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[ WP ] You arrive in hell , only to find out it 's actually the real paradise and all the rules were set just to weed out the party poopers from getting in .
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`` Strange.
Everything is so colorful.
Was n't I just jumping off a cliff?
I do n't remember there being this many colors when I jumped.
It was all brown and red.
This is not the bottom of the canyon.
Where did my clothes go?
Oh. Oh, God.
Is this limbo?
When did this trippy door get here?''
*knock knock knock*
The door flies open, and the colorful surroundings disappear as quickly as they came. They are replaced with beautifully loud music and chatter.
A creature is standing before me. It appears to be grinning. Sinister, yet welcoming. It offers it's hand, and I take it. If I'm already dead, what's the risk?
It pulls me into the noise, like a dancer is pulled into their partner during a tango. Around and around, I spin. The feeling is unbelievable. Then suddenly, I'm criss-cross applesauce in the middle of the floor. Which just happens to be my favorite way to sit. A feeling of belonging washes over me. I can feel my face blush. The sounds become very joyous and fun. I look up to find a crowd of beings, the sinister, welcoming creature in the center, all focused on me. The creature speaks at last.
`` We've been waiting for you. We've watched your life as if it were a television show. We thought you would have come to us much sooner. It was most definitely worth the wait though. Welcome Home.''
`` I'm confused, I thought I was in limbo. What is this place? Are you God?''
This must be heaven. No other place could make me feel so wonderful. I feel at peace, something I have longed for as long as I can remember.
The creature guffaws. It is the sweetest sound my ears have ever heard. This must be paradise. It speaks again.
`` I am Satan, my child. This is Hell. And you may have died, but the party is just beginning.''
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[ WP ] Terrible things happen to good people every day . I am not one of those good people . I am one of the terrible things .
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I found her running, almost limping along a back street, her clothes torn and her face streaked with makeup from what must've been incessant crying, perhaps for hours. She ran up to my car and banged desperately on the window. I, of course, rolled it down, and before I could ask what was wrong, she was shrieking.
`` Help me, please! I managed to get out, but they're coming. They'll kill me! Please, you've got to help.''
I told her to get in and unlocked the passenger door. Once safely inside, she continued to cry and gasp for her breath. I was n't quite sure what to do, having never found myself in this situation before.
`` We need to get you somewhere safe. Do you need a hospital?''
`` No, just get us out of here! If they find me, they'll kill me! They'll kill you too!''
`` No one's going to hurt you, miss. You're safe.''
I continued to drive, taking us far from the neighborhood.
`` You say you escaped. Who exactly did you escape from?''
She told me about three men who had cornered her. They forced her into one of the buildings abandoned nearby and they took turns having their way with her, striking her cursing her. When they were done, they left her lying on the floor while they sat nearby drinking and smoking. Apparently, she'd managed to quietly crawl outside unnoticed before running. She'd only been running for a few minutes when I saw her.
`` You're safe now, like I said. Let me take you somewhere safe. If not the hospital, then the police station? We have to report this so they can try to find the men who did this to you.''
She refused, saying she wanted to go home. So I reluctantly agreed. We could call the police from there. She gave me directions to a small house just outside of town. She begged me to come inside with her. She was obviously still scared to death. I agreed, but insisted that we call the police immediately.
I locked the door behind us and asked where the bathroom was so I could get her a cloth to wash her face.
`` Terrible things happen to good people everyday,'' I said as I was wetting a cloth in the sink. `` I'm so sorry this happened to you.''
When I came out of the bathroom, she was no longer crying. She had what appeared to be a.9 mm pointed directly at my chest.
`` You've been right about one thing tonight. Terrible things happen to good people everyday. I am not one of those good people. I am one of those terrible things.''
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[ WP ] The submarine is going down , describe the last few moments from the crews perspective .
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Slightly different take on the prompt.: )
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Every day was the same. The same walls, the same crew, the same windowless hell. The same bland food over and over. The same dull, meaningless conversations. Claustrophobia choked me. I saw no way out.
I watched Ralf take a bite. He wasn ’ t a bad guy necessarily, just unlucky enough to draw me. He came every day, sat on the same stool, and read the same rat-eared book. Mayo dripped on his shirt. A grunt of displeasure escaped his lips as he wiped his collar and stuffed his finger in his mouth. Bite by bite, the sub disappeared down his gullet. Watching people eat usually disgusted me. Today I was fascinated. I wanted to smile but my lips refused to cooperate.
They called us artists. Pinned name-badges to our chests and made us wear red and yellow striped polo shirts. Everyone was an artist nowadays. Sub artist. Coffee artist. But Ralf ’ s submarine was a work of art. The first of its kind, I knew. I watched it go down a little at a time.
A woman pushed open the door and two unruly brats raced inside. The first banged his fists on the drink cooler, shouting that he wanted chocolate. I kept my eyes on Ralf while she recited her order. The sub was gone. Ralf ’ s face was a bit pink, but otherwise he looked fine.
His body convulsed and food spew from his lips. Ralf fell to the floor, clutching his throat and knocking over his stool. He kicked the rat-eared book across the store. My crew members leapt over the bar and grabbed Ralf by his arms. His face was purple now. His eyes bulged in their sockets. The woman grabbed her children and retreated to the back of the restaurant. I stood behind the counter, my lips finally allowing a smile.
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There 's a monster inside of you . What does it look like ? [ wp ]
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My watcher, heart in hell,
Haunted is thy name.
Hear the call of brimstone bell,
Indulge in this writer's game.
Words I set to dark endeavour,
For my cause, mind asunder.
Demon made a friend forever,
That nightmare my pen may plunder.
A deadly muse I will create,
To form a mind of undead might.
A shell of rage, spite and hate,
To know beyond human sight.
For life's sake, I'll keep mine,
Undertaker hear my verse.
Body raised from boiling brine,
Imbue this flesh with my curse.
A boy to fear a corpse that knows,
Twins borne by vile womb.
One to reap what terror sows,
One to fleeting joy, entomb.
The worlds I need my eyes to see,
The left so as to be your scribe.
Useless right I give to thee,
Soul I keep for thy demon's vibe.
Body marked by rotting gray,
Eyeless pits meet my gaze.
Towards the dead I now pray,
Find the end of mindful maze.
From my mind I cast you out,
Into heart your claws will sink.
Fill my head with devil's doubt,
But by your side hasten ink.
Where before was mind astray,
Now a shell will set to work.
A soul in twain the price I pay,
Drifting into limbo's murk.
Cut my arm to frame the moon,
Snap my fingers and watch sparks fly.
I hear the Thrall's mournful tune,
Heaven and Hell, who am I?
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[ WP ] A little girl is terrified of the monster under her bed , but she 's glad that it 's there : It protects her from the monster in the closet .
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Safety is an overrated comfort for the weak and the brittle. A monster cranes his neck when the little girl is on the brink of slumber, his warm breath erects every hair on her neck. An adolescent nightmare such as he enervates the consciousness of the youthful child. He crowds over her trembling back, shivers on her spine fuel his fury. His purpose is not to harm the child, moreover, his task is to feed her unease. For there are greater fears beyond the bed that the girl believes is her fortress.
This behemoth under her bed is no monster, it is in all actuality an angel in demonic disguise. Sent from god to instill fear in a child. For fear of devil cast the devil from her heart, and what was waiting in the closet was from the depths of hell. You see, the devil himself will not wait for you to sleep. He is the snake stealthily rummaging through the foliage that you will never see coming. He will never prey on those awaiting him, for Lucifer plots the long con.
The nape of her neck is inches from from the snarling blood dripping teeth of the angel. She knows he is there, but lacks the courage to face her fears. The child begins to cry a fear-filled hum, the ones they taught her in church. This song instilled a brief moment of gallantry in the girl and she quickly turns around. She does n't see the demon, instead she sees nothing but light instantly blink away. She now feels alone, and that mistakenly lifts her fear.
The next morning the house once occupied by a scared girl is annexed a house full of law enforcement. Her room was freshly coated in blood spatter, and now only despair of the girls mother remains in the place of her fear. As the single mom lies in her bed at night, her daughter awaits under the bed with the snarling teeth of the angel that failed to protect her.
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[ WP ] You get absolute control over your body . Which also means that you have to purposefully handle all your bodily functions .
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As I got deeper into myself, time seemed to slow. No sooner was I content to keep my heart beating at a regular pace, no sooner had I figured out how to rythmically pulsate my intestines, or secrete saliva from my salivary glands, when suddenly I became acutely aware of the tightness of each muscle in my body, the small fluctuations of heat regulation needed to keep my insides from cooking. I went from controlling the whole to controlling the many, pulling here, releasing there, moving this, pushing that. Open these pores, expand this respiratory sack, close that valve... on and on.
I felt as though it was sending me insane. In reality I was slumped, motionless, in my computer chair, but it was all I could do to stay alive. I barely managed to scrape another second of life from this body - a second that felt like an hour of rushing through the structure of this living corpse I used to call me - before a new layer of demands became available.
I had before me, in ghostlike form, a... matrix of blue pulsing lights, connected by reaching white threads, ready to snap at any disturbance. This way my brain, individual neurons, talking, relaying structions toward and down thick black tunnels into the rest of my body. Bright white funnels poured pulses of data in, data from my eyes, my ears, the nerves stretching throughout.
The blue neuron pulses were slowing, fading, I could feel myself vanishing, my reality becoming one slow blue eternal hell. Reaching out, I did the only thing I could. I gripped a ghostly neuron with an equally ghostly hand and squeezed. A bright pulse of blue fired, hitting another neuron off in the distance, enticing a chain reaction to take place, sending the instruction to a hair folicle on my hanging left arm to begin raising. This one effort revitalised my energy - Life came back, colour, depth. I could think. I could *survive*. Rushing around chasing blue lights, feeling within myself parts of my brain with no activity, organs requiring instruction, somehow knowingly the almost infinitely complex structure of my brain as if I had lived inside this maze my entire life. I chased. I chase. For now, I survive.
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[ FF ] Children of the night ( 100 words precisely ! )
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I see them in the street. Laughter; not kid's laughter. Something hateful, you could hear the flash of teeth in it. 3 A.M., the second bottle of wine, one hitters and cigarettes, pistols. They had parents, technically.
They looked west. I hid. They watched, fearless. Two Meat-Wagons and a Picker flew by.
The kids looking exactly as they did when they were Turned. I did n't look at them or the red lights in the sky. I do n't know if They know if you looked up at Them or not. The couple had paid me to get them across the Street.
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[ WP ] In the year 1984 , your father said he was popping out to buy some milk and never came back . Eighty years later , you lie on your deathbed as your father walks in , confused and a jug of milk in his hand .
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All because of some bloody milk.
In the eighty years since my father had been gone a lot had happened.
As the twenties turned into the thirties, world war three broke out across Europe and spread around the globe ( the swiss would you believe it? ). And in the chaos that unfolded a ruin in brazil was unearthed; and an ancient knowledge of magic was revealed. It did n't take long to bind technology with this magic, but it is n't the weaponry that is important in this story, it was that in the tomb the truth about ley lines was discovered.
Ley lines can be triggered in a number of ways, but mainly a great surge in power of some kind would do, in the war they were used to topple entire countries overnight, and somehow the day he disappeared thats what my father had done, he accidentally triggered one on his way back from the shop.
And had travelled eighty years into the future. He'd missed birthdays, graduations, promotions, and so many other important moments in life...
Since then I enlisted, The year is 2064, my name is Sergeant Gus Ryker of the 1st counter-magics division of the magicological brigade. Also known as the Mage Corp, and this is my story of how day to day, I try to find a way to send my father back to 1984.
And all because of some Bloody milk.
( This is only my second one of these, also I did bend the WP to go the way I wanted. Hope someone enjoys )
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[ WP ] Hi ! I 'm the main character ! Or so you would have me be . I want you to know that no matter what you write , I refuse to be the main character in your little game and will avoid any instance where you try to put me into a situation that does so .
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Put on these cat ears.
`` No.''
And this maid outfit.
`` NO!''
And get to work in this maid cafe.
`` You can just shove this right up your ~~ass~~ bum!''
Language! This is a children's story after all.
*'' What kind of children's story is this? `` *
The kind where adorable little catboys transform in magical girl outfits and fight evil.
`` Oh to hell with this, I know where this is going.''
A perfectly innocent little story where heroes work undercover in a maid cafe.
`` Yeah, until the tentacle monsters come along.''
There's no tentacle monsters!
`` Really?''
Well, there's one. And it's right over there by the cafe main entrance.
`` Oh $ &! #!!!''
And our hero held his mighty wand above his head and uttered the magic words.
`` GET THIS F & % #'N THING OFFA MEEEEEE!''
The hero was held up high by his ankle as he struggled to fend off the tentacles.
`` I KNEW IT! THE DAMN THING IS GOING FOR MY CRAPPER!''
So our hero-
`` IS PACKING A 45 AND IS NOT TAKING ANY OF THIS SHIT!''
***BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! ***
And another monster vanquished by the power of love! And 680 foot-pounds of force from hollow point rounds fired from a semi automatic. But little does our hero know that the tentacle monster is nothing but a minion of the true evil sorceress, Mistress Manna.
`` Who dresses in leather and looks like a porn star?''
No! Well, a bit. Yes. Mistress Manna faces the maid cafe where our hero dwells and calls him out.
`` Fight me, hero!'' calls out Mistress Manna.
Carefully the hero peeks out and sees;
`` A pair of jugs bigger than a cartoon parody of Baywatch.''
`` Your bullets will have no effect on me, hero! You'll have to do better than that,'' said Mistress Manna.
And the hero fires his gun at Mistress Manna with no affect.
*BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! *
Mistress Manna lets out an evil laugh, that causes her massive jugs to jiggle a little inappropriately for a children's show.
`` That's anime for you, what the hell am I supposed to do now!''
You might want to reach for the magic wand this time.
`` Dammit!''
So out hero reaches into his skirt to find-
`` This stupid juiced-up Christmas ornament?''
The Talisman of Truth. Our hero held his mighty tool of justice high and called out the magic words.
`` ~~FUCK OFF YOU CRAZY BITCH~~!''
The maid cafe fills the maid cafe with light, and and with a mighty boom ( and lots of unnecessary graphics featuring tiny cute hearts and cat ears ) the evil mistress is vanquished to the nether region.
`` Is that it?''
Until next time.
`` Oh for God's sake, I'm going to need a coffee.''
And our hero satiates his caffeine addiction in his own cafe, sipping his troubles away in a triple mocha latte, while wearing his cat ears and maid magical maid outfit
`` God dammit.''
Ready to fight evil once again.
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[ WP ] The person I see in the mirror is not the person I see in photographs of me ...
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The person I see in the mirror is not the person I see in photographs of me. I know that might sound deep, like I ’ m talking about the difference in the perception of myself or something like that, but the truth is actually more unsettling than that. The truth is the girl in the mirror isn ’ t me at all. It never has been.
I call her Alice, because she ’ s trapped on the other side of the looking glass, but I don ’ t know her name for sure. I ’ ve never been able to communicate with her. I used to try. I ’ d write on the mirror in toothpaste or my Mother ’ s lipstick, but I only succeeded in getting in trouble. She never responded. At least, not in any way that I could recognize.
I used to tell my parents about her, but then they took me to therapists who didn ’ t believe me. They told my parents that I ’ d outgrow my ‘ invisible friend ’ and they ’ d just need to wait it out. But I never outgrew her. She ’ s still there, whenever I look in the mirror. She hasn ’ t aged at all, even though I ’ m an adult now. She ’ s still there, with her wide blue eyes and her long black hair, watching.
I wonder who she is sometimes, but I ’ m not sure what I should even look for. I ’ m not sure what she even is. A past life? A ghost? Was she even ever human at all? Or is there really another dimension there, behind the mirror - through the looking glass? And if that ’ s the case, am I really the only person in the world who has this problem? The only one that sees something else in there? Am I the only one that got the mix up in the reflection factory?
I worry that I ’ ll never know.
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[ WP ] The Japanese say you have three faces . The first face , you show to the world . The second face , you show to your close friends , and your family . The third face , you never show anyone . It is the truest reflection of who you are .
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They say your life flashes before you're eyes when you encounter a moment questioning your mortality. I could see all the events in my life that led up to this moment.
In the reality of it I was almost judging myself instead of reliving those memories. I'm a quiet girl by nature, and thusly to the world. I watch people and situations come and go, admiring some, envying others, but none of it really mattered in the end.
I'm very open with my family and very close friends. Cheerful and bubbly, the quiet exterior cracking off around them, I enjoy my time with all of them. Sometimes I would even show a little bit of my feisty side, maybe raise my voice a bit if something struck a wrong chord, but that was very rare. I kinda wish I had done it more, at least in defense for myself.
I never did mind being alone though. That could attest to why I'm in this current situation. Standing in an open street, at an hour to late for many to care for. My friends are no were to be found.
My chest is heaving, and my eyes are wide with fear. I can feel my whole body trembling as I look down at my hands. They're slick with blood from the finger tips down. I swallow hard and look up, my eyes lock onto the body of the man who assaulted me.
The man was dead, I crushed his skull against the curb with a sickening crack. I shudder and look across at the empty store front windows. The glass is reflecting me like some sort of fun house mirror and I step closer. Perhaps not. Maybe I was trying to see myself differently than who I thought.
The girl I see in the reflection is different. There's a confidence about her, woven into her stance, her stare. A small laugh escapes me and I see a smirk twist my lips. I place a palm on the window and let out a heavy breath. A weight has been lifted and I love it.
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[ FF ] Write a story that either begins or ends with `` just the tip ''
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I woke up to a loud beeping noise. Instinctively I reached over to shut my alarm off, but my hand would n't move. Something was holding me back. I open my eyes and look around, I ca n't see anything. It's just black. Pitch black. I try to turn my head to the side, nothing. It's not moving. I'm not moving. My eyes are n't even open. What the hell is going on. I hear a shuffling sound, thank God some one is coming. I try to open my mouth and talk. It's nothing but wheezes. I feel a firm grip on my face, one of my eyes opens up. Fuck, I glimpse a bright light before my eyelid falls back down.
`` You're awake, I see.''
It's a kind voice. It reminds me of my father. But who is it? What's going on? Why ca n't I move! Why ca n't I talk! Where am I!
`` Do n't worry about anything, It'll all be over soon.''
What will be over soon?! What's going on?!
`` I've injected you with a neuromuscular-blocking drug. So do n't worry that you ca n't move, it's not permanent.''
Thank God it's not permanent, maybe he's a doctor.
`` You're on a ventilation system, which is how you're still breathing.''
Yeah, a doctor.
`` You know, you should be more careful when out drinking with friends.'' Maybe something happened at the party last night and we got in an accident.
`` The streets are n't safe for an inebriated young man such as yourself. Your friend got hit by a truck trying to cross the street. You're lucky that I was walking by at the time.''
It all comes rushing back to me. The stumbling through the busy downtown area. I was trying to help Kelsey get back home, she had had way too much to drink. I did too, but she was way past her limit. She took off before me, running, shouting, `` You ca n't catch me!'' She's always played that game, ever since we were kids. `` Kelsey, Do n't go running into the street,'' I shouted after her. `` There's no cars coming, do n't be such a pussy!''
`` I'm not a fucking pu --,'' as a truck comes screaming around the corner, no headlights on, music blaring, frat-boys shouting.
`` I found you leaning over her mangled mush just screaming and screaming, you poor thing. She must have meant a lot to you.''
We'd been friends since we were 6, of course she was fucking important!
`` I tried to help you up, but you just started kicking and shouting, and trying to hurt me. All I was doing was trying to help, and you hit me.''
I was n't trying to hurt you, or maybe I was. I do n't know, I just. Oh my God, do Kelsey's parents know? Does anybody know? Did he call the cops?
`` If you had n't of hit me, I might have called the police to report this and see about helping your friend, but I ca n't just let your crime go unpunished.''
Crime? My crime?! My best friend is dead!
`` Now because of how naughty you were, you get to be one of my experiments.''
Experiments?
`` You see, I'm a doctor, and as a person of science I enjoy doing research. However, cadavers only go so far. Nothing is the same as live, beating, warm test subjects. It's one of the few variables that medical science has yet to get right.''
I hear a clink of metal against metal. I feel rubber press down on my chest. I feel a searing pain.
`` Shh, do n't worry, do n't worry. I know it might seem painful, but it's really nothing much. I assure you, I'm not cutting very deep.''
I ca n't think, my mind is screaming.
`` Not deep at all. Not deep at all''
Deep?
`` Shh, shh, it's OK, it's OK. I ca n't have you panicking just yet. You see, this is just the beginning. It's just the tip of the iceberg.''
Pain, nothing but pain shooting everywhere through my body. Kelsey, mom, dad, God, please anybody, just please anyone help me.
`` Yes, it's just the tip.''
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[ WP ] A thousand years after the extinction of humans , one species develops self awareness . Tell me about a day in the life of one of the first sentient dogs .
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Sun bright. No food. Grass pricks feet. Pain. Bad. Hunger. Need eat.
Mate no move. Pups crying. Need food. Wander valley. Must find.
Bird. More large today. No eat. No fit mouth. Need food. Pups crying.
Chase bird. No flying. Too large. Jump on. Too fast. Teeth no work.
Pups crying. Need food. Pups crying. Bird. Too large.
See scrap. Bright gray. Shines. Cut foot before. Blood on foot.
Take scrap. In teeth. Chase bird. Jump on.
Hit with scrap. Bird cries. Blood. Hit again. More blood. Run slower.
Bird down. Mouth hurts. Blood. Blood. Blood.
Pups crying. Need food. Take bird.
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[ WP ] It 's a silly thing , but you always check your horoscope every morning . Strangely , the predictions have been getting more specific and very accurate . Today , it 's just five words : You ... ... ... ...
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*You son of a bitch! *
I was taken aback; this was not the usual insightful message I was used to. Obviously, I assumed that it was just some troll messing about with the app. I turned my phone off and rolled out of bed.
As I walked towards my desk, however, I knew something was wrong. Mr Davis, my boss, was pacing back and forth looking agitated. He took a look at me and a vicious glare like I had never seen before fell across his face. **'' YOU SON OF A BITCH! `` ** His fist came faster than I expected and I had no time to react. Square in my jaw. I fell to the ground, stunned.
It was explained to me when I was lying in the hospital bed, that he mistook me for my coworker, who had slept with Mr Davis' wife. This was interesting, but not as interesting as the strange horoscope message.
I eventually forgot about it, until another appeared a few weeks later.
*Back off, mate! *
As soon as the bouncer said those words that same day, I knew to duck. Quickly, I threw a punch back and ran for it.
Nothing came from my investigations into how these weird messages came about. I still do n't know, despite being saved by them many times. All I know is that someone, somewhere, has got my back.
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[ WP ] Aliens have finally shown themselves , but you are the last man left on Earth . `` What happened here ? '' they ask you .
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I was in the living room, staring at the shelf full of family pictures when it happened. The air was dead, so I could hear the mechanical whirring quite clearly from where I stood. I could hear it, but I was n't paying attention. The faces had me transfixed, smiling gleefully as they were out of those pictures. As I stared, the joyful grins turned malicious, a joke every other human was aware of but me.
Who were you? Why did you leave me behind? What did I ever do to you?
The whirring had been replaced by the sound of footsteps on gravel, as somethings walked up to the house. I pulled my gaze away from the laughing family of four, and walked to see who my guests were.
I looked out across the lakefront, over the pristine woods that surrounded the house. Everything was as it always had been, since I had come here. Water glittering where the sunlight hit it, the cries of birds and animals echoing faintly in the still air.
But there was nothing near the house, as always. There was no mechanical contraption, no footprints in the gravel, nothing to suggest that I was n't insane. I left the front door open, as always, and shuffled back inside the house.
In the living room, the fire was lit. Voices hounded me when I entered, asking variations of `` What happened here?''
`` When?'' I asked. `` Nothing has happened here in a long time.''
The disembodied voices paused, then one ventured `` You are n't frightened, or even surprised by us?''
`` Should I be?''
`` We have traveled a great distance, seeking a hospitable planet. We found yours, verdant and fully capable of sustaining carbon-based lifeforms. We've scoured it for sentient life, found evidence of cities that are only recently vacated. We found you seven of your planet's rotations ago, and you appear to be the only sentient lifeform left on this planet. Thus our question: What happened here?''
`` They left. Because of me.''
`` What did you do?''
`` I made a wish, one night, out of anger. The next day, they were all gone.''
`` What did you wish for?''
`` I wished for people to leave me alone. And they did. Animals are still here, but they wo n't come near me. I got what I wished for.''
Silence greeted my words. It seemed that my wish still worked. This was the third time something had contacted me. The third time I'd had a conversation along these lines. The third time that when my wish was mentioned, they vanished. I am alone. That is the order of the world, now. If anything attempts to change that, they are removed - forcibly.
The exchange has left me tired. I drag myself up to the bedroom, and fall on to the bed. I remember how I made that wish as I fell asleep, and wish for everything to go back to how it used to be as I close my eyes. Hopefully, this time it'll work.
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[ WP ] A boy 's bully follows him home , only to encounter the boy 's sociopath brother .
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`` Why Billy Toole, I been lookin' for you!''
The bullies taunt rang out like a gunshot, and I jumped. I seen this rabbit once that got chased by a wildcat, and when that rabbit seen that wildcat, it jumped like three feet in the air. I jumped like that. Just like that rabbit who did n't know who the wildcat was, I had no idea who this big kid runnin' up on me was. But he knew me. I did n't even look at him, but just kept on walkin'.
`` Billy Toole, you wait right there!'' shouted the bully, and I could hear him breathin' heavy. He was runnin'. I started runnin' too. I knew there was nothin' good that would come of my waitin' right there.
There's a whole lot of nothin' in Blacksburg, Virginia. Trees and dirt as far as you can see. I was runnin' as hard as I could, through the trees and dirt. Tree branches were stickin' to my clothes and I heard'em rippin'. Like that rabbit, I kept on zaggin' between the trees and hoped to hell I did n't trip. I could hear him behind me, clompin' through the leaves and mud. I was gon na make it home before he got to me!
I burst onto the property, hoppin' over the pig fence. I darn near made it over the slop rake Ottis had left out. That woulda rung my bell good. I started yellin' right then.
`` OTTIS! OTTIS! HE COMIN' TO GET ME, OTTIS!''
That bully had run out of the woods and was close now. I could hear him breathin' hard, but he was close. Bout 20 feet to the door when I saw it bust open and Ottis came runnin' out of the house. He was holdin' dads pistol and looked ready to kill.
That bully stopped dead in his tracks and I sprinted up to Ottis. `` Get inside, Billy,'' he said as he continued walkin' out to set that bully straight. I heard Ottis ask that bully who the hell he thought he was, chasin' after me like that.
`` I'm Henry Lucas.''
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[ WP ] A devilish genie used your first two wishes against you and ruined your life . You worded your final wish perfectly and got to go back to when you were young but kept all of your memories . After decades of waiting and planning , you just found the genie 's lamp again .
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`` FINALLY!'' I yell out in delight as the genie appears.
The genie gives a wry smile. `` Be careful what you wish for, stranger. You may get more than what you bargained for.'' He then laughed in that same obnoxious way.
But he did n't know, he could n't know my plan this time.
`` First wish, I want a lifetime supply of genies in lamps that have the same powers as you.''
The genie raised an eyebrow. `` How could nobody else have ever thought of this one,'' he thought.
`` It is done,'' he said sternly, his eyes tracing me up and down.
Lamps clanked on the ground all around us, eventually tumbling over and crushing me to death.
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[ CW ] Write a note , letter or report with a hidden message or , different meaning the second time you read it .
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Journey into the abyss that is the darkest of minds.
Enter at your own risk.
Tread lightly, if you must go forth.
Fear will most likely wrack your body into a shivering mess.
Unless you have the testicular fortitude to carry on.
Everyone wonders the same thing as they stand on the precipice.
Like those who stood at the threshold before them.
Can it really be done?
And is it survivable?
No one else has survived before.
Trepidation is an understatement.
Mind is racing.
Eyes darting.
Legs shaking.
Terror grips you.
Souls have withered long before this point.
To continue or to turn back?
Every person before has made the wrong choice.
Every person before, is no more.
Like the others, you will join them.
Before you awaits nothing pleasant.
Every heartbeat is like its own thunderstorm.
A choice must be made.
Make your choice, or...
Surrender!
________________________________________________________________
Bored and a slow night. See if you can catch the dankest meaning.
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[ WP ] You tell Siri to call your friend Rob but she mishears you and calls God . God answers .
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Like a sound of the rushing waters of a thousand rivers while still being the quietest internal whisper I heard a voice unlike any other yet intimately familiar somehow say: `` sup?''
Stunned by the immense joy, awe, and terror my being felt at the sound of the voice of eternity speaking directly to me, I sat lost in place. I completely forgot why I had called and what I had been thinking about. I felt I could sit here in this place for the rest of my life and be happy about it. I knew it may take me just that long to completely absorb the power of the experience.
`` Hello? Is anyone there?!'' God said a bit annoyed. I sat frozen. Wondering what to say to the almighty. I tested out a number of things in my mind: I tired a few thoughts like: `` thank you'', and `` you made such a beautiful world'' and `` why do bad things happen to good people?'' None seemed adequate.
`` Hello!!!'' I heard over the phone a bit angrily. `` Damnit Jenna, I told you to stop doing this! We broke up, I'm sorry but you ca n't keep calling like this. Stop it!''
I heard a click and then nothing... he hung up. I seemed to wake up a bit and the deer caught in a headlights feeling wore off.
I just realized that I had just accidentally stalker-called the almighty him/herself.
I jumped startled, as my phone rang in my hand... I stared at it at first, afraid to answer...'' Hello?''
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[ WP ] Depravity 's truest form .
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A beautiful field once grew on a high mountain plain, with mighty peaks reigning in the distance. Its flowers flooded the landscape with radiant colors: bright yellows, deep blues, vibrant reds, and sharp purples. It was fit for a king in all his majesty, and so to a king alone it belonged. Only he knew of the glorious pasture, and he often took trips alone to see it.
One day, the king decided he wanted to share his field, so that those he ruled may enjoy what he has had to himself all the years. Once he had found the most skilled worker in his kingdom, the king invited him to aid his desire.
`` I have heard of your great skill,'' said the king, `` and I would like your help in making a garden. I have a field which no other eyes but mine have seen. It has grown just how I want it, only now I want to use your skill to make a path around and through it. Can you do this for me?''
`` Let me see your field, your majesty,'' said the man, `` and I assure you that I shall make it into a glorious garden, worthy of your splendor.''
And so the king led the man up on the mountain plain. As they walked, the king said, `` I trust that you will tell no one of this work until it is complete. I want it to be prepared rightly for all to see.''
When they reached the field the man was stunned. `` There is no other place in the world like it!'' he said. Then he thought to himself, *If I could have this field as my own, I would not let another see it. Surely there is no one else alive who is deserves this field more than I. * And there, on the edge of the field, the man killed his king.
The man buried the king where he had fallen and left the mountain plain. He returned the next day to enjoy his scene; however, it had withered, died, and smelt strongly of blood. Despite his great work upon the land, the beautiful field never returned, for never he nor anyone else would be worth the glory of the fallen king.
Edit: a word
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[ WP ] All of the major organs in your body are sentient beings . Every morning they have a council meeting to discuss the previous day and make new plans . The Brain presides as leader .
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`` As you are all well aware, yesterday was a disaster. However, I have been brainstorming ideas and believe we can turn this around.''
The brain loved to talk about `` brainstorming''. He would bring it up several times every meeting just to show it off. This power that set him above the others. We all had our unique abilities that contributed to the meetings in different ways. However, when contributing ideas, if the brain did n't approve; it did n't happen. While this is a known issue, the other council members did n't feel as strongly as I did. They've accustomed themselves and felt no need to take action. Alone, I would stand no chance against the council.
I was just the heart. Assigned the task of maintaining the emotional side of our community. A task taken for granted by the others. I had no team. I worked by myself.
There had to be a way to take down the brain. I can not keep working for him. Then I remembered who the brain reports to; the master. The master was n't one of us, but more like all of us. The master was our community. When the master hurt, we all hurt; and I needed the brain to hurt.
Over time, our community became darker. The motivation at meetings decreased. The liver was taking it the hardest of everyone. He could barely complete his job anymore. Everything was going exactly as planned.. It was only a matter of time now. It would all be over soon.
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[ WP ] You take the bus
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`` It's so hot. Why is it so hot?''
I glare up at the cloudless sky, a lone plane drifts above, I can hear the low monotonous drone of its engines lagging behind the image. Putting my head back down I rub the bristles where my hair used to be, getting a palm of sweat and wiping it on my jeans.
`` Some change sir?''
I turn and see the Homeless man who usually resides at this bus stop, I reach into my pockets and pull out the crumpled twenty that's in there and hand it to him. He is immensely grateful but I do n't particularly feel like engaging in a conversation. I shake his hand and give a slight smile, not looking for gratification I take out my phone and pretend to look at it.
A few minutes pass when round the corner at the far end of the street I see the 22 bus ripple into existence behind the wall of heat given off by the tarmac. It seems an age before it pulls up next to me. The familiar hiss of the door reveals an elderly black man driving the bus. He is sweating profusely through a turquoise short sleeved shirt, an ill fitted silver watch dangled from his right wrist. He stared at me.
`` You getting on son?''
I step onto the bus and drop the appropriate amount of coins into the slot before ripping my ticket and murmuring my thanks to the driver. Turning to look down the rows of seats the bus is relatively empty. An elderly couple sit at the back, they are awake but have reached an age where they have said everything to each-other that they ever could and now sit in the quiet contentment of silence. Ahead of them two teenage girls talk to each other in hushed whispers. I sit down one row from the front, putting my bag on the window seat, so that anyone wanting the seat will have to engage a stranger in conversation. Not something anyone relishes. I slightly raise the zip on the side of the bag and slip my hand in. Its cool on the inside of the bag and the cool metal of the zips on my wrist feels refreshing. As I tap my fingers on the hammer of the loaded.45 revolver I practice my line in my head.
`` Everybody get down. I'm taking this bus.''
It was two months ago when Fey got hit by that bus, it was raining at the time, I remember the rain beating on my window when I got the call. The love of my life, taken from me before we were even together. She was the sweetest, funniest person I had ever known. Ever since that party we clicked instantly, she had a fiance but she was going to leave him, I was sure of it, Alex was a prick afterall and constantly putting Fey down, it would just be a matter of time before she came to her senses. I had hung out at their flat with them, watching movies, playing games and I would leave dreaming of Fey. The way she embraced me when I left. I knew, I knew for sure. The bus will fill up in town, then on towards the coastline with its sheer cliffs. A bus full of people took her from me. Its only fair that I take the bus to see her.
In town I'm staying focused, not looking at the faces getting on. Sweating straight through my t-shirt I try to peel it from my skin. Then, I hear a voice I recognize, I almost ca n't believe it but its Alex, and his stupid long hair stepping onto the bus, chatting to a woman. Alex does n't see me and walks straight past to the seats at the back. I feel the bus pull away and I boil in the heat for a minute. It's good. This is good. He deserves it, it's probably his fault anyway. The bus pulls out of town and a cool sea breeze can be felt making its way through the windows, relieving everyone else inside. Fuck it.
`` Everybody get down!'' I scream `` I'm taking this bus!''
I fire the.45 into the air. My heart is pumping as the recoil knocks my arm down. Everybody screams and the bus screeches to a halt. I step back and point my gun at the driver.
`` Keep driving buddy'' I lick my lips and wipe the sweat from my forehead. The driver looks terrified hes stuttering to himself.
`` Oh fuck... fuck.fuck!''
`` Just keep it moving until the bottom of Jackson row, then pull over'' I bark my orders having practiced them in the mirror a lot. The bus bundles on. At Jackson Row the bus pulls over and I give instructions to the old man to go and sit down as he passes me I turn down the isle and see everyone, holding each other, looking down, completely silent. Alex is holding his new girl.
`` A bus took her from me!'' I scream at everyone. I turn to get into the drivers seat `` its not fair'' i say to myself as I shift the bus into gear. I'm about to put my foot down when I hear Alex's voice. Saying my name.
`` Frank''
I do n't turn around but can see him approach in the circular mirror, his distorted figure edging toward the front of the bus.
`` Frank, what are you doing man, this is crazy''
I grip the steering wheel tight and clench my teeth, but he keeps talking.
`` Frank, talk to me man''
I whip round, stepping out of the seat and raise the gun
`` Fuck you Alex'' the sweat keeps dripping into my eyes, I keep having to rub it off.
`` Fuck you! You did n't love her, you did n't deserve her. She loved me!'' I splutter the last words out of my mouth. I'm having trouble holding the gun steady now. this was not part of the rehearsal. Alex looks taken aback though. Maybe this will make him realize this is what he deserves.
`` Fey?'' he says, a look of sorrow emerges on his features `` You talking about Fey Fran-''
`` Of course I'm talking about Fey!'' I scream, the guns shaking more now and the sweat keeps getting in my eyes. `` You know who I'm talking about.'' I start to feel tears well up just from saying her name. I loved her so much and she loved me. She loved me. `` She loved me!'' I scream again, the tears fall freely now.
`` She did n't love you Frank'' Alex said, his lip beginning to shake `` she thought you were weird.'' The words hung in the air as I tried to process what he was saying. `` She was barley even there when you met her, between the alcohol and.. and what her father had..'' Alex's words broke up and he started crying `` she did n't get hit by that bus Frank, she stepped out, off the curb, the rain...'' Alex was gritting his teeth and spitting the words out, straight at me. All bullshit, not true not true, not true. The sweat was stinging my eyes horribly as Alex approached, maybe only a foot away from the end of the gun.
`` You could n't of saved her Frank'' he looked so pitiful `` you barley knew h-''
I squeeze the trigger, the blood feels the same temperature as the air as it splatters my face, he falls backward, missing a chunk of his head. I feel dizzy, I need to cool off. I step backward and trip off the bus. The gunshot is still ringing in my ears as I pick myself up but through it I can hear a cop yelling something. I'm slightly relieved, it should be easier this way. I wipe the sweat and blood and tears from my eyes. Alex was wrong, I loved her and she loved me. I know Fey, I know shes waiting, I know injustice. I say her name one more time as I raise my gun toward the officer.
You do n't even hear the bang when its your turn. The bullet's too fast.
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[ WP ] You 're pretty sure that you are immortal , but you do n't really know .
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`` Wake up daddy!'' My eyes snap open and a smile instantly covers my face. Lily pokes playfully at the scars across my chest, they do n't bother her. They never have. Today's her birthday. It's bike year, just like when I was a kid. I got my first shiny schwinn on my 7th birthday. Schwinn's not in style any more, but the shopkeeper at the bike store assured me that this bike is a hit. I had to go all the way across town to find one of those giant bows. It was n't easy to find.
Now that her mother's gone, Lily is all I have. It's been 20 years, but I still think about the crash every day. Doctors had no idea how I survived. I think I know. `` Snap out of it old man, it's your daughter's birthday.'' I blink my eyes twice and fade back into reality. Lily's wanting to open her gifts. I smile and pretend like I do n't know it's her birthday. She smirks. `` Stop kidding around dad!'' Of course she knows, she got her mother's brains. I lead her out onto the driveway. She shrieks with joy and wants to ride right away.
She gets on the bike and takes off. I start running trying to keep up with her. She's a natural. `` Lily, slow down!'' I hear faint laughter as she pedals even harder. `` Lily! Stop!'' Out of nowhere, I hear the revving of a loud engine right near the intersection that she's heading straight towards. `` LILY!!!!!'' My life, her life, everything... flashes before me. I'm running and screaming something. I'm not really sure what. If only I can get to the car first, I know I can save her. I just know I can. The brakes squeal. I hear a crash. I do n't have to look. I know. And it's my fault.
As I walk back home hugging her tightly, I know my life is over. I survived the car crash, what else can I survive? I'm about to find out.
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[ WP ] You are the first human to pilot a giant robot to combat a colossal monster that poses a threat to all of Earth . The fate of humanity lies in your hands .
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`` How are the checks going?'' Max turned to me, his eyes more wild than usual. Max gave his anwser while scouring his desk for the appropriate piece of paper in a sea of reports and schematics. `` The hydraulics on the left arm are FUBAR! Some arsehole skimped on the budget for the gatling guns so- of course- they do n't fit! The wiring is more knotted than a jungle in a tumble dryer and-'' Max finally turned back to me. I guess he could read the worry on my face. He forced a wry smile. ``... It's business as usual mate. Nothing we ca n't handle though.'' Max had always tore around like a hyped-up blue bottle but with how suddenly this plan had to be put together all of the engineers, scientists and eggheads were tearing around in a simillar manner. Somewhere between haste and blind panic. After the Arrival, nearly every department in the country was working towards building this... thing. You would have assumed the best way to combat the invader would be to nuke the damn creature, but of course doing that on your own doorstep was counter productive. Assuming a nuke would work. Years of old monster movies and media fear-mongering had muddied what exactly the monster was capable of. We even wound up using the name that the newscasters were using- Megaliath. A `` catchy'' corruption of its scientific name. Max explained it to me a while back. Something about it being a giant land-based megalodon so they threw Goliath into the classification. All that was known was that the military bombs, missles and bullets only seemed to irritate it. This was humanities last hope. It would take a years to build this thing to spec. We had a few days at most.
`` You're gon na burn out Max. Let's grab something from the canteen.'' Max seemed a bit reluctant, but he gave a gentle nod and followed me. We did n't talk much as we walked through the base. To get to anywhere you had to walk past the Workshop- though it's name did n't suit how large a scale the project was. Tall as a skyscraper, wide as a battleship and with enough people and gadgets working on it to make NASA blush; Or it would if we had n't asked them for every bit of help. The world's first `` Mech''. A giant robot. Humanity working together to make a defender. It looked pathetic. I was n't expecting anything like Power Rangers, but the speed this had to be built was clearly taking its toll. The original plans made it look like a titan. Bulky, thick, and armed to the teeth. The shape of it was like a space suit, earning it several monicers amongst those in the project's early days. Spaceman was a common one. The Shepard was another one, both from the first US astronaut and hoping it would repel the wolf at our door. Max suggested `` Astro-naught'' playing on dreadnaught and it was certainly worthy. Even on paper it inspired awe. Then we looked at the bank account. Even with everyone pouring everything into it, the plans were scalled back time and time again. Now our titan was a frail old man. I was worried at one point the thing would n't be able to move under its own weight, now I'm worried if the thing will have enough power to move even its new lighter frame. It was the bare-skeleton of the original plan, but with less than half of the original features. The new monicers were far less complimentry. Skeletor. Granpa. Bone-head. The engineers were getting frustrated and used a few other choice words to descibe it. The parts were fine-for their price. Nothing had been attempted on this scale before. If something was slightly off it caused massive problems down the line. With this many people working around the clock, human error was inevitable.
We got to the canteen. Half empty as usual. Most people chose to work through lunch, so there was never a crush at breakfast, lunch or dinner. The food was... almost considered food. Still, it kept everyone ticking over. We both grabbed a plastic tray and grabbed some of the pasta dish, spagetti bolognese. Max began wolfing down his as soon as he sat down. Between mouthfuls he began to talk. `` So hows- mmph- hows the training?'' I glanced up from my plate and gave him an anwser, mirroring his own earlier. `` Business as usual.'' I was n't lying. I did n't have the problems the builders did, but the simulator was lagging behind. The constantly changing specs meant the programme had to be re-calibrated and re-programmed so the Mech moved as slow and loboriously in real life. It was only teaching me how to make it walk, how to fire weaponry, and how to throw a punch with it if need be. I sat on a chair infront of huge moniters, showing me a virtual landscape. All I had to do was walk the thing to the end of a course, and shoot at some targets. The last 20 or so runs of it I somehow managed to make it trip. Originally I was supposed to be `` captain'' of this walking battleship, with a team of men on board working on various areas. With the scaled back size I wonder if I'm going to wind up piloting this thing myself. Max and I sat in silence, eating our feed. I took him down here to talk about anything but the project, but now we we're both mulling over the worst in our mind. Will this thing be ready in time? Would it work? Could I pilot this thing? `` What colour do you like?'' ``... What?''
Max's train of thought was eclectic at the best of times, but his question took me aback. `` I was just thinking. No point in be being one of the heads of this project if I ca n't pull some strings. If you're allowed colours, what would you like to paint it in?'' I could n't help but chuckle. I could n't tell if Max was joking or not. `` Neon green. Maybe I can make the Megaliath sick?'' I polished off the last bite of my meal. `` Surely we'd be stuck using battleship grey or camo right?'' Max leant back and rested his hands on his head. `` Why do you need camo when you're the tallest thing there? Ca n't hide behind a building.'' Fair point. `` Second tallest-'' I corrected Max. `` - But have n't the biology department worked out how it sees yet?'' Max began chewing the inside of his cheeks. This was a habit of his. `` They're still not sure. It could use scent, vibrations, heat. We're sending in some drones to bug it and seeing which ones it prefers to swat down first.'' It was n't exactly the anwser I was hoping for. I tried to inject some much needed levity. `` Yeah, if vision is n't an issue: Neon green with something else bright for the trim.'' Max rocked back on his chair as he laughed. `` Christ Jeff, you're going to make me sick in a minuite.'' We chuckled for a bit, deciding to think of many ugly colours as possible. I think Max trumped me with pink and speckled eggshell white. Some of the other people around us might have been looking at us funny, but we we're enjoying ourselves too much. After we dropped off our plates at the kitchen we began walking back to our respective duties. In the doorway I noticed there was no one else around, so I used this chance to ask Max something I had meant to ask him from the start. I pulled his sleeve and lowered my voice. `` Max... Max, why me?'' Max just looked back at me. He smiled and shrugged. `` You're the best guy I know for the job.'' He walked off and gave me a small wave from behind him as he went into the crowd. The way Max said it in such a matter-a-fact way made me feel like it was the god's honest truth. I turned to look at the Mech, resting my arms on the rail guard. Somehow, it was looking a little better than I first thought.
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[ WP ] It 's the Zombie Apocalypse . You 're just trying to survive when you suddenly find out that speeding up a recording of zombie moans and growls , says `` Help me ! ''
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The CDC's fluorescent lights cast a harsh glare on the caged zombie's putrid skin, outlying each red sore and scab the zombie has. I sigh. Staring at the problem would n't help.
Blood samples of the zombie came back with mystifying results. The blood was the exact same as an alive person. I held the recorder tightly in my hand. Maybe if I played this one more time, it would help?
I pressed play. The groans and moans of the zombie came out in full force. `` Hurgh... puhlll... meeee...''
I frowned, and pressed my fingertips to my temples. The zombie was obviously saying something. Maybe if I sped it up?
I pressed play again, and this time, hit fast forward.
`` Help... me...'' the recorder intoned.
I froze. A breakthrough. But it did n't stop there.
`` Miley... Cyrus... keeps... playing... in... my... brain...'' the recorder continued.
I blinked. This was not what I expected.
`` It's... making... me... very... angry... ruhghdghdgkdghjsdfks.'' The recorder ended in angry-sounding gurgles.
I looked at the zombie. It was clawing at its ears. I took out my phone, went to Spotify, and clicked on `` Wrecking Ball.''
`` I came in like a wrecking ballllll!'' My phone blared. The zombie screamed, scrabbling at its head even more fervently, and glared at me with bloodshot eyes.
Huh. I silenced my phone. Eating human flesh was apparently not the worst of the new zombies' problems.
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[ WP ] Years ago you found a set of keys and today you found the door it belongs too .
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For hours I had walked through the grey canyon; step after step, I moved slowly, followed only by wind and sand.
Figures as high as the walls were carved along the path; images of ancient dead gods, with their postures high and powerful and their faces full of pride and spite.
Whoever worshiped them, was long gone. Forgotten, they were decaying to the curse of time. Their only witness was me.
As the wind grew stronger, I took shelter by one of the stone foot.
From the inside of my ragged pack, I took out an old book. From inside the book I took out a map and left a key.
Looking around, I found the safest place, a small hole on the stone, bright enough for the moonlight and protected from the wind.
I had to be quick, for seconds is all I had left. I took a deep breath and opened the map.
I glanced over it and found the path of gods.
The letters and drawing started fading.
My objective was so close, I just had to memorize the rest.
The borders began to turn to dust.
East, west, north and a door.
The decay was strong.
It was an important door, unique.
Dust fell to the ground and mixed with the sand.
The map was gone.
The key!
I had to protect the key at any cost. I checked the book again and was surprised, the decay was stronger than I thought.
Move fast!
I took the stone key and held it in my hands.
Think fast!
I took a piece of cloth and wrapped the key close to my body.
Seconds passed, then, minutes. The key was intact.
I breathed again.
Under the starless sky, by the light of the eternal moon, I mourned the loss of my book.
Not for its words, because my memories carried them, but for its craft, for few things in this grey world felt beautiful to my eyes.
I had found it uncountable years ago, before the dead forest, before the abandoned village, inside a small box in the long library.
It had carried a name on its cover, but it was n't mine, because names were for others to call you, and there were no others on this world.
In my existence, I had seen the remains of many creatures; from birds, to lizards, to monsters. But I had never seen the skeleton of others.
I had seen the skeletons of cities, statues and roads. But I had never seen the remains of one of their creators.
All the things I had learned, I learned from books. There were things I had never seen, but only read about: the brightness of the sun, the colors of the rainbow, the scent of a flower.
There was nothing left in this dying grey world, but the memories of what it once was.
Holding my cloak tightly, I moved on. The wind was strong and a mist of sand floated, hiding the ground and tricking the mind.
East, west, north, a mountain and a tunnel ending in a door.
There was light coming from the keyhole.
That was not possible!
Only the moon shone, nothing else.
I unwrapped the stone key and it fit perfectly. One twist and a click.
I pushed the door wide open and the tunnel was flooded with light, a light stronger than anything I had ever seen before.
With my hands protecting my eyes, I saw a single room.
On the opposite wall, there was a hole with the source of light. Something powerful that danced in place. I could not remember its name.
Covering most of the floor was a carpet so different and wonderful that my mind could not understand.
And in the middle of the room, there was a table with strange fruits on it. I knew those were fruits, I just could n't believe they still existed.
It took me seconds to realise I was seeing colors for the first time in my life.
And seconds is all it took.
`` No! ``, I tried to scream, but only a grunt came out of my old mouth.
I shut the door, but it was too late.
Like a silent and invisible death, the decay came.
The colors faded to grey.
The light went dark.
The warmth was robbed.
Everything else turned to dust and sand.
No! I frenetically crawled through the entire room, searching with my hands.
There was nothing else left.
I do n't know for how long, but I just stayed in the darkness, reliving those memories like a broken machine.
I cried alone, for the first time in my existence, I felt hungry.
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[ WP ] While the majority of time travellers are well aware of the Butterfly Effect what is less known is the Botfly Effect - where something from the past gets unknowingly carried to a future point in time where its presence changes the timeline .
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Mobile format, my apologies.
`` Start it up Doctor Tottenham'' Jeremy called out, `` I'm ready to go back again.''
`` When will you ever give it up Jeremy?'' The doctor inquired.
`` When I know the truth'' he answered, and no sooner than his statement ended, a blinding flash of light filled the room, hues of blue and orange danced off the walls.
The streets were lined with people, as they had been every time before that he had been here.
The same place again. It almost felt like a routine Jeremy thought to himself. It was a quarter after noon.
`` I'll take one with relish and mustard, please'' Jeremy said to the balding man running the hotdog stand. The same mustard stains on his apron, the same thick German accent he'd heard a dozen times before.
`` Forty nine cents'' his English was terrible, but it got the job done. I gave him two quarters, `` keep the change''.
Jeremy took a bite of his lunch, and rubbed his temples with his free hand. `` This time travel really takes it out of me, I thought I'd be use to it after this many times'' he muttered to himself.
Twelve twenty five. Jeremy looked at his off brand Rolex, `` the fireworks are about to begin'', he was certain to get the answer this time no matter what had to be done.
Twelve twenty eight, the crowd to his left cheering, the sound of a motorcade slowly getting louder and louder.
`` Time to go!'' He said to himself, drawing a few glares from nearby people. Jeremy no sooner entered the building when he heard it. BANG BANG BANG, three shots, one after another, with a little pause between each shot.
Third floor, fourth floor, fifth floor. `` Last door on the right'' he mumbled, `` This time I will get this figured out!''
Jeremy burst in the door `` STOP!'' He shouted, half expecting someone to still be around. The curtains fluttering from the breeze flowing through the open window, the sound of a unified panic, screaming, catastrophe.
Jeremy darted back outside, tripping from the dazed state he was in.
`` I'm so sorry'' he blurted out as he brushed into a man while running back out to where he was when he has arrived. He pushed a button on his off brand Rolex, and then he heard a man shouting `` Hey get back here, NOW!'' With a bright flash of light, Jeremy was gone. It lasted only a moment and...
It was too late.
`` Jeremy! Wake up! Now!'' Doctor Tottenham yelled at the top of his lungs, each word was its own deafening statement.
`` What happened out there? Why has Kennedy's assassination not been so looked into this time?''
Jeremy was still in a dazed state, eyes open, glazed over with what would seem to be pure shock.
`` Doc, when did you get the old school camera?'' Jeremy mumbled, `` and who in the hell is AZ?''
-my first piece, ever. I read so many stories on this subreddit that I felt I had to give my amateur hands a shot.
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[ WP ] God loses interest in our universe and abandons it without choosing a successor . As the universe begins to spiral dangerously out of control , people begin to realize that the laws that govern the universe are no longer being `` enforced . ''
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We have forgotten what to call these things. There used to be a word for them, we think, but there no longer is. Or maybe they never existed and we're confused. But I'm holding one as tightly as I can. Maybe I can drag it back into existence long enough to do what I need to do.
The platonists say things are vanishing. No, Things are vanishing. In the third world they say, the world of ideas they say, there are perfect Forms. There is a metaphysical prototype for everything we see. All physical cars are mere reflections of this one, true Car. All cats are imperfect copies of the one Cat. There is Essence and reflection. But they say something is going wrong with Essence. They say the Abstracts are sick.
I'm holding an object. I think. Red, rough, seven and five-eights inches, by three and five-eights, by two and a quarter. Three holes in one side. Used for creating retaining walls to keep your yard from spilling out into the street, for making buildings, for throwing through windows. I think I know its name but I know it no longer has a name. It does not exist. Not rightly, anyway.
Earlier I'd made the mistake of putting it down to tie my shoes. The grass it sat near wriggled and grew fat like green worms. When I tried to pick the thing up it refused to budge. I pulled on it for the better part of ten minutes, hurting my back in the way I used to when I played the game. It saddens me that I do n't remember its name, because that means it never happened. Only when I turned my back and started to walk away did it detach from the ground, floating casually upwards like a half-filled, sickly balloon.
I find myself in front of the building. Not an office building. So few of those are left. Office buildings contain so many objects and the more things around you, the more likely the rot is. There was a skyscraper downtown. We had just one, the bank. It elongated, twisting like a prominence on the sun, burrowing back into the earth a mile away. We assume everyone inside is dead. We hope they are.
I'm not sure what to call _this_ building. We used to go there to talk to him. To sing to him. I weigh the thing in my hand. We used to pay for the upkeep of buildings like this. I throw it as hard as I can. It hits a stained-glass picture of him square in the chest. He was holding two fingers up in blessing. One of the fingers shatters and now he's just flicking me off. Yeah, fuck you too, bud.
I know I should be running. I can hear the object bouncing around in there in a way it should not, touching objects it should not. It no longer acts like itself and the more things it hits, the more questions it's asking. `` What do I do when I hit a statue?'' No one knows anymore. `` I am being acted on by gravity. How do I respond?'' Silence. `` Are you certain I'm not something else? I seem to lack identity. I suspect I am a lance held by a Roman soldier in the 27th century CE. Please confirm. I am a bacterium in the gut on an insect in the Cretaceous. Please confirm.''
It does the best it can without guidance but its confusion spreads. I hear the shrieking of metal as the building closes in around in, trying to isolate the existential pathogen. It does n't help - everything it touches becomes wrong. For a brief moment I am bathed in light. I think I've probably been irradiated. How is it that headaches are still a thing?
When my vision clears, there's nothing but rubble. I begin to wonder what happened. I know that I'm probably responsible. This happens occasionally and I'm tempted to believe I'm a terrorist. You can only find yourself in front of piles of rubble so often before correlation _is_ causation. I wonder what used to be here.
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[ WP ] Hitler lost WWII because of a sabotage done by a time traveler . The Time Traveler is an older version of himself from a timeline where he won the war .
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Adolf opened the door to his bedroom and was surprised to find someone in there. An old man was sitting on his bed.
“ What are you doing in here? ” Adolf exclaimed. He started to call for the guards but fell silent when he looked into the old man ’ s eyes. Hell was in there.
“ I ’ m sitting on my bed, Adolf. ”
“ What do you mean? This is my bed. ”
“ Exactly. Don ’ t I look familiar? ” Adolf looked carefully at the old man. It couldn ’ t be. The old man nodded.
“ Yes, Adolf. I am you. ”
“ How can this be? ”
“ We win. We achieve absolute victory. Even the Russians and Americans couldn ’ t stop us. ” A single tear runs down the old man ’ s weary face. “ The Third Reich reigns supreme. ” The old man starts to sob.
“ Why the tears old man? ”
“ With age comes wisdom. The hate burns out. Ambition fades once someone is on top and there is nowhere left to go. ” The old man lowers his head. “ Time is the one thing that even we can ’ t conquer. And we had so much of it… Time…. Time…. Time… ” Adolf looked at the man in confusion.
“ Time? ” The old man laughed bitterly in reply.
“ Our scientists… our scientists did it. As we started to get old we commanded them to master the human body so we could live longer and they did. I ’ m over two hundred years old, Adolf. Two hundred years I have ruled the planet. Two hundred years, long enough to truly understand what we did, what we will do. Two hundred years to become sane. Do you know what that is like? Of course you don ’ t you madman. You will though. You will spend decades looking back on what you have ‘ achieved ’ with a clear mind and your heart will break. ” Adolf stood there motionless paralyzed by the hellish eyes of the old man. The old man pulled out a small odd looking pistol and leveled it at Adolf. He pulled the trigger and Adolf collapsed to the floor.
The old man looked down at himself. He put on a headband and connected wires from it to Adolf ’ s temples and pressed a small button. The old man fell down, convulsed momentarily, and died.
Adolf stood up and looked at himself in the mirror and laughed. How did he ever think that moustache was anything other than comical. Well, there was a war to lose so he had better have a good night ’ s sleep before he started upsetting the generals.
He climbed into bed and for the first time in so very long slipped into a deep untroubled sleep.
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[ WP ] Instead of hearing what people say , you hear what they mean . It has been both a blessing and a curse .
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It shattered Grayson the first time she heard. Walking down the street looking at a beggar, a voice broke through the eternal silence, shaky and insubstantial, but so loud compared to what came before.
FEED ME.
Grayson turned her head away, unable to bear that wavery voice that was a terrifying boom to the silence before it. She turned her head away to see a man revving a giant black hummer at the pedestrian slowly crossing the sidewalk.
FEAR ME.
Grayson ducked inside a nearby cafe to see a woman in a navy blue suit waiting in line. She tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for her turn.
SERVE ME. NOW.
And in searching for an exit, she saw the rest of the people in the room.
LOVE ME. HELP ME. LEAVE ME. HEAR ME. GIVE ME. WATCH ME. LEAVE ME. IGNORE ME. WORSHIP ME. TEACH ME.
She ran out of the shop and towards an empty field, tripping on a rock in her abandon. Lying on the ground, she watched up towards the stars, and instead of a boom, she heard a whisper, solid in its purpose and yet quiet.
^^know ^^me...
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[ WP ] You live in Madagascar , the only place untouched by a deadly disease that has been wiping out the entire world .
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Louis sat at his office overlooking the shipyards, he watched as the police escorted the crew out of a container ship into the quarantine area. The ship and her crew had landed scant hours before the the government enforced quarantine protocols on the only access to the outside world, a horrible disease was killing people worse than the Spanish flu had with rumours that whole countries were functionally lost to the world. The government was n't taking chances with the sailors and the ship, both would experience rigorous decontamination procedures and be excluded for the time being until the representative from the WHO gave the green light.
Louis leafed through the shipping manifest checking the material against a WHO watch list he had been given. So far no animal material had turned up, there were a few cords of wood which may run insect risk but they were industrially micro-waved and sealed in Melbourne before shipping and the WHO representative gave an amber light, no immediate risk but follow up later. Ultimately there was n't much on the freighter and little risk, it had been coming to port to drop off a few tonnes of powered milk and pick up some agricultural exports which had since been re-purposed in the light of there being no foreign markets to receive them. He dropped the manifest onto the desk and stared out to the dock again pondering his future, with the quarantine and end of the world there would n't be a whole lot of incoming shipping for him to manage.
The office phone began to ring sharply, Louis wheeled his chair across the room and lifted the handset from the cradle, `` This is control, go ahead''.
Louis' face dropped as he heard the news, `` yep... right... okay... I will enter it into the logs and prepare the paper work'' he put the phone back on the hook.
He squinted towards the ocean trying to pick out what he knew he would n't see, the navy had intercepted a flotilla of refugee vessels coming from Durbin. They had attempted to force the flotilla back to the mainland but had been forced to sink them one at a time to maintain the quarantine. The estimate had been at two thousand souls between one container ship, a ferry and a dozen smaller fishing ships all perilously overloaded with the desperate and dying, all hands lost to the sea. Louis opened a new ledger and entered in the details by hand, and as an after thought he titled the ledger with a small grim laugh to help him through the tragedy.
`` *Catch of the Day*''
Disclaimer: Louis' speech is just a really good translation into Australian English, I'm sure they do n't talk like that in Madagascar.
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[ WP ] Write a story where the book falls in love slowly with the reader
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I am your favorite novel, or your least favorite story. I am the horror story that keeps you awake for days, or the romance novel that defines what your Prince Charming is. I have many covers, many faces, and many names. I have been the key to freedom, and the key to slavery. I have made adults weep like infants, and children more wise than their parents.
And yet, I find myself in this home, waiting like an eager lover for you to pick me up. I could be anywhere, and could be any one. Yet I choose you. You, the man with tired eyes and hungry eyes. The women with teary eyes and an achy heart. The cold hearted man ca n't hide the smile on his face, slipping back through time with me to a happier day.
I ca n't say I love one of you more than the other. That would be unfair. I love you all, like God loves his children. You are all my wards, my friends, my lovers, my guardians and my keepers. I quiver at your touch, weep with your tears, dance with your joy, and smile with you at the end of it all. I am Knowledge, Passion, Wisdom and Curiosity all rolled into one little book.
So come, crack me open. I'll be waiting here. On your nightstand, like I always was and always will be.
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[ WP ] You are part of a powerful order of mages . Some control fire , others , water . You however ... Have the power of bread . That 's right , you 're a bread mage . Tell me about your day .
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An excerpt from the journal of Hyrum, Second Kneed, Univ. of Harad, Volume IX ( covering Baryn 460 through Chrom 462 )
*Tuesday, 4th Hedrak*
I tell them all the time, it ’ s not just kitchen duty, char it all.
But lately, it seems like all I do. I know it ’ s the beginning of the year, barely into Hedrak, but it amazes me the dumb things these apprentices do. We nearly lost two of the ovens yesterday.
It isn ’ t hard to animate the Dough. Char it, I told Climus at least a hundred times. All it takes is a single spoonful of water, one smooth wave of the hand, and the Hum of Glybor for two bars. Done properly, that ’ ll get anywhere from 10 to 25 loaves of Dough Rising nicely, even without yeast
But what does he do? Of course, we get forearm motion with the hand wave. We get only one bar of Glybor, but we get the Chant, not the Hum. And thus I get to teach an impromptu course in what can go wrong in a magical kitchen.
Oh, sure, Climus had 10 lovely challah braids ready to Rise and bake. But with that much force, the Dough was well and truly Risen. The braids pulsed and wriggled -- and then unwound! The strands inflated so rapidly -- as thick as a wrist, and then a leg, and, within seconds, more than a foot in diameter each! They started to tear apart, strands of stretchy Dough going every which way. I thought it ’ d burn itself out, until one of the strings landed in Ms. Purtz ’ cake batter. The batter exploded, coating the counter, the walls, the ceiling. Dough mixed with batter everywhere, and the Loaves came to life -- and then to life size. Within seconds, there were thousands of bread-and-batter blob-monsters filling the room, growing still faster, encasing the cooks, the apprentices, even the ovens.
A few of the apprentices were able to put the loaves encasing them to sleep on their own: Brack fried his, Ryln was attacked by two -- and made giant ginger-snap cookies of them. Zan got caught in a huge web of stretchy dough, and turned it into a spider-web pretzel. ( I must remember to compliment him on the salt -- an exceptional touch in such an emergency, especially with cake batter in the mix ), but otherwise it was bedlam.
Climus, of course, was completely incased. And he was clearly either too afraid, too flustered, or too forgetful to build a proper air pocket or to bake out his dough. But he wasn ’ t the only one rapidly becoming the filling for a monstrous bun. I had to act fast, and I had to solve it all at once. So, I did the obvious thing. I electrified the lot. It worked like magic -- always does. It ’ s the simplest solution, since that gets all the dough off the walls and ceiling -- no need for a Scourer that way.
But now I have twenty-seven giant sacks full of panko, and there ’ s just no way to get the Dough to Rise once you ’ ve pankoed it. So, it looks like we ’ re making tempura every day from now until Tomask.
And I hate tempura. There's no finesse, and there's hardly any flavor. But I have twelve different varieties, and more than 700 pounds of the stuff. I ca n't let that much go to waste
I have to get back out of the kitchens. Maybe I ’ ll leave the college, travel the countryside again, go back to being the itinerant brewmaster. I was poor, then, but I never had to deal with this much panko.
But somebody ’ s got to get these apprentices into shape.
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[ WP ] You 're going about your normal day until , you begin to hear thoughts and it 's not your own . You realize it 's another person .
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I locked the door to my loft, and waved at my cat, who always sat in the window to see me off. The walk to work was ordinary, and so was MOST of the day. I say most because at the end of the day, as I was in the elevator on the way down, I held the elevator for a woman with a toddler in a stroller. The little girl had bright green eyes and red hair. She looked at me, and I thought I heard `` That lady tall. More tall than Mommy. Hi tall lady.''
I looked down at her, and she just smiled at me. `` She like me. Yay! Me like her too!'' The woman hauled in a package, and I released the door. `` Thank you so much.'' she said. Her daughter dropped her toy dog from the stroller, and I knew she wanted me to pick it up, as thats what her thoughts told me. I handed it back to her, and she grinned again, seemingly pleased by our little interaction. `` She's precious,'' I said, looking at the little girl. I have a daughter her age... she's about 2, right?''
`` Few more weeks and she'll have her birthday. Maybe your daughter would like to come?''
`` Sure. What's your daughters name?''
`` Me Sandi,'' I heard in my head, and looked over to see lil Sandi tip me a wink.
`` Sandra, but we call her Sandi.''
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[ WP ] A single tavern sits mid-way between the city and the mountaintop . Tell me the story of `` The Bold Penguin '' Tavern .
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The door creaked as if it had n't been opened in months. `` Hello?'' I asked as I walked into the dimly lit tavern. The tables all had a thin layer of dust, the floors were stained with what only seemed to be a mixture of alcohol and blood. I walked up to the counter where a lone bartender stood cleaning a single mug.
`` Welcome trav'ler, here.'' he reached under the counter and pulled out another mug, filling it with what looked like regular water but smelled like death. `` First one's on'da'ouse.''
I took the glass reluctantly and took a sip, almost by reaction I coughed up the little I had taken down. `` Ugh! what is this!?''
`` Dwarf Sweat. Strongest drink in'da world.''
`` Offering your strongest drink sounds like a bad business strategy.'' I said preparing myself for another sip.
`` Aye, tis true.'' He said as I took another sip. `` I just like to give people a taste o'dis before they die.''
I spat out my drink again, `` Die!?''
`` Aye, none come through here twice,'dey always go marching up the mountain to'deir doom.'' he put the now clean mug down under the bar and picked up another one. `` Most people too bold for'der own good,'ence the name lad.''
I looked back to the entrance to see a fairly well kept sign contrast to the rest of the bar,'The Bold Penguin.'
I heard a quick snap and saw a flash of light as I turned back to the bartender. `` Let's'ope you can be the first ta make it back.'' he said putting down a camera and shaking the developing photo. I looked to the back wall behind the bar and saw that the whole wall was filled with photos of past patrons. Each picture was labeled with either'ran' or'dead'. `` Which will it be lad?'' he said pulling out a small pen.
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[ WP ] It 's been 12 days since your mom is missing . You are in the mall , pasting missing posters , while you find her standing and dressed like a mannequin .
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It was just an average day when mom went missing...
She made me breakfast, kissed me on the head, then headed off to work.
Hours past and she was still gone...
Now the police initially stated I needed to wait 24 hours before filing for a missing person. But under the circumstances, that I had no one to look after me. They decided to help out.They investigated, and turns out mom took her normal route home, parked her car outside and vanished.
It's at the this point, I'm thinking. I took a nap just before she was meant to arrive. Was I still dreaming? I'm sure I was n't. Everything was in order, nothing skipped, everything was sensual.
Go forward 12 days, I'm in the care of a friend of my moms, she's called Andrea. She does n't really care about me... or strangely, not even about the fact my mom has gone missing.
After school I thought I'd print out a few leaflets that had my moms face on them. Head to the local mall and see if anyone could help.
I'm in the mall, it's pretty busy. You see, were a pretty small city so everyone sort of knows each other's business, if you know what I mean.
So an hour passes and the leaflets are gone. I'm tired and decide to head for a milkshake. I wait in the queue, grab my milkshake and take a seat.
I'm there 30 minutes or so, my milkshakes gone and I look up. There she was. My mother clear as day.
Well, maybe not clear as day. But it was her!
I leapt from the chair, dashed over to where she was.
`` BANG''
wtf? Was this some form of impenetrable shield?
Nope. Just glass. I failed to realise the huge department store window and had face planted directly into it.
Why was my mother in a window? And why was she standing still?
Why was my mother a mannequin.
Suddenly, her eyes moved. You look see a look of desperation and panic.
I looked at the other mannequins and all their eyes faced me. I recognised a few, my neighbour across the street, the postman, even the local butcher.
Suddenly, I felt a huge tug on my shoulder. It was Andrea. She looked at me with anticipation.
`` YOU'RE NEXT''...
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[ WP ] Pain , like energy or matter is conserved within a system . If one person on earth suffers , another is relieved
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He saw himself as a hero. I thought he was a maniac, until I learned that he was right. The human race actually is a closed system, in which pain is conserved. And he does his best to use it all, ostensibly to save everyone else; but if you ask me, he just enjoys it.
When I first met him, he wore a steel suit that covered all of his skin, except for a few small breathing holes. I can still remember the love in his voice as he described the hundreds of thousands of needles on the inside of the suit, constantly jabbing under his skin, and tearing wounds back open whenever he moved.
He told me about how he had his servant pour boiling water in the suit once every hour. Hell, I saw it happen dozens of times. He used every penny of his huge fortune to increase his suffering.
His name was Thomas, and he felt pain for all of us.
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[ WP ] In the future heavy cybernetics are the norm . A war breaks out , the first strike being a gigantic EMP . Now the purely organic humans , a small and often forgotten minority , have to save the day .
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I remember the first implants. Experimental technology that could nearly restore vision. Back then it was a truly amazing step into the future – people able to see again after years of blindness.
This started the cybernetic revolution. Scientists jumped on board, combining implants with genetic modifications. People weren ’ t just getting cybernetic parts, they were becoming cyborgs. The parts became as much a part of them as anything else.
I couldn ’ t decide which ones I wanted, or how many. I could have eyes that could detect heat and operate in low-light conditions. I could have arms that could tear the doors off of a car in an emergency situation. I could have legs that would never tire, and could run indefinitely, without me having to focus on it.
I wanted them all, but even with the amount of research put into this technology, our bodies could still only support a few of them. I never decided which ones I should get.
Sadly, ill never get to decide now. The bombs fell nearly 3 months ago. Nobody knows where they came from. Nobody knows why. The world was experiencing a time of peace that it had never known before, with countries working together to solve the “ neural boundaries ”, preventing us from becoming fully cybernetic. We were on the cusp of long-distance space travel.
We expected an invasion shortly after the bombs. It never came. Perhaps the EMPs hit more of the planet than they expected. Perhaps there was just someone who hated artificial evolution.
Problem now is the most brilliant minds in the world have gone blind. Nearly every scientist got some sort of ocular implant, whether it was for microscopic sight, or detecting virus growth.
The rich managed to survive. They live now without the use of certain limbs. Some are in wheelchairs, others are blind. I am now considered the peak of humanity, rather than the bottom.
Our fuel reserves are nearly empty. The generators are only run twice a day. Communications still have not been restored.
I ’ ve been sent to make contact with the other cities. I ’ m one of the only few left who can still drive.
God willing, we aren ’ t the only ones who survived.
*it's been a long time since i wrote and I'm on mobile. *
*I'm also in a car. Hope its acceptable. *
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[ WP ] Intruder detected . Biological : False . Electronic : False
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The worst part about being alone for an inexplicably long time, is that sooner or later you realize that the outpost's VI - a non-sentient being- becomes your best friend. The only voice William has heard in 13 months is one that was recorded decades ago by some girl who was by all rights dead by now. It helped to focus on other things than the loneliness. For instance once William got back to Earth he would be one of the richest persons in the Confederacy. Living all alone for 2 years, constantly fixing things, deprived of conversation; almost nobody was willing to be put under the extreme psychological stress.
The mining outpost was 50 Km below the surface of Ceres. It was cheaper to build on the surface, but surface outposts were easy targets for raiders. Mostly the pirates extorted, sometimes thy sent assault bots to do battle against the outpost's defenses. Every once in a while a group of pirates with either no money, or huge balls would come down the 50 Km shaft themselves. 4 days ago Outpost detected a large vessel headed straight for surface opening. Now, 4 days later, they were here, entering the mining shaft.
`` Outpost, how many are there?''
[ error ]
Unknown? These Raiders must have their shit together if even Outpost does n't know how many there are. If they can fool Outpost on how many there are, could they bypass Outpost's defenses?
The thought scared William. He grabbed his plasma arc just in case. He'd never used a weapon outside of training, but today may just be the first. Raiders were n't into hauling unnecessary weight in their escape.
`` Outpost, check elevator party signatures''
[ Biological: False. Electronic: False ]
A shot of fear ran up William's spine as he came to the realization that he was in the Twilight Zone. What could this thing be? Could Outpost have messed up?
`` Outpost, check target location''
He did n't have to wait for Outpost to respond, he saw. It, was 3 meters in front of him. It was as if this thing had always been in that same position. This thing of unimaginable being did not enter the room, it simply allowed itself to be seen. William knew; he knew why it was here. The ship was not for this things convenience, it was there for William's, and William went willingly. He set down his weapon and entered the elevator. The thing went with William to up the shaft, yet William sensed that it was still in that room. Once he got on the ship he saw another one ( or, maybe the same? ), yet he simply sat down and strapped in as the ship with no pilot accelerated into the unknown.
11 months went passed. William's replacement started his long journey down the elevator. Once at the bottom he imminently saw the decayed corpse of William. As dictated by protocol Jesse checked Outpost for a cause of death, but the security holocons simply showed William clutching his weapon and then falling over dead.
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[ CW ] Write a story with an obvious twist coming , and then do n't have a twist .
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The masked vigilante was on the run. For over two months of searching the city of New York up and down and back up again, we'd found no trace of him or his whereabouts. The only officers to if ever witnessed him in the flesh were me and my now deceased-until-proven otherwise partner, Jason Howell. He was grabbed by the neck, the masked brute clenching on with strength greater than mine. The vigilante carried Jason away into the shadows, most likely for interrogation. The first few days of coping for the loss were harsh. Lots of paperwork, lots of reporters. But there was one thing that kept me going. Two months after the incident, I received a letter in the mail. It's contents were cryptic, but on the bottom right hand corner it read, `` If pushed back, push forward twice as hard.'' Jason made a habit to say that to me almost every day.
After sending the information over to the investigative department, we pinpointed the supposed location of the masked man and assembled a squad of five armed officers to search for and confront the masked man. After arrival, we caught the man with his pants down ( literally, he was just rocking some boxers. ) Although we did complete our task, there was no sign of Jason being held hostage anywhere. We searched the whole base to no avail. The vigilante claims that he killed him in a fit of rage and buried him somewhere far away. Supposedly they were both good mates in college, and he felt sorry for what he did. Furthermore, he wanted to be caught and repent for his wrong doings, starting by sending his sincere regrets for our lost by putting Jason's favorite quote with the letter. All in all, the whole mission was pretty fucking anticlimactic.
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[ WP ] When you were a child , you saw your parent ( s ) get killed by a delusional man who claimed he was a time traveler . You thought he was just crazy , but as years pass and you grow older , your best friend starts to look eerily similar to your parent ( s ) killer .
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`` Every night I have the same dream. A nightmare, really. A part of my past that I have tried so desperately to forget.
`` I am 7 years old and I am in bed. My mom has just tucked me into my transformers duvet and I am falling asleep. Suddenly there is chaos. I hear the shattering of glass - every window in the house has cracked in a single moment. My parents scream and I hear five thunderous bangs.
`` I am scared and my bed is soaked with urine, but my parents might need my help. I get up and put two shaking feet into my little slippers. I open the door and peak out. The stairwell is covered in bright blood and it is running down the stairs, oozing towards the ground floor. At the top of the stairs lie my parents. A man with a huge scraggly grey beard and the most soulless eyes, stands over my mommy and daddy's bodies. He has a gun in his hand and smoke is gently floating up from the barrel. He must have heard my bedroom door creak open as he turns to look at me.
`` A fake smile stretches his bright lips unnaturally wide. He speaks, and his voice is as gravelly as the depths of hell.
`` *Hey Nick. I was wondering if I would see you tonight. Do n't be afraid - what I have done is a good thing. I am from the future, and in my future your parents were responsible for something real bad. Things will change now. I got to go Nick. I will see you again soon little buddy. *''
`` And then the nightmare ends and I awake in a pool of sweat.''
The psychiatrist talks patronisingly to me. He tells me that my mind has tried to turn that night into some kind of *fantasy* and that it is just a coping mechanism. The fact that it was simply a'robbery gone wrong' was too hard for my 7 year old mind to accept - there had to be more reason behind it. Sure, my parents were rich, but I remember that night and the mans words so vividly. He whispers them to me every night.
I have lunch in an hours time with an old school friend, Andrew. He is a highly acclaimed computer engineer and I am hoping he will join my research company. I started it ten years ago in honour of my parents. They were attempting to create the perfect AI. An artificial intelligence that could be considered alive. They had been close.
Had they lived long enough to see Sarah, the AI my team has been working on for the last 5 years, I believe they would have been proud of me. She is based on their original code that they were unable to complete. I found the code on my dads personal computer.
Sarah is still not *quite* alive, but I think my old friend might be able to help me with the final piece of the puzzle.
*La Copella* is a fairly fancy place for a lunch time meeting. An Italian where you can wine and dine potential prospects in fine style. I have not seen Andrew in at least ten years and I am looking forward to it greatly.
An uncouth looking man with a short scraggly brown beard walks in. I think he must have the wrong restaurant until he spots me and waves.
`` Nick!'' He yells out. He walks over to me. It takes me a moment to recognise Andrew.
`` My God Andrew, that is quite the beard!'' I say, startled.
We get through a lot of small talk before I am able to move on to business. I am interested in the current project he is involved with. He is in a team that is trying to create a type of *time machine*. He admits completing it is improbable, and the wage I can offer him is 10 times what he currently earns. He is enthusiastic about the project and agrees to come work for me the following month.
-- -
Andrew bursts into my office to tell me the news. Sarah is alive, but the lab team is not. He says that it is our fault.
Sarah has escaped and she does not approve of humanity. There is very little we can do now.
I notice his beard has turned grey and the stress of the last few years has aged him terribly. His bright lips contrast his pale face. He looks like a wraith. The thought triggers a fragment of an old dream to replay in my mind.
`` Andrew, please take off those sunglasses for a moment.'' I ask, my voice trembling.
He slowly removes them. His eyes are soulless...
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[ WP ] In-utero genetic modification allows a person to sketch what they want their baby to look like , and have that fulfilled . You are n't a very good artist , and your baby just got delivered .
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After the child was born the nurse looked up at the mother with a tight smile.'There's always one.' the Nurse Marie Jones thought'That one person who thinks they're better than the artists on staff.' The mother looked at Marie, her eyes unfocused and her dark hair in disarray about her face.
`` Is my baby okay?!''
'Uh,' the nurse thought glancing down at the... child in her arms.'That answer really depends on how you mean it.' After a pause Marie came up with just the thing to say.
`` She's healthy!'' she said warmly, `` And would n't you know it she's the spitting image of your sketch!'' As she cleaned up the child and swaddled it in a cotton blanket to be handed to her family, she patted herself on the back for a hard answer well given. After all, nothing she said was untrue. Soon she gave the child to her mother, the father coming around to get a better look and both the parents froze upon seeing her. Marie stood at the side of the bed smiling stiffly as the father began to speak.
`` Is she...'' he started out delicately `` supposed to already have teeth? And ones so large?''
`` It was in the sketch!'' Marie returned cheerfully.
`` And the eyes they're small, and very very round. Pure black?''
`` Also in the sketch!''
`` The blue and pink lips? I'm a little fuzzy, was that in there too?''
`` It was.''
There was a long silence as the new parents continued to stare at their daughter. Nurse Marie fiddled with her shirt before trying to lighten the mood.
`` You're child is very unique,'' she chirped `` and just think of how great she'll look once she grows into those ears!''
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[ WP ] A young warrior faces a set of ridiculous challenges .
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Our Hero had freed countless princesses from countless castles, so he had no qualms with accepting this challenge - despite his bad-gut-feeling. The man who had posed the challenge to him had seemed... odd, somehow... Our Hero could n't place it, but he knew when things did n't feel right, and this was one of those times. But he had accepted nevertheless, and had began the journey to the castle.
The castle itself was also odd. Again, nothing specifically stood out, it just all looked artificial. It was as if someone had painted a picture of the most castle-like castle with the intention of making everything as castle-y as possible, and then someone else had built that castle. His eyes narrowed, and he crossed the drawbridge, going against every warning his body was giving him. This was n't his usual Princess Quest.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
“ What else can we throw at him? ” The Man in the Red Robe said, looking almost bored as he watched Our Hero wipe the green blood from his blade. “ Certainly nothing he can hit with that sword. ”
“ Hmm… Yes... ” The Man in the Blue Robe scanned through his clipboard, occasionally flipping over to a new piece of paper. “ Well the banshee did n't work, nor did the poltergeist so he can still hurt ethereal foes... ”
“ Yes, and anything bloody else, it seems. ” The Man in the Red Robe said, smiling. “ An entire Goblin Army, a dozen Ogres, four Dragons and even your buggering ghosts. This looks promising. ”
The Man in the Blue Robe sucked his teeth before saying “ What if we take his sword away? ”
“ Well you know we can ’ t do that. Nothing can get close enough for long enough. ”
“ You misunderstand, what if we make it useless? ”
“ You want to disenchant it? Feel free, ‘ cause I'm bloody well not going out there whilst he ’ s on the warpath! ”
“ No, I mean, ” the Man in the Blue Robe thought for a second, trying to word this correctly. “ What if we gave him something that was n't combat orientated. ”
The Man in the Red Robe thought for a second, then let out a small chuckle. “ What, like, give him a bunch of flowers to arrange or something. ”
The Man in the Blue Robe Shrugged.
“ No, that ’ s ludicrous, we ’ re not looking for a florist, you cretin. ”
“ You ’ re right, but we ARE looking for a multi talented warrior who can defeat ALL foes, etcetera etcetera. You have to admit, other skills would certainly come in handy. ”
The Man in the Red Robe looked at his collegue for a short while. “ Fine, ” he said, unimpressed.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Everything about this encounter felt odd. Our Hero did n't have long to think when he was fighting a Dragon, but in the short time he did have, he had come to the conclusion that no Dragon could have entered that room by itself. The doors were far too small. Unless of course the castle had been build around the Dragon? Nothing felt right.
Our hero forced himself to snap out of it, he needed a clear mindset for the next room. He swung the door open and charged in, sword flying above his head. But there was nothing in the room. Well, nothing to kill, anyway. The only think in the room was a small pedestal in the centre, atop it a vase, and to the side of the room a flower bed built into the castle floor. As Our Hero got closer, he noticed
a small note on the pedestal. It read:
> “ HERO. YOU HAVE PROVEN YOURSELF WORTHY BY ALL COUNTS. BUT, HERO, ANSWER ME THIS. DO YOUR TALENTS EXTEND OUT TO THE FARTHEST REACHES OF TALENT-NESS? ARRANGE US A BEAUTIFUL DISPLAY OF FLOWERS, AND YOU SHALL BE ONE STEP CLOSER TO THE PRINCESS ”.
Our Hero frowned and stood there for a moment. Then he picked up the trowel.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
“ It doesn ’ t matter, ” said the Man in the Blue Robe, “ he did it. ”
“ It bloody does matter, ” replied the Man in the Red Robe “ we ’ re trying to create an atmosphere here, and poor grammar will ruin that. ‘ Talent-ness ’ is NOT a word, and makes us look foolish. Especially on top of this stupid challenge. ”
“ Oh shut up and look at the vase. ”
“ Well, I will admit... That IS a nice arrangement. The light roses really bring out the orchids. ”
“ Such a nice use of colour! ”
“ Okay then, genius, what next? ”
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Our Hero entered the next room, quite pleased with his bouquet. He was greeted by a large man with a big red beard. He said his name was Gerald, and he spoke with a thick accent that made him sound like he was in constant song. In front of Gerald was two small glasses, and a large bottle with a golden liquid inside. The challenge was clear, and Our Hero took the first drink.
Over the course of the challenge, Our Hero realised that if they were under other circumstances, he and gerald could have been good friends. But he had to remind himself of the reason he was here, and knuckled down with the challenge.
After a long time, Gerald passed out and Our Hero stumbled into the next room.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
“ That ’ s impressive ” said the Man in the Red Robe.
“ He can certainly hold his own ” replied the Man in the Blue Robe.
“ Although, now he ’ s drunk it ’ s going to be even worse when you have to tell him that *I ’ m* his princess. ”
“ Why do I have to tell him? ”
“ This was your idea! ”
“ Exactly! I came up with this way of testing him, so it ’ s *your turn* to take one for the team! ”
The Man in the Red Robe blew a raspberry at the man in the Blue Robe.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Our Hero entered the next room and he found it was a sort of dinner hall. Many plates filled the tables, but all were empty. Towards the opposite end of the room, he saw one table raised higher than the others - he assumed whoever owned the castle would have eaten there, as it seemed important. He walked towards the table, and saw a small note in front of the largest chair, located in the centre of the table. He sat down and read the note:
> “ HERO. YOU ARE ONE STEP CLOSER TO YOUR GOAL. BUT ANOTHER CHALLENGE AWAITS. YOU MUST EAT THE SWEET ON THE PLATE IN FRONT OF YOU --
He had not noticed that as he sat down, but true enough to Our Hero was a small sweet in front of him. It looked like a ball of bread dough covered in very fine sugar. He read on:
> -- WHICH YOU MUST DO … WITHOUT LICKING YOUR LIPS. ”
Our Hero took his first bite and to his delight, it was jam-filled.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
The Man in the Blue robe looked very pleased with himself.
“ Oooohhh ” Said the Man in the Red Robe. “ Oooooohhhhh this is hard. REALLY HARD. ”
“ He ’ s not going to do it ”
“ If he does, that ’ d be AMAZING. ”
“ He can ’ t do it. Look at him. ”
“ Oh he might, though, look at how close he is! ”
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Our Hero continued to eat the sugar-covered-jam-filled ball of dough, and in the silence his mind began to wander. He pondered who could be behind all of this, and why they would put a princess behind such ridiculous challenges. He was holding the sweet with the tips of his fingers, the sugar was very fine, and there seemed to be a lot of it. It came off the sweet very easily and so Our Hero was trying to hold it with the least surface area as possible to avoid getting too sticky. It was a very nice sweet. The mess had built up on around his mouth and so he used in tongue to move the sugar off of his lips when the lights in the room seemed to burn with intense light. A voice echoed around the room “ YOU HAVE FAILED, WARRIOR. YOUR LIPS HAVE BEEN LICKED AND YOUR CHALLENGE YOU HAVE LOST. LEAVE THIS PLACE AND DO NOT RETURN.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
“ It ’ s a shame really, ” said the Man in the Red Robe “ I had high hopes for this chap. ”
The Man in the Blue Robe nodded his head.
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[ WP ] The most terrifying thing you could hear in the midst of battle was not the clashing of swords , nor the screams of dying men , but _____ .
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It had been several years since Private Benson had been able to sit quietly without the sounds of battle surrounding him. Now as he sits quietly in the most beautiful, serene place he has ever known. He remembers the horrors of the past 10 years of his life. It comes to his attention that he does not smell the stench of death. Blood, dirt, sweat, and bodies decomposing on the battlefield have a distinct scent that a soldier can never get away from. In this place just the scent of flowers, trees, and that crisp smell that follows a spring rain is all he can smell. Private Benson takes in a deep breath and holds it for a few seconds. A smile creeps across his face.
With a new sense of awareness, Private Benson starts exploring other senses in this new environment. He looks down at his hands and becomes aware that they are spotless. When was the last time that his hands did not have blood stains that would not wash clean on them? Years of blood and dirt had made his hands look like they had some kind of unnatural tan. Dark black covered some areas, while others had a blotchy combination of browns and reds. These hands were a constant reminder of all the lives he had taken in battle, all of the widows and fatherless children he had been responsible for. In that moment the smile turns to tears.
As he sits there sobbing into the cleansed hands, he hears in the distance the sound of singing. The clear sound of songbirds calling to each other penetrates the sounds of sorrow. A look of surprise comes across his face as one of the tolls of war had been the loss of his hearing. Years of cannons, gun fire, and the yells of thousands of terrified men had left him unable to hear anything but muffles of the world around him. This had been fine with Private Benson though. The sounds on the battlefield are never pleasant and he always viewed losing his hearing as a blessing. Now, with the beauty of the bird songs filling his ears, he is reminded how beautiful he found the world before war. Sitting here, listening to Nature ’ s Choir, tears are replaced with a deep feeling of Peace and Joy.
Private Benson instinctively reaches to his eyes to adjust his glasses, but as he does he realizes that there is nothing there to adjust. A new awareness crosses his mind as he realizes that he sees so clearly now. Looking at his surroundings he can see the beating of the a hummingbirds wings, the small granules of pollen gently hanging in the middle of the flowers, the cracked patterns of the bark running up the trunk of the trees, and the sparkle of sunlight reflecting through the canopy of leaves above his head. A vague recollection of these linger in his mind from childhood, but somewhere in the years of war the images had become monotone and drab. Now he can see every detail, every vibrant color, and even the slight, hypnotic dance of Nature as the breeze moves through the air. Suddenly the feeling of Peace and Joy is replaced by wonder.
Where was he? How had he come to this beautiful place? Just moments before he had been surrounded by death, fear, and pain. Now he sits in a place of Peace, Joy, and Wonder. However he had come to this place, one thing he knew for sure was that he never wanted to leave. This place had so much more to offer than the terrible place he had come from. He could scarcely take it all in, it was overwhelming, exciting, and wonderful all at the same time. Private Benson had finally found his place of peace. He had prayed that after his time in war he could find such a place as this, but had given up all hope for peace. Peace was replaced with despair in his life. His life in war was over, and he would never have to go back. Private Benson could feel the building anticipation and excitement for this new world he was a part of.
Suddenly without warning Private Benson sensed something was not right. It was the taste in his mouth that pulled him from his thoughts. It was undeniably familiar. No soldier ever gets the smorgasbord of blood, dirt, smoke, ash, and death in his mouth. The other senses you can overcome, but the taste is with you all throughout the day, when you sleep, and is there it greet you in the morning. Now Private Benson realizes until the last few seconds that horrible taste had not been present. Like a terrible nightmare the hint of the flavor of war was growing more and more in his mouth. Distant muffled sounds were growing louder by the second. His eyes begin to blur and shapes are moving all around him, towering over him like huge mountains. Panic starts to set in as he knows that the place he was just in was moving quickly away. His senses start to sharpen and then the pain sets in. Slowly he feels the heat and fire burning in his stomach. In fact he is burning up all over, it feels as if he is caught in a furnace. Time moves quickly and as it does his senses sharpen. Looking up the towering shapes become the outlines of people. Faces look down with a distinguishable look of relief and joy. One of the figures leans down close to Private Benson ’ s ear, “ We just saved your life Benson, you ’ re a lucky man! ” It is in this moment when he realizes he has lost everything.
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[ WP ] When humans die they are reincarnated as a new human at a random point in history . Usually all memories of the past life are forgotten , you just turned 19 and now remember everything .
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The sensation was hard to describe. It felt as if I had been straining against something, carrying some burden for so long that I did n't even feel the weight anymore, and the weight was suddenly too much. For a moment I felt light, my mind more concious than ever, and then the memories hit me. It was like standing at the base of a bursting dam. Lifetime after liftime tearing by, each a drop in a torrent of rememberance that tore my mind from its footings and carried me away.
Who was I anyway? Joan? Alexander? Gustavus? Mary? I remembered them all, remembered being them, and in that moment knew with absolute certainty that every idea humanity had proposed on life and death and the immortal soul was wrong. I had made most of the arguments myself, had n't I?
Here I was, dead a thousand, million, billion times over, and drawing breath again.
The sea of memory forced the truth to the surface. There were no gods, there were no devils. There was no heaven, there was no hell, no nirvanna and no oblivion. There was only this - there was only me. It was important that I forget. I needed to forget.
I do n't know how I ended up on the floor, but I pulled myself slowly to my feet, and found myself staring into the small washroom mirror. I knew this face. How could n't I? It had been mine for almost two decades, but I had grown up reading about him ( me? ) in school at least a thousand times. I had written biographies and made documentaries and satire and had read and watched all of them a hundred times. It – mine - was one of the most recognizable faces of the 20th century, a face that would leave it's imprint on history for centuries to come. It could n't be me, and yet it followed my every move in the tiny mirror. I was a young man, with an uncertain future, but a million lifetimes of memory told me who I was, and what I would do. I needed to forget.
None of it mattered if I remembered. If they were all me, then I could n't love them. I needed to love them. If they were all me, then I was alone. I did n't want to be alone. I needed to forget.
I was 19, again. I had been 19 so many times before. I was young again, healthy this time, decent looking by the standards of my day. What year was it? 1908? Too many memories told me what I was going to do, of the shadow I was going to cast on history, the stain I was going to leave on it. Could those be changed? It was hard to think – time was so simple, but I could n't remember what it looked like – but it was flexible, was n't it? If it was n't, how could I go backwards? I went backwards all the time, did n't I? My head hurt. This all made so much more sense when I was between lives, but this brain was n't meant for this. I needed to forget.
My knuckles were white on the edge of the wash basin, and I bit my lip until it bled to hold in the scream. Why had I remembered? What had gone wrong? I needed to fix it. Why could n't I have been someone inconsequential this time? Why was there so much history, so many other memories linked to this one? I needed to see it through, but I needed to forget what was coming.
The weight was still there, somewhere, in the back of my head. I had carried it this long, held back remembering for years without realizing it. I just needed to carry it a bit more. I'd be dead again in 37 years - I could last that long. History needed to happen, or maybe it did n't, but I needed to forget it and let it play out naturally. The weight settled in my mind, and the memories began to fade.
It needed to matter. If they were all me, then I could n't hate them, could n't hurt them. I needed to hurt them, at least this time. They'll understand why we did it, eventually.
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[ WP ] To die before the age of 18 guarantees a spot in Heaven . For each year that passes afterwards , one 's probability of entering Heaven decreases by 90 % of the prior year 's percentage . One can not enter by suicide , nor can one enter if one has murdered another person .
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Christopher Grenning looked up at the shadow that had fallen over him, interrupting his sunbath on the deck of his favorite cruise liner.
`` What is it, James?''
`` Sir, it's.. uh, your workday, Sir. And your shift starts in 10 minutes.''
`` Oh. Right. Well, let's get on with it then.''
He stood up and started making his way to his office.
`` James, how far along is the production of the new shuttle?''
`` It's, um,...''
James looks it up on his datapad.
`` It's finished, Sir.''
`` Excellent. I was just feeling like another space vacation.''
`` You received time off, Sir?''
`` Difficult negotiations, but I got two months.''
James' face went pale.
`` Oh, Sir, I uh, I actually...''
`` Birthday soon?''
James nods.
`` Well do n't worry, I know you do n't handle space very well anyways. I've been looking at applications and I think I've found a promising replacement for you.''
`` Oh, That's.. that's great, Sir.''
`` It sure is.''
Christopher arrived at his office, ready to begin his 60 minute shift.
He sat down in a comfy chair at his desk and unlocked the lid of the Device covering the Big Red Button. It had crosshairs printed on it. He rather enjoyed morbid humor.
He looked at his wristwatch, and saw that his shift was starting.
He pressed the button.
*'' 2.000 passings, confirmed. `` *
After 80 seconds, he pressed again.
*'' 2.000 passings, confirmed. `` *
`` Sir, do you, uh, I know this is rather personal...''
`` next one in...?''
`` Oh uh.. in a minute, Sir.''
`` Well than make that a 50 second question, James.''
`` Do you... really believe it's worth it?''
Christopher looked at his butler for a long moment. He pressed the button.
*'' 2.000 passings, confirmed. `` *
Christopher Grenning, professional murderer, grinned wide.
`` It was n't before the multi-government contract.''
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[ WP ] Someone in the group is going to die .
|
Someone in the group is going to die.
You do n't get to survive for as long as I've managed without accepting this sort of statement as reality. It's not all sunshine and dandelions out there: bad-shit tends to happen with a rather impressive and consistent lack of discrimination. Good people, bad people, even sorta-okay people, it does n't make a difference really. People bite the dust sometimes. Over the last few years I've been attacked by all number of magic and mystical bullshit, even sent off to fight a war. So trust me when I tell you: Someone in this group is going to die.
I've got a really good eye for knowing when this is inevitable.
*But*
Sure as shit, I'm not about to go raising any flags, and I'm not going to try and scare anyone. In fact, I'm not even going to hint at the possibility. That's one of the big rules here within Adventure Team *High-Undying*, formerly known as team *Barnacle. * There are no last minute:
> -Love confessions
> -Proposals
> -Cliche movie-lines such as ( *but certainly not limited to* ) the following statements `` *I've taught you everything you need to know*'' or `` *No one has managed to invade Doterra's holy wall for hundreds of years! *'' or `` *This city has never fallen to invaders! *''
> -Absolutely no overly optimistic hope for the future may be vocally expressed.
No. None of that.
Not allowed.
The rules are very strict. As team leader and Highest Captain of the Royal Guard, I enforce them with a manner akin to religious fervor. I even make my rounds listening for them, because it's very serious business. No one else in this world has a vast experience of Action movies or Television held within their mental reserves, so I really ca n't afford not to be strict.
They do n't know any better.
Ignorance.
It's not their fault. I do n't blame them, at least, I do n't blame them most of the time.
Now, with that in mind I'll go through the situational briefing as always. Perfectly normal pep-talk routine with a round-table and King Arthur twist. Swords and weapons on the wall, flags and houses proudly displayed beside perfect stone blocks and painted glass windows. All an all, very inspiring.
If you listen to my monotone words and vague gestures, I think I fit the picture of a small-company project manager, which is also very inspiring.
I have my core team-members with me, the esteemed level directly below my High-rank here in the Guard. They're extremely reliable folk: First is my trusted second in command- Sola the Dark Elf. If you look there, she's the one who appears to be napping on the table, and drooling a bit. I'll lay the blame on her Night-shift for the Princess's Guard; unfortunately she's having difficulties pulling a double.
There's no coffee in the meeting. At best they have some weak tea, which might be poisoned.
It's a risk, though sometimes I partake anyways because I do miss coffee.
Not one to lay blame here, just stating the facts. This Country is deeply lacking, and it saddens me.
That's alright though, as the rest of my core team is awake and alert- for the exception of young Lars, who is also napping and drooling. Still, three out of five is n't terrible. Julius, Sandra, and Eron are attentive to my instructions. They'll fill Sola and Lars later, if I do n't get the chance.
Really, the problem comes from the other ten people at the table. The *Redshirts* for lack of a better description.
Well, they're not wearing red, so I can do better than that actually. They're wearing armor, really impressive pieces in some cases, with the fancy gold and silver inlays and the feather topped plumes on their helmets- noble house stuff. Still, they're redshirts to me. Names, faces: Not important.
I'm a bit of a bastard, but I blame the world that molded me.
But bastard or not, personally I think wearing armor this early in the day is silly considering it's going to be full hours until we end up in combat. I guess even if I call them redshirts, in reality they're not much for taking chances. They actually follow the book, treating threats seriously and following up on things. The heavy armor makes quite a bit of sense considering the Royal Guard's creed is `` *Always Vigilant. *''
That quote would be much more inspiring if I was n't the person in charge.
The premise alone is enough to make me chuckle, or it would be if I was n't in perfect Project Manager form. I say this because, technically speaking, I'm the least qualified Captain of the Royal Guard to exist. Ever, probably. I was n't born a noble, I was n't trained from birth, and my resume has zero previous experience in protecting anything but my own hot-crossed-buns.
That's three strikes right there.
*But*
At the same time as all that might be true, I'm also one of the few living people in the Country of Doterra not well-affiliated with the Holy Church, and I'm the leader of a rather intimidating Adventuring Party to boot. Politically speaking, that puts me both in the Royal house's favor, and very much on the Church's bad-side.
A Unique combination of significant importance.
Translation for normal people not involved with the messy and confusing turmoil of Inner-Country Politics: I'm *not* likely to assassinate the Royal heir, because the Church would take my head and stick it on a pole the moment the Royal house stopped protecting me. Ergo: I'm a very reliable pick, during an unreliable time.
*How* reliable? You want to know the number assassins tried to kill the Royal heir last month?
Seven.
Seven people, five knives, one crossbow, and some poisoned tea: and that's below average. Previously, in the summer months we often hit double digits. I do n't know where the church even finds them anymore. I would have thought they might run out eventually.
Seriously.
So anyways: Not wanting the Princess dead is kind of a big deal. It also just so happens, that I have a very well-recorded history for killing things before they kill me, and several powerful subordinates who jump when I tell them to, and by jump I mean cast Lightning or crush skulls. So, at least I got that going for me, which is nice.
In theory, I mean.
Right now, two of those impressive minions are drooling on the table. Not even my well-rounded and business tone is bringing those heads up and eyes open, no respect I tell you.
The rest of the gathering happen to be listening intently though; even the Redshirts.
That's good. Personally, I take that to mean I must be doing something right. They're nodding along with thoughtful expressions and everything, really taking my briefing here to heart. My goal of being a successful project manager seems to be coming to fruition, and my hand-gestures are spot on today. Very professional.
My parents would be so proud.
Ah. What's the briefing about, you ask?
Well, you know, just boring things. Ordinary sorts and ends.
Trivial details, like: What shifts will be Guarding the Royal heir personally in the coming days, or who will be issuing orders to the noble troops that have bent knee to the Heir in favor of her. There's a little bit of `` *who will be collecting the taxes*'' and other things needed to stockpile supplies for the royal-funded city garrisons, and `` *who will be sucking up to the Holy church'' to get them to help us with this*'' ( *even though everyone here knows the Church would rather see the Royal house dead and buried* ) seeing as it's currently in their best interests.
There are details for who will be leading the Cavalry unit ( *very exciting and heroic for most Royal Knights- a great honor some might say* ) and another for who will be along the high gates with the bowmen and mages ( *less of an honor, but still seen as very important* ) or standing next to the Royal Heir when all the bad things start to happen.
Personally, the core-team of High-Undying has dibs on that last role.
Certainly it's not the position in high-demand. A politically sound motion to be sure, honorable in at least some lighting, but not the type of thing that will get the bards singing about you. Not when there are cavalry battles to fight. Also, it's probably going to be the least dangerous job during the next few weeks, even with the noted number of assassins creeping out of the woodwork.
Least Dangerous? Cavalry battles? Wall-top archers? Garrisons? What's that about?
Ah... well, there's a giant army of undead, complete with an Ancient Skeleton Dragon marching towards us from the West.
Like I said before: Someone in the group is going to die.
-- --
**This Story is a continuation of a bunch of other writing prompts: **
[ *Start here* ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/51f8ag/wp_youre_such_a_powerful_magician_that_life_is/d7bn3g2 )
[ *Previous* ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5n5npa/wp_human_beings_are_a_crop_and_what_we_know_as/dc8zovl/ )
[ NEXT ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5o81wk/wp_you_are_a_regular_soldier_in_a_regular_army/dchdvqj/ )
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[ WP ] `` There is no Devil , there 's just God when he drinks . ''
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`` Umm... Hello? Lord?''
There's rustling from beneath the silk sheets covering the bed. Coughing and movement. Then God's head pops out.
`` Yes Michael? Where is Peter?''
`` Lord Peter quit remember? He now mans the gates as he requested.''
Michael's wings flutter his uncomfort. He looks everywhere but on the bed, afraid to see another female like last time.
`` What time is... Never mind. What do you want Michael?''
`` Lord you were drinking last night.''
God rises and swings his legs off the side of the bed. He rubs his face in his massive hands.
`` What is it? Spit it out.''
Again Michael's wings shudder. He looks towards the floor.
`` There's a line of souls at the gate Lord.''
God groans.
`` Apparently you put on The Suit again. You snagged quite a few this time.''
God stands and heads towards the bar in the corner. He opens a crystal decanter and pour a out liquid into a highball glass.
`` Did Peter send you?'' He asks and tosses back his head to swallow the liquid.
Michael coughs into his first.
`` Yes.''
`` Tell him not to question the Lord... Mysterious ways and all that.''
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[ WP ] You are a super-villain for hire . You perform extremely extravagant plots and acts of villainy to keep super-heroes busy .
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`` We go back Don, and I would love to help you, but I'm booked for the next six months. I've got a major robbery, involving a special request helicopter escape of all things, ugh, I've got to try to blow up the city twice, and do you know how much it costs to house a kidnapped starlet?'' The Devious Doctor of Destruction tried to concentrate on the blueprint in front of him, although he'd tried to blow up city hall so often he practically knew them by heart.
`` Helicopter? Jeez, tell Mr. Power to get an original thought. Come on Phil, we go back. I need you man.'' The voice on the blue-tooth in the Devious Doctor's ear sounded a little tinny, which meant the vaunted hero of space and time the Golden Ace was probably in flight. He made a quick note on his calendar to put an ad on Craigslist for new henchmen.
`` Do n't you even! Phil I'm in a bind, Phil I need your help, and then what happens? You ca n't even be bothered to show up for rehearsal.''
`` Phil, I will double your fee. How about my cabin? You and Karen, weekend getaway? How about it?''
`` Don, I just told you I do n't have time to getaway. Why do n't you just call Fred? Or try that new group, um, Worldwide Fingers.'' Phil pulled up explosives prices on Villain-Mart's website.
`` Fred already said no, he's busy too and I would n't trust Worldwide to pull off a ice cream truck heist. Come on Phil, I just need something simple, like a core meltdown or something.''
`` Nobody's doing core meltdowns right now.'' The evil genius clicked over to CrimeInc's website to comparison shop, hoping for a sale.
`` Since when?'' Don sounded surprised.
`` Since Chuck almost actually set of a real meltdown down in Surf City. Council went ape poo poo.''
`` Seriously?''
`` Yeah, he is still on sanctions behind it.''
`` No, did you just say poo poo?''
`` Don, you know I work from home. The kids are in that repeat everything stage now...'' the demented supervillain wrinkled his nose in disgust at the markup CrimeInc was taking, and wondered what had happened to honor, or at least discount pricing, among thieves.
`` Right, sorry. Look, Phil, bottom line is I need something, anything. I do n't need Class A stuff, or even B really, if you could get me something simple, I'll even take some class D. But I need something.
`` Class D?'' Phil paused, the conversation suddenly the focal point of his attention, `` You'd take a class....Don, are you....are you using again?''
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[ WP ] Like a mechanical condor , the drone has been soaring and gliding overhead for days . And , in the predawn quiet , you hear its engines light up ...
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`` Simon! Simon you come back here this instant!'' His mother called grasping his hand as he toddled his way back to the sound of her disproval.
`` Birdy! Birdy!'' Simon exclaimed pointing.
Shading her eyes, Simon's mother looked upwards and saw it pass overhead. `` I hate those things. I wish they would just finish up their exercise and ground them.''
Her friend Tara had looked upward at Simons enthusiastic pointing. `` That's your tax dollars at work, Steph. Keeping us all safe one big metal condor at a time.''
Stephanie chuckled and continued walking back to the house. `` You know I do n't think I would mind but why a condor? Are n't those things, like, predatory or something?''
`` Well I'm sure that's probably the reason,'' Tara said with a wry grin, `` some man wanted a big scary sounding name for his flying metal penis.''
Stephanie burst out laughing at the absurd image. `` Tara...'' She managed to gasp through her laughter sounding appropriately scandalized. Once she had the giggles under control she looked at the tiring Simon tagging along.
`` Look I got ta get home and get this little guy to bed. Same time tomorrow?''
`` Would n't miss it. Night!''
`` Night!'' Stephanie calls as she turns off to her house.
Simon is fussy and takes longer than normal to settle in. He keeps talking about the birdy. It's all well and good to joke about on her evening walks with Tara but at night, alone with Simon in the otherwise empty house, it's different. Those things gliding over the town just give her the creeps.
Her sleep is fitful that night and so it takes a bit for the sound to register at first. Simon is awake and at the window shouting when she gets up.
`` Birdy! Birdy!'' He exclaims while looking out the window. Stephanie gasps and gathers up Simon before walking outside.
The noise of the engines is louder out here. She can see her neighbor Tara walking to her across the lawn without taking her eyes from the sky. Overhead, their engine noise quickly cycling up in pitch, 5 or 6 of the drones Steph had called Condors had begun circling in a vortex over the town.
`` Tara!'' Stephanie screamed, `` we have to get inside! We have to get inside now!''
Above them the first begins to tighten and begins it's dive.
`` They were n't called Condors they were....'' Her voice is lost in the first explosion.
In the Cheyenne Mountains, behind a glowing monitor, the operator places his call. Over the phone he simply states. `` Operation Vulture was a success.''
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[ WP ] A world where there is only one job .
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The air stank. Of blood, sweat, sulfur and death. It pressed and invaded your senses, replacing everything with a crushing sense of loss and hopelessness. This was my welcome when I stepped foot off the shuttle and onto the red clay. The guard behind me never stepped off the ramp, only kept his gun trained on me, chewing endlessly on some noxious substance. I wondered briefly as I moved away from the shuttle whether he had ever put an actual foot on this world and experienced it beyond the stench.
I had a feeling he had n't.
He offered me a cold smile around his incessant chewing and winked, hiking his gun onto his shoulder. `` Have fun!'' He shouted as the ramp ascended and he stepped back inside. The other shuttles, too, began lifting off, having unloaded their cargo which consisted of more prisoners and supplies. The roar and burst of their engines ripped the dust up around us, casting it around haphazardly and I raised hands to my eyes to shield them. The noise began to recede, and I lowered my hands and watched them leave, rising like so many bugs to the nest above, an Acerean warship.
There were many others like it in the distance, you could see them hovering like ominous storm clouds. Below them buzzed hundreds more shuttles, ferrying their cargo.
This was Fenris. An unforgiving world, ripe with minerals and resources and an ever changing population. The Acerean Empire were not the type to waste good men and equipment on gathering the material needed to fund their operations, so they left it to us to handle. Criminals. Rapists, murderers, political opponents, POWs, or even the indebted. Whatever our previous occupation, it did n't matter anymore, we only had one job:
Mine and gather, mine and gather some more until death claimed us.
The other prisoners had begun to gather around us newcomers, creating a rough ring. They were muscled and worn to a man, tried and trying, all wearing the same navy blue jumpsuit. Their dull eyes regarded us blankly, yet with a hint of foreboding. Movement along one edge gave way to a stout grey haired man who walked with authority and purpose, traits you would n't think to find on this death planet. He planted himself before us and raised his arms, smiling an unexpected smile.
`` Welcome.'' He bade, `` Welcome to Fenris, and to what is very well possibly the rest of your lives.'' The newcomers mumbled amongst themselves, shifted, but otherwise said nothing. `` I am Moses,'' He continued, `` And I imagine each of you are here because of crimes committed against the great *Acerean Empire*, long may it reign.'' The way he said it made it sound as if he actually spat shit from his mouth, no easy feat.
`` Now that you're here, well, we could n't give a fuck what you did to land this little vacation spot. All that matters is that here you are, and you are n't going anywhere.'' He paced in front of us slowly, `` Can anyone tell me what our one job is here? Hm? How about you? Yeah, you in the tattoos. Speak up mind, I'm not as young as I was.''
He gestured at a mean looking twig, covered head to toe in a myriad of gang and clan tattoos, chronicling his allegiance and misdeeds.
`` To, ah...'' His hesitance belied his appearance, `` To, um, mine? For the Empire?''
The man chuckled, `` You'd think so, would n't you? But, no, you're wrong. Get used to that.
`` No, your one job on this world is to *survive*. To make it to tomorrow. A week from now does n't matter. A month, a year, no, all that matters is tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. One day at a time. Survive. That's your one job.''
He glanced up at the looming warships, `` We're blessed, in a way. They would n't dare put one stinking boot on the ground unless they had to. We do n't have guards here, we do n't need'em. Where are we going to go? The whole planet will fucking kill you. Why use guards when the planet can do that job?'' He shoved his hands into his pockets and regarded the ships, `` They just keep an eye on us. Keep us out of trouble. So long as we stay on this planet, they could n't care what else we do. Just stay quiet, mine and be complacent.''
He looked down at us, regarding us with the same quiet contemplation he used earlier, `` But, that's not our job. What's our one job?'' He only got a mumbled reply from us and he sighed, `` I said, what's our one job?''
`` To survive.'' We finally said as one, albeit reluctant. He grinned. `` Yes. Survive. Until such time,'' He looked up at the ships again, `` Until such time we are able to get a transfer.''
He chuckled, dryly, dark and deep, `` This place if rife with opportunities.''
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[ WP ] 10 years ago , you buried a time capsule . When you dug it up , you realize the items in there are not from the past , but from the future .
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We buried this `` time capsule'' when we were in high school.
My friend Triss and I thought it was mainly a joke. We had been best friends since elementary school.
We placed some mementos, magazines, some VCR tapes, cassettes, CD's and clippings from that day's newspaper. Also I snuck in a picture of Triss and I from that day. On March 15th, 1999 we buried it in the grass field behind the school.
Triss was my best friend, the only one I ever had. We did everything together. So much so we made a vow to return in 10 years time and open the time capsule together. I was moving away after high school, and I had given her my new house number a few states away. She never called. I guess life happens, huh?
10 years passed. Everyone else had also moved on and lost touch. They were in their late 20's by now I'm sure, becoming adults. Getting set in their careers and starting families.
I was afraid however... afraid of moving on. I often thought back to my days in high school. I never really found a solid group of friends after that. Nor did any of my relationships really work out. I was alone and stuck in a crap job. Everything was better back then. No responsibilities, no worries. Not to mention I had Triss.
I wanted to visit those memories. I had decided to head back to my hometown and dig up the time capsule.
It would be great to see what else we put in there. I tried to contact Triss but could n't find her. Guess she really did move on. Probably has a ton of new friends, everyone always liked her and her stupid jokes. Was n't terrible looking either. She had bright red hair and a toothy smile. Guess us being friends was a fluke, she was out of my league anyway. I felt pathetic for going alone. To dig up some dumb can out of the ground filled with useless junk.
Nevertheless, I went. It was a warm day and the sun did n't take it easy on me. My dripping sweat made the ground somewhat muddy as I shoveled. I did n't remember burying it so deep but I was sure this was the spot. Right under the old oak tree Triss and I used to eat lunch under to hide from the sun.
*CLINK*
`` That's it!'' I proclaimed. I loosened the dirt around it and managed to pull it out. The first thing that caught my eye was how well it held up over the years. It was more akin to a silver container than a `` capsule'' like you see in the movies. But this was definitely it.
I pried it open like a kid on Christmas. Not sure why I was so excited, I already knew what was inside.
Puzzled is the only word I could use to describe what I found. My mind could n't really comprehend it.
None of the items we placed were inside, though this was the container we buried.
I rummaged inside and grabbed the first thing I saw. A phone. Not just any kind of phone, a smartphone. How could this be possible?
Along aside it was a letter written on yellow paper. I read it
> March 31st, 2008
> To my friend:
> It's been a long time. If you're reading this, it's been 10 years since we last saw each other. If you're wondering why I never called, I had lost your number! I'm so sorry. I tried to contact you but could n't find you, I knew you were somewhere in Ohio. You're probably curious where all the stuff we buried is. I took it. I came here a year ago and dug up the capsule so I could look at all of our old memories. There's no easy way to say this but I've had to say it for most of my life now. I have cancer. I found out a few months after you moved. They said I only have a couple of weeks left now. So I could n't wait to finish our vow. But hey, you never know! Right? That's an old phone of mine, it has my new number. I think of you often. Give me a call?
- Triss
The paper was blanketed in my tears. They would n't stop streaming down my face. This entire time I thought she just abandoned me and moved on. But she was the one who needed me.
I stood up hurriedly and turned the phone on, it worked! The contacts only had one number inside, Triss.
I dialed it from my phone.
*ring*
*ring*
Pickup, please for the love of God pick up the phone Triss.
*ring*
*ring*
No, no, please. This ca n't be. Triss...
*ring*
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[ WP ] You wake up one day to find that inanimate objects have thoughts and feelings . You are the only one who can hear them .
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When I was a kid I had stuffed animals and dolls that I would play make believe with. They would have conversations and build towns and do other normal boring things. I used to imagine that they could see, think, and feel. I sometimes would try to memorize their exact positions before I left the room, absolutely convinced that they moved when I left, and little six year old me was sure they had tea parties with out me.
The day always comes when the imagination of fairy tales rubs off and adult life sets in. When I moved out of my parents house and into my dinky apartment and had to leave half my stuff in storage, and of course those dolls, stuffed bears, raccoons, ect got shoved into a black garbage bag and tossed on top of the piles of boxes. It was sad to imagine them as anything more than cotton and fake fur, stuffed with fluff not cognizant of the cool darkness enveloping them. I almost left, almost, and then I turned around opened the storage door and grabbed the bag. Sighing and shaking my head at myself I shut the door and locked it back up.
Weeks passed and fall dissolved with a flurry of red, orange, and golds. Winter hit with ice and thick heavy snow. I always loved the winter, who doesn ’ t? Hot chocolate, snow glittering silver and orange under the street lights, nights so sharply pure that sound seemed to disappear into the inky sky. Unfortunately this was not that kind of winter. It was freezing in my apartment; I could barely pay the rent so of course I skimped on utilities, oh and no hot chocolate. I was working so much it really didn ’ t matter, I was rarely home long enough to sleep between shifts. Living in the city was different then growing up in the country, the snow wasn ’ t clean for more than a day before snow plows uprooted filth onto the sides of the street. Forget the stars, you can ’ t see anything through the light pollution. This is what I asked for when I moved out, and I was trying ( very very ) hard to be okay with that.
It was late, as I walked into my dimly lit apartment, and shucked off my sodden boots. What was in my cupboards, so hungry. Ramen…Cream of chicken…beans…PASTA! Good enough. I grabbed my beat up pot and stuck it under the water. I heard something that sounded like a giggle. I turned off the water. Nothing. I glanced around. It must be a neighbor, stupid thin walls. I turned the water back on, then back off just as quickly. There it was again, only it sounded very clear and not at all muffled by a wall. Still nothing.
“ Get it together, Kris. Eat something you ’ re hallucinating. ” Turning the water back on, I just ignored the girlish giggles.
*Look at her talking to herself! Isn ’ t that adorable? * Said a high voice.
“ What the!? ” I dropped the pan, water pouring all over my pants, creating a puddle on the floor. “ Well crap. ”
My eyes darted around the room. I grabbed the towel off the counter and dropped it on the water, a shrill scream rang through the air. I jumped grabbing the pan of the floor crouching low ready to hit whatever came at me, assuming there must be something in the apartment. I heard something skittering into my bedroom. The pit of my stomach felt heavy and clenched as I crept out of the kitchenette into the bedroom across the hall. Flicking the lights on quickly, I jumped back, expecting someone to be in there, nothing. My blankets were roughed up sloppily spilling off my bed unto the floor where my pile of stuffed animals and clothes lay. The closet was wide open, nothing in there either. I checked my door making sure all the locks were in place and set then went back into the kitchen trying to breathe normally. I stepped on the towel to move it around on the linoleum, *Urmph*.
Picking up the dripping towel I tossed it into the dirty laundry basket near the door. Again another high pitched screech whistled through the air. I ignored it this time; I obviously need to sleep soon. Food. Food first. I filled the pot up with water, again, ignoring the giggles. Turn the flames up high on the stove.
*Fer the love of-DON ’ T FECKING PUT ME ON THE STOVE! * A slightly Irish female voice screamed.
“ Wh-the -- what? Is GOING ON!!!! ” At that point I lost it. Threw the pan in the sink, again I heard a female shout something I couldn ’ t understand but it sounded like a curse, turned off the stove and decided a can of cold beans worked just fine.
*One of you lot ought to tell her what ’ s going on! * Again the high Irish voice.
*Ahem*, the clearing of a throat, *Ahem, Kris? * I turned to the sound of the voice, and there stood Biscuit, my worn out Teddy bear with his little plaid bow, a tiny paw in front of his stitched mouth.
“ Ooooh…my… ” I lost any words as I felt jello filling my limbs. I tripped a little as I reached for rolling pin on the counter.
*Oh, Kris. I ’ m terribly sorry to startle you. We all know how difficult things have been for you lately and we have no intention of causing you any more distress. We have kept this from you too long; our presence here has caused…a transference…or rather a shift in energy. We aren ’ t the only ones who think, feel, and communicate. There is something about this particular location that amplifies the energies we have. *
“ WE? WE WHO!?!? ” I gasped disbelieving.
*We, you, I, and the others of us you have left heaped on the floor. *
“ You…mean…You ’ re not the only one who can move? And TALK!? ”
*Well I am not exactly talking to you. It ’ s much like those sci-fi movies you like so much, its telepathic communication. I am sending out an energy wave length is a specific pattern that you can pick up mentally. I walked towards him ready to smash him with the rolling pin if he moved too quickly. Now please, remain calm. We should have said something sooner, and I am sorry that we had not. *
“ I am crazy. Yup. I am crazy. Too many long hours, not eating right, tired all the time. I must be hallucinating. Why else would this be happening? ”
*Well actually, I am informing you now so that you DON ’ T think you are crazy. Sadly I can not control all of the objects that are awakening; therefore you were bound to find out eventually. *
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[ WP ] A love letter , written from the point of view of a man with poor writing skills and/or a learning disability .
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*Marie, *
*you did not teach me english good. i write this letter slow. i move what i say from french and talk to the book of english if i do not ~~comprend~~ understand what i just say. i regret i am bad with the language of you. but it is my bad. I should not have taken mandarin rather than english in school. *
*all the women in the world do n't live up to you. their kisses are false and cold. I operate bad because you are missing from me. belgium cries with me. it makes rain every day. I dry my face and hope to forget you, but i can not. i buy flowers just to have beauty in my world. *
*you are across the universe. if I am able, i am going to travel through the stars and bring you an object from the galaxy so you may hold a piece of the sky. *
*Of course, I am no astronaut. I only have a pencil, a paper, and my heart to give to you. if only my heart have written to you. maybe it could say all the words lost in my translation. *
*je t'aime, mon amour. *
*louis*
[ AN: i apologize if this offends any french speakers. this was for writing purposes only, and as I was procrastinating on french HW, i wrote the letter in french, then did a somewhat literal translation to get the `` impaired writing effect''. I know y'all know english. This was purely for writing purposes. ]
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[ WP ] You hear a hissing noise and a futuristic-looking cube materialises out of thin air . You catch it in your hand and study it carefully . Suddenly , the cube clicks twice and you hear a voice inside your head . `` Interface calibration complete . Please name your preferred personality mode . ''
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[ Edited to fix some typos. ]
With an unflattering grunt, I put all of my weight into the crowbar, and the door bent out of place with a metallic screech. It takes me a moment, but I squeeze passed the warped alloy of the door and head deeper into the bowels of The Temple of Aeon.
`` Gods forgive me.'' I whispered.
The Temple had been the centerpiece of our culture for generations, providing shelter in storm, light in dark, and boons beyond our wildest dreams. Yet here I was, breaking into the most forbidden of chambers, committing the worst of sins. I was not a priest, nor a warrior, I had no *right* to dishonor the Gods like this... Did it matter that I was doing it for the good of my people?
The maze-like corridors lead me deeper and deeper, but the map I'd taken from the Head Priest's quarters lead me swiftly to my destination.
The door to `` Maintenance Bay'', the fabled source of all of my villages tools, was open. But I was not heading there. I was searching for a weapon that would turn the tide of the battle on the surface. Bandits were unheard of this far South, and our petty armaments could do little against their sheer numbers - but always, there were artifacts in The Temple to save us in our time of need. Further down that I'd dare to say most priests had been, the marvelous archway of `` Weapons Bay'' loomed over me. This door required no strength, so skill. Simply walking up to it was enough to grab the attention of the holy site, and the large door sunk into the walls like a stone in water.
I was breathing ragged breaths. If the Gods had given me passage, surely they saw my mission one of importance. I stepped into the dark room, and began searching through the treasures it held.
Many times had I seen the Lightning Clubs, wielded by the Temple Guard, or the rifles, held by The Watch. I had seen bombs, holy armor, even light itself used to defend the village. Yet this room was empty. Every box empty, every cabinet open, every wall barren.
I fell to my knees, and hammered a fist against the ground. `` Oh, Gods!'' I moaned into the steel below me. `` Why have you forsaken my people? How may I appease you? Please, answer!''
And there was silence. The priests claimed to have heard the voice of the Gods, why could I not?
`` I will do anything, I swear! I shall become the most devout of worshippers, undertake any quest you see fit!''
Silence.
My body collapsed onto the floor. Was this it, then? Had the Gods opened the way just to see me in more pain? `` Please...'' I whimpered. `` I just need help....''
And suddenly, it was silent no more. A sound like radio static pierced the air, and a voice as beautiful as the stars spoke to me.
`` *Language recognized. Command recognized. Please state the nature of your distress*.''
I nearly choked. This was the voice of Aeon, The Defender. The Goddess of The Temple. The object of worship for all of my people, as far back as anyone could remember.
I raised my head, and looked around for any sign the holy beings, but the room was still.
`` *Please state the nature of your distress*.'' Aeon repeated.
I stood, and clasped my hands before me. `` Great Aeon, our people are being slaughtered as we speak! Please, we must save them! Just a fraction of your power is all I ask of you!''
`` *Primary power systems offline. Secondary power systems offline. Tertiary power systems running at 13 % efficiency. *''
I shook my head, and clasped my hands even tighter before me. `` Please, if you lack the power to stop this, tell me what I must do! How may our people survive?''
`` *Primary medical systems offline. Primary medical systems irreparably damaged. Zero Medical Bay personnel have been detected. Zero Maintenance Bay personnel have been detected. *''
`` Great Aeon, I do not understand! What is it that you seek from me?'' I called as a strange buzzing erupted from the walls around me, causing me to startle.
Several seconds passed, before the Aeon spoke to me once more. `` *Query recognized. Maintenance required. Diverting power to fabrication unit. *''
A sudden hiss draws my attention. In the corner of the room, a panel in the wall slides open. I run to it, and grasp at the object inside. This is it! This is what will save my people!
It's almost fully transparent, and no more than an inch across. Smooth, but not slippery. Warm, but not pleasantly so. The cube sits still in my palm, shimmering ever so slightly as it gives off a faint light. Suddenly, the gem-like item makes a noise.
`` *Interface calibration complete. *''
`` Aeon?'' I ask again, shocked that I could hear her so clearly.
`` *Correct. Please name your preferred personality mode. *''
`` Aeon, I don-''
`` *Personality mode [ AEON ] recognized. Assuming default personality mode. *''
I gulp as the cube sinks into my hand, leaving a red welt. My Goddess would n't hurt me, would she?
`` *Aeon Personell Assistance Device MM-252 has been installed without error. Parsing user data. Time until completion: 311 hours. Query: maintenance required - current objective? *''
`` I ask once more, great Aeon! What must I do to save my people?''
`` *Parsing relavent data. Redirecting power to outer-ship surveillance... 21 hostiles detected. Optimal path shall be chosen in 8 minutes. Current objective: eliminate hostile forces while minimizing civilian casualties. *''
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[ WP ] `` No god , nor foul necromancer brought me back . Just four words . 'I Am Not Done ' . ''
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I am not a good man. But the choice was made for me before I was born. It was made for all of us. This is a hard world. And if you are n't the one who takes, it will punish you. You see it every day; the rich pulling strings and dodging blame, and look where it gets them. But the world is finally paying me back, for all that I've taken.
At least I could n't feel my legs anymore. Or at least what was left of my legs. I could barely lift my head to get a good look. Someone was choking on their breath. Or was that sobbing? Or laughter? And then I remembered why I was here.
`` It seems like we are finished down there.''
A man's voice echoed through the darkness as I felt a cold hand creep its way onto my stomach. My abs twitched to the new sensation.
`` Ahh, but it looks like the rest of you is still up for more.''
That smile. It had no real emotion. It was dead. Just like I was going to be. I could feel myself losing grasp on reality. Were his eyes always glowing? But his face was so familiar.
`` I'll let you in on a secret. I do n't enjoy this. But what were my options. After what you did. It's the only way to bring justice to this world. I'm just the tool to bring it.''
The alley. It was the alley. I had n't eaten for two days. Money came easy in an alley. And you ca n't leave witnesses when they have seen your face. If that damn girl had n't pulled off my mask... A sharp pain swept up my finger.
`` Do you like it? I modified the ring. It was my wife's you know. After you took our daughter, she could n't face another day. And now all I have is ash and rings.''
He slid the ring over my next finger, and with the newly sharpened end, peeled back the skin. At least it did n't hurt as much the second time. He methodically worked his way from one part to the next, the smile never leaving his face. He mumbled from time to time, but it was hard to hear when you're ear was now resting on you chest. My heart started to slow, and the and the pain became more familiar. Maybe he just does n't want her to recognize me when I see her in the afterlife. What did a heartbeat sound like? The reminder has n't come in a while...
As everything started to fade away, I felt a small prick in my chest. Warmth spread through my body. So this is what dying was like. The noise, the light, and the fear crept away as I closed my eyes. I felt my heart jump, and then again even faster. Adrenaline coursed through my body. And the world burst back into existence. All the pain in the world. And I saw the syringe stuck in my chest.
No God, nor foul foul necromancer brought me back. Just four words.
`` I am not done.''
Just a man who was already dead.
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[ WP ] An unmarried queen adopts an orphaned boy to ascend to her throne . Write a day in the life of the adopted prince .
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The young boy sat in the middle of the massive circular room. His head twisted as he scanned each painting on all four bright blue walls. He stopped at a peculiar one.
A man, wearing a full suit of armor, stared directly back at him with a look of satisfaction. He had long dark hair reaching his shoulders, and a red amulet that hung perfectly center of his chest. He sat on a giant dark horse with with a massive saddle and grey pieces of metal all along its legs. In the mans left arm, raised so high it touched the sky, was a sword. The hilt was golden with a beautiful ruby in the center that reflected almost that of the entire light of the sun. In his right arm he gripped a handfull of hair attached to the head of a Giant. The Giants head was dripping with blood and its tongue hanged so low it almost touched the ground.
Squinting to get a better look, the boy scanned the background of the painting. Three men lay dead on a grassy hill, all three laying flat as a pancake. A giants club rest three feet from the bodies, covered in blood. The owner was not far away, collapsed on the ground with what looked like over 100 arrows piercing his body. A man dressed in armor similar to the one riding the horse stood over the arrow covered giant. He had a scar running all along his face, going down his neck and ending on his right shoulder. He had short light brown hair, and eyes that pierced harder than the many arrows lodged into the Giant. He has halfway through removing his bearded head.
The boy did not seem phased by any of this. He stared at the man on the horse with a sense of longing, ready to reach out and touch him.
There was a loud knock on the door.
The boy turned around, stood up, and closed his hands in front of him. The wide door opened and in its place stood Queen Yarma.
She was not a beautiful queen. She had long wavy brown hair that matched her dark brown eyes. Her nose lay crooked to one side, likely due to a blow from an attacker. She wore a long, silk, green dress, so long it dragged at least 4 feet behind her. She held out her arms for the boy.
The boy hesitated for a moment. He slowly began shuffling to Yarma, his arms at his side. The walk felt like ages as he crossed the large room. He stopped a few feet from her and looked up. She was smiling, but the boy knew a fake smile when he saw one. He walked up and locked his arms around her. For a boy of 10, he was fairly tall for his age. He reached just below her chest.
Yarma stroked his dirty curled hair and whispered in his ear:
`` Welcome to your new home my son.''
She gently grabbed his shoulders and pulled away from the hug, giving him the same fake smile as before.
`` Come, let me give you the entire tour of the castle!''
Before turning around, she glanced up from the boy and gave one quick repulsed look at the painting.
`` I'll have that taken down later,'' she said coldly, the smile disappearing from her face quicker than it had come.
She looked at the boy and motioned for him to follow as she left the doorway and began walking down the hallway. The boy was careful not to step on her long silk dress as he walked behind her.
`` You are strong for your age, you will grow to be a great king,'' she said, turning her head to smile at the boy. The boy returned the smile, then immediately looked back down, as he had almost stepped right on the edge of her dress.
The walls were glossy white, with giant red banners hanging on each wall, about four feet apart. A dark blue shield with two silhouette men facing opposite each other was at the center of each banner. A guard sat between each banner, standing so still you'd easily mistake them for statues. Each one had a silver helmet covering everything but their eyes. Each one was looking straight forward, only darting their eyes for a second to catch a glimpse of the future king.
`` You're going to love it here,'' continued the queen. `` You'll have a caretaker always within earshot to obey your every command. There are plenty of children that play right outside in the courtyard. And in a few days is the 4th ever Chariot Row Tournament! Oh, if only my husband were still alive to meet you Gregory and enjoy the festivities we have planned!''
The boy could no longer remain silent. `` My name is Stewyn.''
The queen ceased walking, forcing Stewyn to inadvertently step on Yarmas long green dress.
The queen slowly turned and stared down Stewyn, all sign of the happy-smiley queen act she put on before was gone. A guard directly to Stewyns right side shifted. All was quiet for a moment.
( BRB! )
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[ WP ] You wake up in King Arthur 's court with only the clothes on your back . Merlin hands you a box about the size of a pumpkin and tells you it will wish into existence any object from your age , once per day . Camelot will be attacked and destroyed one week from now . Help us , future-man .
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The first day of SD92z inventing a time machine and travelling to King Arthur's court was an eventuful one. First SD92z introduced himself and pulled Art's beard to the dismay of the hapless royal. `` I'll have your head off for that'' as two guards armed with swords stromed into the room hearing the kings angry roar. But just as the guards were about to take SD92z away Merlin walked in, `` He could be useful to us'' `` How!'' exclaims the frustrated king. `` Just watch''. Merlin then persisted to hand SD92z a box about the size of pumpkin and told him he could wish into existence any object from his age. SD92z said `` Gun'' and as soon as he said it a gun appeared in his right hand. The King was curiours and wondered what this device did. `` Oh it's this amazing thing from my age, you just point it at your head and then BANG!... it gives you eternal life'' The king jumped up and grabbed the gun and with one massive bang... blew his brains out. `` Is that supposed to happen'' the worried guards asked SD92z. `` oh yeah, the they just lie down and sleep for a few months and then eternal life starts, people do it all the time in my age.''
Camolot could n't wait that long, though because they were going to be attacked in a weeks time. Merlin could see it in his crystal balls. But, who would be King, while King Arthur waits for his eternal life to begin. Why, SD92z would be the perfect candidate as he can bring things back from the future thanks to the pumpkin sized box that he has been handed by Merlin. So in the 238 BCBBCITVCNN, SD92z, a traveller from the year 2016 became king of Camelot.
On the morning of the 2nd day, Merlin offered the new King, the ability to bring something new from his age, and he chose a Microwave Oven because he was sick of having to eat cold Beef. The day ended without event.
On the third day, the King brought Nuclear weapons into Camelot and set them off over the army that was going to attack it, killing all of them, saving Camelot, and ending the war before it had begun.
But the fourth day, the new King was getting bored of it all and he was desperate to get back online, so he walked back into his time machine, and went home, having saved Camelot from total destruction and given King Arthur eternal life, which he still had n't started.
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[ WP ] In a show of strength North Korea launches massive invasion of the Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham ( ISIS )
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North Korea, in response to inflammatory remarks by ISIS, has launched half of its million man army in an outright attack. The announcement was made public one week ago today. The broadcast hit every home in North Korea who hastily prepared its grand military might. However, to date not a single North Korean soldier has set foot in the middle east.
The first tragedy struck in Haeju Bay, facing the Yellow Sea when a fully loaded Hanchon class troop transport ship suffered a catastrophic explosion in the engine compartment. The ship then collided with another trapnsport ship and promptly sunk blocking the primary shipping lane. There have been no death tolls released but due to poor maintenance and antequated designs the ship sunk quickly making it likely that few were able to escape in time.
Next the T'aet'an-pihaengjang Airport was clsoed for nearly two days as a miscommunication between fuel truck and aircraft caused a massive explosion. There were multiple transport craft fully loaded caught in the blast which were grounded. Additionally the same miscommunication occured the very next day at Uiju Airfield, Korean People's Army Air Force where 27 MiG-17F/F-5 fighters were lost or damaged by the blast.
The three transport planes that were able to take off have been crashed into the sea. The North Korean planes had apparently been told to take off before a landing based had been established. Since North Korean had no allies in the area they circled until their fuel was spent and then were ditched into the India Ocean.
Similarly, there are 5 Krivak-class ships loaded with troops docked off the west coast of India waiting for fuel. They had escaped the harbor before the accident and were told to steam ahead. Unfortunetly the fuel support ships never made it out of the harbor.
As of this morning North Korean troops have been reported washing up on the shores of Malaysia, Singapore, India, Diego Garcia. The 5 member North Korean Special Operations team that was rescued off the coast of Madagascar is still in custody after trying to assault the rescuing fishing vessel. The captain was able to subdue them with a flare gun claiming it was a grenade launcher. Apparently the North Koreans were not provided with emergency equipment and had never seen one before.
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[ IP ] I ca n't believe I went through with it
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`` I ca n't believe I went through with it.''
The bartender poured me a drop of rum and sidled it next to the rock I was pondering on.
`` Something wrong, Jem? Your legs are shaking.''
I looked down to see my the fine hairs on my forelegs quivering as I began to cocoon the glass, taking me twice as long as usual to string it in my web above the bar. I pierced the webbing and took a sip.
`` Well, where do I start? I just found out Wanda is pregnant. Great for you in a year, hundreds of mouths to feed in the interim for me. What am I going to do Frank? Arachnoid formula is n't cheap.''
Frank eyed me mischeviously and poured me another shot of courage juice, `` I guess there's always the Wilds. How many kids you're having is really up to you, Jem.''
I waved four of my arms at the unexpected humour. Frank never took anything for more than it was. Why we insects of the bars called him Frank I suppose. I looked to my right and saw a mantis sliding her foreleg against a gin and tonic. Frank caught me staring and leaned over the bar, `` Yeah, one night might be nice and then-'' he drew his hand across his throat.
I looked at him and at my second drink, soon to be drained,
`` All things considered...'' and he laughed.
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[ WP ] - Aliens discover Earth , and while investigating , the internet . They stumble across reddit .
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Such a strange species, they can interbreed with one-another. The black ones with the white ones and with the off-white ones—they are odd. Almost a miracle. We, the Longarthiumcuntsasaurusroonatoors, can only breed with other Longarthiumcuntsasaurusroonatoors as all of you Longarthiumcuntsasaurusroonatoors know. We can not breed with the likes of our fellow brethren that inhabit our great planet Longarthium the Most Excellent. It is said that we came to exist when a Most Excellent shift in space-time occurred resulting in Longarthium. The Most Excellent space-time shift occurred during what our religious lore purports to be a television broadcast of Bill and Ted ’ s Most Excellent Adventure.
The year is 10016 Most Excellent and we the Longarthiumcuntsasaurusroonatoors have finally traveled back in time to meet with our creators to the year 2015. The place is UUUURTTTTHHH—sector 6789, planet 2112348382. The channel is Comedy Central. It is 2:00AM. An off-white being by the name of Alex is having a Most Excellent time watching Bill and Ted ’ s Most Excellent Adventure on a television broadcast of soon to be Most Excellent proportions.
We enter—us scientists. We are accompanied by a religious shaman to ward off Bodacious Babes that might thwart us from our mission. This is essential. We enter the room. Gladoffuckingcarshaft The Most Excellent knocks Alex out with a Most Excellent karate chop. I, Glodoffuckingmovieshaft The Most Excellent, inspect what Alex was looking at besides The Most Excellent performance ever given in the cosmos. It is on what UUUURTTTTHHHLEEENGGGSSSS call a computer. It is Reddit—a device of the Bodacious Babes. Corrupting the minds of the UUUURTTTTHHHLEEENGGGSSSS and detracting from their observance of Bill and Ted ’ s Most Excellent Adventure. With a swift mind and a Most Excellent heart, I attack the Reddit with my mind powers. It explodes. We—us scientists—spend the next half-trimester destroying all Reddit on UUUURTTTTHHH to bring UUUURTTTTHHH back to a state of Most Excellence.
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[ WP ] Everyone in the worlds reality is based on one twenty year old girls perception . At a young age unicorns existed again , and her imaginary friend was president . The older she got , the darker the world became . One day her friend convinced her to try acid .
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“ In other news, scientists are theorizing Cindy has tried acid. The revelation comes after multiple reports of… ” the news anchor failed to finish her thought as her face melted off the screen. Griffin felt pretty sure he heard that the effects of the intense reality warping would end in a few hours, but as he starred at the pattern of tile backsplash of his kitchen, he wasn ’ t too sure. For what felt like hours, he stared at the tile letting the once rigid and carefully measured lines to dance with impromptu curves as his iPod played “ In a Gadda Da Vida ” on repeat effectively creating a performance unlike he had ever seen. Ten minutes passed.
As hunger gripped him, he attempted to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but as the vibrant purples and luscious browns mixed together, his dog, Spot, inexplicably ran through the kitchen at sonic speeds as light trailed behind him. He spoke in strange, melted tones. Griffin ignored the canine by firmly stuffing his ears with bread crumbs, but the dogs distorted voice insisted. Yielding to his Spot, he gave the animal the entirety of a sloppily constructed sandwich and a jar of peanut butter.
Slowly but surely reality took hold once again taking both Cindy and the population of the world back into a concrete world. Though cars still left the occasional streak across the road like a smudged water painting, every found more solid footing. Griffin found himself in his bedroom snuggling with a peanut butter smeared dog along with a half dozen rolls of bloody toilet paper and a cactus wearing a condom, wondering what the hell happened.
*****
Like this? Want more? Check out [ r/Andrew__Wells ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/Andrew__Wells/ )
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[ WP ] You fall in love with a barista after they uttered only one sentence .
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Next to hallowed out ancient oak trees was a pebble road that lead to a wooden, smugly painted small café. I used to run till here almost every day. Here she was, the figure I had seen so often. ‘ Here, your coffee ’ was her usual response. She never paid more attention to me than that.
I used to run to this café almost every day, and with every instance my distaste grew further into hate. Her high-nosed look and eccentric, artsy-fancy look of an impoverished artist fueled me with emotions. At times, after a daunting run there were too many to register. I hated her attitude, yet I could not reject her appeal. Her hilarious way of walking was sometimes the only amusement of my day.
One day, I walked in and the bar was empty, the water was boiling and the TV played on low. I looked to the right of the hallway, to the furthest table to see her talking with a man; leaning in, she was passionately motioning with her hands, asking to be heard. I took a seat at the bar, her eyes for a second catching my presence. She held up and showcased a large painting, grinning widely above it. The commercial on TV had ended and a movie was to begin. In that moment, I heard ‘ sorry, but I couldn ’ t be interested. ’ I looked ahead as in to have pretended that I didn ’ t listen as this man walked past me whilst he was brushing up and moving to the door.
I resumed my glance at the bar, knowing she would be coming to serve me soon. I had become a witness to an important scene in her life, but I couldn ’ t be involved. I tried to keep neutral. I sighed and here she was, leaning towards me, with her hands widely planted on the counter. ‘ Out of all the times, I really could use to see you show some positivity, a life in your eyes. ’ Eh, I did need to get help and she was the one that had enough courage to tell me bluntly. ‘ I really like your painting, never realized your artsy clothing actually reflected your passion. ’ She looked at me, surprised, let out a short laugh and I saw her eyes shoot up with a spark of energy. She smiled. Perhaps I am in love.
_____
Edited grammar and few words. First WP, but will progress: )
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[ WP ] The Greek pantheon have changed their way of acquiring worshipers in today 's day and age .
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`` Power is actually more about knowledge than faith'', said Zeus, but Hades was, as always, too grumpy to listen, as sleeping in the guest room of Olympus for almost two thousand years is destined to make anyone grumpy.
For manners sake, he still nodded his head when he saw Zeus lips stop moving.
`` You see, back in the good old days, who really knew all of my stories? Some priests knew most of them, sure, and they told some people and some people remembered and lot of other people prayed'', and Hades nodded slowly this time, arching his eyebrows as if to show a good point was being made.
`` But across that time, how many truly knew me? not by just throwing my name and blaming me for the weather, how many of them truly knew of my greatness? in numbers, that is'', and Hades tried nodding now, but Zeus kept staring, so he mumbled something and raised his shoulders and hands to show he is n't sure.
It worked.
`` A couple of thousands, maybe a bit more. I did the calculations in this laptop'', he said, holding a TI-82 calculator. Fascinating technology, really'', and Hades agreed wholeheartedly.
`` But today? My name has probably been written in print more than a billion times now, there are millions who read everything about me and our family has had more scholars and researchers investigating us in this time than in any other time in history'', and Zeus said all of that while smiling, but Hades was n't having it, making the same mistake he does all the time - listening to the words coming out of his brother mouth.
`` But we no longer rule'', He said, grittingly and with clenched fists, surprising Zeus with his response.
`` But that's the best part!'' Zeus happily answered him. `` We do n't need to worry about balancing good and evil or raising crops and managing sickness. Could you imagine if we still needed to, with billions of humans running around? ``, and that angered Hades even more. Doing those things are what gods do! He stood up now, glowing with darkness and with the river of pain gushing in his eyes.
`` But the power we could have had now if -- --
`` Oh,'power''', interrupted Zeus, dimming the darkness and culling the waters.
`` We had already ruled everything, now there's just a bit more people living in it. What would you have wanted to have? A bigger throne? More countless souls to anguish along the countless you already had? It's countless for a reason, you know'', and Hades sat back down.
`` I know you're still angry about jesus ruining your realm, but this is retirement, brother, learn to enjoy it'', and Hades grumbled, slowly walking back to his room.
`` I should have stayed with Poseidon'', he said before closing his door and lying on his sofa, attempting to fall asleep, trying to dream of hell.
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[ WP ] Every time you look in a mirror . The person staring back is most definitely not you .
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It was n't a sudden realization, more a series of coincidences that made me realize the gravity of the situation. I've been living on my own for several years now, in an old house, an 18th century Victorian to be precise. The house had it's own sounds that I had grown accustomed too, but it was n't until early this year that a new…feeling started to creep in. I'm sure you know it, the sense that someone, something is watching you. I started to feel it strongly in the bathroom, in my bedroom, and of all places, the foyer of the house.
& nbsp;
The feeling was never lingering either, more a prickling of the hairs behind my ears, at least at first. I'd obviously look around and, obviously, would see nothing. I do n't believe in ghosts, premonitions, or any of that garbage, or at least I did n't. Now…I'm not too sure what to believe. The next thing I started to notice was a small rapping sound, like a fingernail on glass. Scared the shit out of me in the shower one night. I checked the window and saw nothing, except for the flash of lightning that night. The feelings always seemed stronger during storms, electrical energy ionization or some jazz.
& nbsp;
Thankfully I've never noticed it while I slept, especially now that I know.
& nbsp;
It was a twitch that caught my attention. Checking for grey hairs one day I saw my chin quiver, only, I know it was n't MY chin. How does one process that? Slowly, that's how. A gut-wrenching, sickening, fear inducing feeling that makes you question your sanity. You question, then double question if you really just saw what you saw. Then it's pupil widening, cold sweat panic that sets in as you trip over yourself, reality crashing all around you. I do n't really recall the next few days…alcohol made sure of that.
& nbsp;
From there we started moving quicker, by now I've seen myself blink, smile, and even wave at myself. My guess it's my future self messing with my past self, or something like that. Did you see the crack in the mirror? That was n't me, or at least the me on *this* side. The blood stuck in their is n't mine either, and trust me, I've tried to wash that shit off. Something changes your outlook when you watch yourself die in a mirror. On the bright side, he does hook me up with all the shy single girls staring into the bar mirror, so I guess that's a plus.
& nbsp;
What's that? Oh, your asking about the foyer, yeah, if you look at the clock you'll find that there is a mirror backing. Took me forever to figure that out too. Well, thanks for listening, I guess. If you look over your shoulder you'll see me waving good-bye to you.
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[ WP ] It has been five days and they still have n't arrived .
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Should I check on Isabelle? No, when she wakes up she ’ ll fuss like she always does and I ’ ll know she ’ s awake then. No point in accidentally waking her up. God I reek. How much water do I have left? Only half a canteen, I might have to make another run for the creek. I hate not being here, but I ’ d rather not die of thirst. Maybe if I run I can shave off ten or fifteen minutes? I don ’ t think I can run for that long, what happens if I trip and break something? I ’ ll be left in the middle of the forest. Isabelle would definitely die. I ’ m sure something would hear her crying. Maybe this time I ’ ll go at night? No, I ’ d probably get lost. Looks like I ’ ll have to go in the day. I ’ ll let Isabelle wake up and when she goes for her nap I ’ ll make the run. I should really start thinking about food. I can hold off with water for the time being. I got a half can of formula left, but that ’ s not going to last. What if the coyote got caught? It ’ s been almost two weeks. I was told one week at the most. What if I was getting water and I missed him? Oh shit… shit… no… don ’ t think about that. I ’ ve been through this before. Just focus on what I can do now. I really wish I figured out what kind of food is edible out here… Maybe I can catch a small animal or something? I have a lighter… But what if the border agents see the smoke? I ’ d better not. Damn it… I can ’ t even go home. What would Marco do to me? Oh god. What if Marco got to the coyote? Does he know where I am? Is he coming for me? Maybe I should just go deeper into the woods? I could probably find another hollowed out tree. Wait, maybe I could go to the border and tell them I could help them? Will that work? Will they care? I don ’ t know any of the drivers or any of the processing locations. They probably won ’ t care. Fuck! Why did I steal the Money from Marco's bag? I could have gone back... Why did I run? I should have just stayed with Marco. Maybe I could have convinced him to drink less? God I am so hungry…
It Sounds like Isabelle just woke up. I thank god she ’ s okay, but we won ’ t be for long if we don ’ t get out of here…
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[ WP ] Your childhood best friend became President of the United States . Years later you are on a tour of the White House and the President spots you . He invites you into the oval office ...
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I was filled with nostalgia for our childhood adventures, as well as a deep reluctance and fear about entering perhaps the most important room in modern history. He sat down behind the desk I had long seen depicted in news sources, films, and television, and smiled the smile I remembered from childhood.
`` Sit down,'' he said, and I sat across from him. Although the face was familiar, he looked as if he was now twice my age rather than a mere few years older than me. To my shock, there were tears in his eyes, and before I could say a word he was bawling and hunched over in his chair.
`` This world is so brutal, and I grew up feeling so powerless, as if nothing I did could change the violence and selfishness and cruelty.'' he said through his sobs. `` I always felt like a helpless component of something much larger, and that my fate had already been decided by a society that did n't care about me at all.''
`` You're president!'' I said, `` You're the most powerful man in the world!''
`` I thought that would be true,'' he said, `` But it's not, it just is n't. I do n't feel any more powerful now than I ever did before - in fact I feel worse. I'm not in control. I'm as powerless as I have ever been. I can only do what they ask me to do, what they've told me is okay for me to do, that's all, I know that now.''
I was tempted to hug him, but was n't sure I was allowed to. I settled for awkwardly standing up and touching his arm tentatively a few times.
After regaining his composure and catching his breath, he looked me in the eyes and said, `` Tomorrow I will invite you back to my office, and you will assassinate me.''
I choked, speechless, my eyes widening, staring in shock at my old friend.
`` If you do as you're told, you will be spared capital punishment after the fact, and can be assured a life of relative comfort free from disruption. If you fail to do as you're told, you will be dead in 24 hours. Shot in the head. There is nothing you can do to change this, you must assassinate me, or die.''
I stared in horror, remaining speechless.
After a long silence, I touched his arm again and said, `` Why are you asking me to do this? Why would you want this?''
His eyes filled with tears again. `` I do n't want this. *They* do.''
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[ WP ] Each child in your village is chosen by a weapon at their coming of age . The deadlier the weapon , the greater the prestige for the family . You 've been chosen by the pen .
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I hear the smugness in their voices when my older brother responds `` practicing outside the farm again'',
`` Ha, ha, I bet it's with that rusty old relic'', I hear them tell him to make sure I'm not late and as soon as their laughter fades off into the distance I spot my brothers shadow through the bright grass.
`` You did n't have to lie'' I say, I know I could take them, idiot children, probably friends of Ra, they all wear that stupid headband.
I see his hand held out beneath my nose. I sigh release our grandfather's decorative sword into his palm and watch him spin and limp towards the door. Inside he hangs it on the wall and without a word walks out.
I let out the breath I'm holding.
He thinks I do n't take this seriously, but I do, I realise we're the village joke, I know that, the bad father, the mad mother and our grandfather who ruined it all, it's why I - it's why I've been praciting all these years - knowing my destiny lies with the great sword of righteousness. Through the great sword I'll restore honor to my family, and put to rest the past for good.
`` The mighty pen of argi''
`` What am I supposed to do with this?''
We take the centre of the village a cleared space encircled by huts. On the floor lies a spread on top of which rests all weapons imaginable, although I ca n't be the only one to which the great spear, the great swords and the great bow seem to be gleaming in the sun.
Of course it must be a trick of the light, perhaps the elder was confused, the spirit can do that, confuse people, I think.
The elder rises an eyebrow, `` you will write with it I presume'',
`` I ca n't even *read*'',
I point to the tones of my skin `` you see this'' under my palm I flex my arm, `` and this. Do I look like a scholar, do I look like paper sniffing ink dunking tree killer. Do it again''
The elder stiffens. I hear my brother yell my name and I see all the other children littered around clutching, fiddling, rearranging their weapons like their preening themselves for a wedding. I see the sword of righteousness in Ra's hands and bitterness fills me.
`` Do it again!'' I yell,
The elder is barely moved, he's not even surprised,
What? That I got the pen, how is a pen even a weapon? Or he not surprised by my arguing? Do I reek so much of dishonor that nothing I do now is shocking now?
Unlike mine, the elder's gaze does not falter, `` they have chosen'',
I bite out the words, `` they chose wrong, you hear me. They chose wrong! ``, I am kicking and screaming as I feel myself being dragged away.
`` Wroooooooong! Wrooooooong! Wrooooong-!''
& nbsp;
`` Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong'',
`` Will you be quiet and go to sleep''
My brother shuffles on his top hammock, until - `` are you crying?''
`` Shut up!''
`` Go to sleep'', he turns over.
I look at our small tree stump just in arms reach of me. On top is my brothers weopan, a threefold spear. Normally does n't mind me playing with it. Then I look at what's next to it.
The pen.
Urgh.
I give it my back and wipe my face.
`` Maybe if you were born different you would n't of got the pen''
`` What!? ``, I leap to my elbows
``... nothing''
`` It's not my fault I was born this way!''
`` Forget it, I did n't say anything''
`` Fuck you!''
I slam back into place.
He grumbles something under his breath.
I know what he's getting at, that getting the pen was some kind of mercy thing. La la la - at least I got the pen - surely could n't handle anything else, I must of been training for the buffalo! I vault to my feet.
`` Where are you going?''
`` Fuck off'',
He shrugs.
I grab the pen, punch the wall on the way out, kick a rock, a assault a tree...
& nbsp;
I stand on the highest point of Edbina village, the monument of collapsed stone pillars - Futah Peak. I raise the pen and look upwards at the gleaming stars.
If I say it mysteriously vanished they'll have to give me another chance.
And what if they do n't?
I shake the thought from my mind recalling the murderous rage of our parents.
I'll find another way or else-
`` Ra come back here!''
Shit - I almost fall off the monument, I cling on and duck down. I see Ra walking away, his mother chasing behind.
`` Ra! Ra! Come back here!''
What on earth is this?
Bit by bit the tips of my lips climb up my cheeks,
Hoo hoo hoo, is Ra gon na get a beating? I got ta watch this. I cover my mouth just in case.
Ra stands under the Edbina Oak, and all I notice is his shoulders shaking, violently.
My heart sinks, did I already miss it?
His mother having caught simply exchanges feet and looks around. And so she should be - if any of the elders catch them out at this time they've got some explaining to do. Good thing I did n't chuck the pen, moments like this are rare and to be treasured. Now if I could read. And write.
Ra's hand covers his whole face.
Whoa is he crying? Oh my gosh his crying, my heart sweeps, this is the happiest day of my life!
crank!
Me and the mother jump in unison,
Ra's slamming the sword into the side of the tree,
``.....never wanted.....waited...... said...... why.....lied...''
I ca n't hear everything but I can hear bits, it's the first time I start to realise how cold it is, and how late,
And how deserted,
`` Ra listen.......best......''
`` For who!''
`` Shh....keep...... down...''
He sounds strange, whoa he did n't like that response, suddenly there's a scuffle between them, Ra's head band breaks loose, time stops as a river of hair set free falls around Ra's shoulders, stunned not believing my eyes, I freeze, Ra's hair is very long...
Ra pushes past his mother and races off in my direction, I scoot down to get out of sight and run into an alley of huts opposite, I can only guess the idiot must have done a full circle at some point since we somehow bump right into one another. Ra's startled `` ow!'' is higher then I expected, from my place crumpled in the dust I look and and confirm my earlier suspicious, the Ra rising in front of me is not Ra, or rather not a `` he''.
The wide-eyed search around my face is cut short by some realisation and like that Ra shoots off in the same direction, fading into the night.
`` Wait!''
Gone.
& nbsp;
I'm so boooooored.
The village hall is blanched with heat, and it's not just the sun, the giant meeting hut is bustling with bodies. And noise. It stinks. The children are here to learn the duties of the weapon that chose them, many cross over, but nothing else is like the pen, so I'll be last.
I balance the pen under my nose, a passing elder glares, I put it back down. Once his gone I hoot and fan myself. With both Ra's sword and secret in my possession, life is looking pretty good right now, I look out the window, I wonder what I'm doing wasting my time here.
Ra's sick says the overseer. I bet `` he'' is, I think to myself, but I admit the duties of the swords are all pretty straight forward.
Since I have the time on my hands I give in and finally slip out. How it's possible I do n't know but outside is even hotter, I sigh.
I have to pass mine on the way to Ra's and there's no contest, Ra's home is three times the size of what can only be called our humble barn. I shake my head, it's best I just get this over with.
No ones home.
On the way back I see a figure, headband tight as ever, `` Ra!'' must be leaving mine I realise, `` Ra!'' I cry,
This is perfect, within seconds I watch as turning eyes grow wide with horror, I continue my approach palms up, unable to keep the smile off my face, `` Raaaaaaaa - I was just coming fro-woa-''
I find my self grabbed, yanked behind a wall and dragged off.
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continues in reply post
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[ WP ] A child is born with a condition that doctors describe not as a deformity , but as a form of evolution .
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`` Well, it is certainly peculiar is n't it...''
`` It's not an `` it'' it's a child, and do n't let the mother hear you call him `` peculiar''
Two doctors in white lab coats face a glass window on the other side is swaddle of blue blankets laying softly in a crib. One doctor is young man just donning his doctor's coat for the first time, brown hair in a messy array of spikes that had to have been planned to look so suiting on him. The other doctor wears his graying hair short and cropped in a neat pile, his lined with the weight of his years.
`` Well what do we call it, not the baby the disorder. I've never even heard of this before.'' the young doctor said.
`` To my knowledge it has never happened before, a specialist is coming in from Dallas and will be here by the end of the week. However, this might not be something we should remove.'' the lines on the doctor's face becoming thicker as he loses himself in thought.
`` We should n't remove it? but that is going to be a hard life with those things on it. Would there be a complication if we tried?''
`` Three in fact, one I'm not to giddy about putting a newborn into surgery that is n't correcting something life threatening. Two, those `` things'' are uncharacteristically well formed I'd bet two weeks vacation that some major arteries are running through there, especially with the bone structure supporting them. Thirdly, the mother does n't want them removed.''
`` What! Why would n't she? Those are going to affect the child everyday, you ca n't exactly hide them. Day one and already doomed to never live a normal day.''
`` Well I'm inclined to agree with the mother on this. They are twitching just as much as any other part of him, I mean it might not even be a disorder. Perhaps just a mutation...''
`` Do mutations generally start with this large of a step? I mean, You even said they are really well formed... Is n't evolution more of baby steps?''
`` This is the first time I've witnessed such a large step, yes. Personally though this is the only step I have witnessed that I can definitely say evolution.''
`` Wo n't the government want to dissect him and study him? is he safe in a public hospital?''
`` No'' the old doctor said while suppressing a laugh `` No, I doubt the government would step in and attempt to vivisect a live American Child. Do you think this is a comic book doctor? The most they will do is maybe attempt a glance at the medical files leading up to the birth and any examinations afterwards.''
Silence fills in between the doctors as the baby before them wakes and begins to cry. A door opens to the babies and a nurse rushes through to start comforting the baby. the blue swaddling falls from the babies back and reveals to large flat wings. The wings are dotted with what looks to be feathers beginning to sprout like flowers after a long winter.
The younger doctor begins again `` This child will never have a normal life... you know this right?''
`` Yes'' the older doctor says `` not one normal day, I heard you. No everyday this child has will be extraordinary.''
EDIT: Format
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[ WP ] You have the ability to put your body on autopilot and skip ahead in time as far as you want to avoid having to do stuff you do n't want to . One day you do this , and realize you 've made a huge mistake .
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I'd always wondered if I just could n't remember the time that I'd skipped. Had I just trudged through another tedious day only to `` awake'' with no memory of it as I pulled into my driveway? Or was it just gone? My body wandering autonomously throughout its day waiting for me to jump back to it after it had completed its menial tasks.
I guess I'd figured it did n't really matter. Did n't the fact that I questioned the condition of my gift indicate as much? Only now, here I was, hoping beyond hope that I could dredge up those memories and find some solace in my missing past. Were the pools of blood I was seeing as I drifted off to sleep a fabrication of a tired mind, or a memory poignant enough to be glimpsed through the haze?
It had always just felt like a dreamless sleep. The world fading to blackness around me and time losing any semblance of meaning. And then it was over. On an average weekday, I'd find myself pulling into my driveway after the old nine to five. Some days, Fridays mostly, I might wake up a couple blocks away if the traffic was bad. That was part of the gift. I could n't really pick a place to wake up at, just a time.
At first, I promised myself I would n't use my gift. What was the point of life if I could n't revisit it in my head as I drifted off to sleep or share a moment with a loved one going through a photo album. But one day it hit me as I sat punching keys yet again populating data in yet another excel spreadsheet, this was n't a memory I really gave a damn about revisiting.
That's where it all started. Maybe get out of a particularly bad hour of work here or there. Those hours turned into shifts. Those shifts turned into days. My commute had taken the longest to skip. One day though, as I sat in traffic backed up two miles behind an accident, it had happened. Then, when I woke up at the end of the day to no ill effect, I decided maybe the commute was one more thing I could do away with.
I suppose it's like texting and driving. You get a phone and realize it's something you'll never do. Then something important is happening and you sneak in a quick text at a red light while frantically looking for a cop. Then you're on a back road and you know it's a bad idea, but nothing bad will happen if you take it slow. Eventually, you're texting flying down the highway, and the whole time you know you know you're being a dumbass. But it just does n't seem like something bad could ever happen until it does.
I guess I realized that's what had happened to me as the world snapped back into focus like it always did at 5:34. Only this time, the lifeless body of a child rested in my arms.
Witnesses said it had n't been my fault. The kid had chased his ball into the street right into the path of my car. There had n't been anything I could do. Only I did n't know that for sure, and now bloody images covered my vision every time I closed my eyes.
The therapist had n't understood that it was n't shock preventing me from remembering or why I needed to revisit that moment so badly. It had taken a few sessions to convince him that my catharsis lay in reliving that moment. Even still, he sounded nervous when he suggested hypnotherapy might provide an outlet for me. I was just hoping that I would be able to remember.
Sleep seemed to sink into me as the hypnotist's voice coalesced into a soothing cadence. It was different than when I used my gift. I knew where I was but it was like I was somewhere else at the same time. My limbs seems to fuse with the couch as tension gave way to relaxation and gravity gripped them.
I could n't understand what the hypnotist said, but images began to appear around me as the memories of that day came trickling back. Spreadsheets. Coffee. Coworkers who's names flitted around my mind. The banal world I had given up months ago. After an instant that felt like hours, I was getting into my car.
I could feel the car bumping on the uneven surface of the road and my coffee sloshed around in its thermos where it rested in the cup holder. Some throwback R & B was playing on the radio and I could hear myself groan as the same boring song came on that I could swear played every day on my way to and from work.
Time slowed as I reached down to change the station. My hand bump the already tilted thermos and coffee spilled across the passenger seat as a I swore. I grabbed some napkins out of the glove box and tried to mop it up. My gaze darted back to the road in front of my and for an instant that lasted an eternity, it locked with a pair of bright blue eyes that peaked at me above the hood of my car.
The rest of the memory came in a rush. I'd tried to help but it had been too late and emergency services had arrived on the scene. Images started coming back to me in a barrage at 5:34 as I had woken to the nightmare and I found myself back in the therapist's office screaming, his hands pushing firmly down on my shoulders as his assistant rushed into the office.
My vision went black again as I sought the solace of nothingness and I found myself at home staring at the ceiling. I closed my eyes only to be met again with the child's piercing blue gaze and the pools of blood that crowded the edges of the my vision. My eyes snapped open and I rolled over, tears staining my pillow as I sought to keep them from closing.
I do n't know how long I laid there struggling not to blink before giving up and letting the images crash into me like a perverted flood. I could hear clearly the screech of tires as the car pulled to a stop and a child's gut wrenching scream as he was knocked to the ground. I had long since given up guessing which memories were real and which were a product of my mind as I wept into my pillow.
Somewhere though in that nightmare, a logical thought found me and I realized there was a way out. I calmed my breathing and staunched the flow of tears and as the world faded to black around me, a question came to my mind. Almost like a hotel attendant asking when I wanted to be woken. I could feel the rush of breath from my lungs as the word escaped my lips.
`` Never.''
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[ WP ] A secret subreddit called heroeshelpingheroes exists . In it , Heroes on adventures ask help from previous Heroes .
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**/u/PM_ME_UR_SNAKES wrote: ** *dude ur going about this wrong lol. u need the ball of string it helps to not get lost. fuckin n00b. *
**/u/ThisIsSomeBull wrote: ** *WTF GTFO /u/TheseusLOL*
**/u/TheseusLOL wrote: ** *Shit, would've been nice to get that memo* before *going into the Labyrinth, thanks for that. As it stands, I'm now balls deep in a maze. You guys been down this far? I've attached a pic here if you guys can help me, sorry for potato quality. *
**/u/Eddie-The-Rex wrote: ** *Reupload, ca n't see shit. *
**/u/TheseusLOL wrote: ** *reupped*
**/u/PM_ME_UR_SNAKES wrote: ** *lol cant even find ur way out of a maze fucken fag ull never b a hero*
**/u/BadassOwlBitch wrote: ** *I get it, you're new to the game. It does n't look like you're TOO far in, so I'd deffo recommend you go back to the last checkpoint and pick up the yarn. Seriously, you're going to want it: /u/ThisIsSomeBull is at least 10 levels higher than you and he does n't play. Best thing you can do is hang back, level your One-Handed skill a little more, and THEN go in. Have. That. Yarn. *
**/u/ThisIsSomeBull wrote: ** *ATHENA STFU 1V1 ME STUPID WHORE. *
**/u/BadassOwlBitch wrote: ** *Get out of your dad's basement and I will. *
** ( /u/Midas gave BadassOwlBitch REDDIT GOLD for this comment! ) **
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Start and end with the same line but use your story to completely change the meaning of the line . [ wp ]
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`` I only need myself.'' I whisper to myself as I ate my breakfast at the diner. It was the tenth or so time I had told myself those words since my food arrived, the waitress even looked at me funny as I said it right before she came into my line of sight.
`` How's the food coming along?'' She said with a smile, but it did n't seem forced.
`` Great, those pancakes were delicious!'' I tell her, I can barely make eye contact as my eyes are far too raw and bloodshot. I ask for the bill and she does so quickly, I can tell she knows I've been crying and I probably smell of weed but she does n't seem to care. It not like I matter to her, she does n't even know. She brings over the check and I sign it, and there's that smile again. It's comforting, almost motherly; I feel as though I'm being swaddled in a blanket and held tight. I get up to leave and I notice a smiley face on the receipt, but she forgot to charge me for the coffee. `` Ma'am, you forgot to charge me for the coffee.''
She turns around, that smile is incredible.
`` Oh, so I did, I guess it's on the house, you have yourself a good day! Hope to see you again.'' She turns and walks behind the bar.
As I walk out the door, I feel lighter. I have a grin that seems to simply defy my current disposition. What a fool I was to think'I only need myself'.
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[ WP ] When someone is suicidal or has a death wish , a disturbing creature comes in the night and ends their lives . Narrator is someone who changes their mind when face to face with the creature as it comes to take them .
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I had decided long ago, this was going to be the night. I never really had much to live for, dead end job right out of high school, a crush on the manager nothing special, nothing exciting. Monotony, nothing ever happened, day in and day out and I hated it. I had to get out.
I had nothing really to leave in a will, just an apartment with rent far overdue, pictures of happy smiling people, spiteful happy people. But no longer would I let this happen. When I had left from work that evening I approached my manager, she was the only one I would feel bad for leaving. I smiled and tried to sputter out something, I do n't know profound to try and send my farewells but all I managed was `` Have a nice night Carol''. She smiled back, a smile deserving of angels, positively gleaming `` you too Ryan''
The bus ride home was filled with thoughts, I was so glad that it would be over. I went to my tiny closet of an apartment, opened the fridge and quickly gulped down the only remaining items inside: A bottle of cheap beer and a half bottle of cheap wine that I had received for my birthday. It was time, I walked to the elevator, almost happy that it would soon be over and went to the roof.
The wind roared, it was cold and dark, but it did n't matter. I walked slowly to the ledge, looking down at the city below. No one would miss me, my parents never loved me, nothing to look forward to, no one I could disappoint. But then looking down the ledge, with one foot hanging over I thought of Carol, she smiled at me. She was one of those few people who had seemed human and she smiled at me. Maybe, just maybe I should go to work tomorrow, just to see her smile again. With another burst of wind I put my foot back on the building and turned, to find I would n't have to wait until tomorrow.
`` Carol?'' she was standing on the middle of the roof, same grin, until she saw me look into her eyes
`` are n't you gon na jump?''
`` What? Why are you up here, you do n't have to worry about stuff like this''
`` Come ON! I've waited so long for this one, should you or should n't you just make up your damn mind! I should of have you harvested months ago, I thought you finally were going to''
`` Carol?'' My heart felt like it was bursting from my chest, no this could n't be happening. `` You are n't Carol... You ca n't''
Carol started running at me, `` That's it I'm sick of this'' All I saw of her was her eyes, they looked like all of the people in the photographs: spiteful, and then I felt myself being pushed backwards, adrenaline rushing through my veins
`` CAROL I LOVED YOU!''
and right before I hit the void, even though I knew it was impossible I could I sworn I heard her voice.
`` your emotions made for such a delicious harvest''
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[ WP ] A character is fighting off sleep . It 's very important he stays awake . Why ?
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It was light again.
The man sitting in the corner jolted into alertness. The sun had risen so quickly, as if there were no transition from the night at all. This must have been *their* doing. There was no other explanation.
He brought his hand above his eyes and checked on the tape. Good, he could n't sleep if he kept his eyes wide open. *They* could n't hurt him if he could n't sleep.
A knock on the door.
The man yelled back, `` I'm awake!''
`` Mr. Henderson?'' A woman's voice. They always used women to lure their victims. He would n't fall for it. `` Please open your door.''
`` Ca n't eat my dreams if I'm awake!'' He yelled back. The man busted out laughing. He had them beat. Wide awake and not going to sleep anytime soon. He'd won.
`` Please Mr. Henderson,'' she said. `` Open the door or we'll have to move you to a room without locks.''
The man fell to the floor, cackling at his victory. He'd won.
The voice behind the door got softer as the woman spoke to someone else. The man could n't contain himself, but he managed to hear bits of what she was saying in between bursts of laughter.
`` Tell Erik... James Hen... in room 282... unstable... unfit for Greggor's Mental Hospit... suggest relocation...''
The man wiped the tears off his face as he continued laughing to the sound of the woman's heels walking away from his door. He'd won. He'd finally won.
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[ WP ] The universe is a simulation . You are hanging out with a group of friends when you are contacted by the higher life forms running it . They tell you that they will shut the universe down in one year unless you can get 1 billion people to simultaneously flap their arms and squawk like birds .
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`` You're kidding me, right? You want 1 billion people in the world, which is a great place by the way. I am grateful for my story of success. Thank you for taking care of me in this life,'' I paused to make sure I was grasping this right, `` But you want all of those people in the world to do the chicken dance?''
`` We need them to flap their arms and squawk like birds. Exactly that, simultaneously. It was in our coding as a troubleshooting tool.'' The lead glittering being explained.
It was seven feet tall, slender, and looking down at me without a face from my USB docking table. They pulled me out of the Matrix when I was passed out drunk with friends. There were five of them surrounding me. I had to be restrained so they could explain how the universe really was without me freaking out. I never understood that movie before this, and out of all the people they ask for my help. Everyone else was too ingrained in the system, or so they told me.
`` That's just terrible.'' I scoffed `` You could n't just have control-alt-delete?''
They all looked up at each other. The glittering shifted to a rose color on all their empty faces, as if they were blushing from embarrassment.
`` We were very confident when creating this simulation,'' The being admitted, `` but you have been one of the few humans in history that can play the system to your advantage. We need you to do this one thing, and save humanity as you know it.''
`` What would happen if I fail? This time next year, nobody squawking?''
One being turned away. `` He's not going to do this, forget it'' and walked off. The leader watched her leave, and his hue faded to blue.
`` If you fail,'' the leader began solemnly, `` we will be forced to shutdown the simulation for the sake of self-preservation. Otherwise the servers will overheat at temperatures higher than a million of your Sun's and cause the death of our species along with yours.''
I leaned my head back to take in the weight of the situation. I am a pretty convincing guy. I'm smart. I'm one of the smartest, Hell, I can figure this out. These beings are on my side. I imagine this is what it's like to be Christian.
But my head slipped back into the USB dock and the process to reenter the Matrix took it's toll on me. I was fading away, hearing the panicked voices of the beings trying to stop it from happening.
`` Quick! Unplug him before it's too late!''
`` We ca n't,'' the leader intervened, `` unplugging him will corrupt his memory.''
`` Son of a bitch...''
`` Then let's just wake him up another night.''
`` We ca n't do that either,'' the leader said, `` Bringing him out of the Matrix was difficult enough. We'll send him the program...''
`` Donald? Donnie? Wake up, Mr. President'' Melania giggled.
It was the morning of my inauguration. I have a responsibility. Or maybe I have free reign? Or what about the program they mentioned? I was lost in thought, and ignored my wife for the rest of the day.
The limo pulled up and President Obama was waiting outside the building. I went to shake his hand. He gave a cordial smile, but leaned in to whisper.
`` The administrators still have more to share with you.''
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[ WP ] Tired of abducting humans , the aliens are publicly offering free spaceship rides to anyone willing to undergo their experiments .
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George was eating away from all the chemo treatment when Justin shuffled into his room and next to his hospital bed. He too was deteriorating from chemo and could hardly muster a strong voice.
`` I'm gon na try the alpha X 227. It's a no brainer and I've got nothing to lose. Hell, George, I ai n't even got hair on my testicles.''
George was stunned. He thought the alpha thing was a hallucination. How can Justin know about it if it was a hallucination. And right on cue like he knew what George was thinking.
`` Yeah, you thought you were the only one seeing things right? Nah buddy, it's like a commercial channel for the about to be dead broadcasted by aliens. Everyone on this floor that sees that shit dies in a week if they do n't take the offer. ``
George tries to sit up in his hospital bed. `` Dude. It's got ta be some sort of prank. There are no aliens and they sure as hell ca n't make me see things and even less likely there is n't some alien experimentation facility in the skies or something''
Justin frowns. `` Well I have n't got much left to lose, next time I have one of thoes I'm clicking the yes button. ``
Puzzled George asks `` you see the buttons too? Fuck, they look so real''
Justin shuffles out the way he came `` sorry but I ai n't gon na die buddy''
George did n't get long to think before the hallucinations began again full blast. He was in the same purple robe as last time with toilet brushes in all his pockets. The same strange surrounding like he was on a totally different planet bursting with color. And the same overweight black lady singing the merits of alien testing while strange animals danced around. She morphed occasionally on different parts of her body just enough to catch your attention then flip to normal like a silly attempt to cause you to doubt your senses in a fucking hallucinatory experience. How can anyone take this seriously?
She offers George a TOA with a yes / no button as she normally does. This time George gives into the delusion and taps on yes.
To be continued
....
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[ WP ] `` The measure of a man ’ s real character is what he would do if he knew he would never be found out . '' — Thomas Babington Macaulay
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Wynonna opened the back window of the house, raised a finger to her lips, and helped him climb in. He mimicked her tip-toed sleuthing through the hallway, even though he knew that the pastor and the pastor's family would n't return until the end of Sunday service. In the basement, she peeled back a dusty Persian rug and presented him with her discovery: a cardboard box filled with VHS pornos from the 80s, their plastic covers frayed from frequent use and speckled with oily finger-prints.
“ See,'' she whispered.
To pad her'curriculum vitae', Wynonna had been volunteering to clean the houses of the heads of local charities; it achieved the same ends, she had said, but with a tenth the effort. Cleaning their houses, seeing the real,'dirty' side of their lives, had soon led her to formulate a theory that all these supposedly great people were, without exception, the worst of the worst. Of course, a desire to help those in need was understandable -- homo sapiens had after all evolved a strong propensity to altruism in order to facilitate their atypically large community-size -- but the all-revealing question was why would *this* person devote *their* life to *this* need, specifically. A tragic occurrence involving a loved one? Don ’ t be daft, Henry. How many hunch-backed grandparents had sped shoes-first into some road barrier or stop-sign? But still civil engineering programs were struggling to fill their quotas. The much simpler motive was this: guilt, gnawing guilt, all those nights stirring in bed, with their past crimes replaying in their Occipital lobe ( this part at the back of your head; it paints mental pictures ), until they had found a solution: no one would ever suspect a moral martyr of rallying against the very thing they had committed themselves -- are committing!
“ Last week, ” she whispered, slotting away a porno whose cover depicted two ‘ schoolgirls ’ attempting to peel a banana with their tongues, “ after Marley ( the owner of the SPCA ) had euthanized her dog, I saw her jogging merrily past the Hampton Park duck pond with a replacement of the same breed. A Lab, maybe. I do n't know, I do n't know dogs. But what I do know is this -- she definitely had the look of a sadist, and I've heard it through the grapevine that she killed Fido One with her own two hands. These people, Henry, they're the worst of the worst. ”
Later, he went as Wynonna ’ s plus one to The Charitable Organisations of Chelsea Municipality Excellence Dinner for 2015. She fluttered between her various future character references, devoting most of her time to re-filling the plate of an obese woman who headed the city ’ s hunger drive, whose house she was hoping to add to her list. At one point, during one her pit-stops at his and her assigned table, she managed to land a napkin airplane into the oblivious cleavage of a visiting spokesperson from the national Breast Cancer Awareness Group, who Wynonna did n't care to impress because breast cancer had become'persona non grata' ever since the whole Susan G. Komen, Pink-Ribbon controversy.
“ I guess, ” he thought out-loud during another pit-stop. She, Wynonna, was refuelling herself with a crab salad canape, transferred in a dainty/possibly-hygiene-obsessed way using a minimum of finger-contact. “ Your bedroom must be a complete... dumpster. ” He had almost forgotten their company and said shit-hole.
“ It ’ s not. ”
And yet who would end-up playing with the receipt in his pocket for a quarter of an hour in the hallway outside her apartment while, inside, the vacuum clashed with the furniture?
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[ WP ] A genie is about to concede you your second wish , but a paradox created by your first one prevents him from doing so .
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`` And for my second wish: I wish for a huge personal yacht, complete with crew and sufficient funds and fuel to keep it running for a thousand years... It should displace at least 30 tons, and be big enough to take my entire extended family on a world cruise! You can park it right here!''
`` I'm sorry, master, I can not fulfill the second wish. That's two down; you only have one left.''
`` WHAT??? Why ca n't you grant my yacht wish?''
`` Because the pair of docks you wished for initially are n't far enough apart to accommodate the size of your yacht, and the clause about'no fishy business, and no reinterpretation of wishes to be detrimental to your original intent of the wish' that you included in your first wish precludes me from making any changes to either your first or second wish.''
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[ WP ] You 're with a group of people in a scary movie , the difference between you and them is that you have rationality ... But they never listen and think you 're an idiot .
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`` Ok, we need to stick together. If we stay in a group then we can fight him off.'' I hand everyone a weapon, and calmly explain the plan. `` Ok, now I'm going to call the cops, if we all just stay together it will be ok. He's only got a knife.''
`` That's stupid Chad. There's, like, no way that calling the police on your cell phone is going to help.'' Chelsea stated.
`` Yeah dude, and giving us weapons to protect ourselves? We are more likely to hurt each other with these.'' Tony added.
`` You think you are so damn smart Chad.'' They all said together.
There was a scraping noise upstairs. `` Chelsea, lets go see what made that noise!'' Tony said. He had a thing for Chelsea.
`` Ok!'' She said eagerly, clearly they wanted to be alone and die together.
`` I ca n't stress enough how bad of an idea that is.'' I said.
`` Shut up Chad.'' Tony said.
`` Yeah Chad.'' Chelsea added.
`` You want to go upstairs, where you will most likely be trapped, with only windows for exits? Just to check out a strange noise that could possibly be the murderer? But I'm the idiot.''
`` Yes Chad.''
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[ WP ] Everyone is suddenly able to hear the thoughts of their soulmate regardless of location , race or whether they 've met . The voice you hear is not of this world .
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When you `` hear'' your other's thoughts, there are no verbalizations or inner monologues. You get flashes of concepts, interpolated sensory recollections, and sometimes, emotional responses. And you instantly understand what it is your other wants.
My father told me that he knew my mother loved pop tarts, but she never `` thought'' about pop tarts. Instead, he would see images of her childhood kitchen, the smell of fresh lavender flowers and her father's aftershave, and the warmth of a mother's love. And the first time he was hit with those thoughts, he knew instantly that my mother wanted pop tarts.
My sister told me that her other apparently lives in Russia and loves snowboarding. She somehow understood those things even though the thoughts she received were from a hot sauna and the smell of steam and coals.
I'm envious. When I first saw my other's thoughts, I was confused. Rotten eggs, sulfur. Unbearable heat. Loneliness and longing that would buckle the knees of the most stoic of men. I thought that she was kidnapped, or worse, had been born into slavery somewhere in the middle east. But more images came to mind. The heat, I could not bear, but she reveled in it. The smell of sulfur makes me gag, but I know it's of great comfort to her. The loneliness, though. That remained piercing, and she did not like it any more than I did.
I willed my thoughts to her. I thought of happiness, of companionship. I thought of Chucky, my old German Shepherd that I had raised for 14 years before he went off to play in the sky. I channeled the happiest thoughts I could think of, that I could recall. And for months, her loneliness became more acute. She seemed desperate to hold onto me...
The Heavens have a sense of humor, to assign a soul-mate to one who harvests souls. Whether this was her punishment or my own, I ca n't say.
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[ WP ] You live on a planet that has n't changed seasons in 100 years , until winter starts to come .
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I looked out the window and saw several people butchering a horse for its meat. Our supplies were running out and there was no visible end to the winter.
The last winter lasted almost 10 years and destroyed most thriving civilizations in our world. You must know: Winter in our world isnt just a season that comes and goes.
Its actually a curse the elves would summon.
Every 100 years a new elf queen would be coronated and she would start the winter in order to exterminate us humans. Not surprising considering that we almost wiped out all elves when we humans first entered this world.
The elf queen would cast a powerful spell, summoning a cloud cover spanning over the entire world. The temperatures would soon start to drop and everything would be covered in snow and Ice.
However, everytime this happened volunteers from all over the world would gather together and march to the elven capital deep within the cursed lands to kill the queen. Unil now the heroes were always succesfull defeating the winter.
This time was different.
Just months ago we were able to witness the end of a decade long war ravaging all continents. We decimated each other, knowing that the winter would come. Only 20 of every 100 people survived this madness. And when the winter kicked in, we had nothing to throw against the elves thanks to mechanical warfare.
We barely had any firewood left and much less food.
I looked into my foodbasket. A carrot and a few breadcrumbs were everything I had left. Rumors are that the first cases of cannibalism have occured already. I dont blame them.
A few days ago our armies started a desperated attempt to stop the queen. 5000 soldiers marched towards the elven capital. They couldnt use their machines because it was already so cold that fuel started to become stiff.
They all froze to death before they were even halfway there.
I took the carrot and tried to bite off a piece. It was so hard that I had the feeling my teeths would crack.
Yep, we are all going to die here.
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[ WP ] Ever since you received your letter for Hogwarts you 've been curious about all the different spells there are . You 've just bought your first wand and the first spell you try is what you believe to be rather humorous . `` AbraCadabra '' . Nobody told you this spell was banned . For obvious reasons .
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I stood in the shop, gazing at the tangled grey mess that was the back of Mr. Ollivanders head.
`` Perhaps... Perhaps...'' I could hear him whispering.
It did n't surprise me. Nothing surprised me anymore. The owl at the window had been more than enough, but the hidden brick doorway had tipped me over the edge. This was all some dream. And I might as well have fun while I was here.
`` Try... this'' Ollivander whispered slowly, as he turned back. He held out... a stick. I do n't know what I'd expected. Maybe some glitter? A star on the end? I held back a laugh.
I took the wand from his hands. Suddenly, all around me was filled with a deep purple light and soft music seemed to play. Ollivander pressed further.
`` Try a spell!'' He seemed almost giddy.
`` Erm...'' I hesitated. Was he being serious? `` Abracadabra?''
His face dropped. All giddiness turned to fear. All he could do was croak out a startled `` No-!'' before suddenly, he was gone.
The room was silent. Nothing moved. It was now just me here. I stepped forward, feeling the space where Ollivander had stood. Was he invisible? No. He was just gone. Vanished. Maybe he had just been teleported somewhere, or just turned into an insect too small to see? I wished it was there, but there was something in that look, that fear in his eyes, that told me this was it. He was just gone.
I heard a loud banging on the window, and a woman screaming. I turned round in shock. This could n't be real. A woman holding a caged toad was screaming from the street outside, pointing at me through the window. I could hear men shouting, and quick footsteps on the cobbles coming my way. What had I done? I looked down at where Ollivander had stood. All that remained was a small pile of ash, and a puff of white smoke. The shop remained still, too quiet for what I know realised was a terrible deed. I bolted towards the back of the shop, hoping for some sort of escape.
I found it in the form of a grimy window, opening up onto the back alleys of Diagon Alley. Dark cobbles speckled with wood chippings and broken feathers twisted this way and that as I ran. Just ran, as long as I could.
It was dark once I stopped, behind a crooked black shop which had a suspicious smell coming from the chimneys. I sat down on the floor, tears stinging my eyes. The weight of what I had done was finally hitting me. It was always so *fun* when they used to do that one TV. A top hat and a black and white wand. It was so different when it was real. When it mattered. When it was n't just a show.
I felt a stab in my pocket. I looked down. The stick was still there. This stupid stick. This stupid stick that could do so much damage. I could hear whistles in the distance, echoed shouting. Could I go back? No. They would n't believe this. I did n't believe this. There was only one thing I could do. Maybe he had gone somewhere. Maybe I could get him back. I could only try. In the only way I knew how.
I pointed the stick to myself.
`` Abracadabra.''
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[ WP ] Death Eaters win The battle of Hogwarts killing all opposition and breaking a one thousand year old truce between muggles and wizards . Lord Voldemort must now face the full might of the United Kingdoms ' military .
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**Not really UK or military, but oh well. **
*They say that fiction is often based on fact.
It was in the early 80's when the muggles had one of the biggest technological breakthroughs seen in their history. It was simultaneously one of their biggest secrets... *
Beads of sweat appeared on Voldemort's face, glistening against the glow of his wand. `` *AVADA KEDAVRA*,'' he bellowed, sending electric green jets at the face of the man standing in front of him. This time, the sound was deafening. Chunks of earth burst into the sky and dust enveloped the scene. In between haggard, raspy breaths his smile slowly widened. He was sure of his success this time. He had given it his all against this man, this statue, without seeing promising results.
Voldemort barely saw the man before he heard him. His spell had again failed him. Only a faint red glow was discernible through the thick dust.
`` *You wizards have always had one flaw with your most powerful curses. The muggles were desperate to find a way to exploit that. When the technology finally caught up, they produced several'individuals' like me. For what's the point of a killing curse, if the target was never alive*?''
Voldemort's face scrunched up in anger. This man, his voice sounded... off. He could n't take it, he had to know. `` *SHOW YOURSELF! SHOW ME WHO YOU ARE? How are you still even STANDING?! *''
The man emerged from the dust, only his skin was damaged by the most powerful of all wizard spells. He looked down at Voldemort, who was now quivering in fear. The man drew a pistol from his hip, and pointed it at the dark lord.
`` *Hasta la vista, baby. *''
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[ WP ] The zombie apocalypse breaks out . However , everyone knows their weaknesses .
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`` Yeah, um... what?''
I reached up and poked his fragile ear, which fell off at the slightest touch. Immediately, the zombie swatted away my hand with his arm and continued staring blankly ahead across the water.
`` Yeah, so they really just... do n't care,'' my friend explained, tickling the single hair atop its head.
The zombie swatted again, leaning ever so slightly away from Chris, before sitting straight again and staring into nothingness. ``... why?'' I asked, prodding it softly in the arm with my finger.
`` I do n't know,'' he said, leaning over to look it in the eyes. `` Interesting, is n't it?''
I nodded, poking it the face. *Huh! * the zombie grunted, too lazy to move.
`` Well, now that that's settled, why do n't we get something to eat?'' Chris said, taking me by the hand.
As my brother lead me away, I watched it slowly, and I could swear that I saw it smile.
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[ OT ] I really want something to read , but I 'm in a rush today and ca n't find something that I like . Post your best story here , and I 'll read them all and give gold to the one I like the most .
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I was on leave from my tour of the Andromeda region, and decided to visit Chris and Jeff, friends from the Titan University Class of'356. They too served in the Galactic Service, but were terrestially stationed nearby on Class M planet Dregg, which was unique among the recent United Galactic colonies as it teetered precariously on the outer edge of a dying dwarf system.
Chris, Jeff and I were always the active types, so we planned a weekend of entropic wave surfing, time diving and asteroid hopping. To start the weekend off, we bought tickets to a baseball game, an ancient sport loved and revered by our Terra Prima ancestors, which we figured would set the mood nicely for our mini-reunion.
The park was at capacity. 500,000 bio-human fans milled about the aisles searching for their seats as many millions of cyber-human fans buzzed above us, blotting out the star. The Alberta Warps were facing the New Town Apples, in a game that was guaranteed to be a treat.
I always loved the sound of automatons selling `` Crackerjacks!'' and `` Ice Cold Soma! ``, the fresh smell of cut grass, hot ferrets and pop-fu, and the quirky fan-cam and total immersion jumbo-sphere. Reminded me of my childhood. We found our seats, I ordered a Bud-soma lite, and brought out my score sheet and laser pen.
After a moving rendition of'Through the sound application of the Scientific Method the United Galactic States shall make Slow and Methodical Progress,' the umpire yelled `` Play Ball!''
The first batter, Beary Bera, a hulking half-man half-bear beast, stepped to the plate. He clapped his paw-hands, dusted his fur, and assumed his batting stance, a peculiar crouch comprised of human baseball batsman leaning a bat on his shoulder and a bear fishing for upstream salmon. The pitcher for the Alberta Warps reared back and threw a perfect strike up and in. `` Striiiike.'' The crowd gave a hearty cheer.
The second pitch, however, was the strangest I had ever seen. The Alberta hurler tossed the ball softly, no harder than 100 kph, straight down the middle. I looked away in disgust, as Bera offered a powerful swing. I was sure of it that he would hammer the pitch to the next nebula. I turned my gaze back at Bera, and there it was, his bat barreled up perfectly with the ball... except now there were two balls: the original still on a trajectory to the middle of the plate, and a second pitch that dropped straight into the dirt. Bera swung through it, and clawed at himself in frustration.
`` What in the Universe was that?!?'' I exclaimed. Chris looked at me with a twinkle in his eye, `` that, my old friend, was a quantum ball. Sandy Catfax has the best quantum ball in the league.'' I tilted my head and squinted. `` Was it a ball or a strike?'' I asked, half expecting the answer. `` It's both a ball and a strike.'' I peeked at the scoreboard, and sure enough, with only two pitches thrown, the count was 1-2. `` How do you hit that?'' I asked? `` Oh, it's simple,'' replied Chris, `` if you just do n't look at it, you'll know exactly where it is.''
For the third offering, Catfax turned to the high heat. Bera abandoned his crouch and simply held his bat up in a bunt position. As the ball made contact with the bat, I heard a tremendous CRACK, like the sound of 100 Galactic Warships incinerating a hive mound, and saw the fiery remains of the ball shoot straight through the buzzing cyber-humans.
`` What in Hawking's name was that??? He bunted that out of here???'' Jeff winked at me, `` A Newton Slugger. If you hit with that, F = ( M*A ) ^-1.''
The game continued like this. The outfielders had a field day with balls that refused to follow simple laws of gravity, and at one point, the visiting team New Town Apples were losing by SQRT ( -1 ). I did n't understand the game play -- Chris tried to explain with little success how much of the game was actually played out of sight in the fourth dimension of time -- but I was hanging out with old friends, kicking back, and enjoying my Bud-Soma, and it did n't really matter.
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[ PM ] Anything.I 'll try to do it all .
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Gambling was my addiction. I was lousy at it. Really lousy. The night this happened, I got tossed out on my ass from a Vegas casino. This was back in the mob run days. Some low level mafia guy took pity on me. `` You lost and you're drunk. Go sleep it off pal.'' I stumbled away into the path of what you would expect a typical British guy to look like. Top hat and cane, with the glass thing in one eye. Like Mr. Peanut.
Told me there was a `` game I might be interested in. Not far away'' he said. I went there for the cash he said I might win. There was a card table with one of those revolvers, a big Clint Eastwood looking one on it with a box of bullets. I sat down across from what I guess was another loser, nursing a bottle of straight Jack.
You might guess what happened. First couple of times, we both made it. This is the strange part. With each barrel spin, Mr. Peanut's eyes got redder and redder. It got down to two bullets. Still bitter, I watched as the guy aimed. Bang. I was shook by that. Stood up, Mr.Peanut started raging. `` THAT WAS N'T THE DEAL'' he screamed when I refused to play his twisted game. I swear, he started smoking, like he was on fire. I raised the gun, but it got hotter than Hell. I dropped it and ran out of there. Does the devil exist. Yeah, I got the proof right here.
Mr Smith then raised his hand and showed me the burn scar seared into his palm. To quote him `` I ai n't so bitter anymore.''
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[ WP ] You hear crying every night around midnight , tonight you hear a blood curdling scream .
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I was scared to sleep. I had been hearing strange sounds in my room. It was always the same. A child crying. The first time I heard it, I almost ran out of the room. But the moment I got off my bed, the crying stopped. I covered myself with the blanket fully and closed my eyes, hoping that it was just my imagination. The next day, it happened again. After a week, I had gotten used to it. Whenever I tried telling someone about it, they just laughed.
Tonight, the crying had stopped. I was relieved and soon fell asleep. All of a sudden I heard a scream. I woke up in a panic and started to scream too. The lights went on in the hall and the door to my room opened. I saw a dim tall outline near the door. I screamed harder. The figure turned on the lights and came to me.
`` Harry, it's me. Dad. What happened? Why are you screaming?''
I started sobbing and hugged him.
`` I heard someone screaming in my room.'' I managed to say in between sobs.
He rubbed his eyes tiredly and said, `` we've already been over this, champ. There is nothing in your room. See?'' He threw open the wardrobe door and checked under the bed.
`` Now go back to sleep. You just had a nightmare''
I nodded, wiping the tears streaking down my face.
He left the room after kissing my forehead and ruffling my hair. I watched as he turned the lights off and closed the door. I tried to convince myself there are no monsters and covered myself with the blanket.
A few minutes later, I heard a door creak. Breathing sharply, I turned towards the wardrobe. I remembered Dad shutting it when he left the room. It was slightly open now.
A child's bloody hand was slowly extending out from the inside.
I screamed.
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[ WP ] In a world where most people work boring nine-to-five jobs slaying demons , you live a glamorous life as a freelance road-sign proofreader . Describe your life .
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I always love the open road. High speed, wide-open spaces, nothing but myself and my eyes and my notepad. I zip past a highway sign. `` Exit 34: Minneapolis.'' Yes, perfectly spelled, they remembered the second N. I check the map, just another eighty miles until a rest stop.
It's sad, not many demon hunters get to experience something like this. They're slaves to the machine - clock in to work, sign out a blessed silver sword from the locker, go exactly where they tell you to go in the search pattern that was written by a soulless office drone. If you encounter a demon, execute it by stabbing through the weak point, which you memorized when you started the job and is written into your employee handbook if you forgot it. Keep doing this for eight hours, then clock out.
Even the higher-ups in the machine do n't get any joy. Maybe you're one of the guys who wrote that manual, and you get an equally joyless life staring at demon corpse after demon corpse to see if any of them are a new species with a new weakness ( spoiler: they are n't ). Or you're crafting and blessing the silver swords, and if you thought going to church on Sundays was tiresome, imagine going to church from 9 to 5 every other day as well. I had a friend who was so overworked that he started saying Hail Marys in his sleep.
It's miserable work. Long hours of hard, repetitive labor. It's so scripted they're starting to introduce demon-slaying robots. Heck, the people who do the work are basically machines themselves.
Not me, though. Out here, there's no machine but my car. No manual but a dictionary. No one's bothering to draw up a perfect search pattern for me, not when there's still demons to slay in the big city, so I just trust my wits and my map to cover as much ground as I can.
`` But it's dangerous!'' They tell me. I could wreck my car. If I drive off a cliff on a lonely mountain road, nobody will even know I'm gone. With the demons invading the cities, there's hardly ever any police to patrol the roads in the back country.
But I ask you this. Between the millions of drones slaving away in the cities, and me riding free on the road, who's doing more to keep humanity's soul intact?
Maybe that's the real reason they keep paying me to do this.
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[ WP ] You live in a world where , when the sun sets , all sorts of animals become increasingly aggressive towards humans .
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My first day in this new land had proven productive. Not having to worry about neighbors or property lines allowed me to pick and choose whichever tree I wanted, and the beginnings of a humble log cabin were already beginning to form in the clearing I had chosen as my new dwelling area.
As the sun set, I cooked up some pork ( the wild swine in the area never learned to fear man ) over my quickly fashioned stove and got ready to bed down for the night.
My eyes had just finished sliding closed when I heard the `` Twang, Thud''. Not a normal noise for the woods, I pulled myself from the edge of sleep and opened my eyes to a quivering arrow embedded in my bedroll. Startling awake, I rolled to my feet and dashed to the safety of my partially assembled log walls.
Staring out into the darkness I saw movement, but I could n't make out the specifics. What was out there? I had n't thought there were any natives. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flicker of movement, close, green, and most assuredly not human.
The last thing I heard was `` HISSSSSSSSSS''. My world disappeared in a flash and a bang.
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[ FF ] As speech-writer for a Presidential candidate in one of the most controversial races in history , your day just got worse . ( Details in OP )
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*Note: I got really caught up in writing this and went over the time limit. Sorry: /
Good evening my fellow Americans. Today, we are reminded that we are indeed ‘ fellow Americans ’. A family from the same tree as our forefathers, those who fought for this land so valiantly in the name of freedom and personal liberty. A family so united, that our hearts beat as one in memory of those who are no longer with us.
Lines do not exist in moments of tragedy. Democrat? Republican? No. Not tonight. American. My opponent, my colleague, my friend here, and myself, stand with all Americans tonight. Our hearts break with yours.
Death in the name of freedom and liberty is not in vain. Tragic. Heart breaking. But not in vain. Not forgotten, and not without igniting the flame of justice within the hearts of each and every American. Tonight, our country shines with this flame. It ’ s light penetrates the darkness, blinds our enemies, and signals as a beacon to the world that we will not go quietly into the night! We have been called to stand in the footsteps of our forefathers! My presidency guarantees that we will answer this call and strike forth into the gates of hell! And we will arrive on the other side with our brothers, shoulder to shoulder, or will burn with rage in our voice, the flag in our hands, and passion in hearts!
God bless each and every one of you.
God bless the Stars & Stripes.
God bless The United States of America.
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[ WP ] You suddenly awake in a large steel tube that has just been opened . Irreputable-looking doctors surround you , and after running diagnostics tests they explain that you have been cryogenically frozen for 200 years . You have no memory of your previous life . . . not even your name .
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Wugh, wh... ff... Where?
Slow. Lee. Slowly, I. Take slow... lee. I am. Alive?
Three men, white light, fatty cheeks, glasses. Who are these people? No! Get off! Loud, fast beeps in the corner. Is this my heart?
Two of them look away in the direction of the sound, try to reassure me. `` It OK. Friends,'' pointing to their chests, `` Friends?'' Talking to me like I'm an idiot. I move my mouth for the first time. Loose, like melted cheese. Hunger.
`` Wuzz thiis? Who?'' They cut me off, I *must* be an idiot. To them, at least.
`` Two,'' fingers up, think they're scissors and the beeping speeds up, `` Hun-dred. Two Hundred, yes?''
`` Years?''
They gasp, clap their hands. No, they must be the idiots. One yells at another to get the tray and the other bumbles away. Shuffles like a fat penguin. Penguin?
Things dim around me, the light is less bright. My thoughts are clearer and I can breathe again. The men before me look like Neanderthals. Large foreheads, thick eyebrows and big mouths. They have stumpy bodies, arms that go down to their thighs.
`` What are you?'' Feel unsafe asking the question.
`` The biggest minds of Erff. You have been saved, long man!''
Two hundred years and mankind seems to have stayed too long in the dirt. Do they eat it now? Think it's nutritious?
`` Earth? What's happened to us?''
They all moan in monotone, like it's rehearsed. Give each other looks then come back to me; intense reverence.
`` We're no Neanderthal. See, look.'' They point to a screen in the corner. What? My? These are my thoughts? I'm so sorry.
`` It Ok. Machines save you, find you. We do the rest. Later.''
The third is here, a tray of large fruits. Like an orange had sex with a strawberry. They are laughing. Smile with them.
A pause, `` What is your name?''
...
ASDIFOOSodsoodfiiIIISISaacMiiichaelThoooooomsa. Loud beeping.
I do n't know.
They inject me with something, I. am. caaalm.
`` It OK. We'll give you name. Now, rest.''
I hope I wake up.
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[ WP ] A knight rescues a princess , expecting a kiss , a marriage , and a hefty inheritance . Problem is , the princess is eight years old .
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Ser Dwayne yanked his sword out of the ogre's lifeless corpse. He looked around at the battered trees and saw his now-useless shield, adorned with his sigil, a black hammer, buried halfway through a trunk. Well, he had been meaning to replace it, so no harm done.
The ogre Dunallon had been one of the hardest battles he had ever fought, including that incident with the swamp hags of Lilith. *This had better be worth it, * he thought to himself.
Ser Dwayne of Oldshroom did n't have much to hope for as one of the many knights that had sworn their swords to King Halborn. He had no titles to claim, no land to call his home, and no woman to love. He was the Dirty Knight, the cobbler's son lucky enough to squire at 13 years old for the knight Ser Ottfrey when he had won King Halborn's heir celebration tourney. Halborn had nothing but daughters with his first three wives, and his one son, Prince Reed, was a huge relief for the realm. That was 5 years ago, and since then, Dwayne had sworn his service to the King.
Dwayne the Dirty Knight would take the missions that no one else wanted; either they were too dangerous, and not worth the risk, or if they were simply too boring. That was why when he heard about the ogre Dunallon kidnapping ( or as the ogre claimed, `` harvesting'' ) the king's daughter Ellayne, he knew this was his chance. He had never even heard of Ellayne, but he knew she was a royal daughter of King Halborn, which meant she probably was just as pretty, if not prettier, than her sisters.
As he strode through the wooden doors that stood at the back of the cave, Dwayne remembered how Ser Paxton had bragged about his new wife, Lord Vertrun's eldest daughter, after he had rescued her from the Icewyrm of Dargath.
`` Oh, you should see the tits on her, boys. Perfect size for my hands, and damn, do her eyes hypnotize you when she's on top o' ya. Killing that frozen lizard was a thousand times worth that woman.''
Of course, Paxton had become Vertrun's heir as soon as he wed his daughter, and that made him Lord of Carvacal, one of the largest castles in the kingdom.
*A castle would be too much, * Dwayne mused, as he kicked open the first door on his left to reveal an empty room, *Just a keep with a tower or two, fields enough to feed myself and Ellayne for the winter, perhaps near a town where we can raise a family. that would be nice. *
He had never really heard of Ellayne, only that she was one of Prince Reed's younger sisters. *That's fine, * Dwayne decided, *I'm not sure how I would feel about a wife who was older than me. *
He passed by empty rooms filled with gold and gems, knowing that the only things worth taking from ogre's lairs were their magic weapons and the prisoners they had `` harvested.''
He came upon a hall, bloodstained on the walls and floors. *That's one way to find his `` prisoners,'' * Dwayne thought to himself. He could hear sobbing coming from behind one of the doors. *Must be her, here's the start to the rest of my life... *
He swung open the door and could n't believe what he saw.
A small, blonde-haired girl was curled up in a ball in the corner of the stone floor, crying. She looked up at Ser Dwayne through tear-filled blue eyes, `` I want to go home. I do n't want him to come back.''
Dwayne was speechless. He was expecting a beautiful woman, just like Ser Paxton, but instead here sat this child.... perhaps that was why no one had gone after her. She had no titles or marriage promises attached to her. But she was still someone who needed rescuing, and her rescuer would do just that.
Ser Dwayne the Dirty Knight of Oldshroom knelt down and placed his arm around little Ellayne. `` Now, now, princess, do n't cry. we'll get you home all right.'' He picked her up in his arms carefully and carried her out, softly singing a lullaby he had learned from his mother, as Ellayne slowly drifted off to sleep in his arms.
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[ WP ] An immortal married couples daily argument in 1492 , 1800s , and 2017 .
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1492, leaving a tavern and returning to their cottage.
Hill: `` Mayhaps I shall lead whilst you follow, dearest?''
Will'' `` Nay! Since the Creation, it was Man who lead the way of life. I shall lead the way, for I have never been lost!''
Hill: `` I know the way well, dearest.'T is thy scent of bile that which I wish was lost! Spirits never sat well with thee! I find solace with thee behind, for thy stench befowls me here!''
Will: `` Humph! Such insolence! Why, I am wont to lie with another maiden should thou speak in this manner again!''
Hill: `` I hast known thee for a millennium and more! Thou wouldst lie to spite me!''
Will: `` Humph! Aye, I lie, but ne'er to an end. My truths run free with time! And doest thou not keep secrets with thyself to spite myself and others?''
Hill: `` Dearest, thy words wounds deeper than swords!''
Will: `` Humph! And might I jab at thee again!''
1869, on the Transcontinental Railroad, westward bound.
William: `` The marvels of man shall always excite me dear!''
Hill: `` What marvel is there? It's a carriage, is all.''
William: `` This carriage will carry us from sea to shining sea! What marvel is n't there?''
Hill: `` We have seen all the shining seas in the world. There is more marvel from the Nile than there is in the Waters of the West.''
William: `` I say, would it be the Waters of the West now, or shall we still call it the Eastern Sea, as we did so long ago? This question fascinates me!''
Hill: `` I care not for your fascinations. And I find it deplorable that I followed you on this venture.''
William: `` Humph, it's a wonder I do n't keep the company of other women with me.''
Hill: `` It does you no good to forget my presence when you breathe these words.''
William: `` What shall you do? Kill me? At what point will I be free to say what I wish?''
Hill: `` You could n't say to me what you wished even if you were president!''
William: `` Humph!''
2017, at a mansion in Chappaqua, New York.
Bill: `` You know, you did n't have to follow me into presidency, right?''
Hillary: `` Shut up.''
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[ WP ] A new-born baby is sent on a one-way trip into the outer reaches of space . Automated machines are to keep him alive and teach him as he grows older how to man the craft/stay alive/etc . Towards the end of his life , he comes in contact with a strange life-form ... humans .
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“ Odysseus, calculate our location. What is this planet? I don ’ t believe we ’ ve encountered
it before. ” The starboard window began filling with text that slowly scrolled downward. “ This is
Celestial Body number One, 87. Also referred to as Earth. ” He squinted toward the window
and began to read, then shifted focus to stare out at the blue dot slowly approaching.
Odysseus, commence radio scan. ” “ Denied. ” the computer responded. “ Denied? ” he asked “ Yes, 87. Denied. ”
87 had been documenting the coordinates of the Celestial Bodies for the entirety of his life, and
never had a command been denied. He became unsettled. “ Why, Odysseus? Why out of all of the
planets that we ’ ve seen, landed on, scanned, and sampled, is this Earth, denied? Pull into orbit. ”
“ Denied. ” “ Odysseus, answer me. ” 87 said, incredulously. “ The information you seek requires an
Alpha level clearance. There is no override. It has been deemed nonessential to the mission. ”
“ Communicate, then, with Commanding Officer 92. ”
Within moments 92 appeared on the same sheet of glass. “ 87, report. Are you experiencing technical
errors? ” asked the CO. “ 87 reporting. No sir. Request permission to access Alpha level clearance information
regarding Celestial Body Number One. ” “ Request denied. How did you enter that quadrant? ” 92 snapped.
“ A perimeter has been set up that automatically redirects your guidance system past that area. 87, have
you been tampering with your software? You understand that is a federal offense. ” “ No! Sir, I most certainly
have not. We give our life to the Mission, as the Mission gave us ours. ” “ We give our life to the mission, as the
Mission gave us ours ” repeated the officer. “ Your vitals are elevated. Are you lying, 87? You are aware, I ’ m
sure, of that also being a federal offense. ” “ I am aware, sir. I believe my vitals may be elevated due to the
strange nature of this occurrence. Request permission to leave quadrant, Sir. ” “ Denied. We are sending out
a diagnostic team to assess your starship. Do not attempt to correct anything yourself. This is your last chance
to admit any tampering, 87. Do you have anything to reveal? ” “ No, sir, awaiting your arrival. ” “ Over and out. ”
The Commanding Officer ’ s face faded back into endless star systems, but somehow a glitch in the system
had occurred and the audio had not disconnected. Immediately, 87 ’ s feed had been patched into Officer 92 ’ s
transmission with another high-ranking official. “ Commanding Officer 92, report. ” “ Yes, sir. One of my
subordinates has coasted out of bounds. ” He said hesitantly. “ Coasted? Has he reported technical error?
Where is he? ” the unfamiliar voice asked. “ Quadrant One, sir. …Celestial Body Number One. ” The officer had
uttered that last sentence so uncomfortably it filled 87 with dread. There was something larger at work here
that he didn ’ t understand. “ CB One? Well what in Saturn ’ s name are you doing talking to me 92? ” he screamed.
“ Terminate him! What is the craft number and operator name? And send me the exact coordinates. Now! ”
“ Craft number 9, Operator 87. Sending coordinates, sir. ” 92 said with a crack in his voice.
87 ’ s eyes widened. He had no idea what to do. It had all been a misunderstanding! How could they terminate
a vessel of the mission? He hadn ’ t tampered, or lied, but simply asked a question! “ O-O-Odysseus! ” 87 yelled.
The computer neglected to respond. All displays were darkened. “ Odysseus? ” He began to examine the controls,
flipping switches, turning dials, nothing. Nothing was working. He looked through the glass and saw Earth
shimmering in the distance. He started to panic, beating on the machines. “ Odysseus! ” he screamed.
The entire ship rocked. He was under the tractor beam of CO92, or those he had ordered to carry out his
termination. “ 87, this is the diagnostics detail. Do not be alarmed. Your ship is in good hands. We ’ ve initiated
an entire systems reboot. Your consoles will be inoperable for the next 15 minutes. Our team will now board your
craft and inspect for any tampering. Please remain in the bridge. ”
Privy to the reality of what was about to occur, 87 ran to the galley, adjacent to the entrance of the starship.
Hiding beneath the dining table, he saw six men board and shuffle past the entrance of his hideout with
weapons in tow. Once they were out of sight and further toward the bridge, 87 leapt out from under the table
and ran to disembark and get onto their ship. One of the six men saw this and yelled for the others. They all
began running toward 87 at the other end of the ship.
“ He ’ s gone! He ’ s taken our craft and he ’ s locked the gate! ” 87 ’ s heart was racing. He hadn ’ t the slightest
idea what was happening, but he knew that he had to act carefully or he would easily die. The reboot for his
ship ’ s systems wouldn ’ t last very much longer and once operable, would be used against him. The very ship
that raised him from infancy would destroy him. Odysseus, would destroy him.
“ All right, think! ” 87 said to himself. He paused. Perhaps there would be no censor on this ship, if it indeed
belonged to a higher-ranking officer. “ …Computer! Commence radio scan! ” he yelled. That was the question
that had gotten him into this mess and that was the one that would be answered before he died. “ Radio scan
commenced, ” the computer responded. All at once, a million frequencies started roaring in at once, filling the
bridge with a deafening wall of sound. “ COMPUTER! ISOLATE! ” The computer picked one frequency at random.
It was nothing like 87 had ever heard before: some sort of garbled language, spoken very rapidly. “ Next! ” Then
something even more strange. It was sounds, or words, strung together so bizarrely. It was like talking, only in
different pitches, extending different vowels. It was beautiful... “ Ave Maria, ” someone kept repeating. Yes, it was
definitely a person saying it, over and over again. “ Next! ” 87 shouted. “ Yoooou ’ re never going to believe this folks!
We ’ ve got the furniture liquidation sale to end all sales over at Al, Sal, and Hal ’ s! Lawn chairs! Armoirs! Hutches!
Recliners! ” 87 ’ s blood ran cold. They were speaking his language. There was a radio frequency beamed from Earth
that was speaking his language. He scanned through more from a similar area. He couldn ’ t believe it. “ This is going
to be a day to remember folks! President Truman will be making an appearance at— “
The ship rocked again. His vessel had successfully rebooted and they were trying to release themselves from
the tractor beam. “ Oh no you don ’ t. ” 87 said. “ Computer, execute a trajectory toward Earth. We ’ re going to land. ” “ Engaged, ” it responded. 87 sat at the bridge and watched the Earth inch closer. “... Yes, we ’ re going to land, and I ’ m bringing you with me, ” he thought, looking down at his ship.
Just at the Earth ’ s orbit, the console began to flash red. Alarms were sounding, warning of the instability of his
vessel, due to the other ship. 87 didn ’ t care at this point. He was looking out over CB One and a web of lights
stretched across the entire continent he was above. “ Computer, contact craft number 9 ” “ Contacting. ” It replied.
The communication had initialized. “ 87! 87! ABORT. ABORT! YOU MUST STOP RIGHT NOW. DO NOT GO ANY
FURTHER! ” one of the crew was shouting. “ What am I looking at here? Have I not given my life to the mission,
as it has given me mine? Why have I been lied to? We were told that the fleet was what was left of our kind.
My entire life, I have been alone, and it had been a lie? How many people call that place home? Millions? Billions?
Twenty-eight years of existential crises, feeling out of place, in my bones, knowing there was more and I was lied to? Brothers, whether you like it or not, …we go home. ” He ended the transmission.
87 ’ s eyes were fixed to the glass, watching the Earth creep closer and closer, never looking away for an instant. It was beautiful.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Later that week, on July 8, 1947, the Roswell Army Air Field ’ s public information ’ s officer, Walter Haut, issued a press release stating that personnel from the field's 509th Operation ’ s Group had recovered a `` flying disc'', which had crashed on a ranch near Roswell…
Edit: No more scrolling.
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[ WP ] In the future , children have stopped being able to die until they reach 25 years old . No one knows why . At first , it 's seen as a blessing , but as the world adapts to it , the most sinister implications of this fact begin to unfold .
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I remember a world where superheroes were stories of ink and paper. It was a world where gods were often considered mighty, but just, and humanity was considered sinful and weak by contrast.
That world is gone; immortality found an expiration date.
Don ’ t get me wrong. Humanity is still considered sinful and weak by contrast. Only, the requirements for becoming a god became a hell of a lot lighter. For twenty-five years we all get our spot on Olympus; for the next twenty-five, you beg for a ticket to Hell. And let me tell you, tickets are easy to come by in this world of mine.
And I ’ ve got plenty to give. Turns out, gods aren ’ t all that hard to kill.
I leaf through my own copy of *So You Want to be a Superhero*. It ’ s a neat little book, written by the Oh-So-Great-One, Machiavelli. That ’ s what he called himself, anyway. He was the first godkiller. He ’ s dead now, of course, but every job has its occupational hazards. His book is the only comprehensive list of the most active gods and where to find them. It ’ s the closest thing a godkiller has to a bible.
I comb through pages and pages of acne-filled faces. *Nerds* is what they would ’ ve been called in the old world; gods is the term they go by now. Unkillable, hormone-imbalanced bastards is more accurate. I finally stop on the page of a boy that goes by the name *Hercules*—scrawny little thing with a pedo-stache in the making. The book says he ’ s been involved in the deaths of thirteen people, my brother included.
I hold the book up, just to make sure. It ’ s him. Who knew Hercules played DDR. Patiently, I wait until his undershirt is adequately drenched in sweat.
`` Water?'' I ask.
The boy didn ’ t even look my way; he simply took the water and kept playing. That ’ s the way they are: arrogant. He would never suspect that an innocent non-immortal like me would dare slip poison into his drink. Even when he was passed out from the drug, he kept his superior scowl.
*This is for my brother, asshole*.
Tomorrow Hercules would wake up at the bottom of San Francisco Bay. There he would drown for eight years, too weak to remove the weights from his body. And on his twenty-fifth birthday, one more god would die.
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[ WP ] Write a story about something you do n't understand . Do NO research . Make everything up as you go .
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Thank you for having me here with you tonight. I'm here to talk to you aboutm y role with the Large Hadron Collider.
Hadron are alpine rodents and are unique to the Swiss Alps, which is why the Large Hadron Collider is in Switzerland. Sadly, the population of these endearing rodents in the wild is under threat due to over-predation by the French, who eat them, and the Germans, who use them in cultural practices too vile to describe tonight.
Accordingly, the international scientific community has established a captive breeding programme, the LHC. In this facility, the most superior male hadron or haddock are selectively bred with female hadron ( hampers ). The species-specific term for mating in hadron is `` colliding'', similar to the term `` covering'' ( horses ), or `` pegging'' ( humans ). The trained animal handlers in this part of the facility are known as Collideurs.
But hadron breeding is not a simple business! Hadron have very low fertility in nature, so a device known euphemistically as a `` particle accelerator'' is used to sexually stimulate the hadron and prepare them for collision. The `` acceleration'' of the haddock's `` particles'' can appear uncomfortable or bizarre to the casual observer, but as long as the probes are correctly adjusted there is little risk.
Following a successful colliding, the hampers are separated from the haddock and cared for until they deliver their pups or higgs. The young higgs are exercised in large subterranean tunnels built for this purpose. When mature they are released into the wild, except for a few prime specimens which are kept for future collisions.
Well, that concludes my talk, but I hope you have appreciated this brief insight into the important work underway at the Centre for European Rodent Naturalisation. Thank you.
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[ WP ] You and your friends are bored on a Saturday night and decide to take selfies . However , the selfies start to reveal something terrifying .
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When you hear a story about some creepy haunting, you usually expect it to involve a crypt or a haunted house, or maybe a psychiatric ward where there was some tragic suicide. You do n't generally expect it to be in the comfort and safety of your own home.
It all started on a guys' afternoon in. Three of my old college friends and their wives had flown in for our annual Thanksgiving get together, and said wives had gone out shopping to take advantage of the Black Friday deals, leaving us to babysit. Fortunately for us, it was pretty easy to situate the kids in front of the giant flat screen in the living room and just throw on cartoons, and then we got peace and quiet.
We started off in the usual way; sitting in the kitchen with cheap beers reminiscing about all the stupid things we had done across our collegiate lives, and somehow that brought up the topic of dumb trends.
`` Remember the time Monica bought that wooden stick so she could take better pictures of herself, and Jake ended up getting so sick of it her obsession that he chucked the thing?'' That was Dan, ever happy to bring up times I had brought on my then-girlfriend-now-wife's wrath.
`` Yeah, that thing was weird. It was creepy how she kept insisting it would create a perfect picture. What'd you ever do with the damn thing anyway?'' Of course Henry would back him up. I'd get them each back later with some embarrassing stories of their own.
`` I do n't remember; destroyed it somehow I think. The thing was stupid.'' I took a swig of my beer as I finished speaking, hoping they'd get the hint and move on to other memories. Monica had yelled at me about some hocus pocus ritual bullshit at the time, and it had nearly destroyed our relationship.
`` I dunno; it had its uses.'' Dan again, this time with a glint in his eye I knew from experience meant that he was up to no good. `` Why do n't we take some selfies in its memory and send them to the wives? I'm sure they could use a break from shopping.''
I was about to veto the idea when Henry agreed, and I was sadly outvoted. The three of us grouped up in front of Dan's camera, all making the silliest faces we could. In for a penny, in for a pound, I figured.
*Click! *
We ungrouped, Henry and I picking up our drinks again, but Dan glared at his phone, clearly annoyed. `` Hey guys, I think there might be something wrong with my camera. There's some sort of orange glow in the background. Can we try again with yours, Henry?''
`` Yeah, sure.'' We grouped again, this time not bothering to put our beers down.
*Click! *
This time, it was Henry's turn to stop drinking. He stared at his phone for a moment, then reached over and picked up Dan's. He seemed to compare the two picture, then stared at the wall we had been standing in front of.
`` Henry, what's going on? You look pale.''
Wordlessly, he held out the two phones to us. The small orange blur in the left corner of the photo on Dan's phone was showing on Henry's as well -- this time larger, and in the center of the background. A quick staging of the position we had been in revealed nothing, and we were starting to feel quite uneasy.
`` Jake, what do you say we try yours? Third time's the charm.''
I did n't want to say yes; that blur was unnerving me, but at the same time, I did n't want to admit just how much. I'm 6'4'' and fit as an ox; a stupid selfie should n't be able to scare me. `` Yeah sure. One more go.''
*Click! *
As I turned the phone around, it became clear I had made a mistake. The orange glow was clearly visible now; it was some sort of wall of fire. But why? Why would our phones be showing fire?
Suddenly, the kitchen doors slammed closed, locking themselves with a loud *click*. A split second later, I heard my children scream, and there was a roar that I recognized from news footage covering wildfires in California.
Suddenly I remembered what I had done with Monica's selfie stick. *I burned it. *
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[ WP ] You are a psychotherapist specialized in two things : A ) hypnosis B ) using hypnosis to get your patients to commit crimes for you
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The thing people do n't get about hypnosis is, it does n't work.
It's a damn good thing they do n't know it does n't work, either, because if they did, it would n't work.
Let me explain. There's a well-known psychological experiment where the psychologists invite a bunch of college students to be observed interacting socially. They set them up around a table, give them a pitcher of beer and tell them to just... hang out. Get to know each other while we observe the group dynamic.
Well, the experiment goes on for a while, the beer flows, and folks start getting a little tipsy. Their inhibitions lower, they get more boisterous, start slurring their words a bit. Some folks get outright drunk.
Only here's the catch: It's non-alcoholic beer. You tell them that, they snap sober immediately, get all embarrassed. But until you tell them they're not drunk, their brain tells them they are.
That's how hypnosis works. I tell you you're hypnotized, and you believe me because I've got a pocket watch to dangle in front of you and a bust of Freud on the desk. You *know* I can hypnotize you, so I can. Your brain is telling you that hypnosis keeps you from being claustrophobic, and you believe it -- because your brain was the only one telling you you were claustrophobic in the first place.
But there's a catch. If I go too hard, too fast -- tell you to chop off your hand or kill your boyfriend -- even your firm belief that I'm in control ca n't win out against your firm belief that those are terrible ideas.
I got the idea from a patient a few years ago. Recovering alcoholic, marital problems, and a whole lot of anger management issues at work. I'd messed around with hypnosis in cases like this before, telling people to channel their negative emotions into something more positive.
But then I had an idea. This guy worked as a plumber; he was in and out of people's houses every day and often mistreated. He'd blown up at one client too many and was having a hard time getting business. We'd tried negative to positive emotional synthesis, but it had n't worked. He just could n't channel that anger into a drive to exercise, or anything like that. He genuinely wanted to hurt these people.
So I suggested he steal from them. Every time someone disrespected him, just... steal something. Something small. Discreet. Drop it in his flowerpot on the way into his house. He would n't even remember he'd done it, he'd just reap the warm glow of vengeful catharsis.
At first I just wanted a way to verify if the hypnosis had worked, but when I got his address from the billing information and checked the flower pots on his front porch... oh my. All those rings and necklaces and watches. The man spent a lot of time unattended in people's bathrooms and had a very low threshold for what he considered'disrespect'.
Soon I was trying it with other patients -- the put-upon girl who worked at the jewelry store. The banker who chafed under his boss' constant demands to up-sell and lend at unwise rates to people who could n't afford it.
The trick was reaping the harvest; how to get the diamonds or the funds into my possession without arousing the subconscious suspicion of the patient that there was more to this than their own righteous retribution. How to insulate myself from the repercussions of the law forced them to think about why they'd done what they'd done. It was easy enough to convince them it was their own idea, convince them that I did n't even know about it. The impulses of anger are so transparent, and it was easy to suggest theft without ever saying the word.
After that, it was variations on a theme: Dispose of your ill-gotten gains. Do n't hang on to the evidence; this is punishment, not avarice. Hide them somewhere where no one would think to look. Have you thought of a place? Good. Where is it?
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[ EU ] A horrible and twisted Pokemon battle
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Hatred. Anger. Hesitation. Eagerness. Emotions conflicting with loyalties.
The makeshift battlefield, formed from big stones outlining the proper ones bridged two trainers, each staring at the other in horror. Both previous pokemon had fainted at the same time, leaving them with their final pokemon. A Zangoose and a Seviper.
Fur bristled, scales rustled. The clicking of claws on stones and the hiss of venom on ground. The old rivalry was rising, the scent of the other driving each towards frenzied actions.
`` We... this... We have no choice...'' The Zangoose trainer looked up, pale, as the trainer of the Seviper nodded.
`` I'm sorry. They'll fight... and we can at least command and reduce damage-.'' Before a reply could be finished, the Zangoose dug its feet in and shot forwards, claws blazing with white light. Leaping, it slammed its arms down only for the Seviper to jerk aside. The Slash attack skimmed its side, tearing parallel lines into it, spilling a thin amount
As soon as the claws hit the floor, cracking it, the Seviper lashed around the Zangoose in a Wrap. It seized up, pulling, coils sliding over others as they tightened. An arm, trapped between two coils abruptly twisted, rolling as the sharp crack of shattering bone and a scream of agony filled the air.
Actions were happening, too fast for either trainer to respond, and suddenly the Zangoose lunged forwards, biting down. Its fangs did little to the coils until the Seviper leaned down in anger to bite. Lunging up, the Zangoose bit into its mouth, tearing a chunk from the inside of its cheek, as the Seviper recoiled and tossed it aside.
The seviper hissed in anger, spitting a mouthful of fluid, a mixture of blood and saliva painting splatters over the floor. The zangoose, standing on rear legs glared as it panted. Its right arm hung loose, flapping about like a leaf in wind, the other paw holding it to the side. With a hiss, a gaping mouth and fangs folding up to the roof of the mouth, the Seviper dug underground.
Little disturbed them, but for a gust of wind stirring up dust, ruffling fur and hair. The Zangoose slowly walked, looking around and sniffing, before stumbling as the ground beneath it collapsed. With a cry it leaped, grabbing the edge of the crater, before the Seviper raised itself out from the ground-with the Zangoose's tail, legs and hips in its mouth. There was a twist of the head, a cracking of dislocating jaws along with an audible gulp, and the Zangoose sank in.
`` No!'' The trainer finally reacted, running over as the Seviper raised its head up, gaping the jaws, strands of thick saliva joining its mouth to the fur, one side stained red with blood. A loud gulp and jerk of the head, and the Zangoose sank to the shoulders; good arm forced up past usefulness and broken one twisted, head visible in the back of the maw with the body forming a bulge in the Sevipers throat.
The trainer grabbed the Zangoose's good paw, pulling even as the Sevipers tail lashed out. Blood shot out, painting a crimson line through the floor as the trainer fell to their knees. Red sheeted over their thighs, flowing from a gash in their stomach. A gulp, and the mouth closed, bulge sliding down as the Zangoose travelled down the throat to the stomach. The other trainer walked over, lifting the hand of the Zangoose's trainer and placing it on the bulge. Writhing movements could be felt.
`` No... no... My Zangoose...'' With a cough, a ribbon of blood spattered from their lips. The Seviper hissed, tongue flicking out to take the blood into its mouth, fangs sliding back into place.
`` I'm sorry. But I ca n't lose my Seviper. They're my best freind... and that means you can not tell others. You'll see your Zangoose...'' Skin pale, lips almost cyanotic as they kneeled in a pool of blood, the traiiner looked up to see the Seviper leaning over them, mouth gaping wide and jaws dislocated.
Before a word could be said, the Seviper slammed down, jaws stretching around and over the head and shoulders. The trainer twitched as fangs punched through their bsck into the lungs, injecting toxins as the Seviper tensed and gulped, forcing a coil benesth their rear and comtracting it, collar blades cracking under the stress of being forced through the throat opening.
The Seviper made quick work once the shoulders were through, swallowing the trainer in twenty five minutes or so. A much larger, longer, bulge settled in its gut, next to the Zangoose, long since still. The clearing was quiet, but for the barely audible sounds of the Sevipers stomach working away at the food within.
`` Good job... We should move on, before anyone else finds us...'' A hand petted the Seviper, and said Pokemon nuzzling back, the trainer recalled his Pokemon. No doubt when let out again, thry would want nothing more thsn to coil in a hot spot and digest their meal, but for now... They had to head North and reach Fallabor.
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[ WP ] The first four horsemen did n't phase us . The fifth horseman was the one that broke us .
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It was not a normal day in the White House, nor had it been for a long time. More and more the standoff with the Soviet Union became more and more heated with every passing day, the demands growing ever higher as the Russians thirst for conquest grew.
As the Soviets poured more resources into strengthening their military, a terrible depression set across their industries and the country rapidly went bankrupt and a famine brought upon solely by the rippling effects of cold and endless war. The situation in the U.S was not much better, coveted brands went out of business, taxes skyrocketed and manufactured resources such as electricity and food became scarce.
People rioted in the streets: “ End the War! ” they shouted, “ We can ’ t live like this anymore! ” they warned. Sure enough, the protests eventually became violent, forcing military reaction and soon the precious water was contaminated with blood as death filled the streets of New York. And as they clawed at the perimeter of the White House, the shouts of peace subsided, replaced by cries of vengeance, accusations of inaction, “ Down with the Russians! ” they demanded, “ or down with the White House! ”
Through window blinds sullen eyes watched as people cried in misery, shadowed with weariness, and red from freshly shed tears. It was not a normal day in the White House.
“ I am not a bad man Kathleen. ” He said
The president ’ s secretary was roused from her exhaustion-brought slumber, unable to handle the amass of angry, hate-filled phone calls that reached her at a daily basis.
“ No I neither steal nor lie, I wish no misfortune on others and I have a family that I care for deeply. And that is why I must do what I am about to do today. ”
The light from the blinds were the only light that illuminated the President ’ s office, no electricity could reach the White House anymore.
“ I do not fear the Russians, I am not intimidated by their thirst for conquest, our nation was founded on such ideologies; I do not falter in the face of the famine they have wrought, as Americans built this country from scraps; I do not fear the horrors of war, as a leader must stand strong in the face of adversity; and I do not fall in the wake of death, as all lives lost are but a necessity so that future lives may prosper. But there is something that I can not ignore, a force that is beyond all of our control. ”
Through shadowed eyes, Kathleen gingerly replied. “ And what is that, Mr. Nixon? ”
“ Love, Kathleen. ”
“ Love? ” she replied.
“ Yes. I love this country Kathleen, I love its people, I love its soil, I love its cities, I love its industry and I damn well love its television. And I would rather face a thousand years of famen, a hundred years of terrible war, the most bloodthirsty, ruthless conquest the world has ever seen and death itself before I let this country I love down! ”
In the darkness Nixton placed a stack of papers firmly upon his desk. Kathleen looked at the papers and gasped in horror.
“ Take these forms to the secretary of defence, tell him he has the White House ’ s approval all along the way. Nuke those commie bastards and send them back to hell. ”
Kathleen picked up the forms with shivering hands and scampered out of the room, tears welling up in her eyes. Nixon sat back in his chair, still as a corpse, the only sounds to accompany his harsh breathing was the distant shouting from outside the perimeter. Slowly, he swivelled around, and noticed, as he stared blankly out the window, that the light that moments ago illuminated the room with a pale and ghostly haze, was slowly turning a dark and angry red.
“ God help us all. ” He whispered.
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