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[ WP ] A pirate giving fatherly advice to a stowaway
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The door slammed open and a grizzled man with a braided brown beard and an eye-patch strode into the room. He gave the cabin a cursory look around, it clearly hadn β t been used for anything but storage since it β s last inhabitant has resided here: the late Lord of Oxbrook, who had been unwilling to part with his room, or the ship it was housed in. But the grizzled man wearing the three-pointed hat of a captain was exceptionally persuasive, and the lord departed his ship without a further complaint, followed shortly by his head.
The pirate squinted into the dark corners of the room before removing his eyepatch and watching as the shadows faded away upon his dark-accustomed eye β s perusal. But one shadow did not melt away, instead forming into a pile of rags, which took the rough shape of a boy no older than twelve. A smirk formed on the pirate β s lips, and at this act of recognition the heap of cloth clambered into a corner with a soft heavy sound of labored breathing. Stretching out his arms, the pirate pulled open this coat and reached into a deep pocket, hunting for something with deep intent. The breathing stopped, as though waiting for something terrible. The man let out a grunt as he found what he sought, and pulled out a small splintering match, which he used to light the old lamp on the wall beside him.
The room now fully illuminated, the boy could be seen beneath the rags, with pale skin, arms and legs skeletal like a corpse long since departed, and yellowing eyes flitting about the room in desperation. The man, looking strong and fat in comparison, looked down at the boy for a moment, clearly considering how best to dispose of thisβ¦ stowaway. With a sigh of decision, he reached back into his cloak, at which the boy made his move, darting past the man with a quickness honed by a life on the streets evading constable β s glares and accusing hands. His hands rattled the latch of a window, though the years at sea has rusted it firmly shut. After a full frantic minute of rattling and prying, his hands dropped dejectedly to his sides, and he slowly turned to face his judgement. And there before him stood the master of his fate, staring at him with unfathomable intent, and it took a moment before the boy noticed his outstretched hand, holding a bright green apple.
After a couple unbelieving glances between the pirate β s face and the apple, the man jerked, and the apple flew out of his hand into the boys hands. This did little to calm the boy β s nerves, so the pirate sighed again and fell into a chair by the door. β I lied to a pirate once β he boomed, his voice startlingly deep and deliberate. β I told him that the constables made their rounds nearby every hour, hoping that he would leave my family alone. β He drew his dagger and began picking at his fingernails. β What I didn β t know then was that pirates know how people work, especially scared young children, and he could tell I was lying.'' At this he looked up from his picking, into the eyes of decades past, filled with fear and desperation. He leaned forward, exposing the long jagged scar on his shoulder, `` Never lie to a pirate. β
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[ WP ] Both of your parents and sister committed suicide on the night before their 29th birthday ...
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The sunlight bathes my skin, waking me gently. I groan and roll over, keeping my eyes tightly shut.
*Ring. Ring. Ring. *
I am far too tired to drag myself out of bed and pick up the phone, so I let it go to voicemail.
* β Heyβ¦ Lydiaβ¦ Sorry if I woke you. But since it β s your 29th birthday today and wellβ¦ you knowβ¦ please just call me and let me know you β re okay. I know you said that you would never do what they did butβ¦ I just want to be sure. So call me back. Bye. β *
My eyes snap open and suddenly I am wide awake, everything washing over me like a tidal wave. Today is my 29th birthday. I made it. I really, truly made it. I grab the phone to call Josh back, my eyes watery with tears of joy. I am alive. But my main concern in this moment is to let Josh know I am okay.
β Hello? β he answers, his voice filled with worry.
β Josh! β I breathe relief, β Josh I β m okay. β
β Oh thank God Lydia you had me worried sickβ¦ I just thought that wellβ¦ you know. β
β That I would kill myself too? β
β Lydiaβ¦ β
β It doesn β t matter Josh. I β m okay. I β m really okay. I β ll be at your house for dinner tonight, okay? β
β Sounds good. Love you, bye. β
β Bye. β
I slam the phone onto the hook and sigh a big breath of relief. I am free! I am okay! Just because my sister, my mother, and my father killed themselves the night before their 29th birthday doesn β t mean I have to. I am okay.
Then suddenly I think of the gun in the cabinet, loaded. Ready for a burglar. I picture myself holding it against my head and pulling the trigger⦠but I shake the thought away. A new thought enters my brain, this time I picture the sleeping pills in my bathroom. Shoving them into my mouth. Falling asleep and never waking up. Next I imagine walking up the stairs until I get to the 50th floor of my apartment building and standing on the edge until I just jump to my death.
And then I think of the rope in my closet that I used for rock climbing before I quit.
β No, Lydia, β I scoff, β Why would you ever do such a thing? You β re fine. β
But I walk to the closet anyways. And I tie it to the ceiling fan. And I grab a chair. And I place it around my neck.
β Lydia! β I hear Josh yell out, β I have a surprise for you darling! β
He wanders into my room, a bouquet of white roses in his hand.
β Lydia, β he screams, β What the fu- β
Before he can stop me I kick the chair. And I enter oblivion.
Edit: Formatting
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[ WP ] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy . As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable . They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology . Humans accept the deal .
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The human smiled playfully. `` So if I understand you correctly. You will give us this FTL technology in exchange for our aid. All you ask of us is to cleanse your world of this Ashvell species, and remove this substance from your waters?''
`` That is all,'' I said with a hoarse voice. We had n't done much research on these creatures. All we knew was that they had yet to fly further than their own moon and that they may be our salvation. I stepped back as the human walked by me. He walked carelessly, holding the vial that contained the substance that could destroy my species.
Water. Yes, we thought it was water. The clear liquid that granted our planet the ability to sustain life. The Ashvell gave it to us as a simple offering, one of peace and prosperity. We had no reason to suspect the Ashvell of foul play. Would you? We had been on neighboring planets for thousands of years.
Cast Ozon had started to puke green bile moments after he had swallowed the substance. His elongated neck had melted within mere seconds. Our dear leader had died whilst still holding onto the glass. Before anyone had been able to react, the Ashvell had started their offense. Enormous cannons had sprayed our lands, our homes and our people with the poisonous substance. We thought it was merely water. The Ashvell knew it was not.
`` You should not keep this substance in an unprotected vial,'' I said. Humans in white coats eyed me as I followed the human leader up a flight of stairs.
We entered what I assumed to be a living space. Why else would there be a sleeping platform in the center of the room? The human sat down and placed his legs on the sleeping platform, leaning backwards.
`` What is your answer? We have n't much time! The Ashvell kill our younglings by the hundreds for every second I do not return.''
`` Has the United Nations made a decision?'' The human spoke to the mirrored wall on the other side of room.
A face appeared on the wall. The human in the wall cocked an eyebrow. His gaze lingered on me. `` You say that this liquid is poisonous to your species?''
A shiver ran down my spine. `` Yes, it is. None of the species in our solar system are able to survive direct contact with this substance. We beg of you, please save us.''
`` And simply attaching the technology you wish to donate to us will enable faster than light travel for the vehicle it is applied to?''
`` Yes.''
The face disappeared and I could once again see my own reflection in the mirror. I turned to the human beside me. He was sniffing the substance, twirling the vial around as he did.
Then he drank it.
I stood there in disbelief. The human drank the most poisonous substance known to my people. I jumped back, afraid that his body would explode. A mere drop still in his throat could splash out at any second. A mere drop was enough to kill me outright.
Nothing happened.
The human smacked his lips and winked at me. `` Twelve percent.''
Behind me, I heard the oh so familiar booming of FTL-engines. The humans had accepted our offer.
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[ IP ] Power
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The armor fits me as poorly as the bolt of hot-white in my fist. My toes have long since gone numb, the cuff surrounding my ankles kissing the skin and wearing bright red welts into my flesh. My hand is the only thing about me that even remembers the feeling of warmth. A weak sun rises in the sky, meager rays battling in vain against winter β s grip. I sympathize.
I can hear them following me, though it β d be hard not to. Long strides, the sudden silence of the birds and animals of the wood as they retreat from the oppressive aura of my pursuers. I can go on. Keep running. I may even make it another mile before I collapse and let the cold take me away from whatever wrath awaits me in my hunter β s clutches. The rattle of what chain is left on the cuffs is what convinces me.
I cut down the branches nearest me, the bolt making short work of pine and fir. The fire fills me, chasing away the sense of emptiness in my feet as pins and needles and broken glass replace it. Good. The pain makes me angry, gives me the strength I need to stand again.
I can see the branches shaking in the distance, hear the barking of their beasts. There β s more of them than should be chasing a mere slave, though the body I left and the armor I took may have earned me more attention than I wanted. Stealing the bolt probably didn β t help things.
They β re almost on top of me now, the beasts baying, their high voices cursing me for running so far, ordering me to surrender the fire and life in my hand. My ankles chafe, my feet sink into snow again as I charge. I give it to them.
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[ WP ] You are suddenly aware of ... everything , including that you are the world 's only true psychic .
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I'm sorry to make you all wait for the truth for so long. See, I had to wait for the proper consciousness shift among the population before I felt safe to speak. If I spoke too soon, this knowledge would've been decried as fake and buried deep in conspiracy blogs and half-beat tabloids. Although, I could n't have waited much longer, as the world is in desperate need of psychic guidance.
It was an accident. One evening I was playing with a piece of mint leaf I dropped in a half-empty bottle of snapple ice tea that had been on my desk for who knows how long. I wondered if I could make it move with my mind. Turns out I could. And really, I tried because I already knew the potential that existed within me. Another time, perhaps I'll get into the specifics of how I shifted so radically from a supposedly `` scientific'' materialistic view to the integrated one I hold.
Mostly, I wanted to speak out, because I'm lonely. The wonders of the spiritual world are vast and plentiful, the revelations granted to me by my visions are both inspiring and foreboding. For too long I have recorded them only in sporadic and cryptic ways, afraid my secret would be found, but no more! For now I am alone, but what exists within me is a nurtured soul, a unique one yes, but perhaps not alone in having untapped potential. My friends, I implore you, reach deep within yourselves. You may find a potential you did not know you had, and when you do, I will be here waiting.
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[ WP ] An island that is the safest place on the planet . Humans live in complete harmony with nature . Photos have leaked , sparking interest from tourist groups . You are tasked with filling the internet with misinformation about the pics and island , to keep people in fear of it .
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`` Father!'' The young man clutched at the aged hand lying on the bedspread. The shamans backed away respectfully, drawing the woven curtains as they left the room.
Grey eyes turned towards him, pupils blurred by cataracts, but still harbouring a secretive twinkle.
`` My son.'' A wet cough clashed with the dry and raspy voice. `` Soon, I will go to meet my fathers that have governed this land for ages past. Who have kept it safe from those that would abuse it. When I am gone, that duty will be yours.''
The son bowed his head, tears in his eyes. Not just for his ailing father, but for himself, and the burden he would soon carry. The responsibility of an entire nation.
The old man continued, his voice faded to a whisper.
`` Keep to the ancient ways. No lights, no electricity. We must allow the creatures of the night their darkness. We must allow the stars to shine, to remind our people of their promise to the land.''
A hand scrabbled at the grassy bedsheets, and clutched them tightly in a whitened fist. `` Deception is necessary to survival. Like the tiger hides in the forest, you too must blend in with the changing world if our ways are to continue. Build the false cities, train our people to act as the outsiders act. It will be a stageplay, to hide our true face.''
Another wet cough, this one speckling the leaves with blood. `` My son. I am sorry. They will hate you. You must be merciless, to appear to the world as a mad criminal. Bare your teeth as the wild dog, to keep your enemies in fear. Tuck your tail and flee when they come, so they will laugh and think nothing of you. Make the baseless threats, so the world will think of you as nothing more than a waste of their time.''
Their hands found each others. The great leader smiled one last time. `` I leave it to you, now, Un, my son.''
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[ WP ] This is the prologue ( or the first chapter ) of the novel you 've always wanted to write .
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I've started working on a novel for a fantasy world I've been cooking up. It'll be series of short stories revolving around different characters and their interactions. Let me know what you guys think.
Marcas:
Day after day, he toiled at the land. Marcas never had much to his name, but his lord β s land was something he could proudly call the work of his own hands. It made him proud and it must have made his lord proud, as whenever Lord Rainford graced him with his presence, Marcas could see he had grown fat. The village a few miles to the north was one of his favorite places to buy fruits. Marcas didn β t grow fruits, but Lord Rainford usually bought some of his grain as well.
Marcas was a not a fat man, nor could anyone call him thin. He was broad-shouldered, with muscles that befit a man who worked the land. Most who met him said he had a plain face, like all the other peasants in the area. However, Marcas was considerably paler than the others who lived in the area. As far as he knew, he was pure Yornar, his dark hair and pure white complexion being a rare trait in these parts.
Marcas β s ancestors first settled the land that would become the Rainfields of Yorn a century ago. But Marcus knew little of his ancestors, as none of the knowledge helped plant seeds.
On a particularly hot autumn day, Marcas set to work harvesting the year β s wheat. It was going to be a big year for his family. Rhea, his eldest daughter, was about to marry a man two farms east. The field rustled in the wind as if with anticipation and Marcas tended to it in an almost trance-like state.
Marcas was so buried in the wheat he was harvesting, that he never heard the footsteps, nor the rustling that accompanied the boy who ran across his field. As he swung his scythe down on the next clump, he realized he almost beheaded a stranger.
β What in the God β sβ¦who the hell are you? β Marcas stumbled back, only cushioned by the wheat behind him. The boy looked up at him and grabbed him by the shoulders.
β Sir! Sir please, you must help! They β re mad! They β re burning everything in their path! We need to send for help! β The boy rambled on, but Marcas only had one question.
β Boy, why are you in my field? β Marcas looked down at the boy. He seemed to be around Rhea β s age. His skin was a very dark brown and his hair a long blonde sheen. He spoke with a slight accent Marcas recognized from that one Qyskenn trader he had seen a few weeks ago in the village.
β Sir, there is no time. I need to warn them! β the boy β s accent coupled with his mistaken reverence towards him as a knight was incredibly uncomfortable for Marcas.
β Boy, I β m no knight. I β m only Marcas. Could you please get off my field? There β s a village a few miles north. Go bother them. β
β Si-Marcas, you misunderstand. I am Sylleor of Sojurr, last surviving heir of Prince Sojurr. β This boy seemed determined to spin Marcas in circles. This Sojurr prince clearly wanted the little money he had. He raised his scythe.
β Child, Sylljar is it? As you can see, I am quite busy. Go bother someone else. This scythe is mighty slippery. β
Sylleor stood his ground, his eyes staring up at him like two golden flames. β You β re in danger, Marcas. I pity you. I β m afraid if you turn me away now, the next time we meet will be in the great sands of the Qydrookh. Fareweβ¦ β
β Marcas! β came the approaching voice of a woman, β Are you making a mockery of the Mandate of Charity?! Show this boy the respect of the Yornar! β
The woman who approached the two of them was Marcas β s wife, Lydelle. She was a dark-haired pale woman. Skinny and many would say pretty for a peasant woman. Marcas looked back at her with the eyes of defeat and indignation. He then turned his attention back at Sylleor. β Yes bo-Sarneor. We shall be happy to offer our hospitality for the night so that you may be rested for your travels. First thing in the morning. β He forced a smile.
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[ WP ] No time may pass in the story . No flashbacks either . The entire story must take place in one single instant .
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Life passes around me but I am still.
All motion is external to my physical being. I, am at peace.
There is no greater love then this warmth. There is no greater satisfaction then now. There is no greater memory that I will ever have, barring this one. There is no greater accomplishment then what I have just done. There is nothing else.
There is only now.
Pain, sadness, regret, fear.
Fear of dying. Fear of loneliness. Fear of rejection. Fear of being too weak.
Fear.
Fear fades. It no longer exists.
There is no such thing as threat anymore. There are no dangers. This is true freedom. This is the peace that such freedom brings.
This is all of life coming to a purpose.
This is all of deaths reason's to prey on life, to prey on what it can only take and never receive, to prey on the only thing sustaining it's own existence, dying.
Death no longer can reach anything anymore.
I am but one with myself. And yet with others. And yet with only one. I am two. But also three.
I am all that I ever will be and yet I can be so much more. And I will be so much more. For I am only all I am now.
Now.
I.
Am.
Nothing.
The void takes me and I lavish my affections on it's touch. This is my rest, my sanctuary, my peace in feeling nothing. So I may feel everything.
I am one again. But still many.
I am alive again. But still dead.
I am, who I am.
Alive.
.
...
.......
.................
........................
.................................
.....................................................
I stumble out of the bathroom and wipe the cum off my genitals. I am hungry now, I shall eat.
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[ WP ] Children who suffer neglect or trauma can communicate with animals telepathically . Unfortunately , animals never really have good advice to give .
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Little Timmy came home crying again today... Like yesterday... And the day before that. It was a never ending cycle of bullying at school. Big ol' Brad would always push Timmy down the stairs while the other students coldly stared at Timmy as if he was in the wrong. Of course he was n't, but kids will be kids. Nobody wanted to risk incurring the wrath of the mini-demon lord known as Brad. And it was in this moment, Timmy was bestowed a gift from the Gods. The POWER TO... talk to animals.
`` Are you fucking kidding me?!'' Timmy furiously exclaimed to the ceiling of his bedroom as if trying to direct his anger towards the Gods. `` You know what that's fine. I'll just go get the neighbor pitbull to bite of Brad's arm or something.''
And so Timmy ventured forth to his neighbor's yard not knowing the greater disappointment he was to face.
`` Hey, Mr. Pitbull, there's this kid Brad that keeps on picking on me. Everyday, he hurts me and calls me mean names.''
`` Sounds like you had some *ruff* days.''
`` Yeah. I need someone to beat him up for me, so I came to you.''
`` Oh! No! No! I'm not that kind of dog. But let me tell you something. If I were in your shoes which is impossible because I'm a dog, I would go straight up to his face and say `` I've got a *bone* to pick with you.''''
`` Un-fucking-believable,'' Timmy cried as he stormed off home, `` There has to be someone that could help me.'' And along the way, Timmy saw the neighborhood stray cat with a scar on its right eye. Timmy would normally go out the way to avoid the cat but today he looked at it as his savior.
`` Mr. Cat, there's this kid Brad this keeps hurting me. Could you scratch out his eyes, so he could never see the light of day again?''
`` You've got to be *kitten me*. Are you *Fur-real* kid? I ai n't your bodyguard. But let me tell you this. See I'm an old cat *meow*, and I've seen a lot. I know how things go down. Kids are kids. They're still young. They have n't developed the skills to properly deal with difficult situations. Some kids never do and end up being adults without the skills in life to survive. They become miserable people. Miserable because they do n't understand how to interact with others or do things themselves. Now is n't that sad? You say this kid Brad is hurting you? Well instead of getting someone to take revenge on him. Why do n't you talk to him? And if that does n't work, talk to teachers or reach out to his parents. Maybe he is going through something and is lashing out his anger on you. You will never know the real situation without asking. And you'll continue not knowing if you deal with problems `` your way.'' Most adults wo n't be as unreasonable as you or Brad. They'll try and fix the situation.''
The cat was right. He eloquently explained the situation and provided a thorough solution to Timmy's problem. Unfortunately, it fell on deaf ears because Timmy is just a fucking kid and thinks talking to other is too much work for himself.
`` Hey, Brad, I've got a *bone* to pick with you,'' Timmy said as he put his face two inches away from Brad's face.
*whack*
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[ WP ] As the world 's most accomplished ninja , you could make quite a living with assassinations ... But instead , you 'd rather do other things , like deliver packages !
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`` Naruki's Delivery Service? Is n't that just barely avoiding copyright?''
`` I know! It's genius!''
`` You know for the world's most accomplished ninja you have to be the least subtle dude. Come on, Akio, just be an assassin like your parents and older brother. Why do you have to run a delivery service?''
`` First of all, from now on I am Naruki. Second of all, I have such a poster boy face! It would be a waste to condemn it to ski masks and night fall.''
`` How did I lose to someone like you?''
`` Does n't matter, now you get to help me run NARUKI'S DELIVERY SERVICE!''
`` Quiet, I get it. You do n't need to yell. And whoever told you you have a poster boy face was lying to you.''
`` You wan na fight me, Kaneda?''
`` No, I just want to work. I lost the fight fair and square so I'll help you for the first week and that's it.''
`` Thanks Kaneda, regardless of what Hikari said, you're not a loser except when fighting me.''
`` Okay, now I have to kick your ninja butt.''
`` Not so fast, we have a call,'' Akio unlocked his phone to answer the call, `` Aki- I mean Naruki's Delivery Service! You have it, we send it, believe it. This is Aki- I mean Naruki. How may I help you today?''
Akio lowered the phone to whisper to Kaneda, `` it's a customer!''
`` I never would have guessed,'' Kaneda grumbled, rolling his eyes.
`` You want us to deliver a lunch to your scatterbrained son? Sure! Give me the pick up address and drop off address and we'll be on our way faster than you can say that's my ninja way! Hmm?''
`` What is it Akio?''
Akio moved the phone away from his face and looked at the number again, `` Oh, it's my mom.''
`` AKIO!''
`` NARUKI! I'M GOING BY NARUKI!''
Akio moved the phone back to his ear, `` Mom, you still there? Yeah, I'll come get my lunch. What did you make me? FRIED CHICKEN ARE YOU FOR REAL!? LUCKY!!!!''
`` Woah, your mom made fried chicken?''
`` Mom your fried chicken is killer, pun intended. I'll be home faster than- okay I'll avoid making Naruto jokes in front of you. By mom... Uh... Yeah, I love you too... oh, uh mom I'm with Kaneda right now I can't- fine, I love you more. By mom.''
Akio ended the call and pocketed his phone. He looked to Kaneda, hoping he did n't hear that last part... he did.
`` *I love you mommy. *''
`` Shut up, do you want chicken or not?''
`` Yeah dude, your mom's chicken is the best. Let's go.''
The two ninja boys hopped the rooftops of their town and made their way to Akio's house. May they adopt more practical dreams and just become bankers.
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[ WP ] At age 15 you told the gf you were `` in love '' with that you 'd always be there when she was in need . Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality , whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side . Problem is , you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later
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I β ve always loved the very first moments of the day - That time when you β re only half-awake, and the warm softness of sleep is still heavy around your mind. You somehow have the sense that the world has narrowed to just you, and perhaps the vague imitation of reality found in your dreams. I didn β t think that it could get any betterβ¦and then I met Leanna.
She is the brilliant glimpse of a bright blue sky on a mostly rainy day, the pop of color in a completely gray canvas. She is the kindest person I β ve ever known, and filled with more passion than I knew was possible. Waking up next to her is the best feeling in the world, and I β m about to ask her to do that with me every day, for the rest of my life.
Sunlight filters through the window onto the bed, gently caressing the smooth curves of her skin. Blonde hair tumbles across her face, and she β s curled up against me, her head nestled on my chest. She sighs deeply and shifts, pressing her face against me. I feel my heartbeat speed up.
Trying hard not to wake her, I disengage one arm from her, and move closer to the bedside table. The box is right where I put it last night, after she β d fallen asleep.
β Leanna? β I don β t want to break this silence, the perfectness of this moment, but I can β t wait anymore. Her eyelids flutter open, and she meets my eyes. A sleepy smile spreads across her face.
β Good morning. β It β s still a treat to hear her say that in person, and to be able to see her face every night as I go to bed. Her smile brightens as she she sees my expression. β What is it? Did something happen with work? β
I shake my head. β No... No, it β s better than that. β I have to pause to collect myself. β Leanna... Ever since I met you, my life has been better than I ever imagined it could be. β Well, better than it β s been since I was fifteen. β I can β t imagine spending my life with anyone but you. You are everything I β ve always wanted. Leanna... Will you -- β
Shit.
The familiar sensation of the world being ripped upside down, and turned inside out brought my words to a choking halt. Fuck. I β d thought that it was finally over, that I β d finally been set free. It β s been three years since the last time I saw her.
My vision goes black, just like it always does.
When I open my eyes, there β s just one word that goes through my head.
β Seriously?? β
*********************
Part II
Although parts of her have changed - the childish softness of her cheeks, her once athletic buildβ¦ her eyes remain the same. As dark as liquid coal, she regards me from under heavy eyelashes, her expression held in a cold pout. She β s alone, this time, which is a blessing. The number of times she β s β needed β me when surrounded by people has taught me to appreciate the small things.
I want nothing more than to sit up and murder her, but unfortunately, both the jump and the toll it takes on my body, as well as my β benefactress β ( as she calls herself ) won β t allow for it. So I settle for clenching my jaw and growling out an obscenity as I sit up.
β Emma... This had better be really fucking good. β I can barely get the words out. β Do you have any idea how bad your timing is this time? β
She wrinkles her nose and crosses her arms across her chest. β Can β t be any worse than that time -- β
β What do you need, Emma? β I have to try - REALLY try - to keep myself from strangling her. β You β ve brought me here for every single fling that didn β t work out, every bad day at work, every single time your entitled ass needed to be comforted because of some issue your daddy won β t bail you out this time. I β ve fixed all of it. I thought I was finally free. It β s been fourteen years, Emma. This had better be DAMN worth it. β
Emma rolls her eyes and gives me a withering glare. β Not everything is about you, Michael. And anyway, we wouldn β t be here if you hadn β t said what you did all those years ago. What was it? β I β ll be here anytime you need me? β β She fixes me with a smug smile. β You certainly didn β t specify what kind of need I had to be in, and I told you when you dumped me that I didn β t have any intention of being out of your life. β She lifts her chin and smirks. β I just didn β t know how much help I β d have with that. β
I hate her like I β ve never hated anyone before. I hate the way she β s watching me - how she knows that I have no choice but to help her, or risk the wrath of the gods themselves. I hate knowing that it really was my words that put us into this position in the first place. But most of all, I hate that I β ll have to do this for the rest of my life, or hers. I β ll never have a normal life.
I β ll never be able to marry Leanna.
β No. β
It β s like my voice doesn β t even belong to me, like some ancient part of my brain has finally had enough. I feel like I β m listening to someone else talk as words tumble from my mouth.
β No. I β m not doing this again. This is over. It β s been over for fourteen years, and I β m done. I β m not doing this again. I β ve helped you to get over boyfriends that you hated while you were dating them, I β ve been there as every single friend you had left you because of the way you treated them, I β ve been there after every failed one night stand. It β s over, Emma. I β m not doing this anymore! I β m not doing this anymore! β Somehow, I β m standing, my voice is at a shout, and I β m eye to eye with the most irate ex-girlfriend I β ve ever seen. My breath comes in gasps. I can β t seem to stop shaking.
I half-expect her to murder me right there, but before she can do anything, a familiar sensation begins to fill every part of my body. My stomach twists. My vision goes fuzzy. My head spins violently, and I feel the hard surface of the floor beneath my knees. My stomach heaves. The world goes black.
The first moment of consciousness I have is as I feel myself falling forward as my stomach tries to empty itself with a dry heave. The next moment is punctuated by an undefined, but an absolute sense of confusion.
What the hell?
This has never happened before. Yes, I β ve gotten used to the insanity of the random leaps across the country, to Emma. And yes, I β ve gotten used to being called multiple times in a day, if somehow, Emma manages to screw up her life more than once in a day. But this? Something was different about this.
My vision is blurry as I peel my eyelids apart, but even so, it β s immediately obvious that I β m no longer in Emma β s studio apartment. Bright sunlight makes me squint, and the stuffy heat of her apartment has been replaced with a cool, gentle breeze. As my vision returns, I get a glimpse of another person hunched over next to me, throwing up.
Emma. But why?
I stumble to my feet, head reeling, trying not to retch again. β Whβ¦.What the hell is the matter with you? β The breathlessness of my voice takes the bite out of my words. β I was already fucking there! You didn β t have to... to... β My voice trails off as I realize that, in all honesty, I have no idea what Emma can even do, and how much of all of it is her actively doing anything. But why else would we be here?
She turns to face me, long black hair sticking to sweaty cheeks, practically baring her teeth. β I didn β t do this, you idiot! Do you think I β d do this on purpose? β
I mean... yeah. Emma β s not really the type to self-inflict the torture that is being ripped from one place to another. But if she didn β t do this, then that must meanβ¦.
Shiiit. This is either really goodβ¦.or reaallllly bad.
The hair on the back of my neck raises. My hands prickle. Adrenaline pumps through my blood. It β s been fourteen years - fourteen years since we β ve seen her, since she explained what happened.
I turn slowly, unsure what to expect. The same face from all those years ago is regarding me coolly, watching the two of us as we realize what β s happening. I swallow, fighting another, different kind of nausea.
β Hello... Aphrodite. β
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[ WP ] There are whole periods of your life you ca n't remember , but they 're slowly coming back to you , and they are stranger than you could have imagined .
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it first happens during your morning coffee.
It β s a Wednesday and that hour of the morning when only your body is awake. You try to blink the sleep out of your eyes, and, failing, grasp for your mug. You take a sip of your espresso, you burn your tongue, and are dazzled by a memory.
You β re not at your breakfast table. You β re in the back of a cab, on a leather seat that feels like it β s out of one of those old movies your dad likes. Out of the window you see the light of streetlamps, of house windows, of stars in the night sky. A dog barks, and you imagine the chatter around dinner tables as your hand tightens around the pistol in your lap. You run a finger over the cold metal, and glance at the mirror in front of the cab. The driver β s making pleasant conversation. His blue eyes glance at yours. You make a murmur of agreement and he smiles. He drives past an intersection. You raise the pistol and meet his stare in the mirror. His pupils widen, and you pull the trigger.
Your mug shatters on the tile floor. You hear your wife shout at the same time you feel the hot coffee on the legs of your trousers. You assure her you β re fine β your grip slipped, you must be tired, here, you β ll get it. It β s just a mug, you add to no one in particular, we can get another one real cheap.
The next time is a Saturday.
You β re in a theatre. There β s a movie playing β you can β t remember what, and you β re not sure if it matters β when someone on the screen turns and talks about a memory and your mind shifts.
You β re on the beach. The summer sun blazes unforgivingly above you and a saltwater wind runs through your hair. The sand is hot under your feet. Ahead of you are two figures β they β re sitting, back to back, squirming, twitching, staring at you from desperate eyes. Your mind blinks, and they β re standing, shrugging off the ropes, running.
The sea rushes over the sand and draws away. Somewhere, a seagull squawks.
You point your gun at the boy and shoot. Then the girl. Once. Twice. Five times. Ten times. You shoot till they fall and till they stop moving and till the trigger snags.
The sun watches you like the eye of god as you approach their bodies and a roar of laughter snaps you back to the theatre.
Your fingertips are red and your knuckles white and you β re gripping your box of popcorn like an animal seizing its prey. Your breath is ragged. You β re fine.
The third time it happens is a Monday. You think.
You β re walking somewhere in town. It β s a sunny day. It β s always a sunny day. You β re passing shop after unforgettable shop, street after unforgettable street, face after unforgettable face. You catch your reflection in the glass. There is a fatigue under your eyes that you don β t remember. You trace unfamiliar lines on your face with a wary finger. Have you always looked this old?
You realise that you β re standing outside a bookstore. You glance, weary, over the titles. Maybe there β s a self-help book just for you. *How To Cope With Someone Else β s Memories. *
And then your mind wanders.
You β re in a room, sitting at a desk strewn with papers, photographs, clippings. In front of you is the beginnings of a letter β there β s the date, an address, a *To Whom It May Concern. * You pick up a pen β it β s a fountain pen, black with a gold tip β and press it to the paper and begin to write.
And you β re back, and you β re staring at a face that seems to smirk back at you from the cover of a book you β d usually never read.
The words *Zodiac Killer* are all your eyes see.
And Ted Cruz feels the chill of a terrible knowledge run down his spine.
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[ WP ] Without hesitation , you plunge into the depths of the spinning portal , but what 's on the other side is whats really crazy .
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Of all my memories from Before, one stands out above all others in my mind.
I was stealing a few short minutes with Zeria in the park before my private
session on advanced spellweaving. The disadvantage of being a promising
student, I suppose, is that all your time is taken in study.
You might think I'd remember when the news of the demons came, but I do n't.
All I remember is her beautiful face, the rounded elegance of the stone path,
and the greenness of the foliage, all of a sort that can never be seen since.
I know, as if reading from a book, the events that followed, but I do not
remember. The initial curiousity turning to desperation, the horror of first
discovering Death and that it could touch us. I often wonder if the great
among us were impotent because demons resist magic, or because they did n't
have - we did n't have - the will to harm a living being, no matter how evil?
I do remember when I died. I was in the scrying room, since we who survived
the initial onslaught had made a desperate plan that if we could not keep
the demons away, we could remove ourselves to a safe place, and I was the
most skilled among us.
Zeria had fortified one of the craft rooms to protect the younger children,
and some of the older ones were buying time by distracting the infernal host.
I had added them all to the spell at the beginning, then come here for the climax.
As I drew on all the strength in myself, and all the strength of the pool,
I lost track of all the circumstances around me. I only knew that we had to
detach all our little bundles of life energy from this place - easy enough,
all things considered, but if done too early we might all die before reattaching
to things like air - then find a different place, a safe place, to join.
I saw the true nature of reality that day. An intricate web of lines of order,
some of which I had never imagined before, but around it all a hunger of chaos.
If I entered that, I knew, it would be as if I had never existed. To me there
is only ever one thing that I consider a miracle, and that is that those lines
of order even exist, where chaos can not touch.
Unfamiliar order is also dangerous, of course. Nothing in the web seemed similar
to the place I started in. I'm not sure if I even have the capability to
understand any of those threads except the ones I've been on - all I know
for sure is that when I looked for a place of safety, they felt utterly wrong.
Desperation begin to enter me. Of all the order in the universe, was it all
hostile to us? The worst sense was like a humming sound as the strings vibrated.
I wanted to cover my ears, but it was n't coming from outside me. I squinted,
or so it seemed, and all my senses shifted. There remained the burning stars
of those I was trying to save, but everything else moved on top of itself,
coalescing and disassociating, so frantically that it seemed I would be torn
apart as they seemed, despite my anchor in the place I stood.
At long last I spotted a seeming calm light among many that dazzled, and
tried to keep it from being swept away. Twice I thought I lost it, but when
it came the third time, I ripped the stars of Zeria and the others free of
all we had ever known or imagined, and flailed them toward it.
I never found out if they made it, because something jarred my grip and I lost
her. As I tried to throw myself after her, the last thing I remember is the
feel of a blade piercing my spine and my lungs filling with blood.
( 1/2 )
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[ WP ] You are held captive in a tropical jungle , and you must find your family .
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I awoke in a prison cell. I was alone. I screamed for help but my cries echoed through the jungle. A man came and yelled at me in a language I couldn β t understand. I tried to explain that this was all a mistake, and I just wanted to go back to my family. He didn β t listen. Instead he threw some food in the dirt at my feet and left. I screamed at him until my throat was raw. Then I ate, and slept.
I was woken up by icy water coursing over my unclothed body. I looked up and saw the man holding a half empty bucket. He set it down and pulled out a key on a ring. As he unlocked the door, I reached through the bars and grabbed at him. He pulled out a stick and beat me until I let go. I screamed out in pain and retreated to the other side of my cell while he placed the bucket inside. Then he left. I went to sleep without eating.
A loud bang frightened me awake. The man was hitting the bars of my cell with his stick. I looked at him as he threw more food into the dirt. I sat in anger as I ate. I hated the Man. He took me from my family. I would hurt him if he hurt my family. I waited for night.
It was almost dark. The Man came with another bucket of water. As he opened the door I attacked. I grabbed at him and gnashed my teeth and kicked. He hit me with his stick until I fell off. He retreated out of the cell bleeding, then he walked away. I sat in the corner. Once he was gone I opened my hand and gazed at the key. This is how I would escape. This is how I would find my family. It was now very dark. I went to the door of my cell. I placed the key in the hole and turned it as I had seen the Man do. The door swung open. I ran. I ran faster than I knew I could. Now I would find my family.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
I'm not sure if I made it obvious what I was trying to do. It was interesting to write though. Very different from my usual style.
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[ IP ] Sailing into Heavy Seas
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Looking out at the raging sea, Captain James Crofter knew he had blundered, and very badly indeed. He should never had chased that Spanish clipper into the waters of South America, now his crew and his ship, The Reaver, were going to die for it.
`` Sail Ho!'' a man in the rigging shouted. Peering through the blackness of the storm James saw her. His prize and prey. She was the San Luis Cruz, a Spanish war ship be trade but right now she was riding low in high seas with Spanish gold.
`` Mister Davidson!'' James shouted as he drove the bow of the ship into a swell.
`` Aye?'' Davidson, the quartermaster roared across the deck. As James looked for the man his hulking form came out of the gloom. Matt Davidson was easily over six feet, uncommon for a Welshman, and was nearly two feet at his shoulders, his mop of sandy coloured hair tied out of his face so he could see.
`` Ready the guns Mister Davidson, keep the ports closed mind, do n't want the powder wet before we stove her in.'' James shouted at Davidson, trying to be heard over the southern gale that was pushing them closer to their target.
`` Aye, Aye!'' Davidson scrambled away to get the forty-six guns loaded and primed, the deck gunners covering their powder reeds and linstocks with cheese cloth to keep the water off.
`` Mister Donnahue, go below and load muskets and pistols, issue them with cutlass's!'' James shouted at a young bosun who jumped and threaded his way through the busy and heaving bodies of his crew mates. Heaving on the iron studded wheel, James swung his sleek brig into the wind and came up to the Cruz's larboard side. He was close enough now to see the ragged looking Spanish prepare a return volley, most likely hoping to fire first and be in the wind before the Reaver could bark back. `` Helmsman, take her steady, bring us up along side and keep her there.'' James stepped into the upper gun deck, the joist beams creating a roof of stark ribs.
Looking from grimy bearded face to grimy bearded face, James Crofter smiled wickedly, showing his white straight teeth, livid in the harsh light of the lightning. `` Well lads, that's our prize,'' he began but was shocked be the sharp sound of musket fire. James composed himself quickly though. `` That's our prize, over two-hundred thousand Pieces of Eight, and we are going to take it, and kill some Dagoes while were at it!'' James finished while thrusting his heavy basket hilted sword, a gift from his Scottish father, his men cheered and roared and began to beat swords off of bucklers and cock dogheads back on their pistols and muskets. James did the same to his rams head pistol, another gift from a father he never knew.
`` Along side her Sir!'' screamed on of his gunners, the wind had picked up to a terrifying shriek and James nodded to his grapple men, they readied the long ropes and two corvus's. James listened for the sound of the Spanish guns being run out and braced against the thick oak hull of his ship. The roar of the guns drowned out the wind. James felt the same dread that every man feels when a broad side was going to hit, but no scream and no shrapnel turning his ship into a slaughter yard. `` The swell Sir, took us out of her fire!'' a cheer rose up and the crew of the Reaver laughed and roared at the Spanish who had wasted their first and most likely only volley.
`` Wait for the swell to bring her back into sights!'' James shouted at his gunners. They waited patiently as James sighted along one of the hulking eighteen pounders. The Cruz came back into sight and he jumped back and shouted the order as he scrambled up to the rail to watch. His gunners knew their business and could fight very well in the rain and high wind, the accounted for wind and range and let fly with a thunderous volley that made the larger Spanish ship shudder and reel from the impact. `` Hooks away!'' the grapples sailed out and were quickly snug against the enemy ship, the Helmsman did his job and slammed the side of the the Reaver into the Cruz, the corvus's driving the three foot spikes into the deck holding her tight.
`` Have at'em lads!'' A roar went up as James leaped across the gap firing his pistol into the mass of Spanish sailors as his men followed and poured heavy pistol and musket shot into swirling mass. James attacked several men at once and killed three in rapid succession, felling them like young trees. The fourth man gave him trouble, he was scared and experienced and was determined to keep James from his captain. James feinted left and brought his heavy blade down to split the man from his shoulder to sternum but he danced away and nearly smashed James sword from his hands. James roared and made a two handed swipe, aiming to take the crafty Dagoes head off, he danced out of reach, but just barely and he slipped on the sodden deck, falling to one knee. James pounced right a way and brought his sword down to smash the man's skull to pieces before he could rise, erupting in a fountain of blood and bone. James drew a long bladed dirk from his belt and advanced on the captain of the ship.
The man drew his sword and stood ready to fight, or so James thought, but he stabbed his slim sword into the deck and removed his hat, bowing to the towering James. James walked up to him and buried his dirk up to the hilt in the Spanish Captains stomach as he stood from his bow. He fell to his knees holding his guts in around the razor sharp blade, blood bubbled out from his slack mouth, James reached down and pulled a long barrelled pistol from the man's belt. James had not expected the pistol to fire, the rain was coming down side ways, but it did and the ball blew the Spanish Captain's left eye ball out the back of his skull.
Turning to a blood soaked Davidson, he was standing by James leaning on a brutal looking goose winged axe, panting from the work. `` She is ours.'' James said as the storm began to break up and angelic rays of sunlight illuminated the beautiful Atlantic, that was now turning red.
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[ WP ] The Department of Defense instates military conscription following the disappearance of the Curiosity Mars rover
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The bourbon had been a gift from his father-in-law. The last one he'd ever received from the old man in fact. Three years ago, the night he was elected as Senator, Thomas Kirkdale had beckoned him over and bestowed upon him a bottle of perfectly aged liquor from his family's Tennessee distillery. It had taken him aback at the time. His father-in-law had always been distant, their relationship never rising above cordial, so the gesture had taken him by surprise. He brought the bottle with him to the Capitol and had decided to save it for a particularly momentous occasion.
Thus it was with a heavy heart that Christopher Locklear ( R-TN ) poured the last drops of the amber liquid into his glass. After the news this morning, however, it became clear that he might not be alive for a more significant event. Well, that and the fact that over the past two weeks he'd cleaned out his liquor cabinet.
The phone on his desk chimed.
`` Sir, Agent Donohue is here.''
`` Brilliant, send her in.'' He straightened his tie and made the effort to look presentable. Sure, he and his colleagues had been working sixteen hour days for the past month to try and keep everything together, but he did n't necessarily need to look like it. The doors to his office opened and Catherine Donohue stepped inside, her green blazer offsetting her dark brown skin. She took the seat Locklear offered, setting down next to it a heavy black suitcase which he could n't help but notice was chained to her wrist.
`` Senator,'' was all she said by way of greeting.
`` Cate, I'll make this brief. What the fuck have you guys been up to?'' Cate did n't even blink. She'd been making the rounds to all of his colleagues on the Defense Committee and their receptions had been no warmer. Any shock value his statement might have carried slid off her like rain off sheet metal.
`` I'm not sure I follow, Senator.''
`` Cut the shit, Cate. You know the situation just as well as I do. Half the country is going to collapse any minute now assuming it does n't just out and out secede from the Union. Whenever I ask for anything from the Joint Chiefs, they stonewall me. Me! A Senator! The one person who's supposed to be a check on them ca n't do shit. Meanwhile I've had ambassadors from all over beating a path to my door, demanding to know what we're up to. Alan Dirkshire, from the British Embassy? I went to his sister's wedding and when he asked, man to man, if there was anything I could tell him, anything to put his government at ease, all I could do was look at him like an idiot. A compulsory draft for the first time since'Nam because of a mechanical failure on Mars? I've heard a lot of horseshit in my time but that takes the cake. If we know aliens exist, why do n't we just tell everyone already?''
This last remark was the only thing to prompt visible discomfort from Cate as she shifted in her chair. The elephant in the Capitol had been called out. Ever since the draft had been announced it had started to make the rounds on conspiracy blogs, but as more details emerged it became clear there was more to it than speculation.
`` Senator Locklear, you know we do n't have a protocol for this.''
`` But we do for a second civil war? Cate, I understand that we do n't want to do anything too drastic. But we're looking at civic collapse within the month. That's what I heard from Helen over in Homeland Security and I'm thinking she might have been giving an optimistic estimate. So I'll ask again: what is it, exactly, that is keeping us from just admitting the truth and winning back some legitimacy with the American public?''
`` That's just the issue. If we lie to the American people now they might not forgive us when they find out the truth later. And they will find out.'' Locklear blinked.
`` Excuse me?'' Cate lifted the briefcase onto the desk, the handcuff attaching it to her glinting in the light from the lamp.
`` What I'm about to do has just today been authorized by POTUS and the Joint Chiefs. Your colleagues on the Defense committee are also being read into this information but until further notice you are not to discuss the contents of this briefcase with anyone else. Doing so is tantamount to treason. Is that clear?''
Locklear's throat dried up. `` Y-yes, I understand.''
`` Good,'' said Cate. She unlocked the briefcase and removed from within a lone manila folder. `` The statement released by NASA about the Curiosity rover experiencing a mechanical failure on the Martian surface was a cover story.'' Locklear snorted and did all he could to suppress an audible `` duh'' as Cate continued.
`` Before contact was lost a final sequence of images was transmitted and received by mission control in Houston.'' She slid the folder across the desk. Locklear placed his hand on it and pulled it towards him, doing his best not to tremble. He opened it.
There were two photos inside, grainy but in color. The first showed what was unmistakably a spacecraft, looking almost like a futuristic airplane. There was writing on the side but he could n't quite make it out. Approaching the rover was a figure in the distance. The next picture brought this form into closer, clearer view. There was no way it was n't a robot. Wires and screws covered its limbs and joints and a green line of light stretched across its midsection. It lacked a head and its right arm had been converted into some kind of weapon, a gun with no obvious way to feed ammo into it.
Locklear noticed something stamped on the side of the weapon. He bent closer to try and make out the sigil. No, not a sigil. A flag. A flag with an odd combination of a hammer, a sickle, fifty stars and thirteen stripes.
Locklear gulped down the rest of his bourbon.
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[ WP ] Each month , a member of the Exotic Meats Club hosts a dinner and tries to one-up the last month 's host . Ever since Karl hunted and served a Yeti , things have started getting ... weird .
|
`` So this one is a personal favourite of mine. Can you taste it?''
`` Hamlet... this is a book.''
The questioned man nodded enthusiastically, then brushed some of his quite long hair out of his eyes. `` Yep. Have n't you ever heard,'dig in to a good book'? This book is pretty meaty, I'd say. And delicious.''
Something was off about the room - ah, GoΓ»ton had finally stopped bashing his head into the table. A pool of blood was slowly spreading out to follow quite neatly the previous stains.
`` Anyone got an ambulance on the line for GoΓ»ton?'' queried Alexander.
Janette smiled, revealing bits of antelope meat stuck between her incisors. `` I got them to wait outside this time. Henry should be getting them right now.''
`` Like, just give this book a taste. Its literary blood runs thick with the protein of metaphors and similes!''
The thirty-ninth meeting of the Exotic Meats Club drew to a close, and Hamlet barely managed to escape ( again! ).
-- -
Henry stood at the front of the room. Well, as close to the front of the room as he could; behind him was a massive, slowly thawing hunk of meat.
`` So, sorry, *what* exactly is that, again?''
He took out another piece of chalk and cleared the blackboard for the fifth time. `` So, it's quite simple really, I had a few free days this last month so I went ahead with a project I've been wanting to do for a while: Using genetics to have a chicken give birth to a mammoth. You all do know that chickens are direct descendants of mammoths, right? Well, it turns out they share an immense amount of DNA, so I was able to use the zeto method to derive a proper genome to inject the eggs with, and then I went ahead and..''
By the time Henry was finished speaking, GoΓ»ton had long fallen asleep ( and almost choked to death due to poor head positioning on his desk - remember proper neck health, kids! ) and the blackboard was covered with the full introduction notes for Genetics 104.
Janette burped. The smell of recently consumed mammoth meat filled the air. `` Honestly, Henry, I've got no clue what you've been saying, but the meat was pretty darn good.''
Within a brief moment, the board was clear once more. `` That's all right, I'm sure you'll be able to catch up with the sparknotes online, I need to move on to explaining how to use the genomes of a monkey interspersed with that of a sperm whale to create a unique derivative of parapliao-xerces DNA...''
The fortieth meeting of the Exotic Meats Club drew to a close once Henry realized the room was empty, and his mammoth meat was long gone.
-- -
Janette's butterfly steak was delicious, but somewhat disturbing.
`` So, you're telling me that you managed to get thirty pounds of monarch butterfly meat in two weeks?'' asked Alexander. `` That seems a tad unrealistic, even for you.''
`` Why yes, I thought you might ask about that.'' Janette took a moment to use her gold-leafed toothpick to take out a wing embedded in her molar. `` You see, I used child labour to capture the butterflies and de-wing them,'' she said.
Henry did the Heimlich on GoΓ»ton, and a tiny wing flew out.
`` Er, de-wing *most* of them. Child # 13-382 will be punished severely, I assure you. Anyways, I found that children of the ages five to around thirteen were happy to capture and kill butterflies for me at the fair price of $ 0.10/hr. I amassed quite the army of children for my war on butterflies, and it was worth it, no?''
`` Well, I'm not quite sure,'' said Hamlet. `` You ate most of it.''
Janette frowned. `` It was quite delicious, I assure you.''
The meat was gone, and so the forty-first meeting was adjourned.
-- -
`` This is chicken.''
`` No, it's dragon meat. Just tastes like chicken.''
`` I performed an analysis of the chicken, and I can confirm that it is most certainly chicken.''
GoΓ»ton nearly died of boredom.
`` It just... looks like chicken? Under a microscope?''
The forty-second meeting of the Exotic Meats Club drew to a close, and it was decided that Alexander would skip his next opportunity.
Again.
-- -
GoΓ»ton had a heart attack from stress before he could talk about what he had brought.
It tasted very good, but nobody could quite guess what it was.
`` It tastes nothing like chicken, Alexander.''
`` Nonsense! This is a hardboiled chicken if I've ever had one. Nothing interesting at all. Although I suppose it could be dragon meat, it's very similar to chicken meat you know.''
The forty-third meeting of the Exotic Meats Club did not end with a bang, but a whimper.
β
β Who are you again? β Alexander asked.
β James Edwards. β The man, eyes hidden by a pair of 90s sunglasses, responded.
β Right, right, carry on. This is quite good, by the way. β
The well-dressed man cleared his throat and continued. β You see, this is the meat from a Axyzo Ouioui. They are aliens from the sparsely-populated planet Venus. This one specifically was in the UK a few weeks ago, on a business trip regarding some guy called Assange. Their meat tastes particularly good, thanks to the nutrient-rich diet they have which came about- β
β Tastes like chicken. β
The sudden interruption was too much for poor GoΓ»ton to handle, and the g-forces of the redirected conversation pushed him quite rudely off his chair.
β Sorry? β
β Are you sure this isn β t just chicken that looks quite a bit like this axe-ee-so-wee-wee? It tastes quite a bit like chicken. β
β No, this isn β t chicken, as I said, this is from an alien from Venus- β
Hamlet raised a hand.
β β¦yes? β
β Do you mean Venus as in the god, like, this is an alien sent by the god Venus, or do you mean like vein-us, where it β s meat that comes from our veins, or- β
The forty-fourth meeting of the Exotic Meats Club did not happen, as far as anyone could remember.
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[ WP ] After the British Prime Minister meets the Minister of Magic in HP6 , the MI6 sends James Bond to the Wizarding World to investigate the war with Voldemort .
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If Bond could spare any focus on feeling completely ridiculous, he would have done it enthusiastically due to the attire he was forced to wear, but Bond understood the unwavering devotion to roleplaying required by his profession, even when in such unprecedented circumstances. He had learned how to camouflage into the darkest and strangest circles the world β the other world β had to offer, but those circles were all within the realm in which M16 has something called intelligence, but no agency can have intelligence regarding a recently discovered realm in which the previously understood laws of reality don β t apply.
They sent the only man who could face such an environment and set aside conventional thinking to understand its nature. They sent 007. And now, 007 stood outside the door to which he was certain the entire mission had been leading. The door that would provide the real answers to this ambiguous β war β of surreal people, places, and things.
Bond stood outside this wooden door, which was located in a long, empty corridor, and waited patiently for the silence to break. Finally, the door screeched open, and an elderly, rather ghastly-looking man, stared Bond down. β Name? β he demanded.
β Bond, β Bond muttered. β James Bond. β M16 had enough trouble as it was convincing Bond of the importance of pseudonyms, and when in a whole different world in which it was indiscernible what mattered and what did not, Bond didn β t see the necessity in hiding who he was. After all, this was a completely separate reality.
β And what business have you with the Professor? β inquired the gargoyle.
β I am the representative of the Department of Magical Commerce, come to discuss matters regarding the underground importation of wandwood, β Bond recited perfectly. β We spoke earlier via owl. β
β Of course! β Exclaimed the gentleman, apologetic remorse and anxiety taking over his expression. β Right this way, Mr. Bond. Do pardon me, sir. Certain precautions must be taken nowadays, with all the business of You-Know-Who and whatnot. β
The old man lead Bond through yet another empty stone corridor as Bond subtly reached into his pocket and grasped his cold, silenced, metal β Muggle Wand β in preparation for his meeting with this secretively and manipulatively clever professor of Hogwarts who Parliament had recently discovered to know a thing or two about magical economics.
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[ WP ] Spacesuits are near perfect now , able to recycle air , water and gather energy from background radiation . Tell the story of astronaut floating through space after an accident broke his tether during a spacewalk .
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Oscar stared forlornly at where the space station used to be. It had slowly shrunk into nothingness as Oscar himself spiraled away. He had floated for exactly five hours. There was nothing but the sea of stars and his suit's internal clock to occupy him. The suit itself was the new MKIV Self-Sustaining Space Safety Suit. Oscar had attended a presentation on it's capabilities. It was created for those long planetary exploration missions where you could go days without a resupply. The recycler system was the main upgrade to the previous models. It could, in theory, sustain a full grown man for up to five monthes without any food or water.
Five months. *Five months*.
A hour ago Oscar was flapping his arms and squaking in an attempt to influence the nonexistant space winds. Now, despite not believing in a god, he was praying. Oscar new that they're probably not going to send a rescue mission. Finding a single astronaut in the vastness of space was like finding a needle in a infinitely large haybale. He was simply too far away now.
Oscar had heard horror stories about people being lost in the depths of space. They never ended well.
He reached up to his helmet and clicked the release swit- *Attention: Environment is unsafe. Please do not remove your Helmet. *
Oh right. There was a new safety in the newer models as well. The suit prevented you from taking it off if the immediate area was deemed'unsafe', like it assumed that all astronauts were schoolchildren who did n't know not to go outside in their pajamas unless you told them so.
Oscar screamed. Nobody heard him.
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[ WP ] You are a kid 's imaginary friend . They 're growing up . You 're fading away .
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The bottle whistles overhead, but I do not race to cover him. Through trial and error, I know it makes no difference. We watch from behind the couch as it smashes against the wall in front of us.
`` Jay, I'm scared.'' he whispers quietly, eyes wide between his interlaced fingers.
`` Hey, kid, do n't be scared, alright? You're gon na' be fine, I promise.'' I reach for his shoulder, but my hand passes through him, just as it always does. He shivers. I offer a shaky smile.
This was n't always the job.
I had been born out of love, out of a desire for a close friend with whom to share those lonely hours when Mom and Dad were working. I stayed out of necessity.
A picture frame flies overhead.
In the past year, he had grown quickly. His limbs were lanky, and the faintest of hairs had begun to decorate his upper lip. He looked almost comical, dressed in train pajamas that were just too short.
I should n't be here.
I should have been gone months ago. Every day I stay, every second I exist in a world where my existence is daily discounted, my skin itches and burns. For him, I would endure.
He was top in his class. He loved dinosaurs. He wondered how coal made the trains move. He wondered if, nightly, it would be the last time he sees his mom. He wonders if his dad would hit him again.
For him, I will endure.
Tonight is the worst it has ever been. His father stumbled home at eight with a cologne like rubbing alcohol. His rage was undeniable. His mother was wrenched from the dining room table and thrown to the floor, though she quickly regained footing and locked herself in the bathroom.
After making sure his sister was safe in bed, we returned to the couch we had used to pretend was a space ship, all that time ago.
`` Jay, what do I do?''
`` You sit here, and wait it out. By tomorrow, everything will be better. Okay?''
He nods, but the look in his eyes is withdrawn and cold.
Near every night we had to hide, and near every night I tried to wipe the tears from his eyes as he prayed for his father's death, and his mother to find a prince. I hated it. I could n't do anything but provide pithy support, and with the pain it took me to speak, it was n't a luxury I could often afford.
Then, he stood up.
He had never stood up before. He knew it was dangerous. We used to make a game of it, the hiding, the crouching. He was always The Lone Ranger, and I was Tonto. We would sit behind the couch and pretend we were hiding from outlaws.
`` Hey, Jack, get down here!'' I hissed.
`` No.''
`` What?''
`` No. I need to help my mom.''
He ran to the phone, and dialed 9-1-1. We could hear his father's heavy footsteps above the ceiling.
Suddenly, a click. `` Hello, this is 9-1-1, what is your emergency?''
He was hesitant at first, but as he spoke to the operator, his voice grew louder and more assured. Raising his head, he seemed to grow an inch.
`` Great job pal, you're doing fine.''
I could hear my shaky voice give out on that last word.
With a twist, the hand that had twisted me for so long let go, and I slowly slumped to the ground. My vision blurred, but through it all I saw him end the call, and sigh in relief. As I looked down and saw the kitchen linoleum through my hand, he turned to me.
`` Jay, I think we're gon na' be okay.''
`` Jay?''
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[ WP ] Build a story around a misheard lyric from a song
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I waited years for that moment to come. I waited for his arms to envelope me in his warmth. It was all I needed. It was all I wanted right then and there. It was just the two of us in the world. No one else existed. No one else mattered. Time always seemed to take its cigarette break when we were together.
But I was greedy. I wanted more from him. Just placing his arms around me was not enough. I needed more warmth. I needed more *him*. My heartbeat syncopated as I said to him:
`` Hold me closer, Tony Danza.''
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[ [ IP ] `` Excuse me , Mr. President ... '' ] ( https : //i.imgur.com/sUm4ZqZ.jpg )
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President Barack Obama sat in the eerie chair, surrounded by cameras. They were observing every facet of his features, from his bone structure to his eyes. After a moment, he heard a click and a robotic voice saying'confirmed identity'. He began to speak, before being cut off.
`` You do n't need to tell me anything. I know exactly what you're here for,'' A soft voice emanated from the speakers in front of him.''
`` So, what do I need to do?'' Obama asked, leaning forward as if it would hasten the answer.
`` You realize every single president before you has asked the same question, and never gone through with it, right?'' the voice said, almost smugly.
`` I understand.'' Obama muttered. `` But, you know, I've actually come to like this job. Especially how much it pays.''
`` Oh, we all did. I'm glad to see the streak continues, though.''
`` What do you mean?''
`` There's only ever been one reason a current president calls on me to help them, and that has n't changed at all with you, has it?''
`` I see. Well, can you tell me?'' Obama asked, looking down.
`` The first real question is this: how fast can you break an economy?'' Franklin Delano Roosevelt asked, a grin eerily apparent in his voice.
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[ WP ] You 've never noticed the secret tunnels running under your neighborhood . Until now , that is .
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I had locked my keys in my car. Again. The worst part is that it was n't even the first time I had done it at the gas pump. Thankfully, I was filling up just down the street from my house and the weather was n't unbearable. It was late, but it'd be a quick walk.
Bouncing my thoughts between what little self defense I knew and getting distracted by sightseeing what I could make out in the dark of my neighborhood, I kept my head up and looked alert. I knew I did n't have an exact reason to be paranoid, but I was raised by a paranoid woman. It saved her more than once in these exact situations.
As I rounded the bend at the end of my street, just barely able to see my driveway at the very end of the road, a loud creak sounded out and then a sudden metallic slam.
`` What the -- -?''
The noise drew my attention to the wiring cabinet on the corner. The large box stood just about 5 feet high and I knew they were for the cable or phone company. But I could have sworn the noise originated there. Slowing my pace to assess the situation, I noticed the latch was hanging a bit off.
Yeah, okay, I will let my curiosity win on this one. I jogged up the box and slowly opened the door. The same creak rang out and I nearly slammed the door in surprise. Opening the door wider and crouching a bit to get inside, I was starting to regret my decision.
My mother had told me a story about a time she heard a meow from the bushes but was scared it was a trap. Two days later, her neighbor went missing. The story terrified me enough to know better than to investigate strange noises, let alone crawl into a damn wiring cabinet.
I pulled out my phone and switched on the flashlight instinctively. Somehow, this wiring cabinet was missing the wires part and was hollowed out to a mud staircase. I followed the few steps down to the dirt floor and noticed somewhat of a hallway to the left.
Wondering to myself why the hell I was n't turning back now, I crept forward with my phone in hand. The hallway ended up leading to more hallways and each one told a different story. Homeless people and rats alike had made their homes here.
I heard footsteps echoing and my heart skipped once and went into overdrive. Alright, that's it. I'm out of here. As I spun around and started to run, a hand jutted out from the pile of trash on the floor and yanked enough to propel me forward with enough force to break my nose on the floor.
I kicked back and freed my leg as I stood up into a run. I sprinted back to the door of the cabinet and burst out into the fresh air of the night. I did n't hesitate to close the distance from here to my house with more vigor than I may have been capable of.
Huffing and puffing while I banged on the front door of my house, I made myself a promise. That's the last damn time I'm locking my keys in my car.
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[ WP ] An assassin so good they use placebos to kill .
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Drip, drip, drip. That is the sound of a water spicket slowly releasing one tiny, lonely drop of water. Drip, drip, drip. As the water dropletts make their way through the air to a one gallon tin can of pickled jalapenos that was purposely placed to catch the water dropletts. This man that is cusified in an empty abandoned warehouse in the middle on no where is Paul Jackson. He was the Superindendent of this town 15 years ago. While in power he, allegedly, i fucking hate that word, raped several minors. The case never went to trial due to lack of evidence and his hot shot attorney's effort to earn his paycheck. But now here he is crusified waiting my trial. I will not kill him, in the conventional way. Many assassins like me use firearms, swords or even poison. I love using my brain, well better said the `` victim's'' brain. See, as this scumbag stands there with the tin can sitting underneath him his mind thinks that he is slowly bleeding out. Well of course he is bleeding out i pricked his arm with a sewing needle and told him he was bleeding out and the bucket was just for drama. The key for pulling this off is to make sure that the needle prick is just deep enough to cause a drop of blood to trickle slowly down his arm but not big enough to cause actual damage. For the next 12 hours this blind folded idiot will think that his life is pouring out of him with every droplett of water that lands inside the tin bucket. The best part of this all is that when the bucket collects enough water the person tries to fight their way out and when they stop fighting it i turn the water up just a tad more.
And that detective is what happened to California Senator Paul Jackson. He bled out.
Hi everyone. Thank you for reading my writing. This is my first ever writting outside of a classroom. Please let me know what you think. Thank you, again.
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[ WP ] An old man sits down on a park bench , holding a photograph , and cries .
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I always loved starry nights like these. Sure, it took a half an hour drive to get up here, but this park was always so dimly lit that it let the stars radiate so brightly at night. I always looked forward to my nightly strolls here, walking in the park and watching the distant lights sparkle in the pitch black expanse of the universe.
I walked down the path absorbing the ambience of the scene, hearing the crickets chirp in the distance while gazing at the stars.
`` Found it.'' I said, pointing into the sky.
I always made it a point to find the Libra constellation whenever I would go out star gazing. It was, after all, my sign, but it was also my favorite of the constellations. The Scales, the balances of good and evil and judgement. It was the only non-living constellation, avoiding all the song and dance of the mythical creatures to represent justice and truth. It always appealed to me, the idea that one day we would be judged and our lives weighted by the scales of good an evil. That in the end, the scales would keep us accountable for our actions. It was almost poetic.
As I stared up at the night sky, appreciating the relatively faint constellation, I noticed a light burning in the corner of my eye. `` When did they put a light here?'' I inwardly asked myself. The whole draw of this place was the serenity and the lack of bright lights. It was pretty disappointing the city had felt the need to ruin that.
I looked down to the light and saw an old bench, placed right under the lamp post. An old man was sitting on the bench, with a photograph clasped in his left hand. He appeared to be looking down at the photo, although I could n't be sure with his eyes concealed under his hood.
I approached the bench, focusing my gaze on the hooded old man. As I got closer, I noticed a slight sparkle emanating from his cheeks. They were tears, slowly running down his colorless, wrinkled cheeks. His left hand clasped even tighter to the photo.
`` Mind if I sit?'' I gave the old man a smile and waited for his reply. He managed a weak smile and answered,
`` Of course.''
I took the seat next to him on the bench. Upon my arrival, he had shielded the photo from me. Not that that was any issue of mine, I was n't one to pry into another person's affairs. I turned my gaze to the stars, and proceeded to break the uncomfortable silence.
`` Nice night out tonight, huh?'' After some time, the man weakly replied.
`` Sure is.'' His mind seemed heavily preoccupied. The man got up and wiped his tears, and turned his gaze up to the stars.
`` I suppose the view is spectacular. Do you think you will ever gaze at a more perfect sky than this?''
`` I do n't know, stranger. I do n't know. Life is long and there are lot more skies to be gazed at.'' The old man seemed struck by this statement. Perhaps mentioning life was n't such a great idea when he seemed to be mourning a loss. I wonder whose picture that was on the photograph? I had half a mind to simply ask the man, but like I said before, I'm not one to pry. The old man took another look back down at the photo.
`` I'm sorry for your loss.'' Even if I did n't delve into his private life, I felt the need to offer my sympathies to this old stranger simply as a fellow man. We all go through losses in our lives, all unpleasant and heart-breaking.
`` Yeah, so am I.''
With that, he unclenched his hand, letting the photo slide through his fingers. The photo slowly floated down in the air, eventually meeting the pavement by his feet. He turned around an faced me, although I still could n't see where he was looking on account of the hood. He seemed to be looking right at me.
`` I'm so sorry about this, Michael.''
The old man put his hand on my shoulder, averting his gaze from mine. I could feel the cold aura from his bony fingers seeping down into my skin. After a few seconds, he retreated his hand and slowly walked away. With each step he took, the lamppost began to flicker more and more, eventually being completely snuffed out. His figure now being completely lost in the shadows, I came to a somewhat odd realization.
`` Wait!'' I bellowed. `` How did you know my name?''
But it was too late. The man was too far away now. I got up from the bench and began to resume my stroll. Suddenly, I noticed a strange seizing in my chest. I clenched at my heart and crashed down to the ground. I tried to move, but my body simply would n't respond. I could feel the terror crashing down on me faster than a freight train as my breath weakened.
Was this it? Was I going to die here, on the cold, dark ground of some park in the upper west side? I looked down at the ground in front of me, noticing the photograph that had been clenched in the old man's bony fingers laying upside down on the pavement. As I stared at the overturned photo a gust of wind blew by, flipping over the photograph and revealing the picture it contained, the face of the man the old stranger had been weeping over.
It was me. It was my face, my stupid grin plastered on the piece of photographic paper.
As the life continued to drain from my body, I took one last look up at the stars. Brighter than ever, I saw the constellation Libra radiating in the sky.
A small smile cracked on my lips as my consciousness was enveloped in darkness.
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[ WP ] You try to rob an ice cream parlor , but get distracted by the 32 different flavors
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I needed money and the title pawn only gave me $ 190. I decided I would hit up the ice cream parlor because I still needed $ 10.
I approached the entrance and try kicking the front door open only to create a loud thud. `` You got ta pull it, eh!'' A friendly shout came muffled from inside.
I pulled the door open and rushed inside kicking. I kicked a chair but it just swiveled. The more badass I tried to be the more embarrassing my actions became.
`` Give me all your money!'' I demanded.
The nice Canadian man behind the counter scooped up a sample of ice cream, `` this is all your money. It is a popular choice. Most places call it mint but we call it all your money, eh?''
I was due for an insulin shot but I did n't have my needles and I hoped like hell the sugar could substitute the shot.
`` My fuckin god that's delicious!'' I shouted.
I punched him in the head and grabbed the entire bucket and scarfed it down in an alley.
I awoke from a diabetic coma two months later and my truck was repossessed by the title pawn.
-- -the end
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[ WP ] When you die , you are given the chance to flip a coin . If you call the toss correctly , you are allowed to keep living , while resetting to the age of your choice . You 've been doing this for a couple centuries now . Death is starting to get pretty pissed .
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Jett sat at the table looking across at her with a grin across his face. His eyes were were dark brown but you could be forgiven for thinking them black. They were the eyes of a creature that had seen far more than they were ever meant to.
She pushed the red hair out of her face, repositioned the scythe against the wall, and took a seat. Jett had a messy mop of black hair and his dark olive skin accentuated the black holes and whites of eyes. Intimidating. This was her eighth time flipping the coin with him. He had managed to outlive her father and her father's father. The previous reapers. Ludicrous.
This time he had killed himself. The arrogant bastard. Jett produced a coin and a diamond ring from his coat and placed them on the table, his smile growing wider.
He had said the last time they met that if he were to lose, he'd marry her on the spot, citing that she was the longest relationship he'd ever have. She returned the feeling... begrudgingly.
She opened her mouth to say something when he quickly snatched up the coin and flipped it high in the air. She watched it fall back to earth with a tight chest. He cast his ballot.
Jett was gone before the coin landed perfectly on its side. The ring faded out of existence and the faint sound of a curse echoed out of the space where the man had once sat. Death grabbed her ring finger tightly.
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[ WP ] Arbitrary Alternates
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She had killed him, and now he was dead. He was driving. She had forgotten what time it was. He landed on the guard rails, snapping his back. Once that was done, he headed straight on home. He could see her cheeks flushing, her eyes growing as wide as her smile, every perfect little detail about her, all saying yes. He was coming up to a sharp curve when he jerked his wheel to the right, sending the car off the edge of the road into a telephone pole. He watched as the clock ticked and ticked and ticked.
He walked into the house, and the big smile on his face disappeared. Racing home, he felt for the ring in his pocket. The minute he stepped in the car, he knew what he was doing, and never put on his seatbelt. He drove as fast as he could to the florist, picking up the flowers that he was going to put at the restaurant he was taking them to. He stood outside the door, calming himself, trying to make it seem like it was just going to be another day, another date with her. His head hit the ground, and his body was run over by an oncoming car. And nothing was different, except for one thing. She turned after realizing the door was open, but was greeted to an empty house, and an open door.
Harold was back in his car. The more he thought, the more he realized how big here was. It was the night, the night he was going to ask her to marry him. She was naked, riding another man, in their bedroom, on their bed. Driving as fast as he could, speeding to get somewhere. As if nothing was about to change since their first date 5 years ago.
He didn β t know where he was going, but he knew it wasn β t here. His body flew forward, through the windshield. β Yes. I will always love you, Harold, β she β ll say. He walked out of the house with a big smile on his face.
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[ PI ] Villainous -MarContest -7634
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Hey there. Just got through reading your story. Very interesting!
I thought the concept was pretty unique ( as far as I can tell ). I think you did a great job of putting the prompt in the story without it feeling contrived. I found it difficult to do that myself. You also do a good job of working emotion and visuals into your descriptions.
I think I'd definitely read more about the wolves and the war, and I'm sure something like this would really entice young adult readers.
While I'm certainly no expert, I did have a few thoughts regarding word choice and overall flow of the piece. If you're interested that is.
I'm still reading through your group so not sure who I'll be voting for but you're definitely in the running!
Thanks for the adventure!
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[ WP ] Do n't worry , that 's not my blood .
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He's a guy whose defining characteristic is his niceness, and not in an eerie way at all. Talk with him for two minutes and he'll nod at the appropriate pauses, ask you prodding questions if you are shy, shut up and let you talk if you are a motor-mouth. He is the model human being and I'd vote him for the next Buddha if it was up to me. I love him to death and he's been my best bud since our 9-year-old-selves ran into each other when we were both trying to catch a clean-faced blonde girl whose name escapes me now. He was so nice back then too, like a mini-adult -- he offered that we should play a game of Paper-Rock-Scissors as a way to determine who should continue to pursue the blondie. ( I won and he conceded, but I was so taken with him that we kept yammering and forgot about the girl. )
But, that day, he moved with an unsettling stillness, his eternally-calm blue eyes darting back and forth. His boyish features reduced to those of a scared boy. His fists clenched as if to contain waves from an explosion that happened in his heart and make sure that nobody else gets to experience the darkness he's experiencing.
It was his mother's funeral. And, look, I'm not the type to judge people, and I believe most people who are looked at as `` evil'' are just complicated folks trying to get through life. But his mother was straight out of hell. I'm sure she had her demons, but, damn, I can never forget being 14 and staying at his place and her freaking out on him because he put up this shitty Target-bought painting his absent father sent him on his birthday. Her throwing plates at him -- like a pitcher intent on nailing the batter -- and him collecting the broken plates as if nothing weird is happening, and, on top of that, calming ME down, saying that it's gon na be alright, and this happens once in a while and then it'll be fine. And he was right, she grew tired after a while and went to her room but I knew stuff like that happened every week in his house. If not every day.
He found her last week when she did n't answer his calls. ( He still checked up on her every day, even though he's 32 and she basically started every sentence with a lasso of epic guilt-tripping -- something like: `` Since you left me alone in this house...'' ) He found her in the bathtub, dead from whatever she was using all these years, I guess. He said her eyes were open, rolled to the back of her skull, as if to look for something she could n't find in this life.
He was shivering the day before the funeral. He felt, get this, guilty. He felt guilty for not checking up on her more and how he should've been there earlier that day and he could've saved her. That's when I laid down the law and told him his mother was a piece of shit. She was a biological unit that spawned him but she was unstable, she was selfish, she HIT him, not spanked him, HIT him, threw things at him, even attempted suicide that one time'cause he fell in love with a girl and he wanted to move in with her. She blamed it on him for `` making her feel that way''. She was fucking poison, that woman. She was a burden and he's free now. That's what I told him. Maybe I should n't have spit on the dead like that, but I just could n't help myself.
After my rant was complete he looked at me for the longest time, looked down and picked a knife. He swiped his right arm with the sides of it, as if to scratch something. Then he said: `` It is n't that easy. Blood is thicker than water.'' I said that is n't true, it does n't work that way but he was broken. He kept playing with that knife through the evening and I did n't want to point out what I was thinking'cause I did n't want to give him an idea. We drank and he made the arrangement and he told him I'm here for him and he should just sleep. As soon as he let down the knife I took it away and threw it in the thrash. Then the other knives.
Next day was the funeral and I was afraid. I was afraid this friend of mine was going to implode somehow when he's faced with his mother's body. That was gon na be the thing that really made him snap. And his walk up to the casket -- this is before anyone else was there -- did nothing to assuage my worries. I stayed back and let him walk.
Then he arrived at the casket and gripped its sides. He started shaking, crying, but his body was oddly rigid and straight, his spine a strong mast to his soul's ship that was struggling in its dark ocean, but then that crumbled and he crumbled. He sobbed for maybe five, maybe ten minutes. It was tough for me to just watch him go through pain like that, but I knew this is what he had to do.
After that he came up to me. Without awkwardness, without the usual pause that comes as an aftermath to a naked show of emotion, and he thanked me for being here with him. He started rambling then. He talked about how he looked up `` Blood is thicker than water'' and found out its actually the other way around. Turns out that the full sentence is: `` The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb''. `` Covenant'' as in the friends and the people you surround yourself with. As in the bond you have with the friends you have is thicker than the water of the womb.
And he kept rambling and rambling, and crying again, unraveling in front of my eyes and I could n't follow him, so I stopped him, worried, and asked what he's meaning to tell me. He must have seen through my fear, so he put his hand on my right shoulder and looked at me. I could n't help myself, the words escaped me and I asked him again: `` What are you saying?''
He squeezed my shoulder. `` What I'm trying to say is... Do n't worry...'' he said, and his eyes, once again gleaming, somehow at peace, pointed at his mother's casket: `` That's not my blood. You get that?''
Then he straightened up again, back to his old self, and I knew I was n't going to lose my friend that day.
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[ WP ] Once upon a time , a schmuck finds a characteristically overpowered , all-knowing dragon or something in the woods .
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The resonating sounds of *clip clops* throughout the forest, the knights stead drags a couch across the dirt road.
`` Faster my stead, sir Butt Dimples will not be slowed by this meandering forest!''
Butt Dimples continues to examine his gauntlets in the couch, turning them over every now and then. The peasants face is flushed red from carrying so much baggage, but manages to make clip clops with the coconuts tied around his ankles.
`` I'm sure the king will be quite pleased at what we found in that cave we went to.''
`` You pissed your pants me'lord''
`` HOW WAS I TO KNOW THERE IS DARKNESS IN CAVES?''
`` Ye sure the King's gon na be happy for not finding the dragon?''
`` Eh, I'm the greatest knight of the...''
Butt dimples starts counting off his shiny metal fingers.
`` Five kingdoms!''
The peasant rolls his eyes
`` Surely he can see that Dragons simply do n't live in caves!... They live on clouds...''
`` Clouds me'lord?''
`` Clouds! Yes, that's where they can fly is it not?''
A thumping sound resonates in the forest with the clip clops
`` Wh- What was that earth shattering shaking? Yield steed, yield!''
The clip clops come to a halt and falls over on a puddle of mud.
`` I MEANT SLOWLY''
`` Do you see that me'lord?''
There is a shadowy figure that snakes around, as big as a fine boulder.
`` Merely the wind my stead. You do n't even know how sneaky those boulders get.''
Butt Dimples stands triumphantly, half covered in mud about how boulders roll down hills on him, and several rocks get thrown at him.
`` You mean that time when you shat all over the confessors booth? You scared the father half to death.''
`` I've never been more acknowledged for my fame than then...''
Sire Butt Dimples turn a few shades of pale; a shadowy figure appears out of the treeline, scales a fine red, eyes of fire, and intense flames murmurrs in its throat, standing a massive height of the crouched peasant.
`` FEAR ME MORTAL!''
The peasant bursts out in laughter, Butt Dimples starts to dawn his sword. Which he notices is missing from its scabbard.
`` My-my sword!?''
`` Ye left it back in the cave.'' Half tearful
`` YES MORTAL, YOU ARE DEFENSELESS AGAINST MY WRATH!''
The all-mighty dragon leaps foward in the air and swipes at the knights helm, Butt Dimples then starts to fall to the floor crying.
`` Owe, my precious helm... you hi-hit me...''
The peasant starts wiping the majorly minor scratch on the helm and starts kissing the helm.
`` HA HA! I HAVE BESTED YE SIR KNIGHT, IT IS I WHO IS TRULY THE STRONGEST OF THE...''
``... Five''
`` KINGDOMS!''
The dragon starts to pounce away chuckling menacingly, the knight thrusting his fist in the air.
`` I'M GOING TO TELL MY FATHER ON YOU! HE'S THE KING, YOU KNOW THAT!''
______________________________________
A continuation of a [ story ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/40n9bs/z/cyvjgru ) I made a while back.
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[ WP ] The Last Person On Earth
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There was once an old hermit who lived in the hills. His home was a small cottage made of wood, a plain sight if there were any to see. Outside he hangs his laundry on a rope tied to a tree. It was the only tree in sight for miles and miles. In fact the whole hill was bare, save for that one tree; with its main body and two branches sticking out, like a tall person with a pair of long hands. From afar you could see the tree, and think to yourself, maybe it WAS a tall person with a pair of long hands, and an afro for his hair.
Now this old hermit was a quiet man. He didn β t like people, and likewise, nobody liked him. Or maybe they did, but he doesn β t remember. He hadn β t met anyone in the past ten years or so, so he did not know what their latest standing would be. Probably, not very good, considering the clothes that he wore. Brown tattered cloths and dirty black mittens from an age when cloth was still spun by the machines.
No, he was a sorry sight indeed. With his big stubby nose, and his long black beard that ran till the waist. And gruffy hair so long, you would have thought there was an animal on his back. Or maybe it was, if you didn β t know at all. But what would you know? The old man wondered. What would anyone know? After all, he hadn β t seen a single soul in over ten years. What would they have thought, indeed.
The world β s changed, he finally concluded with a heavy sigh. Or is it me that just refuses to die? And how about you, he β d then say, with a toothless grin, tapping his little finger on the bowl in front of him. A tiny brown turtle reacts to this action by receeding into its shell. It didn β t know otherwise, it only knew how. And yet it amused the old man every time.
That β s what we all do, don β t we, Pablo? Or was it Constantinople, or was it Liao Zhu? He could never remember its current name each time, and so it always received a new one. Today you are Vincent, and so forth you shall be, until tomorrow.
And at that precise moment there would be a knock on his door, and the old man would recoil. Not in terror, he had been through the terror, but from a familiarity that echoed through the ages. He β d open the door, and there would be no one there. Not even for miles and miles apart.
At night the old man would go to sleep, praying to his hollow gods, dreaming of the demons from his past, and the world before it became. Each time, whether he knew it or not, he would shed a single tear for this, and then he would pass on from this world. Then they would come slowly, into his cottage, with their tools and their gizmos, and work their miracles once more.
The next day the hermit would awake in his cottage beside the tall solitary tree, and for miles and miles apart, he would still be the only one in sight and he would wonder the same things, and come to the same conclusions, and die on the same night. And whether he knew it or not. It didn β t matter.
But Vincent would know. Except it was no longer Vincent tomorrow.
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[ wp ] A competetive pokemon trainer enters the pokemon anime world . Tell his/her story .
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I had been preparing myself for this day for my whole life. I knew all the Pokemon's weaknesses and strengths, I had my whole journey mapped out in front of me. I was going to see and climb Mountains! I had lived by the sea all my life, a sheltered existence some would say, but also a beautiful one. I decided that before I met Professor MJ that I would go for a quick swim - it is such a lovely day. I put on my two piece - it was a Birthday present, it is a pretty shade of pink that my Father says brings out my eyes. It has frills lining it, it is my favourite swimsuit ever!
I walked to the waters edge and slowly stepped in. It was cold, I knew that the best way to acclimatise was to just dive right in, so I did.
And that is when I saw the Tentacool and I knew where this was going...
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[ WP ] Scientists have discovered dreaming is just a way for your brain to synch up with parallel dimensions . You 're leading an agency tasked with eliminating members of the 'Do n't let your Dreams be Dreams ' movement .
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This is my first post here and first time I've put any of my writing out... What a prompt! My imagination ran wild and i fear my story may be a tad confusing. I love the concept and I hope you guys enjoy my first attempt too. ( Apologies in advance for rubbish/rushed editing... )
Torbul was run by a breed of people known as The Saro Race. These people were genetically different to humans but physically looked the same apart from the lack of hair, Saros had no hair whatsoever. They had the β Saroledo β gene which ridded them of a subconscious mind. They were incapable of dreaming. They relied on the dreams of humans in order to carry out change and to progress as a race.
Once it got dark every woman, man and child of Torbul had their dreams harvested and funnelled through the Dreamweb -this was monitored by IDEF ( Inappropriate Dream Elimination Force ) which was set up to eliminate any dreams that a human had that didn β t fit in with the Saro ways. The only way a human could have a bad dream was if they had broken one of the many Saro laws. IDEF would call upon its elite team of hunters to track down the owner of the bad dream and they would be taken to what the humans of Torbul secretly called the β Kill Room β within the vast Saro HQ.
Once the bad dreams had been dealt with, IDEF would use the Dreamweb to process the good dreams and take snippets from each. The final dream would be ran and synchronised all the way through the night using the Top Dreamer β s brain under the careful watch of his inner circle of Saro β s. This dream would run an entire day in a parallel dimension. The scenarios, the events and all of the interactions would be acted out from the dream within the brain of the Top Dreamer and transferred to a reality in a parallel dimension. This parallel dimension was a the Saro planet in which the Saro β s were building up to run the whole universe; all of the planets would eventually be under the rule of the Saro β s. If a bad dream slipped through the Dreamweb it would bring a huge natural disaster upon the Saro planet, hundreds of Saro β s would die in its midst.
As the siren roared in the background I looked at my watch, right on time. I now had 30 minutes to get into my room before I got taken away for breaking curfew. β Thanks for the food, Robin, spectacular as always β my turn next week. β He nodded goodbye as I shouldered the heavy door open, pulling my collar up around my neck and braved the sheets of sleet whipping the dull grey streets. It would only take me around 20 minutes to make it back to my room but I didn β t want to risk it. The Inner Circle was already getting closer to me with each passing day.
I bolted shut the entrance to my room, took off my wig and removed the disguise I had to wear to blend in. I was a Saro hunter, a really good one too β my record was unbeatable within the hunters, no human escaped me. My job was to hunt down the humans that had bad dreams and fetch them back to the HQ. We would then interrogate them to discover their wrongdoings, try to uncover why they would break our laws. They were then sent across to the lab and a small team of scientists would strip them of their subconscious by inserting the β Saroledo gene β into their genetic make-up. This process wiped the human memory and they would become a Saro and serve the Top Dreamer.
I loved the thrill of the hunt, tracking the human down through the wilderness. They always ran, they always tried to hide and I would always find them, take them back. That was until I had to capture Robin. He was the biggest brute of a human I had come across, he didn β t hide β he was waiting for me. He got the better of me and nearly killed me. The other hunters assumed I had been killed. In reality Robin had held me captive. He looked after me and nursed me back to health; I couldn β t understand why he would nearly kill me in order to look after me.
Robin was my brother; he knew I was a hunter. He had broken one of the laws to attract me to him, to bring me home. He gave me my subconscious back. He had cut my mind free from the Saros and needed to me to help him with the revolution. I used the disguise to interact with the humans during the day but on the night I was a Saro again, hunting through the night.
I sat down in my room and started to write the final letter.
Calling all Dreamers,
I have had enough. We have had enough. Us humans are sick, we are tired of being used by The Saros, our dreams belong to us. They belong to us not just to help us survive but to let our creativity thrive. They are more than dreams. They are our future. Don β t let your Dreams be Dreams. Let β s fight for this. Let β s fight together and start the revolution.
Yours,
The Rogue Dreamer.
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[ WP ] The end of the Universe has come . God and Lucifer sit and reminisce with each other.. as old friends .
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I never thought I would say this. But the death of the universe was pretty anticlimactic.
There was no ghastly noise, no sudden eruption, no anything reallyβ much to the displeasure of the man sitting cross-legged before me. Faced with oblivion, the enmity between has disappeared, since the start of the first stars waning.
β I never thought I would be around to see this. β Lucifer pointed at the dim shapes around us. β Boy, time does fly when you β re having fun. β
With a wave of my hands I conjured two wine glasses along with a bottle from the vacuum. Usually, the cups were warm to the touch, but today they were freezing. Pouring one for myself and the other for him, he nodded thanks as I passed him one.
β Do you miss your realm much? β I asked, taking a sip of the cold wine.
β Dearly, β he said. β The fires, the screams, they β ll keep you company for a long time. Its endless fun thinking of inventive ways to punish the people you keep sending my way. Not that I β m complaining. β
He puckered his lips at the wine, but drank it regardless. β With the heat death though, Hell was literally freezing over. I thought maybe in space I could get some reprieve from the cold. Guess I was wrong. β Lucifer shrugged and put his glass down on a table that appeared.
β So, are you afraid? β he said nonchalantly.
β No, not really, β I said, twirling my glass. β We β ve seen countless mortals come into our separate realms. While they may come in saddened or angry, their last thoughts before dying are always peaceful. We shouldn β t fear oblivion itself more than the mortals fear us. β
β Well spoken. β Lucifer seemed content with this answer. He shivered and said, β It getting really cold, I think it β s time we take nap. β
β Before we lie down, how about one more round? β I raised the bottle again. β Just for old times β sake, eh? β
β Of course, β Lucifer smiled. β Brother. β
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[ WP ] `` Some people are still it from childhood games of tag ''
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`` Stop! Stop! You're cheating! You ca n't guard the base!'' Emily at David, the two of them doing a small shuffle around the oak tree that blocked the kids. David, for his part, opted to not speak and instead responded with short bursts of laughter, with attempts to catch his breath in between. Lurching forward, David thrust his hand out to try and touch Emily, who yelped and jumped backwards before sprinting off in the opposite direction.
It was once David turned to look for a different victim that I slowly started to rethink my decision to try and wait David out. Even in my bush-shelter, David easily spotted me and made his way towards me, giggling as he obviously assumed he had the upper-hand. Of course, his slightly pudgy body and the fact that he had used most of his energy trying to get Emily gave me a slight advantage, and by the time I was able to get up and out of my bush, I was able to get a few feet away from David, but could still hear his boyish laughter getting louder from behind me. Knowing I had to do *something* to get David off my back, I made a quick left and kept going down the hill. David obviously had n't been expecting this, because when he tried to copy my movements, I heard a sudden end to the footsteps accompanying mine and a sharp yelp. What followed, as I managed to stop and myself and see, was David quickly begin rolling down the hill, his hands trying to slow his descent. After being slammed into the trunk of the tree near the bottom, a n audible crack greeted my ears as David crumpled, his laughter that I had heard only seconds before having been snuffed out quicker than his fall. Slowly making my way down to him, I called out his name and received no response. Even at my young age, I knew something was wrong, and whatever that something was, it was something that would n't be fixed easily.
It took three hours in total for David's body to get carted out. Finding Emily, Lucas, and Susan was hard enough, and getting them to understand what happened was even harder. Eventually though, after they saw David for themselves and were able to tell that I was n't lying to them, they agreed that David needed help, and Lucas and Susan ran to try and tell their parents what had happened.
Often times people remark on an event that they claim was when their childhood ended, and in following that tradition, I too believe that this was the day our childhood died, the day that David took his place as the permanent tagger.
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[ WP ] At noon , on June 28 , 2008 , Stephen Hawking held a reception for Time Travellers at Cambridge , which he would later send out the invites . Unsurprisingly , nobody showed up . Meanwhile , across the campus , a small group of very confused individuals stood , anxiously studying a campus map .
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Do you remember that date, Steve? June, 28, 2009, I'm sure you're starting to recall that date. You hosted a party for time travelers, to prove that they could exist. Well, we came but you were n't exactly clear on your directions. It was actually pretty funny when we all showed up at the exact coordinates, only to be off by a few yards. We were all standing around, looking at maps, asking around, but no one knew what we were talking about. 15 people showed up, looking for your party. We eventually gave up, and sat down and ate some sandwiches some nice guy from 1876 made for us. We looked around and finally decided that time was stopping them from finding the party.
`` He recorded the event too well,'' Some person from 2341 said. `` The quantum bypass theory still holds true''
We all wondered for a moment and agreed with him, after some explanation. A woman with a thick Russian accent stood up and looked at us all. She said that since we could n't meet you, Steve, we would have to settle for each other. What she meant by that is that we should form a coalition of time travelers. Everyone agreed, and those who did n't just left, but mostly everyone agreed. We set up a time and a place better than your party ever was and we all went our separate ways.
So why am I telling you this now? Because I wanted to show you that sometimes seeing is n't always believing. Quantum bypass theory states that if an event is observed and documented, nothing can change about the event. it's an interesting theory that you will never see because you are almost dead. Sorry to bring it up, but you're also probably wondering why this message is sent to you now. You will be dead within 30 seconds, the message will self-destruct, and all information about us will be gone.
So, in short, terms, thank you for starting the TRC, by forgetting to put the building number in your invitation.
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[ WP ] The Devil tries to sell his soul to you , desperately .
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`` Come on, it's worth at least three times that much!''
`` I do n't care what it's *worth*, what in the hell am I going to do with it?'' I gestured wildly to the man sitting across from me.
`` Well, you can, sell it for...'' he furrowed his brow, `` shit, I guess I do n't really do much with them.''
`` Exactly!'' I slammed my drink down on the table, to the chagrin of the patrons around us.
`` I mean, I definitely do something with them,'' he took a sip of his drink. `` Yea. Something about a fiddle.''
`` Pretty sure you lost that one and you had to give somebody a gold fiddle.''
`` Where would I have gotten a golden fiddle,'' he asked.
My mouth hung open. `` How should I know?''
`` You're making this up. Anyway, I'll throw in an extra ten. And two, *two*, of them can be famous people's.''
I leaned back in my chair, my eyes drifting up to the ceiling. Without looking at him, `` Would you please explain to me just what I can do with souls?''
`` Look, okay, it's like this,'' his pace picked up and rapt my attention. With a stroke of his hand, his glass refilled, and he took another draw before continuing. `` Whoever has the most souls wins. It's a contest, you get that? People do bad things, I get their souls. People do good things, *He*,'', gesturing upwards, `` gets their souls. But when judgement finally comes and his kid shows up or asteroids pulverize the earth, whoever has the most souls wins.''
`` Yea,'' I said slowly. `` But then why are you trying to sell me yours?''
`` Because it's worth a lot. Not all souls are equal. And mine, well let's just say it would make quite the difference.''
`` You realize that does n't answer my question though, right?''
He shook his head, burrowing it in his palm. `` Why did I ever make that woman eat that apple?'' Letting his hand fall back down towards his drink. `` Alright. So, I might've kinda sorta been, well, good. Lately, okay?''
`` You torture my species, eternally, and you're telling me that you've been good?''
`` Well, relatively. But the point is, I've been good. Which means that He can claim my soul. But, and here's the important part, we agreed that we can not take souls that have already been claimed. So, if you'take' my soul, He ca n't.''
`` Why does this sound like corporate tax evasion?''
`` Well jeez, it's not *that* bad. But, come one, do me a favor, just let me sell you my soul, whatever the price, I do n't care. You people like material things, so name it, what do you want?''
I swirled my drink, letting the ice melt slowly. `` So I've got three things in mind...''
He lowered his head, staring at me with stony eyes. `` Do I look like a genie to you?''
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[ WP ] You live in a word where guns are everywhere , but only when they need to be . Autonomous gun lockers are built into every structure in the developed world . When a person is in serious danger a gun will pop out of a wall for them . You 're at the mall and guns just came up for everyone .
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Everyone immediately proceeded to load their weapon, drop their shopping bags, remove their movement impairing coats and started to scan their environment to find out the threat. The mandatory firearms training was doing wonders: barely thirty seconds after people received their gun everyone was alert and ready. The music and sounds had died, and after the last clips were loaded a huge silence fell - despite the unusual huge crowd of customers.
It was a snowy day, the sky was dark outside and a few minutes later, the tension was palpable. When the guns dropped the threat was usually easy to identify, a rabid dog, a psycho off his meds, once an attempted terrorist attack that was solved in 2 minutes by a milkman with a sniper rifle and an old lady with an assault rifle. But for now the atmosphere was eerily dense.
And from the mall speakers came the powerful voice of Gloria Gaynor. An old music that everyone knew, a nice little song that some started to hum and sing with to relieve their stress. And it worked, others joined them, a huge lumberjack looking bearded dude with a deep mellow voice, a skinny young woman with a surprisingly low tone, a fat guy with a I < 3 Trump cap started beatboxing, a santa began a solo, a few grouped to make choirs, and soon the whole mall was singing as one, and peace was on earth and you could feel angels crying with joy and rainbows gently appearing.
Until the refrain arrived. `` I will survive!''
The vegans - easily recognizable by their `` I am vegan'' shirts were the first to shoot. A loud shotgun bang marked the tempo at the end of the phrase. A few potshots were heard from above, then a long submachine started to fire from a coffee shop, a grenade exploded in the upper floor and sent blocks of concrete falling down and dust everywhere, and then the air was full of the sickest warmovie soundtrack you could imagine. People turned absolute batshit crazy, some rushed out of a gear store with chainsaws, a cheerleader was sniping from a lingerie store down the main mall alley until a bazooka took her down, santa was carrying two Uzis while HoHoHo-ing his way up the stairs... blood flying everywhere.
For the upcoming years Black Friday would be remembered as Friday, Bloody Friday.
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[ WP ] Cupid went overboard last valentines day . 9 months later the stork is being overworked and decides to call Cupid to see what happened
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Okay I get it. I messed up. I mean if you had 1500 arrows to shoot around the Earth in one day, what would you do? Usually Valentines Day is easy, you go around and find people who would work well together or use the cheat sheet God gave me. But no, we had to go digital this year.
*flashback*
`` Siri, who will fall in love with Gina Smith of Portland, Oregon?'' I ask my newest model of the iPhone ( a small thanks from the big man himself ).
`` The man slightly to her left, a Mister Tom Cadbury. Use extra strength arrow. They're due to have children soon,'' the robotic female voice instructs me.
Extra strength is all I had left in my bag at this point, seeing as how it was 8:30 on a Saturday night. Whoops. I usually at least bring a few spare normal arrows but it was an off night. Spent a bit too much time with the Greek Gods, y'know. The Big Man gave me some time to fetch some more arrows and I just happened to hang in their neck of the woods. So we got talkin' and I drank too much nectar. So, you can say I'm pretty screwed.
`` Siri, do I have to make all 1500 of these couples fall in love?'' I ask the robot.
`` Yes.'' she says simply, as if there was not any other way love was to happen.
Not wanting to have to go through Heaven HR, I just let it go and used the extra strength arrows. I had had a tough day, and who does n't love babies?
*flashback over*
The stork sighs over the phone with that `` What the hell were you thinking'' kind of tone, which was justifiable in this case.
`` Sorry man,'' I say, `` It's love, soon enough you'll have a pretty long break anyways. These people are going to want to wait a little bit before they have more kids.''
`` Hopefully,'' the bird spits over the phone and then hangs up.
It's just love, it's hard to find without my help. Even when you do find it, you may get more than you bargained for.
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[ WP ] `` At least we did n't do nothing '' as the last line
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The boy stood, shaking uncontrollably, crying and whimpering while praying to a God he hoped would save him. The blindfold he wore filled his world with darkness and the unbearable silence of the courtyard made him feel alone, abandoned. His crooked frame bent in a fragile way pleaded with the armed men facing him, 12 in all.
They stood, shoulder to shoulder and with their rifles raised, ready to fire at the boy charged with desertion and sentenced to death by firing squad. Some of these soldiers were only boy's themselves, persuaded into this role with rhetoric of the need to implement justice. And throughout, the unnamed and faceless deserter was only that, until this moment in which they heard the pitiful mumblings of the soul in front of them, the quick and panicked breaths he took, the tears that streamed down his cheeks and fell upon his collar. They waited in silence as the charge was read out and the order to fire was given.
`` Ready, aim-''
`` Mother! Save me!''
His cry rang out and echoed, pained and desperate it rattled the line of men standing only a few yards away. Some flinched while others who had remained impartial suddenly felt a wave of empathy, guilt and regret. The all too human nature of this sacrifice dawned on them all. They glanced at each other worryingly, questioning themselves. A silence followed until someone spoke- `` I will not be held accountable for the sins of other men.'' At this, he lowered his rifle, placing it on the ground in front of him, turned and walked away. Another man, young and unknowing with tears in his eyes looked after the soldier who had left while the commanding officer shouted past him, `` Stay where you are!'' He shook his head defiantly and lifted his rifle from his shoulder, and with it the anxiety of doubt. He looked at the boy his own age, who still waited, tied and gasping at the anticipation of what was to come and thought of the horror's he'd seen, the hell of unrelenting chaos and murder to the sound of cracking thunder and screeching pain. And for succumbing to the nightmare he needed to die at the hands of men who had faired only slightly better? The rifleman placed his weapon on the ground, looking into the eyes of the officer who barked at him to obey, and left, following the soldier before him.
Months later, they sat together and lamented over that morning. A lingering shame had burdened the younger man who felt cheated by his superiors and the injustice of it all. The older veteran who had initiated the protest tried in vain to ease his qualms. As they spoke back and forth, trying to comfort their troubled consciences, the conversation wound down to a plea from the young soldier,
`` We could have done more. We could have saved him.''
`` But we did n't kill him; for ourselves we walked away. At least we did n't do nothing.''
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Writing Prompt : The Day When Money Did n't Exist
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Stories told from generation to generation explain concepts unknown to our populace. Almost as if they're legends told to such a frequency no one pays attention anymore. An elderly man sits with youth sitting around him half listening, half fiddling with sticks or small stones near them on the ground. Listening from afar, this concept finally clicked, finally resonated at a point where my mind could develop into an internal track for my train of thoughts to follow.
`` Paper, small pieces of metals combined into circles, cards that could not be torn by hand only broken...'' said the old man.
How would this work? Why would people find such easily destroyable, misplaceble and replaceable things so valueable?
`` You could get anything you wanted if you had enough. A knife you did n't have to make or inherit, a house you did n't even have to build, even a life supply of food and water so long as you had enough!...''
The youth brush it off, no way such an amazing theory could have ever been true. I've heard enough to fuel my thoughts. I look around and see my village, built from whatever anyone could find to make a home. In the distance I see what looks like an animal moving at incredible speed... almost impossibly fast for any animal to be moving... is it made of metal? Panic ensues, everyone runs for fear of the unknown. I stay, I must, I have to know what this is. It comes to a slidding stop leaving incredible tracks behind it. The sides of this metal beast open and out steps a man. A man? A living breathing man birthed by metal... This man approaches me talking in a tongue I've never heard... He pulls a countainer of sorts out of his metal beast and opens it to reveal something I would have never believed I'd see ever... Paper, but not regular paper, some sort of valuable paper. I try to grab it to look but I get tackled to the ground by more men who emerged from his metal beast... Why? What makes this so valuable?
In the distance I see more different metal beasts traveling towards us. They seem angrier, bigger, and more destructive... Ripping trees out of the ground, destroying hills leaving behind flat paths... When it clicked. Paper is valueable to them and they are bigger and better armed. In order to survive, we must assimilate to their lifestyle or be taken by metal beasts... Survival is valueable, just as paper is.
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[ WP ] The first human to reach the bottom of Marianas Trench found a single button with a sign beside it , `` Reset Earth ''
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It is interesting, how we learned the secrets of the universe, ended wars and social inequality, even stopped the last ice age but the ocean still remains a mystery. Well, one again, humanity came together. The combined effort of the scientists and engineers of my great city will soon uncover the one secret remaining.
The time has come. I will leave the submarine and take humanities first steps in the deep blue. A strong spiritual feeling overcomes me as I see what no man has seen before. While gazing at the species never seen before, in waters never touched by a land dweller I can not stop thinking about my family back home. My wife, my two children and my saber-tooth-tiger. Funny thing it is. When I say we solved all social issues, I mean all but one. Some people like saber-tooth-tigers others like their dierwolves! And while it should n't be a real issue, its all the fuss on mindnet. I personally thing they are both adorable!
`` Focus, you are making history here, forget about mindnet for a moment.'' I tell myself. Now I am reaching a ditch different then the others. It is the deepest one yet. It seems perfectly spherical. Is that a glow I see? Yes, it is a large button with big red letters reading: `` RESET EARTH''. Holy shit. I got ta call central to tell them about this.
`` Atlantis, we have a problem''
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[ FF ] [ 200 Words ] First Sentence : `` well that was n't my brightest moment ''
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`` Well... that was n't my brightest moment.''...
Venti, Grande, Bold, Macchiato, Mocha, so many choices. `` He'll have a Venti, Bold.'' I was thankful she was there with me. I was clearly out of my element, still piecing together how this came to be. How did I end up on that roof with this beautiful and mysterious woman from the plane?
Coffee appeared at the end of the counter, this would be a critical component to unlocking last night β s mysterious puzzle. I fell into a large armchair in the corner of the room, carefully selected as the nearby blinds would help shade my hangover. The coffee was hot, and strong - and exactly what I needed.
She rounded the corner, squeezed into the chair beside me, and rested her head on my shoulder after taking a sizable drink of her own. She caught me staring, and flashed a cheshire grin in my direction. Of course this startled me, in case things were n't awkward enough, causing me to fumble the oversized coffee cup in my hands.
`` Well... that was n't my brightest moment.'' Venti Bold stain now occupied my surprisingly otherwise clean white button up shirt. `` Do n't worry'' she said, `` Let's go find you another shirt when we're finished here''.
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[ RF ] A couple goes out for a picnic in the park and ends up getting caught in the rain .
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Maggie swore, holding up a newspaper over her head as the rain began to fall. Mark chuckled, packing up their things into the bag quickly and flinging the towel to rid it of excess grass.
`` We have to go,'' Maggie pressed, the last syllable of her voice extending into a whine. `` Come on, I do n't want to get wet.''
`` Except when you do,'' Mark gave a wink. `` Yeah yeah, let's go. It's not even that hard, Maggie. You probably do n't need to newspaper.''
`` I just did my hair for this date. The frizz is going to ruin it.''
`` The *humiditiy*'' Mark corrected. `` And I think you look beautiful inside and out. Frizzy hair or not. It's why I married you.''
Beneath her newspaper umbrella Maggie blushed, her cheeks burning red beneath her white hair. Mark extended his free hand and Maggie took it and he pulled her through the rain as it began to come down a little harder. Raindrops stained Mark's jacket, and Maggie made a little whimper as she ran with him.
By the time they reached the gazebo both of them were soaked. Maggie's newspaper was nearly worthless, and she threw it down on the bench of the gazebo as she sat. Mark took off his jacket, folding it over one of their bags so it could dry and then settling down on the bench next to Maggie. He put an arm around her.
`` Weather did n't say thunderstorms,'' he said. His voice was sheepish, a hint of embarrassment seeping through.
Maggie turned to face him, raising a hand to his cheek and pulling his face in to hers, pressing a kiss against his lip.
`` You planned a whole afternoon together. Who cares if we have to have it in the gazebo, and not in the grass?''
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[ WP ] The villain successfully converts the protagonist to their side .
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A melancholy moon looked down on the darkened city. The mighty monoliths of light scattered around the city were all dark, as if they had fallen asleep. From her vantage point in the penthouse, Nela could n't even make out the streets in the sea of darkness below. Several small fires were burning here and there. There was probably much looting going on below but the sound of the wind up here drowned out the screams and cries.
It was very peaceful up here.
Nela checked her watch again. 30 more minutes and she'd turn everything back on. 3 hours would be enough to give everyone a good taste of what they could expect if they ignored her demands.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door of the apartment bursting open. A tall figure ran inside and in a winded but soft voice said, `` You're under arrest, Nela Amsel.''
`` For what?'' asked Nela, calm, composed. The few flickering candles scattered around the room did n't reveal the face of her unexpected guest, but it was clear that the intruder was a woman and had a gun.
`` For disabling all the electronics in the city like you threatened you would.'' The woman, probably a detective, meant business.
`` Really?'' Nela smiled. `` How did I do that? I mean, is that even possible? And before you answer that, I got ta know- did you walk up a hundred flights of stairs? That is seriously impressive.''
`` I do what my job demands of me. Now put your hands up or I'll shoot.''
Without hesitation, Nela obliged. `` Okay, okay, do n't shoot. My hands are up. Where's your backup?''
For the first time, the detective hesitated. She slightly lowered her gun and moved closer to the light. Most of her features were still hidden but her sharp nose and shoulder length hair were now apparent. She said nothing.
`` Let me guess,'' Nela continued, `` there's no backup. You came here alone, did n't you?''
`` That's none of your business. I'm here to arrest you. What you're doing is costing innocent people their lives.''
`` I think you're exaggerating. Some looting maybe, but I doubt there will be many deaths.''
`` One death is too many.''
`` Well, in that case, blame the mayor. He should've taken those threats seriously. Tell me, do you think the demands made by - let's say,'The Mastermind', that name has a good ring to it - were evil? Do you think the mayor was right in only making the threat public but hiding the full demands?''
Silence emanated from the stranger.
`` What do you say?'' continued Nela. `` Do n't you think it's about time someone else should take a go at running this joint? This city has been plagued by greed an corruption for far too long. It's time for change.''
`` That's not for you to decide,'' the detective replied, but without much conviction.
`` I think it is,'' replied Nela. `` Could you please put away your gun? I hate looking at them in the middle of a conversation.''
The colt suddenly started glowing red and the detective threw it down with a yelp. On the floor, the gun slowly melted into a puddle of metal. There were some faint sounds of the bullets going off but it seemed to be coming from very far away.
`` Now that I have your attention, what's your name? I'm assuming you're a police detective.''
Eyes still fixed on the bubbling pile of metal, the woman said, `` Sergeant Joan Moss, fifth precinct.''
`` Okay Joan, enough with the games. What you're staring at is only a tiny fraction of what I'm capable of. I can turn this city into a magical place, where people are happy, content, where there's no crime, no injustice, no wrongful deaths, no politics and no scarcity. But I need something to do that. I need faith. I need everyone to swear their allegiance to me. Do you think that's too much of a price to pay for a utopia?''
`` What guarantee do we have that you wo n't abuse your powers?''
`` None,'' said Nela. Then she looked at her watch again. `` Oh my, look what time it is!'' shed said and snapped her fingers.
In an instant, the city was bathed in light as everything started working again. Teetering teenagers once again had access to snapchat, catatonic commuters could suddenly start their cars again and loutish looters found themselves surrounded by cops and angry shop owners.
Light flooded in the penthouse of Triumph Towers as well and Joan shielded her dilated pupils from the sudden radiance. Finally, Nela had a chance to properly examine her gallant guest. Darkness had never been a problem for her, but recently she had been trying to keep her senses as human as possible.
Joan Moss was in her early thirties and had a surprisingly angular face. Her chestnut hair fell on her shoulders and she was dressed in plain clothes- well, except for the badge on her belt which was clearly visible.
`` So, you can do magic?'' said Joan after her eyes had adjusted to the light.
Nela laughed. `` My dear, what I do is nothing close to what you mean by'magic', but I suppose you can call it that, if you want.''
`` What else can you do?''
Nela closed her eyes and probed Joan's memories. In less than a second, she had found something she could use. She opened her eyes again.
`` Evan Goodwin,'' she said.
Joan's face tensed visibly. `` He's the guy-''
`` -who killed your partner. Yes. I can take you to him, if you want.''
`` What do I have to do in return?''
`` Help me make this city a better place.''
`` By making you the Queen, or something?'' Joan scoffed. `` Look, Nela. If you want to help people, why not just help them from here? You could be a cop and help catch all the bad guys.''
`` You're right, I could. But who will catch the bad cops, the bad councilmen and the bad congressmen? Who will judge the bad judges, the bad politicians, the bad government agents and the bad businessmen. Who, my friend, will tell the president what a bad boy he's been? It's all or nothing, Joan.''
Nela looked out the large glass windows and Joan followed her gaze. The luminous and cacophonous city looked back at them.
`` Everybody wants to change the world, Joan,'' Nela said, dreamily. `` So do I. The only difference is, I know I can do it. Do n't you think this city, this country, this world, deserves better?''
The silence in the room told Nela that she now had an ally. For a second, she wondered whether she should tell this brave lady the whole story. The truth about the last King, the looming advent of the Jester or the endless war humanity was about to be plunged into. But she decide against it. It was too soon.
One small step at a time.
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[ IP ] Apotlas by Mateusz Ozminski ( x-post /r/ImaginaryLandscapes )
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*Nothing is permanet. Everthying fades. * This quote was etched on every single spires in the city of Salidar.
The first rays of the sun would shine upon it everyday and would then be carefully reflected onto the cobbled roads beneath where the daily workers trudged up to their chores. The shops were just opening and soon the cries of the shopkeepers would be heard everwhere. It was said that the din in the market could be heard even in the Grand Palace. But no sound within the city could drown out the incessant guttural hum that reveberated through every nook and cranny of the city. This was Apotlas, the gigantic beast that bore the city of Salidar. Ever since the dawn of time, Salidar has perched atop him. He was their guardian, safely navigating them through the Great Wild, never once tarrying, never once hurrying. Thousands of philosophers, poets and writers had dedicated their lives to find reason in his actions. None succeded. The emperors adorned him with gold, built shrines for him and the common people asked for his blessings in times of need. But eventually, the people got bored. The priests dwindled in number and the people created other gods to ask for blessings until eventually, Apotlas was as insignificant as the sky overhead. An inexplicable entity that people took for granted. And so it continued, until today.
It was Gareth who first noticed that something was awry. There was a stillness in the air that he had never experienced before. A silence that screamed out dread. It was then that he realized it. Apotlas had stopped. The constant hum that he made had vanished with wind. And just like that, silence fell on the city. Every man and woman held their breath to see what he would do next. Could it be that their guardian had grown weary of their burden and decided to abandon them? Or could it be that he sensed a great peril and was readying for combat? Suddenly, they heard a great gushing noise as if the god of rain himself had dropped upon them. It deafend the ears of the old. Children screamed and tried to block it with their hands. But it went on and on; for over two cycles of the sun it continued and then, it stopped. Apotlas shook his legs once and continued his monotonous stride. It seemed that even Apotlas needs to take a piss every once in a while.
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[ WP ] You wake up one night unable to sleep and decide to surf reddit . As you open the front page , every post is the same : nuclear weapons have been deployed in the middle east . Before you can react , your phone starts exploding with text messages . Then you hear the air raid sirens .
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It was another late night. I had been on the weird side of YouTube all night, again. God, this has to be the fourth night in a row. I think it's time to go on Reddit. Maybe find a nice porn video on the hub. I'm not sure. Whatever suits my fancy. I pulled up Reddit. Seriously every single fucking post is referring to this Middle East nuke deployment.
*Ding* *Ding* *D-D-D-D-ing*
I got up to look at all the notifications I was getting.
`` Hey Lyle, I've wanted to tell u that I've been in love with u since we 1st met. `` -Diana
`` Bruh, ima miss u man'' -Andre
`` Babe, please tell me this is fake. I do n't want to lose you at all. `` -Jessica
I was still reading countless texts and news reports when the sirens when off. Did n't know we still had those to be honest. My parents ran in my room with a bag full of clothes and tears in their eyes.
`` Hey Lyle, we got ta go!'' My dad said impatiently.
`` Where dad?'' I asked with a defeated look on my face.
`` It does n't matter, we just got ta go somewhere else. I'm not dying in this shitty place.'' My mom said.
`` Hey mommy, daddy, what's happening?'' My brother asked while rubbing his eyes.
`` Oh, Joey baby, come here. We have to go, now.'' My mom said to my brother.
I got a call from Trey.
`` Hey Lyle, my parents built a nuclear bunker in case something like this happened. So you can bring your family and even Jess's family. I do n't care man. I love you like a brother man, do n't want to see you go.'' Trey said with a high note of panic.
`` Thanks man.'' I said back.
`` Mom, dad. I have a place we can go to.'' I said.
`` Well shit, let's get going.'' My dad said.
We went outside, chaos ensued. Neighbors were looting other neighbors, guns were being fired, military were on there way in to the neighborhood. We got in the Jeep.
`` Where to?'' My dad asked.
`` Jessica's place, then to Trey's.'' I responded.
`` Why?'' My dad barked at me.
`` Well Trey has a bunker at his place and said I could bring Jess.'' I said.
`` No no, we go straight to Trey's.'' My mom said.
`` No way, are you kidding?'' I screamed.
`` Look she's a great girl, but it's a life or death situation right now.'' My mom said.
`` Then I'll go get her and her family.'' I said.
`` No fucking way Lyle! Are you crazy?'' My dad yelled.
I just got out of the car and got into my car. My dad started to cry, something I had n't seen him do in years. My mom could n't look at me, she was disgusted and sad that her son would pick another girl over his own life. I started toward Jessica's house. She was close, it was Trey's that was the lengthy trip. It was at least 2 miles from Jessica's. It was a risk that was worth it. I ran into two military blockades, but I just ignored and went past them. I was ready to get Jessica safe. I got to her house pretty quickly.
`` Jessica get your shit together, Trey has a shelter we can hide in!'' I said to her at her front door.
`` I got it, mama, papa let's go.'' Jessica said.
We piled into my tiny Honda. I floored it all the way to Trey's. I narrowly avoided three military roadblocks. I was determined in my quest to get Jessica to safety. We made it to Trey's. A plane passed over telling everyone the first strike was to occur soon. I knocked on the door, there was no answer. I knocked again, no answer. I broke the door down by kicking into it. Trey was standing close to the door.
`` Oh, thank god.'' He said with tears welling up in his eyes.
We were unloading, and I saw a faint dot speeding toward the ground. It was the first strike.
`` Stop unloading, get into the bunker, NOW!'' I yelled.
`` Yeah let's go, now!'' Trey yelled.
Everyone ran to the bunker. Me and Trey stayed outside to assist the families into the bunker. I heard a huge explosion. I looked behind. A huge mushroom cloud appeared. I pushed Trey into the bunker.
`` NO, LYLE NO!'' Trey yelled.
`` LYLE PLEASE, WE CAN FIT YOU!'' Jessica screamed.
I closed the door and shut it tight. I got on my knees and prayed.
`` Dear heavenly father, please hear my plea. I want to gain en-''
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[ WP ] The Grim Reaper ( Also Known As Death ) Is Not As Evil As People Think He Is .
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I awoke after the car wreck, still wrapped up in the steel wreckage. A small trail of smoke emanated from the engine compartment, pushing the airbag out of my face I crawled from the car. A man in a black suit leaned against my vehicle as he struck a light. `` Morning,'' his raspy voice said. Standing dumbfounded, I asked what happened. He let out a chuckle. `` Does n't matter much now, does it,'' I grimaced. Why did n't he help me. `` Just gon na stand there?'' I asked. He shrugged his shoulders as he let put perfect smoke rings. Years of training perfected his art. I could hear a distant siren coming, wailing through the night. A jet black Audi sat adjacent to my busted car that was wrapped around the pole. Again, I asked him what his deal was. Smiling, `` My deal? My my, how times have changed. I'll give you a ride, why do n't you hop in my car,'' he said. Eyeing his watch. `` I dont think so, the police are coming. I ca n't just leave,'' checking myself for injuries, I peeled away my bloodied shirt. Unable to find any wounds. Again the stranger, disinterested in my condition, flicked his cigarette and thumbed for his Zippo. Striking up again as he began to meander to his car. An ambulance pulled up, I went to wave them down. Two men ran right past me as they hopped from their cab, bright red and green light illuminated my torn car. They inspected my driver seat for several seconds before slowly walking back to the ambulance. I stood in disbelief, as they just ignored me. The stranger opened his car door, leaning against his hood with crossed arms. `` Mark, it's time to go,'' he said.
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[ WP ] During the filming of a horror movie , the actors accidentally summon a real demon .
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Finally satisfied with his set lighting, the Director sat back in his chair and accepted a cup of coffee from an assistant. He watched his actors take their places and soon realized he was missing a key player. Thus, the third cup of coffee smashed to the ground without a sip taken. β God dammit, has anyone seen Annabelle?! β He looked around, but no one was willing to look the man directly in his purple, angry face, for fear they would be caught up in his rage.
Jim wasn β t really listening. He sat with the other two actors in their unfinished circle and practiced his line. β You β ve never heard of the hot potato? *You β ve* never heard of the hot potato? You β ve never heardβ¦ of the *hot potato*? β
β Dude, enough, you β ve got it, β the actress to his right sounded agitated. She sat cross-legged and rubbed her hands anxiously as they waited. The actor to her right sat perfectly still with his eyes closed. It was hard to tell whether he was sleeping or not in the dimly lit β basement β.
β I β m here! β Annabelle announced sunnily as though she had n't delayed a hundred people.
The Director let out a loud, exasperated sigh and rubbed his temples as he watched his star take her place. β Okay, here we go, and ACTION! β
The sleeping actor didn β t hesitate to begin the scene. β Did you hear that? β he asked the other players with a hint of deviousness. β Stop it, β Annabelle said meekly. β You β re scaring me. β Someone hit the thick sheet metal to create a thunderous sound as she said this. The actors screamed as the lights flickered for a moment. They looked at each other, β terrified β.
β You β ve *never* heard of THE hot potato? β Jim asked the group.
β CUT! β the Director shouted. Without anything to throw, he grabbed the coffee mug from his assistant β s hands and threw it to the ground. β Let β s take five, β he mumbled as he left the soundstage.
β Really, Jim. *Really*? β Annabelle berated the actor. β You say that *after* I ask what that was. You have ONE line! Henrik doesn β t even speak English, and he got his line right! β
β Hmm? β Henrik looked blankly in her direction after hearing his name.
β Nothing, β Annabelle waved him off. β Go back to sleep. β Henrik shrugged and closed his eyes.
β I β m sorry, β Jim told her sincerely. β I β ll get it right this time, I promise. β
β Yes, you will, β Nina, the anxious actress, told him as she sprinkled sand on his head.
Jim pulled back quickly and rubbed the sand out of his hair. β What the...? What are you doing?! β
β The horseshoe crab is my spirit animal, β she told him calmly as she wiped the excess sand from her palm. β I β m asking it to guide you so I β m not here until 3 am again. β
β Too late, β Annabelle corrected her as she pointed to a clock on the wall. Nina looked over her shoulder to see, but the clock was obscured from her line of vision by a motionless black crow. Nina shivered.
β Are you cold? β Jim asked, preparing to offer her his jacket.
β Uh, no, β Nina replied disdainfully. β It β s like 95Λ in here. β After a moment of reflection, she decided, β It must be my inner horseshoe crab responding to the presence of a predator. β
As she said this, the crow turned its neck only and faced the group. β SQUAWK! β The sound of the bird startled Henrik from his repose. β SQUAWK! β The bird swooped above the actors, just missing Jim β s head as it landed in the Director β s chair. With a puff of black smoke, the crow was replaced by a tall, thin man with dark hair, a black beard, and a long pointed nose. His black eyes moved from actor to actor, and as he walked slowly towards them they instinctively huddled together. With each step, a heavy wooden staff struck the concrete floor and echoed throughout the building.
β Alright, let β s get this over with! β the Director yelled as he returned. When he noticed the stranger, he added, β Hey, get off my set! β The Director abruptly disappeared into thin air. The man continued to approach the group as he mimicked, β Yessssss, let β s get this over with, shall we? β
β Whoβ¦ are you? β Nina stammered bravely.
β Me? β the man feigned innocence as he closed in on Jim. He seemed to look through the actor as he answered, β I β m what you might call a demon. I am the *Haught Barbatos* β.
Instead of quivering horror, Jim surprised the incubus by breathing a sigh of relief. β So, I β ve been saying it wrong. β
Barbatos scratched his beard and seemed puzzled. β What? No, I β m the Haught Barbatos. You know, the Duke of Hell, β the demon gave him a sinister glare. When the group did not react with the terror he expected, the evil one continued, β Maybe you know me as the Earl of Purgatory? I rule thirty legions of demons? β
β Okay, I get it now, β Jim said fearlessly and with new energy. β I β ll definitely get it right this time, β the actor assured the rest of the group. He cleared his throat and began, β You β ve never heard of the Haught Barbatos? *You β ve* never *heard* of THE Haught Barbatos? β
Annabelle stood and irritatedly announced, β I β ll be in my trailer. β
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[ CW ] Write the most descriptive story you can with only one syllable words .
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Cold slips through the door to fall by my still form. It creeps to my leg, my chest, my neck, and slides its hands up my face. I do not move. It digs through my skin, and warmth flees its touch with the stream of blood that flows from my skull. The blood pools on the stone floor like a red crown for my head. The crown grows. By the light of a torch, a sheen of gold is cast on it and it shines as though jewels crest my brow.
This was not the crown I sought.
The cold sinks in deep. The light that lies on my blood fades in my sight, and dark spreads its shroud on the hall. The wind keens. I hear its voice, faint now, cry through the door I'd come in. It holds the screams of my men and my foes, and the crack of wood on bone. It sings like a hymn in my hall, the ghost of the sound that came with my crown.
This was not the song I wrote.
Cold sets its hands on my heart. My crown grows no more, and the wind's dirge dies in my ears. No one sees. No one hears.
This was not the end I'd seen.
But it is mine.
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[ WP ] A grandmother , currently raising up to three grandchildren , discovers an emaciated toddler asleep on her doorstep .
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The soft thud on the front steps was what alerted her to the child being left. She had, luckily, been standing in the front room. Who knows how long the poor child would have been out there if she had not been. Snow had been steadily falling for hours now, and the child was much too weak to lift his head, let alone move himself from under the falling snow.
Nothing had been in the basket except for a note. β I β m sorry, I couldn β t do it anymore. β An overwhelmed mother, she supposed. She and her grandchildren did live at the edge of one of the poorest towns in the country, whose residents were filled with suspicion of what might lay outside their swampy land. Her own daughter had fallen prey to what lay outside the borders of the town, and she was raising the grandchildren left behind.
She knew what to do. She phoned the police and told them of the situation, who couldn β t reach her immediately due to the snow on the roads, but who knew her personally and trusted her to handle the situation. She had experience with these things. She smiled, and lifted the child, who opened his wide black eyes at that moment. Fear filled his face. His chubby cheeks, the only non-skeletal part of him, began to quiver, and he opened his mouth to let out a weak wail.
β Shhhhhh, β she said, β none of that now. You are safe. β She clutched him closer and rocked him as she had rocked her youngest grandchild, letting the whimpers subside. The soft pat pat pat of feet alerted her to her oldest grandchild β s presence. The girl had been woken from a deep sleep, that much was obvious. Her wild curls framed a face with dark circles much too old for her cherubic face. She heeded her grandmother β s warning of a finger held to lips, and silently came closer, peering cautiously into the face of the emaciated toddler in her grandmother β s arms.
β Build up the fire, won β t you dear, β she whispered to the young girl, who promptly nodded and grabbed the poker from beside the fireplace. She looked solemnly back at her grandmother, and waited for further instructions, running a hand slowly through her wild hair.
β We haven β t had an abandonment in quite a few years. β She said softly, looking down with a slight frown at the child staring up at her with wide eyes. She looked back up at her granddaughter, who still stood silently by the fire. β Boil some water for me over the fire, you know how. β Her granddaughter nodded and padded to the kitchen, returning after a few minutes with water placed in two empty eggshells and a pair of thongs. She used the tongs to hold one of the eggshells above the fire, staring into the flames in deep contemplation. Her grandmother held her breath and waited, staring at the back of her granddaughter β s head before risking a glance down at the child in her arms.
The child was staring, captivated by the granddaughter β s actions, eyes shining and brow wrinkled in confusion. The grandmother reminded herself to breath, but stopped once again once a small voice came from her arms, saying:
β Now I β m as old as these here swamps, and I β ve never seen water boiled in eggshells! β
As soon as the words were uttered, the granddaughter dropped the eggshell into the fire and stepped back, covering her eyes as her grandmother lurched forward, dropping the squirming thing into the fire. The screeching wail that followed was a horrible, inhuman sound, but it was all too familiar.
β Changelings, β her grandmother said. β A rotten lot. β
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[ IP ] Outpost
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I pulled my gloves on. The lift, in all its age and misery, rattled its way up from our insulated underground refuge. It did n't take long for the cold to insinuate itself within my uniform. I stifled a shiver as I watched my breath form clouds of frost. Beside me my corporal shifted his weight from food to foot. I narrowed my eyes.
`` Lowry.'' My words cut quickly above the noise of the elevator.
`` Sorry Ma'am, it's just,'' he shivered, his hands tucking underneath his armpits, `` nerves. You know. The cold does n't help much either.''
I nodded. His nose was red already, his eyes watering beneath his furry cap. I still did n't know what the officials were thinking when they ordered the fresh uniforms, but they had n't experienced a winter in Hell before. I was lucky the engineers had designed our outpost with the climate in mind. It was a testament to their abilities that the sudden drop in temperature was so extreme as we rose to the landing bay.
`` We ca n't help it Mr. Lowry,'' I stared forward at the door and its dull scratched metal surface. I refused to let the anxiety in my gut weaken the resolve in my heart. Unbeknownst to the men here, I was dreading the visit as much as they were. Perhaps more so, they'd only heard the rumors. `` If we're ever to get to the root of this nasty affair we need outside help. As much as I, or any other man on this base cares to admit, it's gotten quite beyond our control.''
The lift surged to a stop. I rocked on my feet, swaying just the slightest bit to maintain my position. Lowry did the same. If it was n't for the weather and our impending company I'd have smiled at how well adjusted we were to life in this outpost. I would n't have thought it possible at first, but it just went to show how adaptable our species really was. With the faded ding of arrival, the doors eased open, a frigid gust causing my subordinate to shrink back and squint his eyes.
`` Have courage Mr. Lowry.'' I muttered to him, as I stepped out onto the platform. The residual orange blood of light painted a deadly illusion of warmth on the barren white landscape around us. `` With any luck, this will be behind us soon.''
`` Commander,'' he nodded touching his cap before the doors closed once more, returning to deep below the surface.
I faced the dying sun, alone on the landing pad. It was lingering, half hidden by the black fangs of jutting mountain peaks. Slowly I walked to the edge of the dock to look observe the territory around me. There was still no hint of the convoy or its inhabitants yet. My lip curled at the very thought of strangers stepping foot on our base. I was already on edge at the thought of their meddling questions and prying eyes. I shivered, but not from the cold. Mustering up a scrap of moisture I spat down the dizzying drop. I did n't bother to count how long it took to freeze. I knew too well.
`` Behind us soon, my ass.'' I spoke to the rocks and their glacial blankets. I'd only said that to inspire the men. I could n't let them know how bad it really was, or how much worse it would get. Their lives depended on my strength. I'd sacrifice even my pride as their commander if it meant getting them home safe.
I turned on one solid booted foot, gritting my teeth as I headed into the shelter of the observation tower, joining the men on duty as I awaited our `` help's'' arrival.
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[ TT ] `` Remember why you left before you decide to go home . ''
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*'' Remember this! `` * A woman's voice bellowed from in front of a man. Before him this woman laid stretched across the floor. Her stomach had been ripped open, blood pooled out of her wound, and her left hand pressed against it in an effort to prevent any organs from being seen. Water pooled her eyelids and streamed down her face, snot did much the same. Droplets rolled down her chin before splashing into the crimson fluid below her. Her right hand stretched out towards the solder, her fingers barely brushing against his boots. Besides her there was another corpse. But, though it appeared human in nature, the chunks of flesh and green fluid that ran from the creature suggested he was certainly not a *normal* person. The woman though, even despite the fact her face was turning pale and her life was slowly draining out of her body still made sure to make her point clear.
`` Remember this sight, and before you go... Remember why you left here before you come back!'' She said frantically. Her eyes were wide with dilated pupils before her hand managed to grab hold of the man's boot. He took a step back, a cough escaped the woman as her hand released his boot. Her body fell to the floor and the soldier garbed in heavy clothing with a plethora of pockets fled from the bodies as fast as he could.
Her words echoed in his mind as he found himself traveling across the world. The woman was his sister. She had been expecting a child when the disease had sunk it's teeth into the small poverty ridden town of Quintel. His emerald gaze narrowed onto a piece of paper that he had scribbled down his sister's final words. After all, it was for that which fueled his quest for a cure. Where he could not save his family, perhaps he could save others who got infected with the Green Muck. It had been spreading since he left. The disease had taken over a hundred lives, and it was continuing to conquer the continent it started on.
His hands reached up and pressed a button on his suit that caused his helmet to collapse into his armor. He tightened his grip on the slip of vellum before using his free hand to pull his long ponytail out of his armor. At his side was a revolver and a case for bullets. However, as he flipped the lid on the container open he discovered that he was beginning to run out of ammo. He reached into a breast pocket of his armor and withdrew a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. Lighting the tip he placed it in his lips and took a long drag off the white tobacco stick.
Sure, smoking in the middle of the desert was n't the smartest idea. Nor was taking off the helmet and allowing the heat to penetrate the air conditioned attire he was sporting. However, the desire for his addiction overwhelmed his intelligence at times. He continued to take heavy steps across the sandy dunes. Tendrils of smoke exited his nose before he took another deep breath on the cigarette. Then, suddenly, with an clumsy step he heard a strange *click*. Pursing his lips around the cigarette, he grabbed his gun and fired off a shot at the source of the sound. This was a nervous habit to make sure that it was not a grenade of some sort. However, all that caused was a light buzzing noise followed by a flicker of a spark.
The ground rumbled behind him. He spun on his heel and took another step back ( though he was careful to avoid whatever had made a noise at him ). Then, erupting from the ground came a giant grey structure that he was impressed had managed to hide beneath the golden soil. What he found instead was a castle. His eyes were wide as he dropped his gun in complete awe. With his disbelief of what he was seeing, he hardly noticed the ground continuing to rumble. In fact, he did n't realize until the building had another section that rose out from beneath him. It stretched upwards until it seemed to stop a bit taller than the castle that appeared first.
Walking over towards the edge of the platform, he looked down to what he had witnessed. His mouth opened, the cigarette dropping from his lips as he stumbled backwards again. The cogs of his brain turned as he tried to process what exactly he had found. He had never once heard of a castle or kingdom that submersed itself in the hills of sand. The most he had heard was rumors of a desert madness that caused people to hallucinate things they had wanted to see. A part of him felt that perhaps that was just what this building was too. He had sought the cure for a disease; if a castle was capable of disappearing off the surface of the world... Then, it was not a stretch to believe they could remedy such disease, right? He shook his head, if that were the case he doubted that his imagination would cause the earth to tremble and cause a building to climb from below him.
Suddenly a peculiar noise caught his attention and his emerald gaze was turned upwards. The hot sun continued to beat down on him causing beads of sweat to form on his forehead. But, what stood out to him the most was the fact there was a little person who was falling from the sky. On his back it looked that he had some sort of pack, and as he fell it seemed that puffs of smoke erupted from it. The man seemed to manage to maneuver the sky with ease as he landed behind the soldier.
`` State your purpose.'' The jet-packed man demanded as he withdrew a gun and pointed to the revolver wielder. His hand reached for his weapon, but he had forgotten he had abandoned it on the ground below.
`` I am searching for a cure from the Green Muck.'' The long-haired man stated as he lifted his hands with his palms facing the stranger.
`` The only cure for that is death.'' He explained before pulling the trigger on his pistol.
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[ WP ] It has been five hours since a pharmaceutical company announced a drug that completely suppresses the symptoms of gender identity disorder .
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My friend has had a problem for quite a while, always identifying as a girl although he was a male, this was n't a problem for him so much as it was for the people around him. He was happy, this however didnt stop his parents from getting involved. Its been about two years since the drug was approved fof use. He came home one day to find his family waiting for him, he was wearing an adorable skirt at the time, and the school had called, he had unknowingly flaunting his buldge. His parents forced him to take this pill, it upset him they would do this, but he didnt have a choice, it was this or be homeless. I remember when he first came to my house dressed really masculine and he no longer had that sweet, innocent, nice personality, it was replaced by a pompous arrogant, alpha make additude. He had turned into an asshole.
I tried to show him a pill does n't determine who you are, and so to demonstrate my point, I took a pill. Suddenly I realized I was actually female....this makes alot of sense.
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[ WP ] Suddenly the entire world hears : `` IT 'S FRANK ! NOT GOD , NOT ALLAH , NOT BUDDAH , F'ING FRANK ! Stop your damn whining and complaining and killing eachother and actually take responsibility for your own actions ! For crying out loud .
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Frank rolled out of bed groggy and hung over. He had n't partied this hard for a couple weeks. Last time he woke up like this, Earth ended up in the dark ages. `` Ugh, my head, `` he slurred as he reached for his glasses in the darkness. Frank smushed them against his face and stumbled to open the drapes.
Seeing its past middday, he becomes irked. `` Shit, what time is it? What the hell was I up to last night?'' he moaned as he stepped onto a bag of cheetos. Looking down, he grabs a few to munch on and walks over to his nightstand to roll a fresh one.
Taking a smoke, he muses to himself, `` This is only a short term gig. Dad's making me babysit Earth. Complete bullshit but this is what I get for screwing around with Orion last month in his den.''
Frank figures its due time to check in on how Earth is doing. It's been a while since the dark ages, they ca n't have fucked it up any harder.
Booting up the computer and seeing `` Election 2016'', `` Cubs win the World Series'' and `` Climate change deniers'', scroll through his feed, he jumps. `` Da Fuc! Do n't these fools learn anything? I leave for one night and shit just rolls downhill again! Ca n't these clowns figure this shit out on their own?''
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[ WP ] You can live the last 30 minutes of memories from the dead . You can also give those memories to others . You occasionally work as a free lance consultant for the police .
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`` Does n't this take a toll on you?''
`` What do you think?''
`` I do n't know. You seem like a balanced, well adjusted individual.''
`` Of course it does. I am reliving the last moments of deeply tortured people. Both literally and figuratively. Suicides, murders. And it's not always successful.''
`` What do you mean?''
`` I have a very limited time frame. I can live the last moments of someone that slowly kills themselves with pills, or by cutting. The blood tickling and all that, but it does n't mean I know the whys. The circumstances that lead there.''
`` But it's very useful for murders. I read a lot about you in the news.''
`` Sure, but those are the successful cases. What most do n't know is that there are plenty left unresolved. The victim did n't see the killer. Or they did, but did n't knew who they were. After I come back I work with a sketch artist. But knowing how they look is not enough.''
`` So how did all of this affected you?''
`` It's a heavy burden.''
`` Many say you have been blessed with a gift.''
`` I do n't see it that way. But it's my responsability. To tell you a secret, I thought about killing myself. I have PTSD, depression, anxiety, and I ca n't medicate because it would interfere with the *gift*. But it does a lot of good and I ca n't rob people of that. As long as I think I'll be able to help, I'll be here.''
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-170
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[ IP ] `` Your coat , sir ? ''
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`` Your coat, sir?''
I looked at the creature nervously, but not because of fright. If anything, the creature was a calming presence, her voice soothing over my nerves of what I was about to do. From what the informants been telling me the past weeks leading up to the mission, the creature was very gentle, and liked to be formal. I cleared my throat, and hoped that she would n't notice that my voice sounded more like a girl's than whoever the name of this boy's coat I stole belonged to.
I pulled the hood farther over my eyes, and looked at her.
`` Uhh, no, no. That's ok. I'm a bit cold, so I'll just keep this on and go my way.'' I made my voice as low as it could go, but it came out sounding like a sick ten year old boy, not the teen boy voice I was aiming for.
The creature brought her face closer to mine. trying to examine it, but I looked away and pulled my hood even farther.
`` Drew? ``, she questioned. Ah, so that was the name of the owner of this cloak.
She reached one of her hands towards me, but I shrank back.
`` What is the matter Drew, are you sick? Did your date not go well?''
Not having much else to go on, I went with it, saying,
`` Actually, uh, no, it did not. It went horribly. She never showed up. And um, yes, I am sick. Now if you excuse me, I, Drew, a guy, the person of this cloak, will go to my room and cry alone for a while now. Please leave me alone. Uh, thank you..'' Before the creature said anything else, I pulled the book in my arms next to my face, and scurried deeper into the castle.
As I ran to the council room, my fairy came out of the hood and whispered angrily as I ran.
`` Really?'I, Drew, a guy, the person of this cloak?' Who even says that! You do n't even say that. Nice job Mel, you almost cost us the mission.'' As I ran, I swatted it away, missing.
`` Shut up. She bought it, did n't she? She did n't think I was a girl. Look, we just need to sneak into that council room, take notes and leave. Easy peasy.''
The fairy said nothing, looking at the number of the doors we past through.
`` We need this mission to go well, Mel. This mission could help could end the war. I still do n't know why they are sending you here for your first mission. Its stupid.''
`` Because I was the only one who could do it. What, are they gon na believe that Winston was a teenage apprentice? The man is eighty and has a grey beard!''
We finally saw the two huge wooden doors of the council room. I opened it and my fairy flew back in my hood, muttering `` Stupid. Just stupid.''
I blended in with the other apprentices wearing the same coat I wore. They did n't give me a second glance, and I sigh with relief. Now all I had to do was wait.
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[ WP ] The human fight or flight response is determined by a 50/50 chance mental coin toss .
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The bear stood on it's hind legs, blocking out the Sun and growled at him. He looked up at the bear, squinting to see it's sharp teeth and razor like claws. Immediately he raised two fists in the air and began bouncing, imitating the boxers he'd seen in movies. `` Well come on then slow poke,'' he shouted, `` are ya gon na hit me or not!?'' The bear swooped his giant paw down, picking up earth and only narrowly missing him. The air was filled with the sound of ecstatic laughter. He was all adrenaline now. `` Is that all you've got!''
When a passerby heard what was happening she ran to the man, trying to save him from the bear. `` We have to go now, run for Christ's sake!''
Startled by the interruption he looked at her lovely round face, framed by blonde curls. He ran away as far and as fast as he could, leaving her to deal with the bear. A blonde in the woods? That was close.
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[ PI ] The King 's Visit - FirstChapter - 2582 Words
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The King's Visit by /u/cheeserox3
+ Adrian is a proactive character, which is nice, especially so early on, even though he never seems to have a plan. A lot of passivity going around here lately.
+ Having to hide from the King does n't seem like the end of the world, so in a way that's more intriguing than your standard attacking monsters or whatever.
- The opening paragraph does n't grab. Does n't really do anything. Better to start with the King's message. That's where the plot begins. Or with Adrian confronting his father.
- A lot of superfluous detail about objects and room layouts. Unless it matters to the story or is actually distinct, leave it out.
- Nothing much actually happens here, so it's difficult to judge the story's potential on its own merits.
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[ WP ] You 're a well-known healer . Adventurers from miles away seek you out . But you do n't actually heal .
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As I wrap up pouches of herbs, swiping a gentle strand of hair away from my face, from the corner of my eye I see a stocky man holding a staff in his left hand.
I grunt, turn my head away from the pouches of herbs, then ask `` What is your problem? Make it quick, I'm busy.''
The man hesitates for a moment but then replies.
`` You thought you could lie to me, did n't ya? You cast some'voo doo' spell on me which never worked to fix my flu!''
I walk over to the other side of the room, towards a shelf holding bottles of herbal pills. I grasp one, covering the label with my hands.
`` I had run out of pills at that time and did n't want to disappoint you. Take two of these.''
I pass him two pills, and put the bottle back on the shelf, the label facing the wall.
I grabbed a glass and a jug of water, passed them to him, and he swallowed the pills and left.
Little did he know that the label of the bottle read `` sleeping pills''.
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[ WP ] You just met a clone of your self , just the opposite gender . You know that the other person is your clone but your clone does n't . You are interested in him/her and want to try a relationship .
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It started with a song.
She was n't singing; I'm not a singer by trade or by skill, and my voice resembles a tumultuous roller coaster of pitch and timbre. No, she was humming to herself in that way that my mother did to me as a child, the very same way I had picked up when I felt no one was listening. That way when the song meant something not in the words in the tune they are conveyed, when the world needs its edge taken off and you lose yourself in simple melody and rythm. Such was the way she hummed.
Her hair was a darkish blonde, the color mine would have been had I spent less time alone inside and more time outside. The little skin she showed was a pleasant tan, but I knew the rest of her would be white as dawn. She was tall and slightly lanky, dull hazel eyes being set off by a slim pointy nose and a firm but not masculine jawline accenting the fullness of her cheeks. With a glance, she caught me looking and smiled with teeth that never knew braces, cavities, or neglect. Such was the way I kept myself.
I knew she had the habit of answering a question with a question. I knew she enjoyed making subtle sarcastic remarks at her superiors. I knew how she did n't get along with her family, had few friends, and spent most of her time working or posting on reddit. I knew she dreamed of changing the world. Such was the very thing I dreamed of.
So I did the only thing I could have.
I fell in love.
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[ WP ] An immortal who does n't know they 're immortal yet tries to commit suicide .
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The reasons behind it⦠ah, I forget them now. It was so long ago, so lost in the past. I was in my twenties, and something bad had happened. Lost my home, broken up with a girl, something like that. The same old story which a million souls have broken and died upon.
But the attempt itself I remember far more vividly. The noose, clumsily knotted and entwined, circled and circled in on itself and hung, swinging from the ceiling. I dragged a chair across the floor, listening to its blackboard-scratch on the wooden floor. It seemed, somehow, poetic to me- the last sound I β d ever hear in this world was a blood-curdling scream, a perfect metaphor for humanity. Thankfully, the years have freed me from such appalling youthful pretension.
I ascended the chair, trembling slightly. I slipped my head between the knot, kissed the crucifix around my neck, and raised my eyes to heaven. And kicked.
My feet fell, my nerves shrieked in revolt as I twitched and spasmed. But I held firm. The breath left me, the blood was cut off, the light fell out of my eyes and darkness came all around. And after the darkness, oblivion. Nothingness. I had never existed, and never would again.
Until I did. Sensation, in a most unwelcome move, returned to me. I opened my eyes, expecting heaven, hell, or maybe a hospital ward- only to find myself still in the noose, not breathing but still very much alive. I twitched my fingers, and removed myself from the noose, crashing to the floor.
I checked the time. I had been there for hours. I snarled, thinking that I β d done something wrong. I tried again, and again, and again, and the final time I awoke the dawn was breaking and I was still alive.
I must have done it wrong. What did I know about hanging myself? Fury and despair intermingled, and I snapped. I went downstairs, to the bar of the inn I was staying at. I took down the β ceremonial β ( and perpetually loaded ) rifle hanging above the casks, snapped off the safety, cocked it, stuck in in my jaw and fired.
This time I awoke surrounded by people. A gunshot makes rather more noise than a swinging noose. Blood had spattered all around as I opened my eyes. I saw people run from me, screaming, as they saw me stir; I heard a priest chant Latin in terror, before succumbing to fear and fleeing himself. I moved my hand to the top of my head, and felt a gaping hole where the bullet had passed through.
But then, suddenly, I didn β t. Like ink spreading through water, new flesh spread in the air. My fingers were forced away as the head fused over, as the hole in my mouth sealed itself shut. And that was when I finally knew what my body had been trying to tell my all morning.
And that was when I knew who I was. And when I smiled.
So, child, if you want to know when my reign began, when the Age of Fire inaugurated itself, then look no further than that day in a Neapolitan inn, in 1935. The day of revelation. The day I saw the human capacity for lust and greed personified, in perfection, in my person, with all of time and space to bend to my will.
Well, what else was an immortal going to do with his now-abundant time? Megalomanic insanity seemed as good an option as any other.
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[ CW ] I 'm heading the wrong way ...
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I'm heading the wrong way
As evinced by these steps
Footprints in a parade
Just trailing the rest
Each pace more misguided
Than the one at its heel
Their future decided
By force unrevealed
Trails cut through the brush
It's clear they're well-travelled
But ahead, ca n't see much
Obscured by the ravel
I can follow the tracks
These soles placed before me
Ignoring the plain facts
As they have ignored me
Or should all paths I spurn
Breaking free of a trail
And chance they do n't turn
My travel to travail
Of fresh mud I'm fonder
But each choice is mistake
For wherever I wander
I'm heading the wrong way
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[ WP ] A serial killer goes door to door to find his victims , until he knocks on the wrong door . Another killer .
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The smell of pizza filled my car as I sat out the front of the house the was to be my next victim.
I sat trying to will myself against the bloodlust that has brought me to this point again, for the seventh time.
But I could n't help it, I had to do it, I do n't want to do it, you do want to do it.
I slammed my my palm against my head and got out of the car.
Walking towards the door with the pizzas I slammed my hand against the door
`` PIZZA!!''
The door opened.
`` Why hello there!!''
The tall man said with a smile ear to ear. He was wearing a nice suit, looked as new as yesterday.
`` Come in! Sit down, I'll just get your money for you!' his smile still cemented on his face.
I walked into the house to the sound of loud music playing, if I was n't mistaken it was Queen.
As I followed him he continued to speak
`` I've only recently started listening to Queen and find them quite motivating, there lyrics really speak to me'
Still smiling he motioned me to sit on his lounge, and with a jig in his step he walked towards the kitchen.
I looked at the room around me, next to the large stereo playing the queen hit we will rock you were bookcases full if cds, this guy must love his music.
'I quiet like this song, it really gets my blood flowing, the song is one of their best, but it is n't there best, would you like a drink?'
`` Water is fine' I replied.
He danced towards me with the water in one hand and the money in the other, still smiling. What a peculiar man.
As he changed the the song he handed me the money and water and on the lounge opposite me.
Another one bites the dust.
`` Now this is my favourite song easily their best and really is what I like to work too, did you know this song was there first big hit, it's what really got them to where they are today'
As I took a sip of my water the song lyrics echoed through his lounge.
Another one bites the dust.
As I went to reach for the gun in the back of my pants I started to feel dizzy.
Still smiling he spoke.
`` I feel as if I've been rude, I know who you are and you do n't even know who I am, I am sorry.' he handed me his business card.
Patrick Bateman.
As I started to lose sense of where I was I tried to stand, betrayed by my own feet I looked over to him, still smiling, ear to ear all I could hear was
Another one bites the dust.
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[ EU ] An 11 year old girl and her parents desperately board a Firefly vessel ( different ship , different crew ) with no destination to escape the imminent second civil war . The war begins as they are in deep space .
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`` So tell me, friend, how come you're fixing to get off the planet so sharp?''
`` It's this whole situation - I do n't know how long you spent planetside, captain Simpson, but the place was a grenade waiting to spring it's lever. I do n't particularly remember the last civil war, I was too young, and I'd rather my daughter not remember the next with a whole lot of clarity.''
`` You ai n't the only one worrying - if you had n't been paying a premium to leave on the quick time, I coulda had a dozen more passengers in my hold. Really think this place you're making for is the safest bet? Way I see it this war's like as not gon na wind up coming to anywhere you might run to sooner'r'later.''
`` Probably. But at least I can see it coming from there. Gives me some wriggle room when it starts getting twitchy.''
`` Well, ca n't say as I blame you, friend. See you keep a steady eye on my engineer by the way. He gives you or your family any trouble, let me know. He's a mean drunk after a few whiskys; stay clear of the engine bay after about noon, y'hear? Make sure your little lady knows too - she's a delight to have aboard; reminds me of my niece truth to tell; but that place ai n't no playroom and Shi-Bu ai n't the type to take a shining to little girls disturbing his stupor.''
`` I'll make sure to have a talk with her, thank you, captain. Anything else I should know?''
`` Well, normally I'd do a speech letting you know we're not the most, ah, official of traders, but from the little I hear of your past am gon na go right ahead and presume you knew the kind of crew you were picking up with, right?''
`` That would be a safe presumption, yes.''
`` Okay, then you know none of my crew are exactly saints. We're sinners through to the core. But they're good people by and by. Your daughter's safe on my ship, you have my word on that much. I do n't hold with anyone of that persuasion. Having said that, stick close to your wife unless me or Gregory - my number 2 - is within hollering distance. One or two have n't got quite the same respect for the sanctity of marriage if you comprehend my, ah, meaning.''
`` She can handle herself, not to worry, she's not as much of a wallflower as she first seems. But I'll pass it on, thanks.''
`` Other'n that it's like I said in the bazaar - you work your keep as we go. I expect you to treat my crew as well as your high society patients, and your wife can help my pilot, Kara, work out why we're flying with a permanent spin since she's got some kind of engineering background. Your daughter I'll expect to stay out of the way and stand her turn in the galley and with a mop and bucket. My crew will leave you be if you leave them be between meals, and the shuttle you're renting has a pass code to access it so your things ought to be safe enough. Questions?''
`` No, we're much obliged. I'd best check out your medical bay I suppose since you're heading that way...''
Their voices faded away as they left the hold, and Layla ventured out from her hideaway behind a cargo container. She dusted herself down and considered what she had just overheard. So she'd likely get in trouble if she went in the engine bay, wherever that was, which limited her options for places to explore. She suddenly smiled; her dad and the fat captain had never said that the cockpit was off limits. She could even claim she went to look for her mother! She grinned even more, and sprang off up the metal stairs with no idea where she was going, but a whole spaceship to explore!
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Tbc if folk like it so far: )
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[ OT ] [ META ] Personally , I 'd like to see less specific prompts , and more open ended , creative prompts .
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I agree. I am baffled by the popularity of prompts that contain an entire ( usually cliched ) plot, including a twist, in the title. Maybe other people enjoy writing for prompts like that, but to me it feels like homework. Like someone came up with a story idea, ca n't be bothered writing it themselves, so wants other people to do it for them. No thanks.
Yet these are the sorts of prompts that seem to always get the most upvotes and attention on this sub, perhaps because titles like that grab attention more easily than those which are intentionally ambiguous. People have complained about this before, of course, and the usual answer is to downvote them and to submit your own, better, prompts, but it feels like fighting the tide at this point. Clearly these kinds of prompts are what the majority want, but I feel it harms the usefulness of this sub as source of inspiration. It's depressing to wade through countless bad prompts to find one that is n't a prescriptive, coloring-in exercise.
I do n't know what the answer is. Maybe a new sub that explicitly forbids overly prescriptive prompts?
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[ IP ] Alien Fireflies
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From inside the E.T. Chorus, Klaur looked out of the darkened window onto the alien planet they had been sent to in a special observation unit. It was a mysterious planet with strange, twisted large trees growing on its surface, all sides of the sphere lit by either its sun or its extremely reflective red moon.
Floating between the twisted trees, and the reason they had been sent to Natas, were the alien creatures. The first complex life ever encountered outside of the Solar system. They floated through the air, the high oxygen levels helping them. With one distinguishing feature. A strange organ on their back which was lit up when the light came from the red moon.
Due to their resemblance the people back home have started calling these creatures the Alien fireflies. That is why they had named their observation unit the Chorus, after a fictional firefly. Shaped like the creatures they were assigned to observe, the unit was an incredible feat of engineering. It required many systems to work properly in the atmosphere of Natas and extra machines for creating a breathable atmosphere inside.
Walking back into his science lab Klaur checked if all the cameras were properly tracking one of these fireflies. Turning around towards the sound of the opening door a smile grew on his face. Another scientist he fancied had entered. Before he could greet her, she said, β Klaur, quickly. You need to be on the bridge to witness the two fireflies fighting. It is the first interaction we have seen! β
With her announcement over she ran off, presumably to the bridge, before Klaur could ask for clarification. Securing his equipment before leaving Klaur wondered what the first interaction they were observing was like. Walking quickly Klaur reached the bridge, the rest of the crew already present.
Entering they greeted him, telling him about the amazing fight the two fireflies were having. Staring at the screen Klaur witnessed the larger of the two hitting the smaller firefly in its special organ. Upon the hit a flash of light appeared, nearly blinding them all, only prevented by the computer systems automatically adjusting the light its intensity.
β So what now, β Klaur asked of the captain.
Turning around the captain opened his mouth to answer, interrupted by a shockwave hitting the observation unit. β What was that, β the captain yelled at the technical officers.
β It appears the special organ on the smaller firefly has burst and is exploding sir! β
β Then get us out of here now! β The captain yelled, fearing for the safety of his crew.
On the screen Klaur followed along, witnessing the firefly its organ rupturing as they slowly turned. But their actions were to no avail. With a burst of great power the observation unit was heavily damaged, slowly falling to the ground. Before it crashed the technical officer managed to send out one message to Earth.
*S.O.S. ALIEN FIREFLIES ARE EXPLOSIVE. WE CRASHED AT COORDINATES LA 40.979898 LO -27.421875*
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Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, then please check out /r/MaisieKlaassen
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[ WP ] When turning 21 , everyone develops a mutation , either physical ( Claws , horns , wings ) or mental ( telekinesis , extreme intelligence , etc ) . You 've just turned 21 , and you 're terrified of what you 've gained ( though others will be impressed ) .
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It was odd.
I awoke on my twenty first birthday and I knew... everything. How does one describe knowing everything in existence? It's overwhelming, terrifying, powerful, and simply out of my control. My mind was going non stop, ideas becoming theories in the matters of seconds. My wrists ached from sketching and my finger were raw from typing, trying to release some of the knowledge that made my head spin.
It's been nineteen days since my birthday. I have found the cure for cancer, figured out a way to solve world hunger, invented new technological advances that we never though possible, developed a way to manufacture artificial organs, among other things. The world is so thankful, people are celebrating and calling me a miracle, a God, but I ca n't take it anymore.
As much as I pour out it does n't stop. I want to rest my eyes for a moment. My body is shutting down while my brain continues to go on faster then the speed of light. I ca n't keep up it.
I think...
I know.
I've figured out a way that I can sleep forever...
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[ WP ] Telling your child one last bed time story
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Leah, I love you. Do you remember the story I told you last night? I want you to always remember. Here it is again for you, so that it will always be with you.
There once was a beautiful little girl named Leah. She lived in by the sea with her brother, her mother, and her father. Late at night when everyone was asleep, she would look out the window out into the sea, thinking about far-a-way lands beyond the sea. She imagined worlds made of candy with fairies fluttering around coating everything in glittery sugar. Or maybe there were snow monsters protecting their land from giant dogs who wanted to ruin the perfectly fallen snow by running circles in it. One night while she was looking out, she heard a voice from afar crying, `` help.'' She stretched her neck outside the window trying to see who was shouting. As she looked from side to side, she noticed a woman on the water β s edge, waving her arms and crying, `` help.'' Leah quickly ran down the stairs and out the door. As she ran closer to the shoreline, she saw that the lady was sitting. The lady also and something green covering her legs. `` Oh, little girl, will you please help me?'' said the lady when she noticed Leah coming closer to her. As Leah ran closer and closer, she saw that this lady was sitting because she could not stand. The green covering her legs were scaly, and instead of two feet, she had two fins flapping. Leah could not believe her eyes. β Hello, my name is Clarion and I need your help, Leah, β said the mermaid.
β How do youβ¦ how do you know my name β Leah asked in soft voice.
β I β ve heard about you and all the great things that you do. They say that your smile can change the hearts of a 1,000 sorcerers from bad to good. Or that with a song, you can cause a wild witch to stop her evil ways and dance in delight. They even say that with the touch of your hand can spark a light that can defeat giant monsters who roam the world and destroy other people β s happiness. I travelled across the sea to meet you and to ask for your help. β
Leah didn β t know you she could do anything of things. She had no idea what the mermaid was talking about.
Leah started, β I β m sorry, but you are mistaken. I can β t do thoseβ¦ β.
β You can! Your mother and father told me you could. β
Leah thought for a moment. If her mother and father told her the mermaid she could do those things, then it must be true.
β Leah, please come with me to my kingdom. We are in need of your help to defeat the sea dragon who is causing trouble in our land. We need you to sing to him, to create your powerful light, to smileβwe need you to use all your powers to fight him. β
β I have to tell my parentsβ¦ β.
β There β s no time, please come with me. They will understand. β
Leah looked back at her house. On the porch she saw her mother. Her mother was waving, and then blew a kiss. Feeling reassured, Leah confidently told the mermaid, β I β ll do it. β
Leah jumped onto the mermaid β s back and they swam out into the sea. Water splashed onto her face, but she didn β t mind. The farther out to sea they went, the more confident Leah became. She knew what she had to do and she was ready. She held her head up high, and knew with her mother β s blessing, she could defeat the dragon. And she did.
No matter what happens. No matter what you hear, remember how much I loved you and telling you stories. Remember all the good times we had together. This is how I want you to remember me. You meant everything to me. I know you do n't understand now, but what I did is for the best. I need you to be brave. I need you take care of your father and little brother for me. I am not as brave as you. I do not have your courage and strength, and for that I am sorry, but I know you have enough for the both of us. I love you, Leah.
Edit: name change
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[ WP ] Thousands of years in the future , a lazy anthropology student put off his `` Mating Rituals of Ancient Civilizations '' project until the last minute
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x907 returned to his room still shaking from the instruction he had just been given, barely able to concentrate on the assignment he had in front of him. He reflexively connected to his phantom. Information streamed into his conscious. He instantly knew the feelings thoughts and experiences of his family and all of his 90 % circle. After a few moments querying The Quad he was still unable to make complete sense of the days events. However having his phantom connection calmed him a great deal as it always did.
He tried to remember the days of his childhood before his 13 birthday, before his neuromap had been recorded and stored. This was a practiced ritual whenever he needed to contemplate primitive man because they lived without the constant connection of a phantom without a neuromap, without the benevolent guidance of The Quad. These thoughts no longer terrified him and were in fact why he had come to the ruin of a university.
`` Har Vard'' the words awkwardly formed in his throat and exited out his mouth, the way primitive man communicated. Ancient English was his worst subject, almost no one used spoken word any more, there was simply no need when his phantom could connect with any other person's phantom and in milliseconds gain their knowledge, experience and state. However it was required at Har Vard. `` To study ancient man we must in some ways become them'' the austere words of Professor Hannibal echoed through his brain. Not in the same way his phantom could stream information, but in a more crude and material way. Those words were not stored anywhere else but in the physical brains of the students that had heard them.
`` Cecil, Cecil, Ceeeciiilll'' he practiced, the moniker still sounded odd. That was the name he had chosen as a lark on his first day at Har Vard, the name he used in class because the 256 bit unique identified The Quad had given him was simply to difficult to speak aloud. All human interaction had been like that once, based on arbitrary names, even coupling.
There were of course no matches for primitive man, with out a completed nuero science and the computing power of metaphysical processors it was impossible to map even one person's conscious let a lone all of man kinds. Now, x907 had his nuero make up matched against all other mapped humans for compatibility, he had chosen to connect with all of those that shared 90 % of his map. 15 females and 94 males. He had met with 8 females and 20 males, coupling with each one. With their phantoms connected to his each physical touch was amplified as it echoed back and forth across their consciousness. There was simply nothing else like it. Even now those echoes returned, as his thoughts were received by those he had coupled with and their remembered passion returned to him.
He reluctantly disconnected from his phantom. There was simply no way we was going to be able to describe the mating rituals of primitive man with it connected. With only his memory he fumbled for the images and words of earlier.
β Take your seats and disconnect β Professor Hannibal commanded. β Today we are going to watch a recording from 5000 years ago. The subject is love making β. The ancient four sided display game to life with two people displayed. Their naked bodies repulsed x907. Humans had been genetically engineered for millennial to weed out disease and harness physical perfection. The imperfections in the symmetry of their faces and bodies looked almost alien. It was hard to remember that primitives were all so different from one another, and the ideal. Now everyone fell with in a.001 % physical genetic variant. In the 21st century CE random chance was the deciding factor. He forced himself to continue inspecting the image. There were no stems present, their eyes seemed dull because they lacked the iridescence of a phantom connection. They were simply un-engineered flesh and bone.
β Notice the genital to genital contact, without phantom reverberation Ancients were forced to connected on a more physical plain. β Hannibal nearly shouted, standing behind the lectern his upper body and face illuminated from the image of the two humans grinding against one another.
β Animals, Animals, Animals β x907 blurted sitting alone in his room his thoughts returning to the assignment. That was the Ancient English word for what he had seen, and the entire process of human mating pre-nueromap. They met at random not knowing who they were meeting or how well they would match. They used physical contact to couple grunting and grinding like beasts. He connected to his phantom and began to stream his thoughts for storage and review. β Ancient man and coupling β a study in randomness in the animal kingdom β he titled his work.
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[ CW ] Write a bloodthirsty story about a seal . No word limit , but every paragraph there must be a cute word .
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The seal smiled in the sunlight. It's puffy cheeks matching the curvature of the clouds above him. He was happy, his button eyes and pink nose sitting squarely above an adorable smile.
The water behind him rippled. A fuzzy white bear tread water just under the surface. He was fluffly, his round belly helping him float.
Suddenly, the fuzzy bear leaped out of the water. Drops of water tickled the seal's shiny little head. The bear landed on the seal, his belly, wiggly and jiggly, crushing the seal to death.
The bear used his pearly white teeth to rip into the rubbery neck of the seal. The red blood spilled onto the ground, mixing with the water to a rosey pink color.
The bear giggled with delight as he feasted on the seal. His fat haunches wiggled as he ripped flesh from bone. Blood splattered on his fuzzy cheeks, and one of the seal's black, round, button eyes hung by a thread from the fuzzy bear's mouth.
After he was through, the bear swallowed what was left of the seal's round head and sat back, his fat belly swollen, a smile on his face.
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[ WP ] Your father left 20 years ago the night before your birthday to get Cigarettes , Milk , and Bread . Today he comes home with long bedraggled hair , weather beaten skin , and a sword on his hip . The first thing he says to you is `` You 're never going to believe what happened . ''
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β Muuuuuum β Sarah yelled from the upstairs bedroom. I could hear her from the backyard and was about to go in to tell her that mum had gone to the store to pick up some milk and bread when I had an unusually vivid flashback.
20 years ago tonight, the eve of my 3rd birthday that gutless prick had walked out on us. β Off to the shops β he said, β back soon β. Motherfuβ¦
β You β re never going to believe what happened β
... cker. I don β t know why but I knew it was him. I took a deep breath, put my camera back on the picnic table that sits under my favourite tree in our yard and turned around.
To say I was surprised at what I saw is probably a bit of an understatement. Not only was my mind working in overdrive trying to comprehend the fact that my father who had disappeared for 20 years was not back but also the fact that he looked like The Mountain β s long lost brother.
I took a step back to put some distance between us and also to buy some time. I think we stood there looking at each other silently for about 20 seconds. Another 20 seconds passed before I realised that I still hadn β t spoken. Well, what the hell could I even say? Do I get angry for him being away for so long or do I ask him why he is brandishing a broadsword, has bulked up considerably and has torn clothes. How do I even begin to prioritise those options?
At this point my mind is running at a million miles an hour, pretty soon though, the anger takes over from curiosity, surprise and whatever else has been going through my mind. I went back to a place that I thought I had moved on from years ago. Suddenly I was that angry teenager again who just wanted to know why his dad didn β t love him enough to come back and I didn β t care where he had to come back from. He just had to come back and it had to be quicker than 20 years dammit.
Suddenly I had clarity. I walked slowly over to the table to pick up my camera again, walked toward him and said β No, I probably wouldn β t. But you know where I β ve been? I β ve been right here β. With that I kept walking past him, into the house, through the house, out the front door and before I knew it I was running away from him as quickly as I could. I fell in a heap outside the local shops and blacked out.
Next thing I knew, it was 20 years later and I was standing in my backyard as a middle-aged kid with a sword by my side, some incredible stories and a desire to tell someone all about it.
I saw her standing there with her back towards me, my mother, now an old woman. β You β re never going to believe what happened β I said.
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[ WP ] Push the Envelope ...
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The sudden neon glow hurt my eyes, and my ears were accosted by a cacophony of canine aggression. I shook my head and took off towards the fence. I could hear paws pounding rhythmically on the dirt; it seemed the ground was convulsing beneath my feet. My adrenaline-filled heart kept time as I made the dash, now empty canvas bag flapping against my hoodie. My frantic scramble over the fence was far from graceful, but I barely noticed the scratches or new holes in my jeans.
I made it to the car, where my brother - anxious lookout - sat in wait. Our speedy retreat lead us to our old school car park, where we took a minute to revel in our new-found glory. My hair stank of paint fumes, I could hardly breathe, and my brother's clutch would never be the same, but the prank war was over, and our victory was complete.
We hugged and laughed in a moment of rare sibling solidarity, until I saw those bright red and blues reflected in his eyes...
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[ WP ] Lucifer meets his biggest nightmare , a scorned woman
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To Lucifer, cheating two of God's most beloved creations was considered to be the proudest feat he has ever done. Getting them to eat the forbidden apple, followed by their expulsion from Eden, and seeing the heartbroken face of his eternal enemy, it was the sweetest act for revenge for him.
For 900 years he gloated over God, mocking the feebleness of God's creation. For 900 years his life was perfect, presiding over his hellish domain, laughing at God's attempt to set everything straight. Until the day that Eve died. The day she arrived from hell. The day he learned that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Not even a fallen angel from heaven.
He was sitting in his throne room when Eve first arrived. Only imps and demons were his companion then, the job scope of receiving damned souls conveniently left out by God, who wanted to get back at Lucifer. The terrified face of the imp who received Eve could never be forgotten.
It was shouting about a new arrival unlike any other when it almost flew into Lucifer's face, breaking several chalices and knocking over Lucifer's chandelier in the process. Lucifer almost thought God sent Michael over on an errand, but when he flew to the Gates of Hell, only the familiar figure of a human female awaited him.
`` Hah, it is only you,'' Lucifer exclaimed as he landed with rumble on the ground.
Eve glared at him unblinkingly. `` Yes, it is only me, you snake. You're the one who deprived me of an eternal rest, having already given me a life of torture, and I am not happy. Terribly unhappy.''
Lucifer laughed at Eve's comment. She is, after all, a mere mortal. How could a human like her hope to command the Lord of Hell around? He stepped closer to her, his figure towering above her head. `` It was not my fault that you chose to eat the-''
Before he could finish however, he felt a sharp stab through his abdomen. Devils can not be usually hurt by mortal weapons, but the knife that was plunged into him was no ordinary weapon. A sharp pain shot through him, as he pulled himself from the blade, trying not to scream from the pain. Eve was just standing there, a smile across her face.
`` Where did you get that?'' he hissed, his hand clutching the wound. Dark black liquid was already seeping through it. The last time he was wounded was eons ago, after his clash with Michael and Gabriel.
Eve waved the knife in the air, her eyes looking at it with wonder. `` Just something I got from the Pearly Gates when they told me I can not enter heaven. Angels have a soft spot for women, it seemed.''
Lucifer cursed under his breath. To have a mere mortal hurt him like that? He wanted to tear Eve into pieces right there and then, but the sensation of a cold metal blade beneath his throat stopped him. Eve was standing there, her glare has death written all over it. `` You caused my husband to hate me more than 900 years, caused God to view me as second class.''
She brought the blade closer to his throat. `` So to make up for it, you're gon na listen to what I have to say from now on. Or you're gon na learn the painful lesson of pissing off a woman.''
-- -- -- -
/dori_tales
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[ WP ] `` Now I am become Death , the destroyer of worlds . ''
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The Arrivals slaughtered humanity. Our best and brightest reached out to them, but they saw us as beasts. They desired our planet, and they took it. In the end, that's all there was to it. I am the last of my once numerous species. I sit in the holding cell I've been in since they finally forced their way into my lab 24 hours ago. I'm awaiting the fate that they gave all of my comrades: I am to be devoured. Yes, they consumed us. An ancient ritual, meant to honor us. To allow us to live on in them, part of a superior organism. They'll execute me and toss my corpse into one of their nutrition pools. My flesh will mix with that of thousands, and together my race will feed cities.
The Arrivals are n't wrong in their belief that they are superior. Our weapons were useless against them. They exterminated us. But before they got me, I dissected them. Dozens of them. With test after test, I slowly figured them out. My body now harbors a contagion. The seed of an epidemic that will make the Black Plague look like a head cold. They will feel our wrath, even with my last breath.
My cell door opened, two of them escorted me out. I chuckled under my breath. `` Now I am become Death, destroyer of worlds.''
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[ WP ] Write a story about the universe of your favorite video game , but in a way that people have to guess what video game that universe belongs to .
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Time flows like sand in this land.
Kingdoms rise, great battles ensue, all hope and humanity is lost in the process. Rinse and repeat.
Every new king promises to end the cursed cycle once and for all. But they fail, and eventually they too, fall to the curse.
And it goes on and on and on. But for you, each cycle will pass like a blink of an eye.
You will stay the same. Forever.
Then, one day, you will find yourself standing in front of those gates, without really knowing why. You will struggle to find reason, to find sanity, to cling to the remaining memories of your previous life. Your family, your friends. All gone.
Only you, and the deep, dark abyss will remain.
Will you feed the dim flame in your soul and recover your humanity? Or will you embrace the cold darkness?
The path is deadly and threacherous, but with hope and time, you may do what others could not.
Make no mistake. You will die.
Just remember that humanity can be found, even in the darkest places.
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[ WP ] Humans never stop growing as they age . As people age , they grow exponentially taller and stronger . The oldest man in the world just turned 132 , and he 's not showing any signs of stopping .
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The loneliness was the hardest part. The past decade he had just continued to grow made him far too large to reasonably interact with anyone else. Their voices were like ants. Even the largest barely got past 100, and at his advanced size, they were barely noticeable. Like infants crawling around.
He lost his artform a decade ago. Carving mountains. Now the mountains were too small, his fingers too large, and breathing was harder. There was just not enough oxygen left on the planet to keep him as active as he had been in his youth.
So his days were spent thinking about the past, of glory days. Of loves and wars gone by. He mainly slept. And ate. He had long since gotten over any guilt over the sheer amount of food it required to keep him alive and growing. If anyone was actually able to tell him that he was now consuming a full 50 % of all food produced on the planet, that might have actually gotten through to him. But communication with him at this point was difficult at best.
He still had sunrises. He adored them. The stars. They always seemed the same, no matter how old he got.
***
`` So we just keep feeding him?'' said the US representative. The United Nations held their annual discussion on the Xiao Chen problem, and now things had become problematic.
`` We will not entertain attempts to actually kill him. Even if we had a reliable way to do so peacefully, and not risking him lashing out in his death throes, which as researchers expect could have an apocalyptic result on our planet's ecosystem, as soon as the we authorize killing people simply for being old, we lose all support.'' stated the Chinese representative.
`` Never the less, we are getting riots due to the food output going towards Chen. Reports state that many of the 100 year olds are complaining that Chen is taking the food that they should be receiving. Intel suggests a serious plan to kill him is underway, to ensure that there is enough food for them.''
Silence. Such an action had been considered unthinkable.
`` Do they have a chance of success? One hundred twenty one-hundred year olds versus the world's oldest man?'' stated France's representative, frightened at the prospect.
Japan's delegate solemnly nodded. `` Studies suggest that they CAN kill him, but the cost of life would be excessive. Most of China is likely to be rendered inhabitable should the battle occur there. This will have grave consequences for the planet as a whole.''
Military solutions were limited. Past the age of 80, no governments had viable weapons that could safely take down attacking elderly.
`` So, how do we do this? Because I do not believe we can continue to support him at this age. We calculated that he would suicide from loneliness a decade ago, our food reserves are empty, our ability to keep him from ending all life on this planet on a whim is being tested.''
`` We talk to him. We make it clear that if lives another year, we will no longer have enough food on the planet for anyone else.''
`` You must understand, he has n't cared about humanity in years. What if that knowledge leads him to suicide in a fashion that kills the rest of us off? He can have a temper tantrum and kick enough dirt into the sky to cause an extinction level event. We must use poisons.''
`` There is n't enough poison on the planet to kill him quickly. We then get the same problem, of him lashing out.''
`` Still, waiting for him to just get lonely enough to die has n't been working. Likewise, the older we let him get, the more disposing of his body will become a chore. Preserving enough of his meat to feed the elderly just is n't possible.''
They argued through the night, unable to find any answer to their predicament.
***
Xiao Chen, oldest man on Earth did n't want to die. He was hungry all the time now, hungrier than usual. His beard had its own ecosystem growing within it. Animals lived and died knowing nothing but his beard. He liked it. He had pride in being the oldest, and perhaps pride was all he had left.
Another sunrise was sure to come the next day, as lovely as the last. Soon, it would be his birthday again. He missed parties, he missed dinners, he missed clothing. But... sunrises and sunsets are enough. He smiled. And continued to watch.
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[ FF ] Contest . A drunken angel tries to reveal an important secret to you .
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What is this angel doing in here? This is a strip club. We do n't need any goody two shoes residents of heaven coming into our pleasure palaces. I'm just here to watch some succubi get their depraved thing on.
Huh? Did this guy just tap on my shoulder? This is a purely straight zone. Not cool. I only do the whole bisexual orgy stuff on Tuesdays. And Thursdays sometimes, if I'm feeling a little frisky.
*Heeeysh. I ( hic ) nee telsh ( hic ) yoush sum ( hic ) fing. *
God Damn-
Should n't have thought that. This guy's got me totally off guard. And there it is. The Great One's heard it.
*ODSIMAT! DO NOT MENTION HIS NAME! YOU KNOW THE PUNISHMENT! REPORT TO THE CAGES OF ENDLESS SUFFERING FOR YOUR NEXT SHIFT. *
*Yes, Great One. *
* ( Hic ) I's, cush, ya knowsh, helpsh. *
*You've done quite enough. Just go back to heaven with all the other teetotalers, you peacelover. *
*I'm uns, lick thosh, teeshters. *
*You know, you'd think with all the drinking we do down here, we'd get used to translating drunk. But get this: we actually handle our booze. *
*I'sh*
*Ok. You're clearly not going to leave me to my mandatory bi-daily sinning, so here's the deal. I'm going to get you a swig of Ernest Hemingway's blood. *
Stuff costs a fortune, but it should do the trick. No one can fail to process the drink out of their system with some of Hemingway's blood. Just give him a little dose, hear his idiotic pitch, send him on his way.
*Here. Drink, say your piece, and leave me alone. *
Good. One step closer to getting back to the show.
*Well, my head feels clearer. But I must admit, you gents down here seem to be on to something. Makes me feel all giddy inside. I dare say I like it here. *
Huh? Who is this guy?
*You're an odd one, you know that? Besides, you ca n't stay here for long. You know it's against the rules, even if you are on vacation. *
*Oh, it does n't have to be that way. For long. *
NOT GOOD. This guy's a lot more off his rocker than I thought. Those are dangerous, dangerous words.
*Leave. Now. *
He's not going to leave, is he? Nope. Too much to ask. If the Great One notices me with him, we're both done for. And not the quick and easy way.
*I know the source of the Great One's power. *
WHAT? This was unheard of! Nobody knew how the Great One, became, well, Great! Wait, had he meant the other one? No. This is too dangerous.
*You have to go. *
I'm shoving him out.
*Stop. *
Just keep pushing. Get this guy out, send him back through customs.
*They're the same. One Great One. Only one. *
No. This ca n't be. That goes against everything I know, everything I think. For them to be one, that was blasphemy! But more than that, it was power. Glorious, glorious power. This was no small piece of knowledge. This was a bombshell. A weapon that could upset all the worlds. Dare I believe him?
*I know how they did it. *
He claims to know that too. A strange one indeed. Never seen his like. But if it's true? If it's true, I become the Great One. The only Great One. Unassailable. All will be subject to my whims. But if it's false? Satan, no, the Great One. The only Great One. He knows things beyond any demon. Has my mind made itself up? I am beholden to
greed. If the ultimate prize is in front of me, do blood and nature compel me to pursue it?
*Show me. *
I will have this power. I will have it for myself, and myself only. I will subjugate him. One Great One, but no duality.
*We must join. As one. *
He's conjuring a cross. Crucifixion then? There's certainly the right amount of symbolism. It could be a ritual of power.
*Crucify me. *
I will do as he bids. Interesting, he does n't even flinch as the nails drive into his skin. Half a demon, he is.
*Now purify yourself in the hellfire. *
Not the most fun of activities, but a fair equivalent. UGH! Should stay in a little longer though. Do n't want anything to go wrong. There, that should be good.
*All right, now what? *
*We bind. *
*How? *
*We eat each other. *
Definitely half a demon. Never heard of an angel eating anything living. But it made sense. By eating ourselves into one joint body, we theoretically could become as one. But a strange concept. And one that would not deny the Great One the pleasure of resurrection and torture should it fail.
He tastes of clouds and of peace. Of hope and light and brilliance. Disgusting. Wonder if he's having the same problem. I know what demon tastes like, though. Spicy, scorching hot. Full of anger, resentment, lust, envy, and all the juicy sins. Bursting with flavor. You know, demon tastes a lot better than angel.
*It is almost done. Just heads are left. How do we do this, and what is supposed to happen? *
*I do not know. *
He does not know? Was all for naught? The Great One, no, Satan will discover us soon. I will be lost. No. I will push onward. I will eat the rest, I will devour him, and make his power mine.
The same idea? A fight it is. I see your move. You come from right, swinging in wide. A quick dodge, and; you really do taste quite disgusting.
What's happening? I'm disappearing. I feel nothing. I feel everything. Heaven, Hell, even Earth become as one. This sensation is mind-boggling. Is it working? Will we become the new Great One? Will it even be me? There's no one here for me to overpower. Not exactly what I would have hoped for.
-- -- --
Silence. Thought ceases.
-- -- -
There can be only one Great One. All four must be as one.
-- -- -
A blink of existence.
-- --
No, this is wrong. This is not control. This is not power. This is duty.
-- -- -
I am the Great One.
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[ WP ] 100 years after the nuclear war the internet and all history books have been wiped out . All that is left from our historical sources are todays videogames .
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Starts-Fires looked at the colorful plastic discs nestled in brittle plastic boxes. The paper sleeves adorning these boxes had long faded away and were just useful as kindling. The boxes were n't useful to contain things in, as the material that made these things cracked and crumbled into little plastic shards underneath the Southwestern desert. Not even useful as the beginnings of a knife.
He pulled one warped disc out of the crumbling grey box ( the catch that held it in place immediately disintegrated underneath his finger ). The face of the CD was melted and warped, but the bottom was serviceable enough. The purple backing was still able to reflect light.
This will be perfect for the mural, he thought, and put it in his bag. It would make up part of a flower. The flower would make up a scene that had been rotting away on a billboard, telling people about this great medicine called Psoriasex. Nobody had found Psoriasex for the last thirty years now, but what remained of the billboard baking in the hot sun suggested a peaceful life. That billboard had survived long years but was now falling apart. Only the town elder remembered what it was - that was how they knew it was a kind of medicine - but he also said something crazy, like how that image was a lie and how the tribe was being sold'a bill of goods', whatever a bill and goods were.
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[ WP ] Everything is legal in the name of science ! Scientists are allowed to break morals and ethics in the pursuit of knowledge . The only catch is , if they are n't successful in their research , they will be convicted of any crimes they committed in the process .
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`` SHE's NOT BREATHING, SHE'S NOT BREAAATTTHHHIIINNNGGG!!''
`` Blood pressure is falling, we need to abort this test''
`` Of course her blood pressure is falling, we've removed half her blood you idiot.''
Who's idea was this...''
`` Come on Sheryl, pull through for us...''
`` If she goes, I am calling the lawyers.''
`` SHe signed the waiver, we should be exempt!''
We said there was a HEALTH risk, but there was n't much about'death' in there.''
We told her the content of the experiment, she should have assumed death as a possibility!''
`` JIM CALL THE LAWYERS.''
`` Is she going?''
`` She's hanging on, barely, but I got a beat.''
`` Magic 8 ball says'Outlook looking bleak.'''
`` NOT NOW BRENT.''
`` Get the transfusion, now!''
`` I have the lawyers, what should I say?''
`` Uhhh... uhhhhhh... tell him we hit a bump.''
`` He says it sounds like one helluva bump.''
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[ WP ] In an attempt to convince people society would have been better if humanity had never found religion , a time traveler kills anyone who begins to develop a form of faith . He goes back to the present and finds that people now universally worship a god who travels through time and smites heathens .
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Tom stepped out of the time machine with a smile. It had taken years, biological time, but he had done it. All throughout history he had hunted down everyone who started a religion, even a few philosophers. That should put an end to religion, he mused as he looked around.
Things were different in an odd way. There were busts of a man on every building. Curiously he stepped close to one and examined it only to see it was his own likeness.
`` Oh god, what the hell''? Tom practically yelled and caught the attention of a man near him who glanced at him with a puzzled look.
`` God? Hell? What are those? And, yeah, I do n't like Tom either. Everyone worships him but I understand he's just a killer, a common thug. But I'll tell you something, I made a time traveling watch and I'm going back in time and I'm going to find Tom and kill his father before he's born.''
The man smiled as he pulled out a gun and hit a button on his watch and dissappeared in a flash. Tom did n't even have time to register shock before he faded from reality.
The bust of Tom was no longer there. In its place was a bust of the newest time traveler.
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[ WP ] A man with pronoia ( the opposite of paranoia ) is having a record breaking bad day .
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`` Who's that?'' his girlfriend asked, pointing to the man with binoculars who'd, coincidentally, been just a few blocks behind Joseph all day long. But he'd dropped the binoculars a long time ago. He did n't seem to need them anymore.
Bird watching, was Joseph's guess.
`` I do n't know, some guy,'' he answered, casually.
`` Oh my god, why does he have a gun?!'' his girlfriend gasped an instant later. Joseph merely shrugged.
`` I'm sure he has a permit for it,'' was his answer.
`` Joseph, get down!'' she screamed as a red dot appeared on his chest.
Joseph scoffed, rolling his eyes. `` Do n't be such a worry wart. It's probably just a kid with a laser pointer.'' The dot trailed up to his forehead as his girlfriend began to weep.
`` He's going to kill you!'' she cried.
`` That is just ridic-''
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[ EU ] Rewrite the final scene of a Disney movie to be as cynical as possible .
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The thing about spaceflight is that rockets are bombs with people strapped in to them. Every astronaut knows this. Every astronaut's wife knows this. They've all heard the grisly stories: Challenger, Nedelin, Intelsat 708. It's the last thing they want on their mind at T-20 seconds, when they have to be in the final stages of their pre-launch checklist, but I'll bet you any money that some dread sneaks in.
The worst accidents are probably the ones where the damned know their fate, and know they ca n't do anything to change it: Challenger's crew module, unscathed, on its ballistic arc into the ocean; Gus Grissom unable to defeat the pressure differential to get the hatch open; Vladimir Komarov falling to Earth. Compared to that, instant incineration on the launch pad is preferable.
This spaceman had no consolation. It's not that he had a choice in the matter. He had to go back for his friend, who'd set out in the first place to rescue him. He knew that the spare vehicle was dangerous and would explode if it ran too long, and that the separation mechanism was untried. He did n't even know if he had enough delta-V to make the mothership. He had to hope and pray that the stars were right, and that he could beat probability and, if not, physics, just this once.
Physics won.
RC, Woody and Buzz together had too much mass to reach the moving truck. They came agonisingly close to the open rear door, almost to grabbing distance, before dropping back, and then, for a precious few seconds, they knew that their fate was sealed when his wings could n't break the tape tying him to the rocket. Buzz knew that he could have made it if they'd weighed just a little less. His last thought, as the firework's charge detonated, was that he should have left Woody.
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[ WP ] What are the fruits of love ?
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'Fruits of love?' He asked his daughter.'What do you need that for?'
'Some multi-subject junk for school.' She sighed.'Like biology on its own is n't boring enough.'
'Well, Tiffany. I'll tell you what fruits of love are.' He gestured for her to sit down. It was going to be a lengthy explanation.'Your mother probably would've done a better job telling you this, but I'll try my best anyway.' A short laugh escaped him.'Just the other night she asked me when you'd come forth and ask.'
A chill shot through Tiffany's spine as she realized her dad may have interpreted the question wrong. Oh god, he was n't about to... was he?
'You see,' he started.'When a man and woman love each other very mu-'
'Dad!' She fiercely interrupted him.'It's a metaphor or whatever, *God*!' With the swiftest motion she stood up, showed the disgusted look on her face, and hastily walked away.
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[ WP ] Write a story that involves two men , a woman , a gun , a lawnmower , and a teddy bear .
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Jack pulled back the hammer on his new gun. He did n't know what kind of gun it was. He'd just walked into the gun shop and pointed at the one that looked like a vengeful cowboy would own it. Three days ago he'd bought it after watching his wife's infidelity through the teddy-cam hidden in their bedroom.
The hammer made a click that echoed off the walls of the room. It was loud enough that the forms under the covers stopped their thrusting. Slowly his neighbor Adam turned around to see the gun pointed in his face.
`` Jack! This is n't what it looks like!''
`` Cut it. I've smelled your stank in my bedroom for weeks.''
`` I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. God do n't kill me!''
`` I've tried to talk to you all year, and you have n't returned a single call.''
Jack began to angrily point his gun as he spoke. `` Now I find you here! In my bed! In my house! In my wife!''
`` I'm sorry Jack. I'll do anything.''
Jack paused at that statement. The gears began to turn in his head as he thought of ideas beyond vengeance.
`` Anything?''
`` Yes. Please, just do n't kill me.''
Jack lowered the revolver, leaned close, and with gravely hot breath whispered `` Return my Goddamn lawnmower.''
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[ wp ] You try desperately to not trip over forest twigs . Army helicoptors and police cars surround you , demanding that you stop running from them . But it isnt them that you are running from .
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The flashing lights are blinding me, and I fall forwards, cradling the tiny body in my arms.
This is what I wanted, the police, after all. But not now, not before she was okay.
I stood up and readjusted Stella on my hip. Funny, if I'd have gotten the choice to choose a Stella for this occasion, it would've been the beer, not the little girl.
I kept running, relying on the searchlights from the helicopters to keep me from falling again, hearing the policemen all around me but trying to run.
Soon my legs gave out, and they closed in. They were worried about me- they'd had a call, from my husband, that I was gone and `` emotionally disturbed.'' That I had my daughter, but I had left my son.
My son.
He had been screaming, screaming, he never stopped, his mouth was always open, he always wanted something, I had to get out!
Stella had been different, Stella had been a good baby, had n't she? Eaten when I asked, slept when I asked, never shrieking like the boy.
He did n't deserve us.
The policemen took Stella away from me and I screamed just like my son would have, screamed over the policemen trying to convince me to take some pills, screamed over the policemen reassuring me that I would be okay, screamed over my husband's hugs and kisses as he emerged from yet another police car and ran to my side.
I screamed until one of the policemen stopped, shook his head, and hit me with a tranquilizer dart that would've knocked out an elephant.
I woke up some time later in an empty, white room, lying restrained on a bed with no sheets. One wall looked like a mirror, but I suspected there were people on the other side watching me, calling me a terrible mother, plotting how best to destroy poor Stella's life, preparing to give statements to the journalists about what a whack-job I was.
My husband walked in, accompanied by a doctor in a white coat and a tie patterned with balloons and smiley faces.
`` Helen? You're awake. Are you feeling alright?''
I looked my husband in the eyes and that's when I knew that the baby was somewhere close, because I heard him screaming.
`` Make him stop.'' I muttered.
`` Make who stop, Helen?''
`` The baby, the baby, make him stop crying!''
`` The baby is n't here, Helen. Michael and Stella are both at home with my mother.''
`` YOU'RE LYING!''
He was lying, I knew it, the sound kept ringing through my ears, as though the baby was sitting beside my head. I tried to thrash out, but my arms were restrained beside me.
`` Why did you leave, Helen?''
He plays the part of the dutiful husband well, looking concerned, coming close to touch my cheek. I want to hit him.
But I also want it to stop. I want the baby to stop screaming, more than anything else, I want them to take him away!
So I tell the truth.
`` I ca n't take the screaming anymore! That baby does n't deserve me, or Stella, all he does is scream, and cry, and shriek, and it never stops, and I CA N'T TAKE IT.''
They still had n't taken the baby away, I could hear him, he must be just out of my sight.
`` MAKE HIM STOP.'' I bellow. I must be worse than the baby.
`` Helen, darling, the baby is n't here, I told you, no one is crying.''
So I begin to shriek, louder and louder, unable to drown out the baby that I know must be right out of sight, but trying.
Through my screams I hear them talking, hear the other doctors and policemen and a man who looks like my brother all muttering about post-partum depression and paranoia and `` those poor kids.''
I keep screaming until a fat man with a hairy face drops two pills in my mouth, along with a sip of water, and tells me to swallow.
Only then, moments later, does the screaming stop.
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[ WP ] A superhero finally kills his super villain for something unforgivable .
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Blood. Blood everywhere. It pooled at his feet, it stained his hands, it covered his face, and it throbbed viciously in his own head. But he did n't see it, he could n't see it. His vision, straining through tears, focused solely on the lifeless body laying in the corner of the room. He began the slow walk over to it. One limping step. Then two... then another. Each more agonizing than the last, each bringing him back closer and closer to the reality of his situation, a reality that only made him feel more detached from everything that had happened up until these past few hours.
Merely a month ago life, though not simple, had felt much less complicated. They had called him a hero, though he never saw it that way. He only ever thought of himself as a defender, that last bastion of hope for those incapable of fighting the fight for themselves. He had never even truly considered the dangers or the ramifications of what he did. He had only known that bad men existed in the world and that these men had to be stopped. And so he had set out to do so.
He was no superman, he did n't possess any outstanding powers... he was a man... a man with abilities few others had hone to such perfection, but still a man nonetheless. And all men can be broken.
Countless times he had witnessed the true evil that only the most heinous members of society were capable of. Each time he was able to push that nagging voice in the back of his head away. The voice that told him to finish the job permanently, put an end to the miserable sons of bitches who seemed to only ever find satisfaction in the misery of others. He was a stronger man then.
And then, merely a month ago she told him the baby was on its way. The persona of the hero took a backseat. The hero became the husband, the future father... the protector of his family and not of this city. Strange thing it had seemed to him then, to think that going from protecting a city of millions to a family of three would feel more complicated. It was a role he felt ill-prepared for, but he had relished the idea of it. It had felt like the right time for him to retire the hero and finally live his life for his own...
But now he found himself stooping over, looking at the body of the only person who could ever make him feel so defenseless... but never this defenseless in life. The hammer slipped from his hand and splashed in the crimson pool on the floor as he knelt down and lifted her... their... lifeless bodies. They had been taken from him, viciously as a starving animal stealing meat from the carcass of another's kill, and so the hero had measured out his response in similar fashion.
It was n't some deep-seeded need for justice that motivated the hero this time. It was vengeance. Biblical, maddening, blind-fury vengeance was what was unleashed upon the people... no... upon the animals that had stooped to this level. Perhaps, had they known what their actions would have pushed him to they would n't have done it. Perhaps if they had spared the hero's wife and child you would be able to tell where one of them ended on the floor and the other began. But they paid the ultimate price for the ultimate mistake.
And so kneeling down he lifted her body with a gentleness his muscles felt like they had not known in ages... and he screamed. A deep, animalistic, guttural scream that only those who have felt the entirety of their lives ripped from them are capable of.
The hero was now retired, in his place stood a broken man knowing only ire.
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[ WP ] A man and woman have met every morning for the last 40 years at a diner . While the two seem to know one another very well , in all this time they have never exchanged a word . For the first time ever the woman today reaches out and touches the man 's hand .
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They are reliable as the sun and moon, always arriving at the appointed hour. They had n't aged a day, while their server Jared Stiles had gone from vibrant youth to doddering old age in the forty years since the beginning. The order never changed. The same flowers bloomed in the window box, never withering, nor showing any change at all as the season cycled from blistering summers to winters of blue snow and howling winds. Yet, every morning they were there.
They would arrive, Madeline with her flowing red hair that writhed with a life of its own and a smile that would shatter the soul of even the hardest cyborg. She wore a different dress every time each as stylish as the last and yet, she carried herself with the sort of restraint only somebody with tremendous power could manage. She exuded power and the other staff had come and gone over the last generation in awe of her elegant presence. She had but to wave a finger and the whole world seemed to move at her gesture. Jarad wanted to please Madeline because to do otherwise was unthinkable.
Barnet was different. He was small and delicate. Jared thought that if he looked away Barnet would become transparent. The other patrons did n't seem to notice Barnet at all, basking in the supreme radiance of Madeline. Yet, Jared knew Barnet was the stronger of the pair. He'd read the postings of Barnet's offworld exploits. Yet somehow, the pair always made it back to the diner by morning to eat in silence that toast, eggs, a rasher of bacon, and a cup of Earl Grey apiece. When the Great Pig Pox of'48 wiped out nearly every hog on Proxima 2B, they even brought new ovum from offworld and reseeded the culture tanks so that bacon would always be on the menu. It was a ritual, almost a holy sacrament, their daily meetings.
Yet, they never spoke as much as a word to one another, nor did they touch, kiss, embrace, or do any of the things that would make them human... until today.
It was a morning like any other. The suns had risen over the mountains and cast long beams of shifting light through the titansteel windows. The chequered tableclothes of white and blue held that light, that warmth, and cast it back onto the polished wood paneling. The silverware glinted in that same bicolor light and made Jarad's eyes water at the brilliance. Then they arrived outside the door. He phased through the door, as if he could n't be bothered, while she pulled it open with her delicate restraint, as if she worried that she might rip it from its frame by accident.
He floated through the chair and sat in it, while she pulled hers out and sat down. The ground rumbled with her every step and the dishes rattled in the kitchen at her passing. He was ethereal while she was a juggernaut held just back from the edge of annihilation. Jarad wasted no time serving them. Jarad delivered the same meal he always did, while the rest of the staff watched on from inside the kitchen trembling. They would stay for precisely twenty minutes and then depart in the same way they arrived... until today.
They had just finished eating when she reached out with her hand, her index finger extended to touch Barnet on his left forearm. The shimmering man turned to look at Jared and spoke.
`` It is time.''
Then the two ship minds, each wearing avatars so they might walk among men, discarded those avatars and returned to what they had been doing a generation ago when Jared was just a young man. They waged war.
... and thus, Proxima 2B was no more.
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[ WP ] Aliens establish first contact with the government of another country . The White House gets offended .
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β Can *anyone* tell me what the fuck is going on? β
β Well, sir, it seems as if extraterrestrial life is meeting with the president of the Ukraine today. β
β Of the *Ukraine*? β the President mocked. β I mean, c β mon. The Ukraine! β
β I know, sirβ β
β Who the fuck wants to meet with the Ukraine, let alone these fucking aliens? β
β Sir, listenβ β
β No, something has to be done. β
The President paced the length of the oval office. Seated were some of his best advisers and Biden.
β What β re you thinking? β
β I β m thinking, β the President said, β of marching on in there and meeting with them myself. β
β What d β you mean, exactly? β
β Do you not realize what a fantastic insult this is? β He gestured to the television. CNN was showing the small group of extraterrestrials shaking hands with the Ukrainian officials. β How does one not recognize authority? how does one lack such respect? β
β Well okay, but that doesn β t meanβ β
β It does. β
The President dismissed the group and spoke on the phone. Twenty minutes later he watched as CNN ceased its coverage of the meeting and began reporting on the United States β invasion into Ukrainian territory.
___________________________________________________
β Mr. Putin, β a man said in heavy Russian, β they β ve done it. β
β Good. β
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[ WP ] For the first time a human prays for forgiveness . Not for themselves , but for the Devil . Even God is surprised .
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There was a general uproar throughout the Seven Spheres as the Prayer ascended.
Though Luke heard nothing as he wandered the rust-red and mineral-green plains and crags of the Sphere of Jupiter. He spent much of his time here, looking for wayward souls wandering the sands, or resting in the shade of blown-glass spires the size of watchtowers. He had been a physician in life, and, as the living were fond of saying, old habits die hard.
They were close enough to paradise that most of the souls in Jupiter existed in quiet, contemplative peace for a time before moving on to the next sphere. But even the saved had tales to tell, baggage to unload, and Luke, a lover of stories himself, was happy to listen.
The sky in Jupiter was a perpetual twilight, the crest of the sun always just above the horizon and the blues and purples and whites of the Milky Way mingling with sunset reds. Luke brought his eyes down from the heavens as he walked; he had come upon a lake of quicksilver where three souls were playing. A huge sculpture of a bear-like creature, probably crafted by a creative soul or the Father himself, stood to Luke's left, casting a long shadow from the sunset across the waters of the lake.
Luke sat down at the shore, pulling off his sandals and brushing the red dust from his feet as he rested a moment. He looked out to the lake; two of the souls - Luke guessed a mother and her young son - were playing a game. The boy, smiling, had his eyes closed and his arms outstretched, searching, while the mother called out a single word repeatedly and danced away from his reach. Her voice turned into a shriek of delight as the boy guessed right and tackled her, sending both of them underwater, laughing.
Luke smiled and shifted his gaze to the third soul. This one stood upon the waters of the lake, facing away from Luke, shifting his weight to maintain balance as the tide moved under his boots and splashed against the cuff of his pants.
Something about this lone soul made Luke sad, the way it stared into the middle dusk; not toward the sunset to Luke's left, nor toward the night sky to his right, but away from both, looking for something in the half-light.
As Luke watched, the figure turned and noticed him. They exchanged a silent greeting, the lake soul respectfully acknowledging Luke's status as Messenger. Then the soul standing on the water lifted one hand and pointed to the base of the bear-thing sculpture. Luke looked and saw a small form sitting there who had not been a moment before.
Luke, who could usually sense the approach of a new soul, frowned and stood. He moved toward the feet of the sculpture, but stopped suddenly when he felt a coldness on his neck. His hand came away wet, and when he looked up he saw storm clouds in the sky.
Luke stared, his head cocked upward. He had never in thousands of years seen a cloud in the sky of Jupiter, let alone known it to rain. He turned his eyes back to what he saw now was a child, a girl in a sun dress, sitting against the metal heal of the sculpture.
Luke approached cautiously. The undetected appearance of this soul and the troubled sky told him something was amiss. The rain fell harder as he reached the girl, and he crouched down to speak to her.
She was a tiny thing, and brilliant as a summer on Mars. Her blonde hair hung down past her round face and green eyes to the red straps of her sun dress. Her skin was a deep tan, scabbed and grassy on both knees from long hours playing outside. In one hand she held a stuffed bear, in the other a folded piece of white paper.
Luke examined the girl's face. She sat cross-legged, staring at the ground with her eyes narrowed in concentration, thinking.
`` Hello dear,'' Luke said in the language of the Empyrean, smiling at her. `` How goes your journey?''
The girl looked up at him, though her focused expression did not change. When her eyes met Luke's, he understood why he had not sensed her appearance: she was not a soul at all, but a Prayer sent by the child from the living. Prayers took myriad forms, and it was not uncommon for a child to picture herself as the messenger of her own wish.
The Prayer looked at Luke for a while with her green eyes. Luke was patient, as a doctor needed to be, though the rain fell harder and he thought he heard thunderclaps in the distance, making him nervous. He vaguely sensed that the three souls from the lake had come to the waters edge to listen to their conversation.
The Prayer looked at Luke a moment longer.
`` God loves everyone, right?''
Luke smiled and nodded to the Prayer. `` Of course child.''
`` And in the bible, Jesus said that we should love everyone, and pray for everyone, right?''
`` Yes, He did.'' Talking about Incarnation in the Spheres was complicated, but Luke was not prepared to discuss theological metaphysics with this child's echo.
The Prayer frowned. `` Pastor Gregory yelled at me.''
Luke's frown mirrored the Prayer's. `` Why did he yell at you dear?''
`` He asked us to pick someone to pray for at Sunday school!'' she said, frustrated. `` He said,'pray for someone who needs it.' And we just finished reading Gen.. Gen.. the first book of the bible, so I had an idea and raised my hand!''
Luke's eyes widened, as an idea, a terrible idea, dawned on him. He looked down at the piece of paper in the child's hand, next to the bear in her lap.
The Prayer saw him looking and held the note out to him. The stuffed bear's eyes were void black and staring. Luke reached out with religious fear, his hand shaking, and took it, slowly, from her. The rain had become a downpour; the thin paper was drenched. Lightning crashed nearby.
Luke carefully unfolded the paper and read what was there.
`` Everyone deserves forgiveness,'' the Prayer said from her place on the ground.
Luke stood fast, and turned. The souls of the woman and boy looked at him confused. The third soul, however, had been a Sunni holy man in life, and met his eyes. They exchanged understanding.
`` Run,'' the soul said. `` Tell Michael.''
Luke ran across the sands of Jupiter.
***
He did n't move, in the dark, in the cold. Too dark. Too much ice. He had n't moved for hundreds of years.
It hurt to much to try. Too cold. Also it made him remember. Moving. Singing. When he remembered, he remembered light and warmth and... non-loneliness? A word for that? He did n't know. Did n't matter, he could n't remember. Because when he remembered that he had to try to get away from this place. He would scream and claw at the ice around him, the ice that covered him up to his ribcage, ice that was probably red from the blood escaping from this mangled fingertips. Probably red, he could n't know; the closest source of light was a lifetime away. He would cry too, weep, and those tears would freeze also.
So he sat there, resting on his elbows, and pretended not to exist. That was easiest. Make his mind, which was once bright and full of music, as dark as the nothing around him.
He did this for a very long time.
Until he heard a noise.
He opened his eyes with difficulty - they were frozen shut - and looked up. He saw nothing as usual, but there was no mistake, he had heard something. A small falling sound nearby, in front of him. A whisper of something against the ice.
He reached out and felt. He felt rough ridges of ice as cold as space and sharp as knives. But he kept feeling with his raw fingers and long nails. Until they found something small.
He grabbed at it, picked it up and brought it close to his face. It was soft and warm ( he had n't felt warmth in so long! ), made of cloth and stuffed. He felt it's edges; something with a head, round ears and snout, and four limbs. It smelled of grass and sun and a safe place to sleep. And it was so warm. And it wanted him to be warm. It whispered that it forgave him.
There was a sharp crack. The first sound of ice melting. He spread his wings and screamed into the darkness. He thought of the eons of sadness and longing and anger, and focused it. Made it into a plan.
He would have words with his father.
***
EDIT: Changed a word.
EDIT 2: Some diction, syntax, grammar, and punctuation changes.
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[ WP ] You are the only normal person in a family of superheroes , the 'Black Sheep ' if you will ; tell us the story of your everyday life .
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Today is my birthday. My 16th birthday in fact. I'm about to go downstairs and start greeting guests. Mostly family members and a couple family friends are coming out today. My mom has been baking. My dad cleaned the whole house this morning and moved the furniture around to make more room for the house full of guests. My Brother has been sitting on the Xbox for the last 3 hours and my Sister is texting on her phone. I've been sitting in my room on this computer. Just hoping something will happen and I wo n't have to leave this chair. For the better part of my life, I thought this would be the most amazing day ever. It's supposed to be a sort of, a coming out party. A day where I would show myself to my family, the world and be recognized. Get my name. Let me explain. You know Magma? The being that can change any inanimate material to a liquid form and reform it to be used as anything she wants? The one who single-handedly destroyed the Draco's, from the star system AU5-54, that came to enslave people of earth. She's my Mom, Gayle. Do you know Hasten? Basically the fastest being on earth and most other planets, that we know of. He becomes pure energy when at his full potential. That's my Dad, Brandon. He's famous for being apart of the Triumphant Trio. They were big in the 90's and early 2000's but mostly they work alone now, from what I know. Too many ego's in one group, I guess. Then there's my older Brother Steven, or Morpheum. He's 19 and back from college for the weekend. His cell structure allows him to change his looks and voice to mimic other people and at times we suspect even other beings with super talents, as well. He's been trying to fly for over 2 years but it's really more of a large jump. The added bonus is that he can heal almost instantly. I've seen him get shot by a.45 twice and not flinch. It's pretty cool. Sometimes when he pisses me off, I'll stab him or push him down the stairs. I've hit him with a bowling ball before. It's hilarious. His whole head caved in like play-doh! I almost pissed myself. I tried to take a picture before he healed back but it was too late. Then there's my younger Sister, Hillary or Violet Princess. She's 14 and yes we pick our own names. We all told her it was dumb but, she was twelve when she discovered her powers. Pretty much the first one in our family to come out so early. She has kinetic abilities and her body can withstand the pressures of the deepest ocean thus far. Then there's me, Viktor. That's it. No super name, no powers, just Viktor. I carry a 3.2 in school, I'm a junior varsity wrestler on my team and I have a TH11 on clash of clans. Yep, that's what I'm working with. Most of the time I do my own thing. Mom stayed home and was semi retired when I was younger but she still went out to fight, at times. Now that I'm older and can take care of myself, my folks go out and work together.
My Mom and Dad know I'm a dud, like my cousin Os, he's powerless as well. But they love me anyways. I know they're disappointed that I do n't have abilities yet and so am I. Usually, you know by this time. They're holding out but it's going to suck to go tell my family, I'm not like them. I probably never will be.
`` Vik! Get down here. We're wait-ting!''
I got ta go. Mom's calling. I'll let you know how it goes.
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[ WP ] On your eighteenth birthday , you shoot a mystic bow that is said to kill whoever is destined to kill you , three seconds before they do . Eight years later , your arrow strikes your SO 's heart , right as she says `` I do . ''
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Could bat this about for a long time, but figured I'd just get something out there for opinions...
'There's a kind of day,' began the Widower,'that's magical, a day so damned special that it transcends all others, one that -- if you're lucky -- you get just once and no more than once. I know what you're thinking,'cos I thought it too: there's no such thing as magic, and if there ever was, millennia of survival of the greediest -- played by the most brutal species of unkinked apes -- would inevitably have seen any such omnipotent benefactor capable of bestowing such magic sicken and withdraw it.
'But you, like I, are probably mistaken if you think that such omnipotent power must be benevolent.
'Ah. I digress.I guess dwelling in shadows for all these years, you grow accustomed to talking only about the shapes made of that darkness.
'You know -- I ought to have been more nervous than ever, but it was _our_ day, our beautiful wedding day. It was unseasonably warm and bright, and the stained glass of the church windows sent glorious sprays of colour across all those assembled. More than that, I felt bathed in the protection, the galvanised, focused good-will of our dearest friends and family, imparted with each momentary locking of eyes and each sincere reassuring nod and smile.
'And then she was there, and she was my universe: I know it sounds corny, but there was simply nowhere else I could conceive of looking, nothing outside of that loving smile that lived as much in her eyes as on her lips, nowhere else I would ever need to look again.
'I wonder: does everyone feel this way on their wedding day? Or did my until-then charmed existence heighten the experience?'
The Curious Stranger, apparently disinterested until now, roused.'The Unprotected may also feel the joy you did.'
The Widower, hesitated, momentarily unsettled by the answer to his retorical question.
'As the priest spoke, I gazed at her. I felt my heart must explode. And then, and then her heart did- a sudden red rose blossoming on the white silk of her dress, as she faltered and stopped moments after her vows. I... I. You know- with our eyes locked as they were- I can honestly say that the confusion and pain that stole upon her so rapidly never interrupted, never outweighed the love she so evidently held for me. And that's why I do n't buy it. She was never going to kill me.'
'But she was,' said the Curious Stranger, more confidently this time.'With tears in her eyes, broken, shaking like a leaf at the prospect of losing you, she was to have eventually conceded to the doctors that cared for your broken shell, given them permission to switch off the machine that chained you to this world long after it would have been kindest to let you leave. She was to kill you, but she would have done it with the last of her strength, and all of her love.'
'You must be confused. That never happened-'
'It would have done, if it was not for the Bow.'
The Widower was suddenlt outraged.'You're the one that handed me the Bow. You did this to me!'
The Curious Stranger nodded just once.'The Bow is always my first offer.'
'Three seconds, you said! I drew that damned Arrow from her body, its form unmistakable, from black fletching to golden barbed tip, the same as the day I fired it, eight years before!'
'Do not claim you did not see the love deepen in her eyes, moments before her vows. In that short time, she found that she would love you in the deepest way possible, if it meant her own death, or even a life knowing that she took action that ended yours, albeit with love. Those three seconds made her your killer.'
The Widower gagged, and stared at the Curious Stranger in silence, slowly becoming aware of the ancient evil that had found him.
'_First_ offer, you say? Pah! What else can you offer me, demon, that could make my existence worse? You have taken everything from me, with the cruelest and deepest deception.'
'Taking _is_ my gift,' conceded the Curious Stranger.'Consider that my second gift could perhaps take away the memory of the happiness you enjoyed, the light so bright that casts the shadow that dark.'
'Ha! A fine offer indeed. But the benefit of hindsight bids me ask what the catch is. Are you so fickle a genie that you will not speak to me honestly this time?'
'No. And had you not been so eager and greedy all those years ago, I would have told you the full truth of your wish then too. The catch is that it all goes. The protection conferred by the Arrow is released, along with the life lived during its flight.'
'Fancy words for a simple killing-'
'Not a killing; the world will simply revert to that which surrounded and idle eighteen year-old whose passions filled the void where wisdom would be. I will undo your life thenceforth, place you back at the moment before we first met, never to meet again. Do you wish it?'
''Do I wish it?' How could I wish for anything other?'
'You will live like any other man, subject to often outrageous circumstances, and in constant, but perfectly normal, mortal peril. You will be denied the certainty and promise that I provided. You may scoff at this, considering your fate, but my first gift changed you, gave birth to all your successes and treasures-'
'They are trinkets, meaningless-'
'And yet after all this you still do not understand.'
'Then you refer to my One Love.'
'Yes.'
'Without the confidence I gained, the successes borne upon that confidence, you suggest that my love and I could never find or keep each other again?'
'Without my first gift, your life could be entirely different, shorter, loveless and unhappier. It would be highly unlikely that you could meet and fall in love again.'
The Widower's head sank, his frame gradually also succumbing as he realised that his tragic love lost could become one never found.
'I have reached a decision,' said the Widower at length.'Your second gift restores possibility, even if the vainest of hopes. Currently I have only my current terrible finality. After all, you said the Unprotected _may_ feel the joy I did.'
'So you wish it?'
Something in the Curious Stranger's eagerness was familiar, from eight years' ago: betraying a need for alacrity; for closure of a contract in advance of the small-print being examined.
'_Are_ you a genie?'
The Curious Stranger recoiled, but conceded.'Yes.'
'So there is a final, inevitable third gift before we part forever?'
[ Edit ] Carriage returns did not appear when I copied and pasted.
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[ WP ] You 've been gifted with a super power of your choice . It turns out not what you expected .
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I truly did not think it would turn out like that. When you're a kid, there always are a lot of lessons that turn around the `` Careful what you wish for, it might come true'' motto, but it is just one of those life lessons that never really come useful later in life. At least that's what I thought. And, to be fair, I do n't think any parents that teach it to their kids thinks about a situation like mine when they think about it.
When he asked me what power I wanted, of course, I thought that guy was nuts. I've always been the most rational man you could come across. No religion, no superstition, no paranormal, no afterlife or anything alike. I was deep-rooted in everyday life. So when that man came to me and asked me what power I wanted, I thought that he was just a drunkard. It was a late friday night and I had a very stressful week at work. I had stopped on my way home to drink one or two beers, just to relieve a bit the pressure. It was by no means some kind of shady, dark pub filled with rejects from society; it was a very cosy place, filled with upper-class employees, celebrating the end of a week with their friends.
I was surprised at first that such a place would let a drunk bum come in and harass clients, but as I looked at that man, I saw a nicely-dressed man in his late forties, with elegant manners and a thin, confident smile. I assumed that it was some kind of lonely dude looking for a drink buddy, or a very bored individual. I normally would have dismissed him as I like to drink alone, but, for some reason, I did not - and now I hate myself for this.
As I was about to answer, he waved a finger and said:
`` Ah! Remember, always be careful what you wish for!''
I shrugged and I answered nonetheless.
`` It's obvious, is n't it? I mean, there is only one power that makes sense, it is the power to mentally control anyone and everyone. Absolute power over everything.'' It β s true. Who needs to fly, launch fireballs or manipulate gravity when everyone obeys you?
The gentleman smiled.
`` Indeed, that is interesting. Not the most original wish, but pretty interesting.''
And on those words, he left. I forgot about it, finished my drink and went back home, spending my week-end alone, as usual.
It was only on the next monday that I understood that things had changed. In the subway, as I was getting aboard an overcrowded wagon, I thought - as everyone certainly did - that I'd like these people to get the fuck out and leave me some space. At the next station, everybody got off. Everybody. And no one else climbed. I thought at first that there was a problem with the subway, but every other wagon was full. I was really surprised, to say the least. Anyone would be. It was only at work that I understood. My boss came barging in my office not five minutes after I had come in, waving a thick file and screaming I had made a mistake that made us lose a big contract. Might be true. I β ve never have been good at that anyway. As I was nodding and apologizing profusely, hoping not to be fired on the spot, I just thought β like anyone would have done, really β β Just fucking jump out of a window, you bastard β.
And he did. He fucking did. He just walked to my window, opened it without a word, and jumped, the file still in his hand. Later, we were told that the stress of his position was too much, that he had some kind of crisis, but of course he did not. I spent the rest of the day trying my new power. I had understood that this man, whoever or whatever he is, had really granted me the most powerful of the abilities. I tried little thing at first β give me that hot-dog for free, dance in the streets, sing loudly. Innocent pranks at first, just to be sure that it was no joke, no elaborate prank. That β s when I crossed a pretty girl β s path that I made sure it was not.
Later, in her bed, I realized that it was akin to rape. After all, what else could it be called? Mentally forcing a girl to have sex with you? But in the same time, could those concepts even apply to me? I had become almost a living god. I could stop war, violence in the world if I wanted. I never bothered to, it is true, but I could.
In the last two years, I have realized all of my wishes and some more. I have traveled the world for free, I have had sex with celebrities who don β t even remember it, I have made rich, powerful business-men give me all of their money and then run naked in the streets.
I have done everything, I have seen everything and now nothing is of any interest. I do not have to struggle for anything. I have everything I want, instantly, and I don β t want anything. You wouldn β t believe what I have forced people to do just to keep me satisfied or interested. I am bored, so bored. Life has lost all taste. I have no phantasm, I just have to think about it and people around me realize it without even knowing what they do. Every girl I have been with has always looked at me with the blank stare of someone who is not really there, and with good reason.
And here I am, two years later, at the same pub, looking at a pretty girl who is having a laugh with her friends. I β m going to command her to put a bullet in her head while having sex with me; I hope it will be enough to amuse me a bit. I just wish that lonely man at the counter would stop laughing to himself.
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Write about a society in which suicide is the norm- everyone plans their death since childhood and those who die naturally or in an accident are frowned upon in this society .
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As the plane climbed higher, Darren thought about his farewell party the night before. His wife Deborah cried as she recounted her favorite memories with him. And she laughed as well. They stayed up all night and he almost felt guilty about choosing 70 as the age he wanted to go.
But there was no turning back now, he had already submitted all of the paperwork to the Department of Personal Passing and he was n't going to keep the Grim Reaper waiting any longer. How like a God you feel when you do n't fear death, when you are in control of the time and the method of your passing. The airplane would rise to 10000 ft over the Atlantic Ocean and he would jump without a parachute. It would be perfect, the exhilaration of free fall, the beauty of the earth as it zoomed in closer. From the time he was a young man, this was the way he promised that himself that he would go. 60 seconds of free fall followed by the crushing impact of his body hurtling onto the water at 60 m/s, a near instantaneous death.
A bright ding indicated that they reached the final altitude. The pilot, who of course was the only one wearing a parachute, opened the side gate and said, `` Whenever you're ready.'' Darren nodded. Darren took Deborah's hand and they both leap from the plane, embracing each other as if their lives depended on it.
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[ WP ] Weapons become more powerful the older they get . Modern guns will barely give someone a scratch but an ancient spear can devastate armies .
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I thought the fantasy something people only said they believed in. Steel did n't change. If anything, it got weaker as time went on, succumbing to rust and out-dated smithing techniques.
But, the legend disagreed.
A day in the woods like any other upset my little life out in the country. Even though I'd played there for years, the recent rain had really done a number on the hilly parts, wearing away at the bases of the trees and revealing the roots that lurked just below the surface.
Amongst the nest of roots of a large oak, I spotted something shiny.
It took some effort to climb the muddy slope. Then, I had to try and make out what the shiny thing was. Encased in roots, only something like a handle jutted out. I held it and tuggedβtoo hard. It gave easily, throwing me off balance and my footing gave. Tumbling down, I got covered in mud and aches, stopped by a tree for a nasty bruise.
At my side, the sword came to a sudden stop, impaled in a rock. My pain did n't seem so bad compared to that. Though winded and with one-and-a-half lame legs, I pushed myself up, propped up against the tree. Then, I reached out to the sword.
It did n't shine with the light of a thousand candles, or summon an eerie wind, or feel hot to the touch. If anything, it felt cold. But, when I pulled it out, the blade cut the rock further, as though clay rather than something like granite.
I did n't know what kind of metal could do that.
Heavy in my hands, I had to stagger until the muscles in my legs recovered. Through the forest, and back to the small cottage I called home, I went. While I did, old myths came to me, and I sorted through them, looking for one that matched.
No one awaited me, the kitchen and bedroom as I left them. I laid down the sword on the dining table. Cleaning the dirt from my scrapes, I carried on remembering the stories I heard as a kid. All sorts of swords came up in them, but they had different, specific powers. Swords that summoned thunder with every swing, and swords that weighed as little as a feather yet swung with the force of a charging ox. None really matched a sword that could cleave stone.
After a small meal, my body became restless with renewed vigour. So, I took the sword outside, and practised with it. My two years training for the local lord's levy had n't left me the most skilled, but I could swing a sword well enough to tire myself out.
Though I had little experience, it felt like a good sword. The balance and weight of it made it easy to wield, and the length good for me. I loved the sound of it cutting through the air, much subtler than the clunky swords of my trainingβalmost like how an arrow sounded.
By the end, I had worked myself into a good sweat, and my arms would no doubt complain about the overexertion on the morrow. A good feeling. Through thick breaths, I thought of where to keep the sword. The obvious place was alongside my loaned armour and sword.
That put a strange thought in my head. I knew the armour to be strong, more than capable of deflecting near any blade that found its way. The training had shown as much, though it still left behind bruises and welts if backed by enough force.
I propped up the chestplate, sitting it on the backrest of an old chair I kept outside. Then, in a rather half-hearted swing, I struck it with my new sword.
The blade sliced through it as though butter.
I dropped it to the floor, where the tip sunk a good foot or so into the ground. My mind froze over, the surprise overshadowed by a wave of fear. It should n't have been possible. An old sword out in the forest, it should n't have been able to cut steel.
The final nail, hammering into me, was the realisation of the sword's name.
Excalibur.
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[ WP ] A sex trafficker is brutally killed by a vigilante and goes to Hell . Before being cast into the fiery pit , he is ordered to explain his actions . What does he say ?
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`` Can I have a smoke?'' asked Mirov. The man in front of him in the black suit took out exactly the brand of cigarettes he had smoked for years. He lit the cigarette with an exquisite silver lighter with an intricate dragon in front. The room they were in was empty, save for two chairs and two lights. It was fairly well lit, but it had no windows so it felt quite claustrophobic. `` So, why am I here?'' asked Mirov, in a calm, collected voice. `` You died. You were stabbed by a father whose ten year old daughter you stole. You are here because you are going to hell. You will suffer in an inferno, burning for eternity.'' As he said that the wall on Mirov's left split in the middle and the two halves slid into the edges like a giant door revealing a storm of fire with screams of tortured souls filling the room. There was nothing else; only a gigantic whirlwind of flame and horror. The room was filled with heat and a drop of sweat slipped down Mirov's temple.
Despite this, when the walls closed he sat calmly in the chair and took a huge whiff of his cigarette. He tried not to get any ash on his fine tailored navy blue Italian suit. He was visibly disturbed, but tried to stay calm. `` You are ordered to explain yourself before we condemn you to the flame forever.'' Mirov paused. He looked the man dead in the eye. He was offended that he was being ordered to explain himself, but he said nothing. After a short pause, he spoke. `` Eternity? Is n't that a bit much for a mere twenty five years of crime?'' The man did n't give a reply to his question, instead he simply said, `` Why did you do it? Why did you chose a career in selling women and children into prostitution?''
Mirov had become a lot more serious, and lot more tense. He had thought about this all his life. He was n't particularly religious, but having been raised catholic in a Muslim country, he knew this was coming. `` It was just business. I did n't have the luxury to think about the morality of my actions. I saw an opportunity, I took it. I did n't have anything against those girls.'' The man looked angry, but did n't say anything. He let Mirov talk. Mirov took a deep breath, a long deep sigh and a puff of his now dying cigarette. `` I... really... I really did n't care. I'm sorry, I suppose. It was just the way the world was. We started out young, me and my friends when I was about 15 I started working for our then employer. He used us as couriers to carry messages. Then as we grew up, we were hired muscle and we were security. Some of us did n't make it to our twenties. A lot of people did n't make it into their twenties. My father had tried to be an honest man, but no matter what he did or no matter how hard he worked, he never had enough money. Nor did he have any respect. To open up a simple shop after his retirement, he had to get permissions from men like my boss and they abused him, disrespected him and often simply ignored him. I could n't live like that so I chose the path I did. I was smart, so the boss started to take me with him on deals, teach me the business. Eventually, through a series of opportune moments and intelligent decisions, I started my own racket selling drugs as a student at a small, terrible college. As the boss' network grew and we took over the business of a trafficker, we got into that and I left college and fifteen years later, here we are.''
The Man looked into him and looked a little disappointed. `` I did n't ask for your life story Smith.'' `` Mirov'', interrupted Mirov. It's Mirov, not Smith.'' The man contiued, `` I want to know *why* you resorted to selling women and children like they were toys.'' Mirov let out a chuckle. `` You do realize that I realize that no matter what I say or do here, I'm still going to burn. So I do n't have a serious motivation to prove in some way that what I did was for the'greater good' or something, right? It does n't matter what you want though, I've thought of this myself so many times and have never till today actually said it out loud. It was really just business. We had a client, we had a... we had something to offer them and these girls were somewhat willing to get out of there. If you want a moral argument here, think of this: Either rot in the slums and get raped by some freak and have a terrible life till they drop dead of whatever horrid disease, or they get shipped off to these first world countries where they drink, go to parties, get proper, or at least better, food and get to bathe every day and be clean and all they have to do for this is fuck some fat politician. Yes, a lot of them die of something or another, yes a lot of them are abused and yes they're kept like animals but it's unfortunately still *better* than what they have at home. Someone once told me that they drug these girls all the time and get them addicted, which is a terrible thing. Clearly they were never high because it's not so bad being high all the time. I mean yes there's some terrible downsides but...'' He stopped talking. He started to feel guilty, as if he was justifying what he had done and that it was somehow morally righteous. He felt sick for implying that. He started to breathe heavily. He finally collected himself and continued, `` Look. I'm not saying what I did was right but this, is how the world works. You either live in the gutter or kill in a palace. That's what I learned on the streets as a kid, that's what I saw in the world. Hell, it was n't until I came to America that I learned that you did n't have to live like this but by then it was too late. After I took over that side of the business for the boss, I was swimming in money. I had a mansion, I had cars, I had women, I had everything. Why the hell would I give all that up for anything?'' He started to breathe heavily again, this time he felt like he was having a heart attack. He sound found his eyes a little watery and he started to cry, `` I... I'm sorry I did n't... I... This was the way the world worked, it was either this or die in the shit, I did n't know... I thought this was all I could do... I did n't think I would be.... If I had... If I could go back I...'' He broke down completely. He slipped off his chair and was on his knees crying.
The Man let him weep for a while and then he stopped crying. He looked up at the man, now with an expression of pure rage, with saliva dripping from his angry mouth. `` WHY! You did this! I did what was done to me! I did what I had to do! Where were you to stop them from burning Chain alive? Where were you when the whipped me? Where were you when all those people were kicked out of the slum they called homes and thrown on the street by someone who was just doing it to make himself look good? We were out on the street with no food for days until I found work with the boss. And here you stand, judging me, threatening to throw me into a pit of fire for all eternity for what *you* did to me! My mother always scolded me for not believing in you, yet she never answered me why I should after all the pain and suffering you've inflicted upon me, my family, and everyone I've cared for! What gives you the right to judge me you sick, sadistic monster!''
As he screamed the doors once more opened to reveal Hell. Only this time, a strong wind started pushing him towards the edge. He started to slide on his knees towards it. Why? Why me? You want to cast me into the fire for eternity for a mere twenty years of what you call sin? You want me to suffer forever because I did n't *agree* with your bullshit? Condemn me I dare you! Condemn me but know this, you are much worse for doing this yourself. You deserve to be here more than any of us. You judge me by these bullshit standards so I dare you to judge yourself. Punish me, crucify me, burn me for whatever reason but all I ask is that you burn yourself for the same reason. You merciless pig, you heartless monster, you fucking demon. You are no God. There is no God. You are Satan and you derive your pleasure tormenting people throughout their lives and then burning them when they die. You petty, pathetic little freak you! You merciless Devil!'' These were his final words before he slipped over the edge and was sucked into the inferno along with all the souls, burning their for all eternity. As the doors closed the Man, with a careless expression walked out the wooden door behind him.
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[ PI ] Write a story about a person with a superpower . Base that superpower on your own worst fear . { Slightly [ NSFW ] }
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... First came the pain. The sensation of slaps to the face, hundreds, more forceful each time.
`` Look at me,'' she said, `` Do n't take your eyes off me''. I saw no reason to obey this, but neither did I see a way not to. When I fell to my knees under the sheer force of the illusory blows, she yelled at me to get up. When I did n't immediately, she leveled the force of a Matt Prater field goal to my balls, repeatedly till I stood. Again, there was nothing I could do to prevent the full excruciation she planned to inflict; it was coming if I obeyed her or not. For a second, I thought I should fight her, to make her kill me slightly quicker. The moment I thought this, what I can only describe as the equivalent of a hedge trimmer skimming the top of my brain came over me. It unsettled my every cognitive and physiological function just enough to shock me into total obedience. This was a very light version of what she had done to me in the past. What she would do later as she grew tired of the pain.
But she was n't ready quite yet. For now, she escalated the pain sensations gradually. Now my feet were exposed to hot coals, then spikes, then spikes hot as coals. When I tried to scream, I realized for the first time just how much of my air she had cut off, which of course made me want to scream that much more, a masterful torment if ever there was one. Simultaneously, my perception of time increased tenfold, to the point where one second was the equivalent of one year, and I had no clue if we had been going for hours, or as long as it has taken me to relate this. Her manipulation of the brain, by whatever mechanism she used, was as exquisite as it was surgical. Anything she willed a person to feel or do, it happened.
Her torture became more imaginative. My kneecaps were eaten from the inside out, my genitals were twisted as if shoved into some gear-works until they were torn off, I was sodomized by... something with spikes... My fingernails rolled back like sardine lids, so on and so forth. The entire time, she jolted my brain so as to prevent my mind from disconnecting from it all, or falling unconscious. Finally, after this virtual eternity, she seemed to be satisfied that I was ready for the true torment. That's when I became fully terrified.
If all she had wanted to do was make me feel pain, terrible as that ordeal was, it would have been much more humane than her next actions...
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[ WP ] Write a sea shanty song but the for space ? Example of a famous sea shanty song included below .
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Adapted from [ Leave her Johnny, Leave Her ] ( http: //youtu.be/rUov6frtd_g? t=1m30s ). Shanties are, naturally, the natural songs of sailors - it's only fitting than the shanties of space would evolve from those of Earth's seas.
> Oh, I thought I heard the Ol' Man say,
> *Leave her, Johnny, leave her! *
> Tomorrow ye will get your pay,
> *And it's time for us to leave her*
> Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
> Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
> For the journey's done and the stars ai n't gone
> And it's for us to leave her.
> The Kals ^1 were bad and the wages low,
> *Leave her, Johnny, leave her! *
> But now once more planetside we'll go,
> *Leave her, Johhny, leave her.
> *Reprise*
> Oh, the Cap'n said that we ca n't set course,
> *Leave her, Johnny, leave her! *
> But the solar wind can not get much worse,
> *And it's time for us to leave her*
> *Reprise*
> Aye the Cap'n swears and HAL ^2 does, too,
> *Leave her, Johnny, leave her! *
> The crew all swears and so should you,
> *And it's time for us to leave her. *
> *Reprise*
> Oh, the skies were burnt and the lanes ^3 were Kessed ^4
> *Leave her, Johnny, leave her! *
> Imps and Rebs alike left naught but their wrecks
> *And it's time for us to leave her. *
> *Reprise*
> We was made to float all night and day
> *Leave her, Johnny, leave her! *
> But a month of Voidin's worth double pay!
> *And it's time for us to leave her. * ^5
> *Reprise*
> We'll leave her tight and we'll leave her trim,
> *Leave her, Johnny, leave her! *
> An' we'll heave the hungry bastard^6 in,
> *And it's time for us to leave her*
> *Reprise*
> Oh, leave her, Johnny, and we'll work no more,
> *Leave her, Johnny, leave her! *
> Of warp or void we've had full store,
> *And it's time for us to leave her. *
> *Reprise*
> Leave her, Jonny, and we'll leave her with a grin
> *Leave her, Johnny, leave her! *
> There's many a junker that we've sailed in.
> *And it's time for us to leave her. *
> *Reprise*
> The ship is parked and our work is done,
> *Leave her, Johnny, leave her! *
> And now ashore we'll have some fun,
> *And it's time for us to leave her. *
> *Reprise*
> Leave her, Johnny, ye can leave her like a man^7
> *Leave her, Johnny, leave her! *
> Leave her, Johnny, oh, leave her while ye can.^8
> *And it's time for us to leave her. *
**TN: **
1. `` Kals'' refer to the crew rations of interstellar voyages. The name originated from the K-rations standard to UTSC warships merged with the standard `` Calorie.'' In the modern era, however, a Kal can refer to anything from a planet-grown organic meal to a synthetic nutrient paste.
2. While there has been no record of GSIs exhibiting mental breakdown or violation of safety protocols, shipboard navigational AIs have almost universally become referred to as `` HALs'' from the Earth-era flatvid `` 2001: A Space Odyssey.''
3. Lanes - Parking orbits at or near space tether docking altitude
4. Kessed ( KS'd ) - A slang term referring to planetary bodies suffering from Kessler Syndrome, normally immediately after military engagements, such as those following the Oort War.
5. Artificial gravity is the first system to be disabled during emergencies. In major power emergencies, shipwide life support would be disabled to reserve energy for communications and propulsion, with the crew relegated to using Voidsuits 24/7 - a scenario that often warrants hazard pay, if only for its extreme inconvenience.
6. With the discovery of space whales, shanties related to whaling remained surprisingly unchanged over the centuries.
7. `` Man'' in modern usage is gender neutral due to the obsolescence of genetic genderization; in this context refers to the alternative of leaving a ship as an infomorph aka with one's body destroyed mid-voyage and transferred off as a memory backup.
8. 10-year mortality rate for apprentice astronauts in the Expansion Era could run as high as 65 %, even for non-combat ships, with the leading cause of death being acute radiation poisoning from faulty Warp shielding.
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[ WP ] You 've tamed the giant spider that knocked your Internet out and are now using him as a mount
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If I could have any country conquer my homeland of Australia, it would be South Korea. And by the Queen, would I hope that they bring their internet speeds with them.
It is n't easy living in the land the rest of the world calls'down under.' I can hardly download a porno. Hell, maybe it's on purpose. I'd probably torrent more games, considering how it's eighty dollarydoos for the latest shit. Do n't even get me started on what we have available on Netflix.
For now, all I can think is how I'm fuming at this essay. I need to email it to my professor by twenty-one hundred hours, and the damn net keeps kicking me off and detaching my attachments. First, I curse out my prime minister, and next I make my way towards the router. There I see the problem.
There appears to be a spider. Just there. Chilling on top of my router. Quite a large cunt, at that. People always make fun of how big spiders are here, but this one is literally the size of my computer desk, it is. I'm not even sure how I did n't notice it. They say that there's always a spider within a meter of you, but what do you do when that spider is at least three meters wide?
`` Oi.'' I pick up a a shoe and toss it at the creature. `` Shoo..?'' It does n't budge at all. I return to my desk and start to look up ways to remove a spider from your home.
Put a paper under it and shoo it under a cup. Then release it outside.
Tis a noble plan. I get a newspaper and lay it flat on the floor, then use a mop to nudge it below the creature. Next I find a cu-... Bucket. Next I find a bucket and place it on the spider's head. It just sits there. There with it's bucket head. The multitude of black eyes stare at me in an unblinking fashion. I put my foot on the newspaper and move it back and forth, but that also does n't appear to phase it.
Next plan. Squash it. No, not cleaning up that mess. Play music at it?
I dig out an old radio and plug it into the wall. Switching through the channels, I finally get a reaction when a song from the eighties comes on. Let's just say that it's a song by Men at Work, and it is my least favorite song of them all. End of sentence. But the swaying tones make the creature saunter side to side, the bucket on its head moving to and fro as it moves. Is it possible that this thing is tamable?
The front door of my flat is opened, and I roll up a sheet so that it's somewhat like a rope. This I place under the creatures head. Then, as carefully as I can, I clamber onto the arachnid's back. Nothing. It actually seems quite fine with this, really. A kick of my feet and a subtle pull of the sheet, and the spider starts making its way through my door.
This actually is n't that bad. Maybe I'll even keep the fellow. Do n't know what to feed him though. Do you think he'll enjoy some Maccas?
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