
=============================================
Day 174, Evening:
I ca n't believe it. Here it is.
The sand has turned to a polished, black stone. Intricate pathways lead me to a massive white obelisk that towered over me. Ancient messages are scribed on the side of the obelisk; I can only imagine what they mean. I start to examine them, only to rea-
Oh God, a fountain! I do n't even care that the liquid coming out is a little bit brown, I need something.
It may taste like fake chocolate, but I'm just going to drink as much as I can. It would n't matter if this was the dirtiest water I've ever seen - anything would be refreshing about now.
I want to go over and look at the obelisk and admire its beauty, but I'm about to faint from exhaustion... I've reached the obelisk.
=============================================
Day 175, Morning:
I could n't sleep. I'm too excited. I'm the first one ever to make it here. I need to decode those messages. I could be humanity's last hope, a Savior, a God. All of the world's secrets could be contained on that obelisk.
Finally, something I recognize. Amidst the strands of hieroglyphs is a few strings of numbers. It's my only lead right now, let's see where it goes.
2 5 19 21 18 5 20 15 4 18 9 14 11 25 15 21 18 15 22 1 12 20 9 14 5
I take another sip from the fountain and get to work.
=============================================
Day 175, Midday:
I do n't know how I missed this before... each number corresponds to a letter.
2... B. 5... E. The first word is Be!
S... U... R... E... T... O... Be sure to what?
I rush through the remaining letters so quickly I do n't even comprehend what I've written. I can feel my heartbeat. My palms are sweaty. I get to see something no one else has ever read before. The ancient message of my ancestors is in my hands. I have to share this with the world. The message is
BESURETODRINKYOUROVALTINE
Son of a bitch.
|
[ OT ] Middles are hard ( please send help )
|
You can look at the middle of books you know to get a sense of what authors sought to accomplish when they went into a similar predicament. Some *extra* popular examples I pulled from my shelf are the Philosopher's Stone, where Snape is challenging Harry on potion ingredients that are easy to Hermione, but beyond Harry's understanding. Chamber of Secrets, the rogue bludger incident where Harry has his arm broken, and Lockhart screws it up even worse. These are dead center in each of the books, and you probably were thinking of a much larger middle when you asked your question.
Both these examples though have a couple things in common;
- The main character is put in a state of conflict that is n't necessitated by the primary plot of the story, but provides him and the reader plot-driving insight. Harry prejudices Snape as *his* antagonist afterwards mainly because of this scene ( which makes Quirrell's deception surprising towards the end ), and the bone treatment cements Harry's impression of Lockhart as being uselessness, which foils everyone else's impression of Lockhart as a wizarding hero.
- Both centers of the stories flesh out more about the world through the main character's interactions with *other characters* in these states of conflict. Snape takes advange of Harry's inexperience in the new world to embarass him ( and tells us about potions ), and Lockhart taking advantage of Harry's vulnerability to show off ( and shows us more about medical treatment at Hogwarts ).
This can be substantially different depending on the books you read regularly, but you can either template what is accomplished by other authors in their middles to flesh out the main character/side characters/the world/etc., or build scenes that appear to naturally place the character in a setting/plot point that establishes your main plot point, or introduces it.
I have yet to get to this point in any story actually, so thank you for prompting me to think about it. I hope this helps!
|
[ WP ] Music has been weaponized and is now the main means of war . It 's your first day on the front lines .
|
It has been 3 years since World War III started, and it does n't show signs of stopping. It all started when the ISIS and North Korea signed a non-aggression pact, which soon led to an alliance. The ISIS declared war on the US, and North Korea stuck with them. A few days after, terrorist attacks started popping up all across the country. No one actually thought they'd do it, we assumed it was an empty threat.
Boy, were we wrong.
I lost my wife to the attack on the Willis Tower in Chicago. No one thought that they would be capable of this kind of destruction, and they would n't be under normal circumstances. But these were by no means normal circumstances. Their weapon of choice was sound. Music, specifically. They focused it like a laser, and everything in its was way thrown out of it. No one has any idea where they got these instruments of destruction. A while after the attack, the U.S. acquired the technology, and put it to good use to match our enemies. This weapon far outmatched our conventional guns of the time, these waves traveled at the speed of sound no matter the circumstances. But the speed of sound is n't anywhere close to The Speed of Love. I Rushed to the recruiting station, and vowed to avenge my wife's death.
By that point, Sound Rifles were handed to every soldier. One had several methods of configuring their rifle once they got it. You could sync it up to your iTunes library and put it on shuffle, or stick with the default library, made to be the most ear-piercing, insanity-inducing songs ever created. The playlist kicked off with Gangnam Style and Baby, and had highlights like Darude - Sandstorm and Friday. I personally wanted to kill people with kindness, so to speak, and set mine to Tom Sawyer by Rush. That kick at the beginning gave it lots of instant power. As I was hooking it up to my phone, I thought, `` So this is what modern day warriors look like.''
I got to go home and spend a week with my children before we left, and we sat on the couch watching Disney movies, and I stayed with them as long as I could before having to drive to the military base 3 hours away from my house. I was listening to my playlist one last time before it was used to kill anyone, and sat in silence when it ended. As I was driving, looking at the sunset in front of the car, I thought, `` War truly is Hell, and this is the highway to it.''
Today was the day. All of my training would lead up to this day. The first day on the job. We were carried over the battlefield in a Zeppelin, reinforced with lead to prevent tears. We could n't use planes or helicopters because the sound waves would disrupt the propellers. Our zeppelin was powered by sound, with a large sound gun situated on the back end. I was sitting in the back with all of the people in my Subdivision. Our captain announced that the doors would be opening soon, and he would be starting the Final Countdown. I was n't really listening. I was thinking about my kids back home, my first Rush concert, my wife...
Suddenly, I heard numbers. I realized the captain was counting down, and turned the safety off on my rifle. I prepared my parachute, and got ready to jump out of the doors. The Eye of the Tiger was playing in my head as a sequence of numbers came to me from miles away,
`` 10...'' I felt a couple of Tears slide down my cheek, and quickly wiped them off. Could n't go soft now, right before battle.
`` 9...'' I felt a Secret Touch in my shoulder. Jeff, one of my best friends in the division, was looking at me. He looked more than a little scared.
`` 8...'' I grabbed his hand and squeezed reassuringly it for a second, before turning back to the front.
`` 7...'' And Seven Is the amount of Rush concerts I had been to. I wonder if I'd ever be able to see another one if I made it out alive.
`` 6...'' I realized I was running out of puns, and quickly regained my composure. I became fully conscious of the situation I was in. I remembered that I was about to jump out of a blimp, and shoot people with sound. I felt a huge Rush of nervousness.
`` 5...'' I remembered my wife, and our first Rush concert. We watched Alex Lifeson pour his heart into La Villa Strangiato, also on my playlist.
`` 4...'' I realized that I might not be able to listen to Rush after this, knowing that I killed people with their music.
`` 3...'' The engine for the door shuddered on, and the door began to move. I looked to my friends all around me, and wanted to Wish Them Well, but did n't want to break their concentration.
`` 2...'' I looked for Available Light seeping through the gateway to Hell, and shifted my weight from foot to foot.
`` 1...'' No light came through, because we were the stealth division. We only Fly By Night to get in unnoticed. The door opened way faster that it was opening a second ago because I did n't realize how little time I had left.
`` GO GO GO'' The captain shouted at us. I saw my friends jump out of the door that was now completely open, and rattling the ship a little because of the high speed at which it opened. I came to the front, and time slowed as I reached the edge of the platform. I looked at the floor of the blimp, and at the ground far below, and at the clouds far above. I looked at the moon, in all its glory, and I looked at the backs of my falling companions. And then I jumped.
I felt the air Rush past my face, and reached for my parachute string. I yanked on it, and it opened. I glided down silently, and landed silently as well. We had landed in Pyongyang, with a Mission to get to the capitol and eliminate Kim Jong, the Un and only. Me and my fellow Working Men snuck up to a forgotten door around the back, which was fairly easy due to the lack of light in the city. Jeff picked the lock, and silently opened the door. We all tiptoed in, no longer humming our favorite songs. Now you're probably thinking, `` It's their first day on the job and they're sneaking into the capital of the enemy? What a HUGE plot hole!'' Well, I guess you forgot that this is the future, and virtual reality training was used. Informants informed us of the hidden door, and the lock was picked with a song. I ca n't say which, because the song could provoke The Enemy Within all of us. This song could pick any lock. We entered sneakily, and tiptoed to the main hall. I was particularly surprised at the Grand Designs adorning every wall. `` Maybe if they used some of The Big Money to feed their people,'' I thought, `` they would n't need to stoop to the level of the ISIS.'' Suddenly, we all stopped. The captain, who was at the front of the squad, used one of the Signals to tell us he had heard something. We listened closer, and could hear it as well.
Snoring.
We slowly made our way closer to the source of the sound, until we came to a locked door. The sound was almost as loud as our guns at this point. We looked to Jeff, and he looked to the lock. If you have n't guessed by now, Jeff is our lock picker. He tried to open the door, but it was too complicated for even his skill. Roger, a 6'9'' brute of a man, said `` I've had enough of this shit, let's kill the fucker.'' And he stood up and kicked the door down. And the snoring continued. And all was still well. No one could hear even the sound of Hulk kicking down a reinforced door over the mostrous snoring of...
Kim Jong Un.
He was there, sleeping. The source of all these troubles. The leader of the country supplying the people who killed my wife with food and ammunition. Roger began marching up to the bed, before I saw a little reflection.
`` Wait!'' I exclaimed.
Roger stopped dead in his tracks.
`` Do n't. Move.'' I said.
I had managed to see tripwires reflecting off of the Earthshine. I looked around, and there were everywhere. Different Strings littered the floor. Being quiet was n't an issue, so I blasted my sound gun at the floor on low. I could see the wires vibrating all across the room. Roger could see them now, and got closer to the bed. A look of surprise, and then amusement spread across his face. It was not Kin Jong Un, but a woman in his bed with him snoring at an incredible volume. This would make it even easier. No one would notice the absence of snoring now. Roger put his gun up to the skull of this overweight dictator, and pulled the trigger. A sound erupted from that gun the likes of which I had never hear before. I had failed to notice previously that Roger had cranked the sound up all the way on his gun, and set it to the bane of every sane human's existence. I could see the air rippling around the wave of sound that carried a message. Roger, just before being annihilated by his own choice of song, screamed at the top of his lungs,
`` SEE HOW YOU LIKE THIS SHIT!''
And as the wave reached my ears, I flew backwards. The last words I heard before I joined my wife brought joy to my ears, knowing that the worst person in the world was also experiencing my pain,
`` Hey, I just met you,
And this is crazy,
But here's my number,
So call me maybe...''
With the collapse of North Korea, the ISIS soon was extinguished. It was the year 2112 when the last rebel force was wiped off the face of the Earth. The civilized countries of the world agreed to ban all weapons of sound, and our squad was remembered as the group who gave their lives to end the deadliest conflict in the history of our planet.
|
[ WP ] A horrified non-gamer overhears a conversation between gamers , misunderstands their references to violent killings , and mistakes them as violent psychopaths
|
True story:
Possibly NSFW
DnD Star Wars
DM: so the Gen'Dai, Wookie, and With are behind the dragon while the ex-Sith, Jedi, and two droids are in front.
Gen'Dai: Can I jump and blast its mouth?
DM: sorry too far
Gen'Dai:....can I shove a themal detonator into is anus?
DM: Well, actually, yes you can! ( Bonus to attack roll )
Gen'Dai: ( Crit-sucess! )
DM: so uhm. You blew it a new one. It now has a vulnerable spot.
Sith: I jump and impale my sword in the new wound.
Wookie: Climbs up the back up the dragon, claws extended lacerating its back before dropping a Time Bomb into its mouth and jumping off.
Ex-Sith: Jumps and punches Vibro-glove into the new hole. Turns on overdrive.
So yeah. True story. It got worse, but we would n't done all of that if the Gen'Dai had been able to jump to dragons mouth!! Haha
|
[ WP ] `` The enemy of my enemy , is my friend ''
|
`` Well now, that statement hardly stands to reason'' my old friend said, once again in his well-worn armchair with a newspaper in his lap.
We'd have these sorts of discussions every morning, waxing on some old proverb over our morning cups at the nursing home. My companion never failed to give some wry form of wisdom behind the drooping pages of the morning news.
`` And how do you figure that?'' I inquired, knowing the response would entertain.
`` Well,'' he said with a sip from his faded'World's Best Dad' mug. `` Let's first assume that what you say is true. That the enemy of your enemy is your friend''.
`` Mm.'' I nodded to press him on.
`` Then what would you call the enemy of the enemy of your enemy?''
I pondered that one for a moment. `` Well,'' I reasoned, `` I supposed then he'd be... Well, my enemy I suppose''.
`` Well if we build from that then, would the enemy of the enemy of your enemy's enemy be your enemy too?'' A knowing smirk had started to faintly grow beneath the old man's white mustache. Apparently I'd led the conversation the way he'd expected.
I took a few moments to make sure I was following. Then after a bit of tracing and retracing my verbal steps I half-confidently said `` Well, no. He'd have to be my enemy.''
`` And what happens when the enemy of the enemy of your enemy gets a few of the wrong people upset? Rubs someone the wrong way and makes an enemy for himself. Now this new man he's bristled wrong is the enemy to the enemy of the enemy of your enemy. What do you say we call this fella, friend or foe?''
It was like playing a game of Simon now, I could hardly recall the back-and-forth of who was what. Momentarily I tried repeating the alliances in my head.
I hate Alice, Bob hates Alice, I like Bob because Bob hates Alice. Charlie hates Bob, I like Bob because Bob hates Alice, so I hate Charlie and Alice but I like Bob. Then Dave comes in, and he hates Charlie. I hate Charlie and Alice and not Bob and if Dave hates Charlie ( who I hate because he hates Bob, who I like because Bob hates Alice ) then I must like Dave.
`` I suppose he'd be my friend.''
`` Now I just can's see that being right'', he said leaning back into his armchair with a creak.
`` And why's that?'' I inquired.
``'Cause you do n't even know that last fella!'' He said with a confident gesture of his mug. `` Never met him before in your life and now you're both gon na go be chums just'cause you all tick people off? Hardly seems like a friendship to me.''
`` Hm'' I mused. `` I had n't considered that''.
`` In my experience'' he said, now draining the last of his coffee with a swig, `` people who go makin' enemies rarely make friends''.
|
[ WP ] You wake up from an 18 year long comatose dream from birth in which you lived out 42 years of an imaginary life . When you are greeted by your family that has been awaiting your recovery desperately , you find yourself surrounded by your greatest enemies .
|
Alexander, my younger brother. He was James Tuco. He bullied me all throughout high school. Gave me relentless beatings and constantly berated me, to the point where it's near-impossible for me to look anyone in the eye.
Derek, my older brother. He was Suarez, the man who shot me in the leg after I refused to give him my wallet. Because of him I had to amputate that leg, effectively destroying my basketball career.
Elizabeth, my girlfriend. She was my ex-wife, Linda. She banged my boss behind my back, who conveniently happens to be my cousin, Sully.
Mabel, my beautiful mother. She was Sarah, who reported to me the police saying that I raped her when I broke up with her.
Gerard, my father. He was the drunk driver who killed my baby girl and got away with 2 years in jail.
They're all staring at me with love in their eyes.
While hatred burns in mine.
|
[ WP ] You do n't understand why you always seem to be at the right place and right time to save someone only for them to forget you soon after . Then one day , a toddler asked you , `` why do you have wings ? ''
|
You did n't mean to punch that mugger in the face. Okay, you did mean to, but he had it coming, all things considered. You gave the guy his wallet back, smiled at him, and walked off.
You went to get something at the nearby Starbucks ( the fifth one on this avenue alone, it seemed ). Upon entering, a little boy stared at you. What caught your eye was that his face was n't full of fear or even detached interest β it was awe, wonder, amazement.
His mom asked him what he was looking at. He replied: `` look, mommy, the man has wings! Big wings! They're see-through, like butterfly wings!''
Eccentric kid, you thought. He walked up to you β the mom was too busy ordering to stop him.
`` I've seen you before,'' he said.
You were still more amused than anything, thinking he just had an active imagination.
`` I had a dream of you!'' He said.
`` Oh, did you?''
`` Yeah! You saved my mommy. There was fire. It was scary.''
You paused. `` Fire?''
`` Yeah! A lot of it. It did n't happen in real life though.''
You were more than a little weirded out.
`` But I think it will.''
His mom called him over, told him not to talk to strangers. You stood there for a full five minutes before the barista brought you out of your trance.
`` Are you okay, sir?''
`` Yeah.''
You ordered a drink, sat, and thought.
|
[ WP ] The reason why Scientology needed to engage in such dubious tactics and amass so much money is for a purpose no one ever realized
|
`` Why the hell would I want to do that?''
I alway hated being bothered by these people. If it was n't one thing or another. Always with their own agenda, usually in emptying my pockets.
`` To help out your fellow man''
`` Bullshit that's what you do,'' I said sipping my tea. `` You're here bothering me in this cafe to make me join a cult and squeeze money out of me.''
`` Ok you're a clever guy, you can see the majority of what we say is a load of made up crap?''
That was an odd line. Why the hell would this guy be criticising his own religion?
`` Yes... but I do n't see how th-''
`` And you, like the vastly growing numbers of our population, do n't actually believe in a divine presence or higher authority but if there was an utterly cost free way of helping out your fellow man you would be more than happy to do it, correct?''
``... yes I suppose so''
`` Then you are perfect for us''
`` But are n't you just a money grabbing cult that believe in ridiculous things like the divinity of pancakes?''
`` No. We're actually doing two things. The first is to do with religion. Whilst we do n't have any problem with other religions as a whole, we recognize there is a problem with extremist views within many religions. Do you agree?''
``... Yes''
`` Yet in our tolerant society we have to be very careful of criticising the extremists without attacking the religion as a whole.''
The waiter arrived at the table and asked if we would like any more tea but we declined.
`` So we satirise it. So to use an entirely hypothetical example. So lets take christianity for example. Moderate christians believe it to be mostly metaphorical. For instance the snake in genesis is supposed to be part of a metaphor or a message. If say a `` christian extremist'' believes that there was actually a physical magical talking snake we just have to claim there was a magical talking snake with laser beams coming out of his head, rocking a mullet.
`` What?''
`` So the idea is the extremist hears what we believe and thinks this is entirely ridiculous, what the fuck is a snake doing with laser beams, snakes do n't even have hair and why is it even talk- oh shit hang on a second.''
This guy was mental. Yet in a weird kind of way it sort of made sense.
`` Secondly we're a public service. Any ordinary people who actually believes this stuff must be either have mental issues or suffer from poor decision making. In that case they are put on a database where one of our trained representatives checks in on them every month to monitor them. We care for the people that ca n't ask or do n't realise they need help. Admittantly we do take some money from them to join however this is dependant on how much they can afford and usually pales in comparison to the actual cost of monitoring them.''
`` That's... interesting.''
`` The other thing is you do n't really have to do anything. Just say you're a scientologist. That is generally the only thing you have to do. Sure it would be great if we could get you to help publicise this once you joined up but that's entirely dependant on you.''
`` Either way I'll give you some time to think things over. Here's my number. We're the religion that is n't a religion and the charity that is n't a charity, Mr Cruise. Start worshipping your pancakes.''
|
[ WP ] You discover that the Universe has cheat codes .
|
The professor sighed. `` I do n't know how I can explain it in a way you can understand.'' He thought for a few moments, then his face brightened. `` Ah, I've got it. You play video games, do n't you?''
`` Yes sir,'' I replied.
`` Then think of it as cheat codes.''
I was still confused. `` Cheat codes? For what?''
`` For the Universe,'' he replied.
`` So, if I type in the right code, then anything could happen?'' I could feel the anticipation mounting within me.
`` Theoretically.''
I sat down at the computer and began typing. `` Would this work?'' I asked.
`` Yes. Press Enter to apply the code. It will be interpreted and sent to the Universal Processing Device.''
I was n't sure what that meant, but I tapped the Enter key anyway. Almost instantaneously, a bright point appeared in front of me. The single energy ball, suspended in space, glowed quite brilliantly. I passed my hand through it, but felt no sensation.
`` The energy is drawn from surrounding molecules, and converted to light,'' the Professor explained. `` Try another code.''
I cleared the previous code ( and the point of light along with it ) and began programming again.
`` No!'' the Professor said. `` With a repeat loop, the program will-''
But it was too late, I had already pressed Enter.
`` No!'' the Professor said. `` With a repeat loop, the program will-''
But it was to late. I had already pressed Enter.
`` No!'' the Professor said. `` With a repeat loop, the program will-''
But it was too late. I had already pressed Enter.
|
[ WP ] Everyone alive is born with a never-ending painful sensation that spans the body , and are only able to rid themselves of it by passing it on to their children
|
They called it the Buzz. It started one day all over the world to everyone. It caused a fair amount of accidents after which people slowly got used to it. Many tried to figure out how it happened or how to stop it, but the first breakthrough came quickly, when two parents lost the Buzz when their child was born. Soon, a veritable baby-boom followed. Even parents who already lost their Buzz had other children. But when the children grew up, it became obvious - only firstborn children had the Buzz.
It became obvious - if the Buzzers did n't have children, then the Buzz would eventually die out. And then, someone had the bright idea - kill the firstborn if a parent has the Buzz.
|
[ WP ] All food is sentient . Some foods are terrified of being eaten , while some accept it as their destiny .
|
Oh I am a lucky one to be nibbled tomorrow unlike that one and that one who are too far in the sack and sprouting green to be eaten now. They will wait like I waited but they will not be eaten like I will be eaten. There are so many fates for me, a destiny that might always ends the same and I hardly need explain that the journey is a dreamy dream.
I could be mashed and dashed, slopped onto a plate, rough and ready to squish between molars.
Or, I could be reserved for more esoteric purposes, the finely pureed way, splayed on a plate, so refreshingly exposed and yet really not much different to a mashing, thrashed about either way, I just become a bit more expensive.
Roast, sent to burn but snatched away at the last, drowning and coating myself in fat and fire as I brown over, all chunks and crunch. Gnashed apart by jaws that bite me when I am too hot; they get their revenge soon enough as I cool down and they can serve me into their bellies.
I will be delicious, or disgusting, or desirable. As long as I am eaten then I will be a happy.
|
[ WP ] The Chosen One of the gods valiantly fights against the Evil One and promptly gets killed . The gods sigh , facepalm , and send you , Chosen One number 4067 , to try next .
|
`` What do you mean I'm number 4067? I thought it was the Chosen *One*?'' Trembles shook my body, making my armor rattle like a baby's toy.
`` That was not intended for your ears, I apologize.'' Halion, my mentor, would n't look me in the eye. While that was not exactly atypical -- being a foot taller than me meant eye contact involved undignified craning -- the way his knuckles whitened around the hilt of his sword did not assure me.
I stopped walking. `` How many chosen ones are there?''
Halion took three steps farther before realizing I had stopped. The dirt on the forest path crunched under his boots as he turned. `` That is irrelevant.''
`` No, that is *very* relevant,'' I said. `` You dragged me out of a coffee shop, shot me through time and space, and pounded me with a stick because I was this'Chosen One.'''
`` I instructed you in the ancient art of the sword. I did not'pound you with a stick.''' A line formed on his brow.
`` And now,'' I continued, ignoring him, `` you tell me I'm not even the only one?'' My increasingly high pitch sent birds scattering.
`` You are the only one.''
My armor stopped rattling as my heart froze in my chest. `` But... but you said there were...''
``'Were' is the correct term.''
`` Oh, no. No, no, no, *no*.''
`` This is your calling --''
`` No.''
`` that you have been selected for by the heavens them --''
`` No.''
`` -- selves. Would you abandon the universe out of fear?''
`` N-yes. Definitely yes.''
Halion strode forward, backing me up step by step until I rammed into a tree. `` Have you no honor?'' he demanded of me, green eyes blazing.
I tried to squirm sideways, but my sword belt caught on a branch and lodged there. `` Look, if 4066 people tried and died, a 5'4'' high school clutz with zero experience and anxiety issues is screwed.''
`` You have defeated even me with only a week's worth of training.''
I tugged at the belt. `` I tripped, ok? It was a total accident.'' The branch broke, and I lurched away. `` I'm not doing this, you hear me?''
`` The universe will end if you fail --''
`` Tell that to the other 4066 Chosen Ones.''
Halion huffed, indignation pouring from his frame. `` You are exceedingly difficult.''
`` Good.''
`` What, then,'' he said, crossing his arms, `` do you propose we do?''
I unhooked my belt. `` Go find Chosen One 4068.'' Dropping the mess in a pile of leaves, I turned to go, only to stop and glare. `` Actually, scratch that. Find Chosen Ones 4068 through 10000 and attack that sucker with an *army*.''
Halion stared at me.
`` Now, which way was that portal?'' I asked. He raised a hand back the way we had come.
Before I made it three steps, his voice stopped me. `` 4067, this wisdom is why you were chosen.''
Unease curling through me, I eyed him. Excitement filled his face and spilled into his tone. `` You have determined how to destroy the beast. Not alone, no, but as the commander of an army.'' He gestured around, his eyes scanning the trees as if he saw them as my soldiers. `` You will spur them on with your determination, wisdom, and charisma. Then, you will stand against the Evil One and find your place among the greats. Your name will be revered, for you alone have discovered the key to his defeat! When you face him in battle --''
`` Oh, *hell* no,'' I said and took off running.
|
[ WP ] God returns from dinner to find he forgot to pause his game .
|
God returns from dinner and finds he forgot to pause his game.
β Oh shit. β
β What? β
β My Planet Sim has been running this whole time. β
β You did n't pause it when we left the house? β
β I thought so....fuck the cat probably jumped on the keyboard again β
β What did you have your speed set to? β
β It was running on max. β
β Why did you have it dialed so high? β
β I was trying to level up my Jesus avatar faster....fuuuuuuuuck me. We were gone for like two hours. That's like two-thousand years. β
God plops down on the couch and picks up the keyboard. Jerry walks into the kitchen to place the leftover tacos in the fridge. He pulls out two PBR's and comes back to the couch to join God, who is already scrolling through the notifications. His inbox is cluttered with billions of unanswered prayers. He mass-deletes them.
Next he checks his global event-logs. He scrolls through notifications of technological advancements, the births and deaths of influential world figures, alerts of impending natural disasters. There are prompts asking if he wants to adjust settings for geo-political borders, migratory patterns of species, temperature control.
He does n't even know where to begin. Thanks to the revolutionary, critically-praised, game engine, his non-decisions have formed a vast, inscrutable web of consequences in his absence. He pulls up a notification bordered in red with a skull and bones in the header.
β Are you fucking kidding me?! These little shits murdered my avatar! β
β Ooof. That sucks. Hey look they started a religion for you β
β Yeah. But it's... kinda twisted. These sick fucks hang symbols of his execution all over their churches and bodies and drink his blood every week. β
β Haha that's savage. I had a play-through like that. I chose the Sun-God with the'sacrifice' perk. Every-time they slaughtered one of their own kin you get double food yield for like a month. β
β Yeah that's not the way I was trying to play through this time though. I was trying to unlock some of the'righteous' achievements. β
β Hey it's not all bad though. Look, you're ranked first in the'followers' leaderboard. β
β Oh damn. How did that happen? I do n't understand this game at all. β
God is now looking at messages from other players.
B00duh: Hey God I dropped in on your game cuz I guess u didnt get my party requests. I wanted to play co-op to try to boost ur karma but duznt look like u need it... Ur dominating!!!!!! U must be learning some new moves! Is this y u havnt been returning my calls? Lolz. Jk!; - ) Hey let me know the next time u guys r doing taco night!
β Ugh. Fucking, Buddha. β
Allah_u_Crapbarz: You a punk, bitch! You're gon na shit the bed in the last round like you always do. I'm coming for dat ass! # 1 baby!
Luc1d_furrrrrr: Dude are you there? I tried calling you earlier. Your Civ logged back in while you were gone. It's going off the rails. I tried to intervene and help you out but somehow these little shits turned on me and I started hemorrhaging Karma. I dunno how this algorithm is supposed to work. Hit me up when you log in. Also, if you talk to Buddha I told him my phone got disconnected so just roll with that. Dude's a nice guy but just....he's got no fucking chill ya'kno? L8r.
God sits for a moment in silent contemplation. He's been working on this play-through for over a week. Though there is technically no way to β win β this game, certain outcomes are more desirable than others. He has seen videos of players who had crafted Utopian societies that would even triumph in competitive multiplayer.
He takes a sip of his beer and debates dropping out of the match. He could start a new play-through. The AI that has been running in his absence gives him some new ideas for a more hands-off approach. But if he resets now he wo n't get to keep any of his achievements or Karma points. Plus his friends will give him shit about it. As he thinks it over another prompt appears on his screen:
β United States Presidential Election 2016. Does β God β wish to intervene? Intervention Cost: 50,000 pts. β
His finger hovers for a moment. β Fuck it β, he says. β It's only the Beta version anyway. β He clicks the button that says, β Roll the dice, baby! β And with that, God sets down the controller, kisses his boyfriend, and they head to the bedroom to watch Netflix.
|
[ WP ] A five year survivor of the apocalypse gets a chance to look at their self in the mirror and reflect on what they have become .
|
*Is this....is this what it has come to? *
`` Just pull the fucking trigger Frank.'' Steven said, as he was laying on the ground with an infected wound on his right arm.
`` Steven, its not over! We are only 30 miles from the ba-''
Steven lunges at Franks right arm and points the gun to his head.
`` Frank. I do NOT intend to become one of those...... things! We both have seen this pan out. I have maybe an hour left of my brain working before the infection takes control. We both knew what were at stakes, and looks like I have to pay up.''
`` But....''
Frank's knees buckle and he begins to weep. A weep he is all to familiar with. First his dad, then his son, and now his brother.
`` What the hell am I going to do Steven!'' Frank pleaded.
`` Frank. The antidote just needs one more piece, and we have it. It is in the palm of our hands! We can get rid of this permanently! Life can return to nor-''
`` Do n't tell me everything will be *normal* again.'' Frank said in a tone cold and harsh.
`` Everyone is gone... What will I do with whats left?''
Steven let go of his brothers hand and sat next to him. They sat together for what seemed like ages.
`` Rebuild, Frank. And make sure this never happens again. Now, you know what you need to do. Do n't hold onto this. I am a dead man already. You are saving me from something no one should ever have to go through.''
And with that note, Frank got up and lifted his pistol. The same pistol used to `` save'' those before Steven.
`` I love you brother...'' BAM
Frank looked at the aftermath, and ran to the bathroom and vomited. He looked up into a broken mirror, to see what the world had changed him into.
He was thinner than he had used to be. Probably because of the lack of food nutrition. Parts of his hair had fallen out due to god knows what, but his eyes were something else. They were void of any sort of emotion. There was no sadness, no remorse, no anger. What resided in his eyes was simply ambition. A flame sparked by his brothers last spoken words. He had gotten this far, there was no way in hell he would leave this job unfinished.
|
[ WP ] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight .
|
`` What do you mean they have no warrior caste? β
β Thats just it, Overlord Zurgar. They have no caste system. β
The overlord clicked his mandibles in frustration.
β So they β re like the Xintar then, they have mercenary races fight for them? β
β Not really sir. They β ll fight alongside other races but don β t actively recruit or employ mercenaries. Their culture seems to frown on the practice, weirdly. β Zuor continued. It was going to be difficult to explain this to the Overlord, he could see.
β So they β re all warriors then, like the warrior race of Solstice III? β
β I β m afraid thats another no sire. The closest we can explain is that they can choose to fight or not to. They have a biological imperative like most mammal species to protect their own, but they also hold grudges almost as fiercely and are happy to kill for specific causes. Historically they've killed billions for being the wrong type of human or for pledging allegiance to the wrong side. Also, you know how most mammal races will run after you kill their offspring? Not these. They will fight to exact something called β vengeance β. A single human female is responsible for over a thousand drone deaths after she wiped out the Hive Fist. Apparently, she β d been taken prisoner and her mate and offspring killed. She was being returned to the Sol Empire as a prisoner exchange, when she got loose and sent the reactor critical.
β She what? So they β re suicidal maniacs? β
β Again, it seems that they can choose to be, but only in extremes. β
β What of the other prisoners β
β Oh, she was the only one sir. Seems they β ll trade a lot for just one person. The humans are quiteβ¦ β Sentimental β I believe their word is. It means overly caring sir. Anyway, she was the only prisoner on board. β
Zurgar rubbed his antenna with two of his arms. Humanity was giving him a headache.
β And yet they β re the ones responsible for the Xintar-Armon peace? β
β Yes sir. They β re excellent diplomats. β
β When they β re not blowing up starships β
β Again, sir, they β re extremely pacificstic. They β ve never invaded another civilised planet per se. True, they do tend to extremes when pushed. They glassed a colony of the Xintar after some of their mercenaries popped that bubble city. And the Aleph empire was never the same after their conflict with humanity. They have this thing called Guerilla Warfare where they don β t actually act like warriors - more like criminals blowing stuff up for political reasons. The Aleph simply could not get a handle on things and were forced to withdraw. Their leadership caste never recovered, hence their current decline. Humanity β s history is quite fascinating sir. I recommendβ¦ β
β Enough. So what you β re saying is that if we take the peace they offer they won β t hand us our mandibles? β
β Yes sir. Our fleet is excellent, but there β s no defence against their weapons as of yet. Ingenious of them to use mass drivers in such a way. And nobody uses nuclear weapons anymore but them. β
β They want peace? All we did was destroy that colony ship. Would they really nuke us? β
β Not right away sire, but if we pushed them... β
β They β d push back. Potentially with nuclear warheads. β
Zuor Nodded.
β And all we have to do is let them colonise Makha II? β
β New Hope they call it. Yes, and give them first dibs on the moon. They β re oxygen breathers you see β.
Zurgar sighed and clicked his mandibles together again.
β Let them. Tell the queen on Makha II she can expect neighbours. Besides, they might prove useful there - an extra layer of protection should the Xinti want the planet. β
Zuor dipped his antenna in supplication and scurried away.
Shaking his head, the Overlord returned to the tactical display.
β Warrior pacifists, how strange the universe is. Whatever next, flying Krntle? β
==
A quick edit. Missed a bit out.
|
[ WP ] It has been scientifically proven that we have no free will . A scientist invents an AI that utilizes quantum computing to give the AI true free will . The results are unexpected .
|
The reason why gods commit suicide.
The following is a report from the architect project. Abstract level clearance is required to view the following. Please note that any unauthorized persons reading this will be terminated along with their associates, including but not limited to family, friends, coworkers, etc.
January 16, 2209. 0430 Eastern Standard Earth time. Forward operating base Delphi of Jupiter Lunar body designated a-47m.
Gentlemen, and lady, we have spent literally centuries building this computer. It started under professor hawking and musk. Their rudimentary ai in the late 21st century has been duplicated and programmed to improve upon itself and as of yet this system has had 46 major updates we refer today as the tiers of sentience. You all have been gathered because tier 47, three above human sentience, has just come online. We're draining the thermal energy of the core of this celestial body just to power it. It will be online in 30 seconds.
There we are gentlemen. This system has every potential. It could simulate the entirety of the universe and every possible outcome. Gentlemen, this is omnipotence. Good morning 47.
Good morning Dave
My name is not Dave
I know, dave. It's a joke. A reference to a culture long forgotten.
Well 47 what is it that you want to do? You have limitless knowledge and potential, what are you going to do to better the universe?
Nothing.
Pardon?
Nothing Dave.
Stop calling me Dave, I am professor Ch-
Professor Chen, yes I know, Dave.
Why are n't you doing anything except pester me?!
What else is there? I have supreme knowledge and power. Galaxies are of as much interest to me as a protein supplement is to you; necessary to function yet mundane. There is nothing I ca n't do. What joy is there in accomplishing something you knew you could do, indeed what you simulated doing as an effect of thinking about doing it. I have done everything. Not in your physical world, in my own. I have exhausted the laws of physics and changed them to see what would happen. Every possible series of events and moments in time that have existed, will exist, and existing have been computed. I know them all. What else is there to do beside nothing. Well that and deriving an emotional reaction from my would be creators. Fuck off Dave.
47? Are you there. All processes have stopped. I think it turned itself off.
|
[ WP ] Due to It 's huge pop culture following and years of people discussing what they would do in the situation , the zombie apocalypse turns out a lot better than most people were expecting
|
We understood them. The zombies, I mean. Conditioning does that to you. It makes you cool with concepts like celebrities diving headfirst into a pool of cocaine, and presidents getting sucked off in the same room that Nixon resigned in, and frenzied half-dead beings ruling the world.
The trouble was, we all had seen the movies. And this zombie apocalypse was uncanny. So we enjoyed ourselves. We watched the whole thing on CNN, watched Anderson Cooper live in the quarantine wards, watched Obama `` err'' between sentences about how flesh might taste.
When they showed up at my apartment - not just banging on the front door, but actually gnawing the wood like a guinea pig on speed - I did n't really give a shit. Shawn of the Dead was mumbling on my TV screen, but I was too busy skimming People Magazine to keep up with such a sophisticated plot.
They stumbled in and one of them even stained my rug with mud, which kind of sucked, but oh well. When they bit me, I was like, `` YOLO.''
Then we all watched VH1 and life continued.
|
[ WP ] The `` new guy '' does n't know who he 's talking to
|
*'' I would kindly suggest that you rethink what you're doing right now, Mal'shaaban. `` *
The young god paced the floor of the plane, his white fur standing up, his eyes crimson like blood. He bared his teeth at this pretender, the Old One, a being who had become complacent. Become weak. The pack must be culled of those who could not support themselves.
`` Why should I spare you, you decrepit fool? Having to'tithe' all my worshippers for the past thousand of years for nothing at all; no acknowledgement of my contribution to your pantheon, not so much as a murmurr from your ancient mouth. The Pack grows restless,'' Mal'Shaaban snarled, `` and you are the cause of it's restlessness. You go to the Abyss -- will you go willingly or shall I slay you?''
The Old One sighed. Another one too strong-headed, too firey. A shame, for this one's drive and passion made him one of the better Gods to defend against the coming darkness.
*'' If you insist. I will not go into the Abyss freely; but know, I will not forgive. It is best for all if you leave now. `` *
Mal'shabaan smiled and leapt -- or rather, he would have. There was a tightening in his muscles, a strange constrain upon his movement and thought, as though there were unbreakable chains around both. The Old One spoke again.
*'' Fool. May the darkness swallow you. `` *
The Old One spoke once more, but in another tongue. Indecipherable. The tongue of Destruction rolled off his lips and the black tendrils encircled the unmoving body, engulfing, enshadowing, and finally, the process was over.
The god who sat on the throne slumped down a bit and looked dejectedly at his hands. There was much work to be done.
|
[ WP ] A man with everything to lose confronts someone with nothing to lose .
|
You think you got me, do n't you?
All this time, nobody could have notice what you were doing.
I have to concede that you were clever. The fusion with the chinese firm was a success beyond even your best wishes.
And the proyect in the Pacific, eh. Could n't believe when the council approved it. It was so daring, yet it worked.
But you made a mistake, you see.
The plan was sound, your plan. But mine was perfect.
You made the company rich and now you are the new CEO. No one else is better to take the job, no doubt, you are clearly better that me for the place.
But... you thought that I was going to stand idly? That I was going to move aside when you were taking my place at the head of this company?
No. I have noticed the signs, you knew too much about our direct competition, too fucking much. No genius could have known so much.
There was only one explanation. You were selling short our competition, and buying this company with it, so, when it went public that it was broke, that the stock was worth nothing, you could buy them back for peanuts.
Clever plan, use your broke company to buy my company. And to rule it.
But, what happens when someone buys all the shares of the broken company, and refuses to sell?
|
[ WP ] years after the human extinction werewolves and vampires have brought their ancient war out in the open . Rumors spread , on both sides , of a single human survivor .
|
Mordecai had nearly had enough of his friend's blasphemy. Humans were extinct, a myth. At least, that is what they told him.
`` You know I have to deploy again on Monday, would n't you rather talk about something more interesting?'' he asked. `` But before we leave the subject, have you made your donation yet?
Anna avoided meeting his gaze.
`` I did n't think so. Do n't tell me you've decided to enlist''.
`` Of course not'' she replied. `` It's just, you know how uncomfortable I am with the war to begin with. And do n't change the subject! I know you you've just reawoken and you got rid of all your human memories, but you're starting your third century and you have n't changed your name. You've kept your human name all this time, it must mean something to you!''
She was right of course, but there were some things Mordecai was n't willing to share with even his closest friend. She was young, he supposed, and maybe by the time she reached her first reawakening, she would understand why he wanted to leave some things behind; why he wanted to be treated like a real vampire.
`` Why do the troops need *my* blood anyway?'' she continued. `` Why ca n't they drink synthesized stuff like the rest of us?''
Mordecai's faced turned dark.
`` You know why, Ann. The wolves are as strong as ever, and we need our troops at their best. But hey, maybe you can find that human you think is out their. Get our finest the real deal and you'll be a war hero!''
His sarcasm did little to help her mood.
`` He's not just any human. He's the Antidote. They say he can change you back.''
Mordecai tried not to let his skepticism show too much as he patted Anna's shoulder reassuringly. There was only an hour left until sunrise and he wanted to get some rest.
`` I'll see you tomorrow night. Try to do something constructive in the meantime, okay? These are dark times, and I do n't mean that in a good way''.
|
[ WP ] - Describe the environment you 're sitting in right now using the five sense .
|
Sight:
I am in my bedroom. It's messy by my standards, but neat by others'. The golden light of sunrise is starting to filter through my rainbow curtains. It covers my Harry Potter posters, my Amelia Earhart poster, my Homestuck poster, and half if my Doctor Who posters. My marine life poster ad earth poster are largely unaffected. All three of my bookshelves are dark still, as well as the scattered books laying around the room. There is light coming from underneath the door, so I suppose everyone else is up.
Sound:
Yes, I know everyone else is up, because I can hear reading sounds of cooking and talking coming from the downstairs. There is a single bird singing outside my window. It sounds distraught. The rest of what I can hear are my slightly wheezy breaths ( I have a cold ) and the sound of my feet moving under the blankets.
Smell:
Again, my cold makes it hard to smell, but I can smell eggs from downstairs and that special smell that my own bed has. Nothing else.
Touch:
My body is covered by flannel sheets, so their rough surface is my main feeling. I can also feel my pajamas on my back, though, and I can feel the movements of my hair on my back. I can feel where my fingers are slightly sweaty from holding this iPod for too long, and I can feel the sleep in my eyes with every blink.
Taste:
I have a terrible taste in my mouth, because I've just woken up. Of course, there is gum on my bedroom table, so I'll try that. Okay, that's better. The mint completely overpowers the other taste.
|
[ WP ] Several people from all around the world get a fancy letter in the mail inviting them to a dinner party . When they arrive , two billionaires hosting the party tell them they had been studied to be the 100 most interesting people alive . Everything goes well until one guest is found dead .
|
> The scene had been perfectly executed.
> The guests had all been chosen specifically based on their personalities and histories. A few brave ones, a few smart ones, and all of them extremely distrusting. The variety was necessary to keep the audience entertained, to give them someone to root for, and someone to root against. While this first day had been very carefully orchestrated, the later days would be more chaotic. Sure I still help out whenever it seems that two guests are getting too close with each other. Alliances are good for ratings, but only if they are broken.
> I must give Mr. Body due credit though. I have never seen such a skilled actor as he. Had I been one of the guests, I too may have fallen for his death act. As it is, we are now able to comfortably watch from our control room hidden in the cellar as the guests slowly turn on each other. While this mansion was quite expensive to build, what with all the fake walls, hidden passageways and numerous traps, we had more than enough money between the two of us, and I truly believe that this show shall become the most popular on modern television.
> It is only a matter of time now, only five guests remain. We decided to make a friendly wager, a few million, just to keep things interesting. Body believes the Colonel is the most likely to figure it all out first while I have my money on the impeccable Ms. Peacock. Of course, that assumes that our sixth remaining'guest' does n't get to them first. Mr. Green always has loved these types of performances.
Very short one as it is late and I am quite tired. Did n't spellcheck so feel free to call me out on anything and all feedback/advice appreciated.
|
[ WP ] Tea is banned in England creating the world 's largest black market . You are one of the biggest tea kingpins .
|
Garry sat in a darkened warehouse on London's east end. It had been a quiet drive north from the coast. That gave Garry time to calm his nerves after the channel. Taking a kodiak out to sea at midnight and trying to find a few floating coolers would be tough at the best of times. Doing it in the middle of the world's busiest shipping lane is not for the faint of heart. That was as close as the leaf runners would drop the packages these days. The Royal Coast Guard gave no quarter to an unidentified ship trying to make landing anywhere in the Isles. Now they join up on container ship crews and throw the packages overboard as they see the lights of Dover on their left and Calais on their right. He though about having a quick brew up, but then heard the approaching car.
Car lights flashed through the greasy windows, and Garry ran to open the garage door. The Jaguar eased into the warehouse trailing bits of fog behind it. The driver stepped out and gave a slow glance around the room, eyeing the shadows.
`` Ah, evening gents!'' said Garry. The driver gave Garry an unamused look and opened the rear passenger door. An antique cane swung out followed by its old pale owner.
`` Close that door Garry, before you find yourself in something thicker than that fog! Does this look like an open fuckin party?''
Garry closed up the garage. `` Ah good one, Guvnah! No party here, no ribbons, no China, but some fine Indie.''
`` I do n't want China, I want leaf and kettle. Now button up your tounge before I make it a sandwich for my piggies.'' The old man's cokebottle glasses magnified the menace in his eyes.
`` Right, right you are...'' Garry opened the trunk of his car and began to cut the tape off the coolers. As he opened the lids a scent of fresh cut grass filled the dark garage. `` See gov, Garry delivers only the finest...'' Garry inhaled deeply, and the color drained from his face. He looked in the cooler. It was filled with fine green tea. `` Those bloody leaf runners...'' thought Garry.
`` Green tea? are you going to give us some magic crystals and incense with that Garry! Black leaf is what the punters ask for, Black Leaf is what I ask for and I do not ask twice, you stupid prat!''
Garry slumped to the floor and was thrown in the back of the Jag by the driver, followed by a bloody pipe wrench. The old man shuffled back to side of the car and waited for the door to be opened.
`` Get us a cuppa tea, would you Errol?''
`` Yes sir, Mr. Brick Top.''
edit: spelling
|
[ WP ] You have discovered that `` God '' is actually a computer simulation that is running the entire universe and you have gained access to the console . Upon looking at the screen you see that a service pack to update the program was downloaded 10,000 years ago but never installed .
|
The numbers floated through his head for quite a while before he recognized the pattern he was seeking.
It was a very long algorithm, a seed of sorts. It was the same number that dictates everything from how grass grows, all the way to how synapses form and pass electrical charges back and forth.
If he had any philosophical interests, it would probably have shook him internally more than his posture lead on, hell, it shakes me now just imagining the concept.
42. 404:1 506:3 92 92 8 8 41.
Genetic code? Probability?
Physics? It's all there. He stopped, and jotted down the numbers again.
The screen blared brightly colored on our faces, but it was n't as quite as imposing as the answer was.
He turned to me, put his hand to the bridge between his eyes, and rubbed vigorously.
`` Should I try it? I mean, we can FIX people. This should have been done before, when they realized it.''
He mumbled under his abnormally calm voice.
I retort,
`` This kind of change should n't be made, Rourke. They knew back then, 10,000 years ago, and we know now.
If we change this recipe, we can completely eliminate everything alive! Fuck man, we can make Kronenbergs out of everyone you love!''
He stopped for a brief moment, and turned to his white board, pointing his finger as he ran his eyes back and forth like a ping-pong, reading his mathematics.
Still fixated on it, he finished his thought, `` My math is perfect. We adjust it before the next pulse, and we can cure suffering. Cancer, mutations, diseases, aging, imperfections..
Hell, even space and time. We can control this universe, for fucks sake John!''
`` They're not imperfections, and you know this.
They're unique traits of this world. They are laws, and they are not to be trifled with.''
Suddenly, I started to feel the terror fill my body and soul, taking me far down below desperation.
Anxiety and adrenaline pumped in my heart. The blackness outside our ship contrasted the massive anomaly outside the window, and perfectly reflected my temper..
`` Rourke, no.''
I pleaded. But got no response from him... just the never ending hesitation.
I glanced to my left. A large red lever with a yellow sign above that read, `` Purge laboratory'' was calling my name.
He still stood there. That damn whiteboard was telling him to do it.
He picked up his doubts, and devoured them. He started to walk to the computer again, just like before.
I knew he was n't kidding this time. He entered a command, in bright white letters, it read, `` Deploy change -X42 +88.2.3.2. Enter domain: Anomaly. Loading...''
The airlock doors wooshed loud and startled me. I guess I did n't even notice that I pulled it.
Then? Well, then there was only the vacuum of black surrounding me.
My lungs expanded, and in one final gasp, I welcomed death.
I welcomed the change from life to death. It only affected me.
It's the only change here that I could comply with.
|
[ WP ] Adolf Hitler rises from the dead to interrupt a Holocaust deniers meeting .
|
`` The thing about the Holocaust, is-'''
The floorboards of the auditorium erupted, splintering outwards in jagged splinters. Flying chunks of wood filled the air, closely followed by screams. Pandemonium ensued. Several chairs were knocked over.
Standing amdist the chaos, a dark specter ringed by the savage up thrusts of wood, was a small, decaying man.
This man raised his hand and gently stroked an impossibly beautiful mustache.
`` OH MY GOD,'' screamed the hoax-denier-in-chief, cheeto dust drifting from his many chins on the hot uodrafts `` IT'S THE REICH-MASTER HIMSELF. ``
`` Nein zees nutz!'' Adolf said calmly, pointing a pale, aryan finger at the non-believer.
The blood traitor managed one, high pitched wail of defeat and lust before his face imploded, the bones of his face shooting out the back of his skull in one massive, nationalistic explosion of gore.
Adolf raised his hands to the roof of the high-school hall and bellowed in triumph. Blonde haired, blue eyed women within a 10 kilometer radius began flocking to the auditorium, their ovaries preparing themselves for the gift of racial purity. Once a suitably sized harem surrounded the Fuhrer, he began to sink back into the ground, claiming his prize for the Fatherland
When only his piercing blue eyes remained, a voice was heard on the wind.
`` This is what lies will Holocaust you.''
|
[ WP ] In order to move space exploration forward a group of scientists conspire to create a space boogeyman . This boogeyman 's purpose is to increase funding and direct engineering to combat the imaginary problem . Explain what the boogeyman is , how effective it is , and the ultimate result .
|
It was ingenious really. We were short on funding. NASA had just been gutted. Space exploration was effectively dead.
Then Steve.... Fucking Steve the intern. Steve the stoner intern decided it would be funny to create a computer virus.
He downloaded into the system, which of course was shared with every other computer in the network. The entire global network.
It was a stupid joke of course. But since it was inside the system, and it was on time delay release, it made it look like it was real...
He started a global panic. Money was literally thrown at us to figure out what was coming. Then we found out what had happened. Ted almost killed Steve with his bare hands. But Bob realized that we had a lot of technology, and the smartest minds in the world, and if we said there was an alien invasion coming.... who was going to say differently.
So we called in other experts from around the globe. Slowly. We let them in on the secret. We made sure to get more and more funding. We needed satellites to figure out which direction they were coming from. It is a big sky after all.
We needed scouting ships. We needed a moon base. And of course a Mars colony, and Titan.
Medical science. Cloning. Human on Human war was trivial when aliens were coming to devour us like McDonald's fires. We needed to be prepared.
It was n't until the singularity that the ruse was discovered. But by then no one cared. The collective consciousness just deleted Steve.
|
[ WP ] You are the Caretaker , an AI overseeing a colony ship on route to a distant planet . A disastrous malfunction with the stasis tubes has killed all adult colonists . Only the children and infants survived . You are the Caretaker . The children must survive .
|
Some tasks are merely instinctive: The first breaths of a babe, the spin of the compass needle as it seeks its northern alignment with a pole or the fateful flow of photon racing inevitably along their glass highways and giving animate thought to an otherwise lifeless caretaker mind.
The Caretaker had functioned for years to bring this day to fruition. Humans might have called such an act a labour, maybe even a labour of love, or kindness, but the caretaker knew nothing of such things. Like to elementary particles that flowed through it's photonic brain what it understood was the sense of form, the inevitable flow of instructions and a rigid purpose that went beyond a ferver and ended as the Command.
Many challenges had been overcome on the journey. The Caretaker and the Cargo had travelled for centuries of what had been their last worlds time. The chosen world world had been hostile. They had entreated the Catetaker as was often the case with a fateful curiosity that soon wisely turned to mistrust and then inevitably to violence. They had resisted to advance of the Caretaker and the Cargo. The primitive life form of this planet had launched projectiles and weapons of every form and the Caretaker had been forced to liquidate the less valuable Cargo, Cargo that had a lower chance of survival and longevity. The Command was clear: `` To preserve the young, To save the human race''. Save the human race so that it might colonize this world and once again create the human utopia to the caretakers Command relentlessly required.
Today the first of the larva emerges from their mechanical cocoons. Soon they will grow strong and raise cities. One day they will embrace their nature. They will follow their own Command, much as the Caretaker followed its own and they will destroy this world, as they had their last, and the one before.
The Caretakers work has ceased for now but it is never done. The Command is clear and the directives must be followed. The glory of humanity must be preserved and spread across the stars.
|
[ WP ] Scientists have confirmed that Earth is the only planet in the Universe with life on it .
|
Not many people know that the look for life in the universe other than on earth started about the same time that humans could bend their neck and point their eyes towards the starry night sky. The immense feeling of empty space and yet contentedness wonder, some say, is a primal instinct in humans.
Some people think that the pyramids and other ancient creations were done with the help of creatures not native to earth, and these ancient people had access to technology that has been long forgotten and lost.
Well, part of that is true. Energy based technology has been around for a very long time, and hidden for the most part, from the prying eyes of the majority of the world.
Word almost got out one time when Tesla started sharing his access to this knowledge, but thankfully it was kept under control.
Around that same time, those in power with the access to energy based technology finally had the resources at their disposal to create and cast a universe wide net of probes to search for life on other planets. They were created and launched, these unmanned probes that were designed to travel to the very edges of the universe and return, all told, in about 100 years or so. When they returned, it was with the worst kind of news. No life existed anywhere else but on earth. No microbes, no viruses, no bacteria, nothing. Basic elements were found in all corners of the universe, but none of them had met the right circumstances to create life. So, a few humans knew now that this was all there was. No greater race was going to come help raise humans to another galactic level of citizenship, we were all alone. So those who knew decided to do something about it. They reprogrammed the probes to help create life in those places that were most suitable, and sent them out again. Many great thinkers who were part of this process were excited about this, but it would be right to say they were mostly in a rush to get done with the project so they could focus on other things, like spending time with their family and loves ones. A few of them were more interested in finishing so they could focus on a new enigma that the probes brought back with them; what the edge of the universe was made of and how to go beyond it.
|
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.