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[ WP ] It was when I died the second time that I realized my mistake .
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It was when I died the second time that I realized my mistake. But it was too late - WarriorOfFury was fucking pissed.
`` God fucking dammit, Ferlock. You have to be the shittiest tank in the history of this game. Did you seriously just pop fear in the middle of the third phase? How in the ever loving fuck did you even get into this guild?'' WarriorOfFury spat at me through Vent. Sweat developed on my furrowed brow.
`` I-I'm sorry dude. My fingers slipped. I was trying to taunt but the buttons are so close --'' I was instantly cut off
`` What? Why would you even have fear out on your tab? You do n't fucking need it for this boss.''
I hung my head in shame in front of the dim glow of my computer monitor. Pretzel crumbs and sticky Diet Coke™ clung to my lips.
`` Listen Ferlock,'' WarriorOfFury began, `` You're a cool dude, but you're not fit for this guild. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to kick you.''
That was it. My time in `` Death Before Honor'' had finally come to an end. I turned off my computer and pulled out some documents from my desk.
*Whatever, * I thought to myself, *I need to prepare for the presidential speech tomorrow*
I cleared my throat.
`` Citizens of The United States, it is to my great sadness to announce that Vice President Biden has resigned after being caught with an underaged African American prostitute yesterday....''
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[ WP ] Everyone suddenly develops the `` powers '' from their favorite video game .
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G-Day was one hell of an interesting turn of events.
Lots of people liked shooter games, so, of course, weapons handing was a big power.
Those who loved puzzlers devolved into Sherlock-esque beings who were totally absorbed by their puzzles.
The casuals, however, had an advantage. They got their power while retaining their actual life.
The Candy Crushers were quickly hired by the government as statisticians, Solitaire players banned from Casinos, it all happened very quickly.
Some of us, however, were thrust into war due to the horrible fate of our powers.
I was assigned to UT-DV1. Undertale - Developers One. When you can code in new features to a game, they think you can edit the powers of people. However, they never realized that as a developer who was already _in_ the game, I got the powers of my own alter ego.
My name is Toby Fox, and this sucks, but hey! At least I'm filled with **DETERMINATION**.
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[ WP ] The justice system allows convicted criminals to shorten their sentence or avoid prison entirely by voluntarily giving up one or more body part to transplant or research . But how much is too much ?
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`` Very funny, try again.''
`` I'm serious, I want to donate my head to cryogenic research.''
`` Look, this is an act of goodwill on our part, heads are not included. Arm, leg, blood, muscle, bone, or Stem Cell. One category for your offense.''
`` That's a muscle, yeah? Some brain, sure, but-''
`` It's a bone, muscle, stem cell, and blood. One. The next word out of your mouth should be a different body part or we'll write you down as'non donatable'.''
``... Stem cells. Can I have this off my permanent record?''
`` No. We're not stupid. I hope you tell others useless this cockamamie scheme is. If I see others doing mundane things for cryogenic rights you'll be sorry. Understood?''
``... sure.''
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[ WP ] : `` Scientifically speaking , it 's the opposite of a retrovirus . Technically speaking , we 're not allowed to call them vampires . ''
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**The Bite**
***
“ Do it. ”
Smoke hung thick in the air, tossed into swirling eddies by the overhead fan. The two men sat at the table, staring daggers. Captain Joseph Guerro took another drag from his syntharette, waiting. Across from him, the hulking, armor-clad mountain of a man twitched his fingers, preparing to strike.
“ Check mate. ”
Guerro groaned. “ Every damn time, Art, how do you do it? ”
The android chuckled, reached over the table, and swept the small pile of syntharettes into a waiting bag.
“ And what do you even want those butts for? You can ’ t even smoke. ”
Arthur rose from the chess board. “ Well, I keep telling you to quit, sir, and every one of these things I win off you is one you can ’ t smoke.
In response, Guerro ashed his cigarette and lit another one. “ Very effective, ” he grumbled through a cloud of smoke.
The conversation was interrupted by a shrill whistle. “ Message, sir, ” Arthur said.
Guerro stood, took one last scrutinizing look at the game board, and shook his head. “ Alright, let ’ s hear it. ”
Arthur walked over to a wall terminal, punched in a series of commands, and the room was filled with static, which gradually faded into a cheerful tune, the United Nations anthem. “ God, I hate that music, ” Guerro muttered to Arthur.
Finally, as the last few bars twinkled through the ship ’ s speakers, a voice spoke, thin and tinny.
* “ Captain Guerro, this is command, do you copy? ” *
“ Ya, I ’ m here, let ’ s hear it. ”
* “ Are you alone? ” *
Captain Guerro shot a glance at Arthur, who shrugged. “ Ya, just me here. What ’ s up? ”
* “ Excellent. Agent Guerro, we have a case for you. ” *
The speaker hesitated, likely awaiting a reply from the captain. When none came, the voice continued.
* “ You are needed at Far Reach Harbor, ASAP. I believe that you are… familiar… with the station. ” *
Far Reach was a former colony ship, an archaic rotating drum anchored to the gravity well of Neptune, a well-known bastion for the less-than-civilized.
* “ We have received several... disturbing reports over the past week. Murders. The Peacekeepers are on-station but haven ’ t turned up anything. Your mission is to board the station and stop the murders. Simple stuff. What do you say? ” *
Captain Guerro cast a glance at Arthur. “ What ’ s the pay? ”
The voice hesitated. “ Standard fee plus expenses. And any frivolous damage, structural or otherwise, will be docked from your compensation. ” Arthur chuckled.
Guerro nodded. “ Alright, we ’ ll take it. Send me the info and I ’ ll head that way. Guerro out. ”
***
The UNS Odessa settled down on a roof-top landing pad high above the Far Reach skyline. As the boarding ramp hissed open, Guerro stepped onto the tarmac and took a deep, welcome breath. “ Good to be home, Art. ”
The city lay before them, spreading up and around in a disorienting twist along the inner wall of the station. Guerro looked up, and could barely make out the rooftops of buildings far overhead.
Arthur gave the captain a nudge, and pointed towards a pair of elevators set on the far side of the landing pad. Three black-suited figures stood before the doors, trench coats billowing in the wind. At the sight of the captain they parted, and a small, greying man walked forward.
“ You must be Captain Guerro! ” he shouted over the dwindling whine of the Odessa ’ s engines. The captain nodded, and walked over to the man. “ That ’ s me, ” he replied.
The short man looked over the captain, grimaced, and nodded. “ Right, follow me. I ’ ll take you to the other Agent.
Guerro leaned over to Arthur. “ Other agent? The message didn ’ t say anything about help. ” Arthur shrugged.
The short man led them into the elevator, and the three suited thugs joined them. As they rode, Guerro moved to light another syntharette.
“ Uh, sir… captian… you can ’ t smoke in here, ” the little man said, waving away a drifting cloud of smoke. If the captain heard him, he made no sign. After a moment, Arthur reached over, grasped the glowing ember between two gauntleted fingers, and extinguished the cigarette.
“ So why ’ d you call us down here? ” Guerro asked after tossing the butt onto the floor. The short man coughed politely, then said, “ Well, Captain, I believe that the other agent will be able to answer any and all questions you have. ” Catching the signal, Guerro nodded and leaned up against the elevator wall.
Eventually, the elevator slowed and the doors opened. “ Right this way, Captain Guerro. ” The man motioned down the hallway, a series of identical white doors set in white walls, illuminated in sterile white light. “ Room 734. Good day, sir. ” With that, the suits shoved Arthur and the Captain out of the elevator and the doors closed behind them.
“ Interesting décor, ” the captain said as the pair made their way down the bare hallway.
Eventually, they found the door. A small, gilded plaque above the frame read “ Janitorial ”. They entered into darkess.
The room looked, on the surface, like every other janitorial closet Guerro had seen, save for one thing.
“ Hey there, Captian. ”
In a flash, Guerro had his pistol drawn and sighted. There, seated on a stack of paper towels, was Jaqueline Sinclair. Her red hair was tied up in a bun, strands teasingly splashed across the black weave of her armored suit.
“ You, ” the captain growled. Jaqueline rose, put her hands in the air, and laughed. “ Yes, me. Now, if you ’ d kindly put down the pistol… ”
The pistol remained. “ What the hell are you doing here? ” he asked. Beside him, Arthur placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Jaqueline shook her head. “ Always with the dramatics, old man. Do n't worry about why I'm here. Now, you want to work this out here and now, or do you want to get paid? And maybe save a life or two. ”
The pistol wavered, then dropped. Joseph holstered it, retrieved a syntharette, and lit it. “ I ’ m listening. ”
Jaqueline smiled. “ Good. And hey, we ’ ll always have time to kill each other after. ” She turned to Arthur. “ Good to see you, buddy. ” Arthur nodded politely, cast a sidelong glance at the fuming captain, and strode over, embracing Jaqueline in a great hug.
“ Yea, yea, cute. Not come on, we don ’ t have all day. ” Joseph said.
***
**Continued in comments**
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[ WP ] Hawaiian secessionists have passed a vote to secede from the United States .
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**The House of Lords, London. 2234**
Timothy Silver, the Lord Speaker rose to address the House.
`` May it please His Majesty that the Hawaiian people have just declared the result of their referendum in favour of joining the Royal Commonwealth, thus cutting all ties with the governments of the United States of America and the Jeffersonian Republic.''
Clapping was forbidden in the House but that did n't stop the six hundred Lords in their wigs and traditional attire from bursting into immediate and violent applause. Some stood to cheer while others cried `` God bless Hawaii!'' and `` God Save the King!'' Seven years of conspiracy, propaganda and the masterful diplomacy only the heirs of the world's greatest empire could manage had finally come to fruition. Of course, the fact that after the fall of the World Federation the Home Nations had formed very quickly into a strong, united power while the former United States remained locked in a bloody civil war with two rival governments hashing it out for supremacy had helped, but it was n't like such a decision was unprecedented.
Lord Silver remembered that shortly after War of Restoration and the birth of the Royal Commonwealth our first king, King Edward the Liberator had sent envoys around the world, offering formidable military support to overthrow the World Federation in return for joining his fledgling Kingdom. Many had answered his call, mostly fellow heirs of the Empire but New England and Cascadia too. After years of violent repression from New York and Frankfurt it pleased the elderly Lord that the boot was now firmly on the other foot. However, he noticed a couple of his colleagues celebrated this victory half-heartedly and he knew exactly why.
Another elderly Lord, Lord Wilson rose agonisingly to his feet. Another veteran commander of the War of Restoration he'd lost both his legs and an arm to the largely American Federal Fifth Army and unlike the majority of injured had refused the offer of limb regeneration. He wanted to remind everyone who saw him what the Restoration had cost so had opted for mechanical prosthesis instead, and the gears and motors whirred as he stood. The house was quickly silent, Lord Wilson commanded the highest respect.
`` While I welcome this diplomatic success surely this House realises what bringing Hawaii into the Commonwealth will do? It will unite the warring Americans against us, while I have every respect for His Majesty's armed forces can we really hold Hawaii against them? Surely it is better to miss out on four thousand square miles of territory if it keeps the Americans at war with each other instead of us? We already control much of North America, might we not be satisfied?'' he inquired in his distinctive Canadian accent.
`` It is already done'' called Lady Thompson, the First Sea Lord. `` Our nearest base is in Vancouver, we've sent the North Pacific fleet to Hawaii. That's four carriers and over two hundred other vessels and that's without the Royal Corp of Astronauts planting HMS *Wind of Change* in geocentric orbit over Hawaii. She's holding over two hundred astro-planes so even if the two American forces combine they'll be crushed in days.''
`` Silver's going senile'' thought Thompson to herself. She saw it as deeply unpatriotic to deny any country who requested it the chance to join the Commonwealth. While she respected him greatly as a military commander and veteran she also thought he should n't be in politics. It was all very well respecting the heroes of the Restoration and honouring them but those dark times were over! We were n't a desperate coalition of rebels and defectors any more, she thought, we are the beginnings of an Empire! If we went to war it would n't be like last time, a desperate last stand won by an incredible fluke, it would be professional war machine against an already war-weary dying ex-superpower.
Silver on the other hand felt defeated. The new First Sea Lord was the youngest ever appointed to that position. She'd never known the horrors of large-scale war, ever since the Restoration the Commonwealth had gone from victory to easy victory. Most of the places it advanced into were grateful to be annexed, grateful to enjoy some, albeit limited, liberty after the tyrannical oppression of the World Federation. It was poor form to think ill of a fellow peer but Silver could n't help but think Thompson's brash patriotism would be fortunate to survive the war she might be about to wade into.
`` What of the Commons?'' asked another peer.
`` They've already passed an Act of Annexation and created twenty new seats in the Commons for Hawaiian MPs'' the Speaker informed the House. `` All that it needs is our ratification.''
With that two holographic buttons appeared before every Lord present, one red and one green. Silver knew his reputation would be shattered should he vote nay, but could he really bring himself to vote aye knowing it might condemn hundreds if not thousands of his countrymen to death?
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[ IP ] Still Waiting
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The rain pattered down on the black fabric of the umbrella, forming into little rivulets and cascading off the points. Though most of him was covered, the streams of water still poured down on anything exposed, darkening the fabric of his suit as they fell downwards.
Georges checked his watch again, peering at the dial through foggy spectacles. Half -past six. The streetlight above him had flicked on half an hour ago, casting a circle of weak light across the wooden bench.
Another hour, he told himself. Another hour, and then the slow walk home to his lodgings, his leg aching from the cold and the damp. One more hour, just in case she came today. It would be awful to miss her just because he had hurried back to blankets and the electric fire.
`` After the war,'' she'd said, smiling up at him. `` We'll meet right here, when it's over, on our bench. It wo n't be long.''
That had been the promise, the dream that had kept him going through the mud of Northern France, even as far as Berlin. It was her voice, the memory of her shy smile that had warmed him on the long nights of sentry duty, had kept out the worst of the knifing wind.
And it had been for her that he'd been fighting, long after ideas of patriotism and duty had died on hellish beaches and rotted away in exile. Every long day fighting or waiting to fight had been another day for her. Another day helping to defend her, to liberate her, to give her a world that she deserved.
Five years of mud and blood and death. A further year of convalescence, tending injuries gained in that final push. He had wanted so much - ached with the wanting of it - to rush back to Paris when peace was declared. But it was months before the doctors let him rise from his sick bed, and months more before he felt strong enough to travel. And even then, there was the fear. The fear that she would reject him, would not want him as he was now. A limping, battered shadow the the young man he had been. Scarred where he had been strong, timid and trembling when a car backfired or a cat yowled in the street.
At last though, Georges had been ready. Had recovered, as much as he was ever going to do. He had packed up his meagre belongings, bought a cheap ticket, and taken the train to Paris.
The bench was just as he had left it. An oasis almost, in a city that had been ravaged by bombs and occupation. Buildings had been shattered and destroyed, but the little park was untouched, though poorly tended. Weeds grew along the paths and amongst the flower beds. None of that mattered though; the bench was still there.
Georges shifted his weight again, stretched his leg stiffly out in front of him. Another hour, that was all. She would n't come at night, of course not. Another hour to be safe, and then back again tomorrow. One day she'd be here. She had promised.
His mind ran through, as it had every day for six years, what he'd say to her. How she'd smile at him, and it would be as though those years had never existed. How she'd recognise him, despite the scars and thinning hair, and not mind how he had changed. It would be just as it was.
But what if she had changed? In the darkness and the rain, it seemed all too likely. Perhaps she was far from here, with no way to return. Perhaps she had no use for a worn-out soldier. Perhaps, in the chaos and confusion of the war, with bombs falling shrieking through the night, she -
Georges refused to think of that, his mind shying away from the possibility. It could not be true. It would not be fair. She had promised.
The rain continued to fall, spattering in puddles until the paths were all awash with water. The feeble streetlamp shone down on the wooden bench. Georges checked his watch again.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
I have more stories at /r/peritract, if you are interested.
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You wake up in a new world , a video game world . All seems fine and dandy until you realize you are one of the weakest enemies . [ WP ]
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*'W-what.. where?'*
The sensation is vague and hard to place - I can feel my body, but it is off. As if I am both here and elsewhere, an in-between feeling of travel, of going somewhere but not actually *moving*. I am afloat in a space that is nonexistent and yet all that I am.
I blink, and awaken.
I'm sitting, now. The light of a huge fire flickers and casts wavering, leaping shadows across the small tunnel before me, making the bars across it seem to dance under my gaze. My head *throbs*, my eyes..
My eye. I can not see properly through one of them. I reach up to touch it and my fingers scrape along gritty, wet cloth. The hand comes back wet - dark with blood, and as I flex my fingers they seem long, bewilderingly so. The nails are near claws, dark and caked with.. something. I dare not think too hard on what. I recall that I was not blind, but the memories are hazy at best, and my mind is difficult to move, as if sluggish and unyielding. I grit my teeth and ball my hands into fists, willing my mind into action by force of will.
Someone is beating on a door nearby, hitting it with something heavy and hard, but can not get through. The cadence is almost familiar, and the roars of the owner come at predictable times. I *know* that sound.
I hear muffled voices from behind me, and footsteps as others walk on hard streets - a glance down shows me stone cobbles placed carefully together, and a fallen ax beside a torch. I *know* that ax. I retrieve it and heft the weapon in thought, the dull and nicked blade drawing an unimpressed cluck of my tongue.
`` More a tradesman's tool than aught else.. ``
I startle myself with my own voice. I *know* that voice. Carefully, I reach down to grab the torch - fumbling and burning my fingers as I misjudge the distance. I'll need it to see, and I know it will be important. I turn around and realization hits me harder than if the entire arch and iron bars had fallen atop me. A mob patrols the streets near the bonfire, hefting torches of pine and cloth high to ward against the dark of the Night. A monstrous cross stands solid center of the huge bonfire built there, around which a few gather. Crucified in gory, vainglorious ritual is a beast like none I've seen - at least, not outside of a screen. A creature fully twice my size, all claws and greasy hair, burning in the cleansing fire; it's head that of a massive wolf, jaws agape and lips pulled back, still questing for the taste of blood even in death. Blood.
`` A curse.. it's a damned Curse! ``
I hear one of the people near the flames cry out, clutching his head and waving his sword about. One of his eyes is taken as well, and as he lifts his hands I can see the long digits almost curl around his skull. He is far along, like me, I think. Others look at him with brevity before they continue their wanderings. The incessant beating on the door continues unabated, and one of the men keeps a weather eye on the gate, toting a gun which I now recognize. Quicksilver bullets to slay a beast, perhaps a man as well.
My mouth has been agape all this time, and it snaps shut with a solid *click*.
Yharnam. I'm in Yharnam.
*'Oh God, I'm in Yharnam'*
My mind is working now, though I still feel the pull of lethargy in the back of my mind, I know its source now. I also know what stalks the night and what will come for us soon, I feel. My one good eye focuses intently down the street, and I spot what I'm looking for almost immediately. A gunman, sitting idle, is dashed apart in a flurry of precise strikes, falling like a puppet with its strings cut at his death.
I remember. A figure dashes ghost-like to my impaired vision up the stairs and I can no longer see it for the fencing. Ye Gods, I know who - what - that is.
I lift my ax carefully, nervous - even in my state the solid wood is slicked with sweat now. I wipe it clean on my heavy greatcoat and walk forward. My stride is steady, if not my gaze, and I am strong - too strong. I know my strength comes from something other now, though I can not guess as to why my mind remains clear. A grace by whatever power brought me here, perhaps?
`` A beast, a plague-ridden rat come to take our prize! ``
I call in my all-to-familiar but strange voice, pointing my torch across the way, in front of the gate. The small tunnel there is the twin to mine, but unbarred.'t is no game, now, and my'bretheren' follow my pointing. Their eyes are not keen, though I imagine the gunmen can see well enough. Most of them begin to move in that direction, deceptively fast once given a direction. Myself, I have another objective in mind. The heavy stomp of my boots and the crackle of my torch are masked under the bonfire and the calls of the other'Huntsmen' on the streets, but I can hear it - far ahead, the call of another. I drop my torch and heft my ax in hand; the stars are bright this Night, and the Moon hangs full. I need only a moment.
Even before I see it, I can hear the sounds of tearing cloth and flesh, and the heavy thud of a body. A corpse slides down a set of stairs between the buildings and settles heavily to the ground, groaning the last filth-ridden breath between its teeth. I advance cautiously now, ax in two hands, prepared. I know what is coming. I will be showed no mercy.
The rush that comes is still almost too swift for me to follow, and the shorter person only avoids catching me flat-footed because of the iconic feathering at the top of their hat. The blow comes in low, and swift - for my legs. I step back with more agility than to be expected and sweep my ax in a long, wide arc. The Hunter I came for hops back and rushes immediately.
`` Wait - ``
I have time for one word before the Hunter, coattails flying, is on me again. I am no fighter, but luck is on my side. I take the first strike on the handle of my ax and turn it aside, the weapon nearly tearing from my grasp as the serrated edge of the weapon catch on the tough wood. The Hunter's eyes widen visibly under the hat, though I doubt mine could go any wider at the moment. The second attack is swift as well, and I catch it on the blade - the teeth of the weapon catch on the metal even as they caught on the wood and threaten to tear it from my grasp yet again. As they pull back for the next strike, I hurriedly back away and hold out a hand.
`` STOP! The Hunt, the Dream, the Doll, Gehrman and the gods-damned Paleblood, LISTEN!''
I bellow out, my voice carrying plainly in the night as I watch the Hunter carefully - they still have the gun, held loosely in their left hand. Quicksilver for slaying beasts - or an unlucky Huntsman like myself, I suppose. My own memories are flooding back now, the adrenaline pushing back the strange lethargy in what I expect is the same feeling that set the others to running. I can think somewhat clearly.
`` Hunter, I am sane. The Scourge has no hold on my mind. ``
We both stand there for a good few seconds, my mind racing now. Why was I here, How was I here? Was this a game? No, certainly not - though it resembled one I knew. This Hunter was new, though they had obviously acquired equipment somehow. The sawtoothed cleaver was slick with blood and had obviously drawn a lot, quite recently. Thankfully not my own. The Hunter lowers their - her, I see now - weapon. I lower mine, arms suddenly weak - success. I doff my hat and perform what I know is a proper Hunter's Salutation.
**'' We need to talk, Miss Hunter'' **
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[ CC ] Response to prompt : `` ... And just like that , the passion that was gone for so many years , had returned . ''
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I thought it was pretty balanced.
You tossed out the'Blight addiction' and go into it just enough to make the reader want to hear more.
The protagonist comes off as passionate and conflicted and tired, and I think it is okay that his dialogue basically says as much. You could have tossed his or her name in at the end when Ben responds, but it does n't bother me. I assume he is a man, but the use of'slender' for some reason makes me think of a woman speaker. I'm not sure why I think that.
Ben seems really interesting, calm, controlled and obviously the more dangerous of the pair. He pretty much goes along with the speaker, but does n't seem to be the type of guy to do something he does n't want to do.
It's sure hard to build a back story in 1000 words though. You almost have to be expository to get anything across. When I read this, nothing seemed that forced.
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[ WP ] Your T.V . suddenly turns on by itself mid-lunch and a message from the local weather warning system , normally accompanied with a loud alarm but oddly silent this time around , reads `` For the safety and well-being of all local citizens this warning will be broadcasted silently ... ''
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He read the message from the TV silently himself. Jonathan even tried to quite his own internal voice - just reading that text sent chills through his body. Nothing had happened in this town for years, the last disturbance was a forest fire back in 2004. And this, this was n't a normal message. If it was a tornado, it would have been accompanied by sirens, but even they were held silent. All sorts of thoughts rushed through his head, as he waited for the next message to flash up - it was only seconds, but it felt like much, much longer. The screen changed, still just white text on a flickering black background.
FOR YOUR SAFETY, THE TOWN'S ELECTRICAL GRID SUPPLY WILL HE SHUT OFF IN *30* SECONDS.
The message was replaced by another.
DO NOT ATTEMPT TO START GENERATORS, VEHICLES, OR ANY OTHER SOURCE OF ENERGY OR NOISE.
And then once more.
STAY IN YOUR HOMES. THERE IS NO DANGER INSIDE.
What was going on? What could possibly -
Jonathan's thought process was interrupted by the lights turning off. The hum off the refrigerator stopped. The soft orange glow which had poured through the windows from the street light was replaced by the darkness of night.
There was complete silence. For this sleepy town, lack of noise was quite normal. But it was really eerie. Even the normally incessant cicadas had stopped their droning.
Jonathan wanted to run. But where? He could n't see. This night was even moonless. He could see just a few stars, their lights poking holes in the sky, through the crack in the curtains. He had to feel his way through the house, which was difficult, as his sweating hands struggled to get a grip. This was all wrong, why was n't there a warning, why was n't anything explained? He reached the stairs, and had to crawl up them. He was close to tears. Ridiculous, he was almost 23, what was he so afraid of? It was probably just a safety precaution, to stop the electricity blowing up a house or something, right? He still pulled himself up the stairs, his palms lying on the steps, crouching close to the ground. Literally nothing was happening but he was terrified. Ok, he would have to just keep on going, he thought to himself, go upstairs, lock himself in the-
A scream interrupted him and he fell to the floor, his body slumping on the steps, digging into his ribs. He started to cry now, it was so wrong, it did n't make sense what was going on?
His face was buried in his arms, the top of his head pressed against the side of the step. His eyes were open, but it did n't make a difference, he still could n't see anything.
And then, a shadow stretched across the floor. The shadow of his own arm, illuminated by something coming through his window. Pale white, like moonlight. He lifted his head slowly, but tee light was blurred and flared by the tears in his eyes. It was coming through the crack in his curtain, slowly moving, scanning the room. It moved onto the rest of his face, and he squinted, the bright light was painful even through the tears. It began to move again, like someone was outside, walking with a torch, but there were no footsteps on his gravel drive. Something was moving out there, with a light, looking in. It had seen him, oh god, it had seen him, he needed to move, get upstairs, he could see now, the light reflecting around, illuminating his steps as he ran up and then the light darted around, it had heard him seen him, oh god he could n't see properly.
He got into the bathroom and locked the door but the light was coming closer, it had heard him, that's why the TV was silent, it could hear them, it was seeping under the doorway, the light was coming through oh god it was at every angle, it shine through the airvent, the window, the cracks around the door. The room was so bright, it was all around him he needed to get out…
He had a sudden realisation as the light surrounded him. The warning came on at lunchtime. Why was it so dark outside, why could he see the stars?
The TV, the message had said there was no danger inside. It had been wrong.
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[ WP ] Due to an administration error a max level guard NPC is stationed in a level 1 area .
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I ca n't remember my past. I can only remember pain. Pain. How I remember it plunging into my skin, the burns, and the fog. Ever since what feels like 10 years, I've been guarding a hospital. A man repeatedly crawls into me helplessly, as I gun him down. Another patient attempts to kill me, but he too is unarmed. Every time I gun him down or kill him in whatever way, he respawns. I can do this for an eternity. This is the pointlessness of my existence. I am born to follow.
*^ ( - Based on the intro sequence to Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain. The `` Guard'' is a member of the Parasite Unit that you encounter later when rescuing a fellow soldier. You only battle them later in the game. This is meant to explore if instead you encountered them in the hospital. ) *
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[ WP ] using any writing form , give meaning to the word , `` Lost '' .Do n't just go for the obvious , really bring a new understanding to the word .
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The man lay in his sick.
It dried into his face - the smell and the acid penetrating his skin, rotting, sinking into his skull. It became a part of him, a deformed mould, clinging, clinging, clinging, morphing him into a monster.
He wanted to sleep. His eyes, his head, his body all did, but his mind just kept screaming and thrashing and pulsing like he was falling to his death.
Falling.
Falling.
Falling.
*No. *
*Stop. *
*Help. *
But no one helped, for no one was there. No one heard him.
And he did n't know where he was, for he did n't know anything at all.
His senses were all broken and blurred, so they just created vague images and sounds, confusing and distant. They left him a scared child in the shell of a man.
*Help. *
The world spun and swirled, and the colours melted into each other, becoming grey and non-distinct.
They faded.
His legs twitched, his eyes closed, and his mind stopped.
Black.
Black.
Black.
Nothing.
*Help. *
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[ WP ] You are a historian studying The Forgotten War . That 's not a misnomer , the war was fought with memory-altering weapons .
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Day 0: At a colleague's recommendation, I am keeping a daily journal of my studies on the topic of the Forgotten War. Due to that nature of the munitions that were used in this conflict, it is very likely that my own memory will be affected and an immediate record of all findings is the only way my assessment wo n't be immediately discounted ( As was unfortunately demonstrated by Prof. Liu ).
Day 1: I was taken on-site to an old weapons manufacturing plant in one of the Lost Cities. The workers seem unaware that the war has stopped, and I have been asked to not mention it to them. In their minds, they have been at war their entire lives and they become violent if their world is challenged. The structure is remarkably simple and practical. I could tell you exactly how to operate every machine on the floor without any training or instruction.
Day2: Today is a very important day. I have been allowed access to one of the great weapons of the war: the Memetic Eraser. These devices cause complete, irreversible episodic memory loss. Fortunately, this one has been disarmed. The weapon appears to be a tall steel column supported by a tripod. For safety reasons, the device is contained in a concrete room. To enter or exit the room, you simply push a big red button. I suppose they did n't want anyone forgetting how to leave, so they made that part very simple.
Day 5: As is rather apropos of the situation, I can not find my records for Day 3 and 4. Fortunately, there is plenty of time to reexamine any artifacts covered during that time. I spend today interviewing the workers about how they are adjusting to the peace since the war. Surprisingly, they are entirely unaware that the war stopped decades. Stranger still was that they talk about recent events, like the annexation of Steffanski Arabia, as if they were cause by a continuation of the war. Obviously, such claims are ridiculous, as the United Peoples of America disbanded their military over 15 years ago.
Day 5: Today is a very important day,: Today is a very important day. I have been allowed access to one of the great weapons of the war: the Memetic Eraser. These devices cause complete, irreversible episodic memory loss. Fortunately, this one has been disarmed. The weapon appears to be a series of tall gold antennae flanking a large control panel. For safety reasons, the device is contained in a concrete room.
November 34,
Today is a very important day, I have been selected to lead a PSYOP team dispatched to Zone 56A. We will be using a device called Memetic Eraser to eliminate terrorist support in the area and establish a new government that better aligns with our goals in the region.
After completion we will return to base for memetic realignment.
If I do n't survive, tell my wife and kids I love them.
Bravo 2,
Today is a very important day, I have been selected to lead a PSYOP team dispatched to Zone 09Z. We will be using a device called Memetic Eraser to eliminate terrorist support in the area and establish a new government that better aligns with our goals in the region.
After completion we will return to base for memetic realignment.
If I do n't survive, tell my wife I love them.
Zulu 54,
Today is a very important day, I have finally gotten that promotion I've been waiting for. No more grunt work for me. It will be strange living the boring desk life, maybe even settle down and start a family. Life has always been to crazy for me to even consider that until now.
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[ WP ] Write a story that will scare me out of wasting my life
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Dearly Beloved,
`` We are gathered here to pay our last respects to... honey... puppy. We sought out family and friends to give an account of his... or possibly her life, but they all said there was n't much to say on account of all of his/her time spent in his/her room staring at a computer screen. It is for this reason invite David, the delivery driver for Pizza Hut-'Make it Great' - to give us all some insight of honeypuppy's time in this life. David?''
`` Uh.. dude liked pepperoni.''
``... Thank you, David. That was... yeah. Well, um, let's get this thing moving.''
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[ WP ] After inauguration , each US President is required to come up with a series of code words . At the end of their term , these code words are written into a secret history book . On 9/10/2001 , a disoriented man approaches President Bush and his security detail , he is shouting the code words .
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A Tuesday morning in Florida. George was going to be in town for a photo op and a short stump speech promoting the `` No Child Left Behind'' bill that was grinding through Congress. Jeb flew down from Tallahassee for a personal visit and a ride to Washington where the younger brother was scheduled to attend a Congressional hearing before the Armed Services committee.
Air Force One landed and parked 300 yards from the Governor's much less impressive plane. Jeb met George at the foot of the stairs, and the two walked together briefly to the motorcade.
The brothers rode with chief of staff Andy Card and a pair of secret service agents. They talked about the possibility of a hurricane coming through Florida, they talked about the books their wives were reading - Laura had just finished `` P is for Peril'' and George related that she would n't stop telling him about it.
When they got to the school where the photo opportunity was scheduled, the men piled out of the limousine. They were greeted by a couple hundred people behind a security gate. One man in particular stood out. He was waving a French flag, wearing a turban, and yelling something indiscriminate. As the men walked closer, the nonsense words became a little more clear.
**Benzocaine methylcyclohexane lidocaine diethylpentane**
Somewhat alarmed, George leaned over and told Andy Card that the French man knew something he should n't. That poem was the authorization code for the nation's VX supply in a depot in Indiana, and this man knew it.
This man knew the codes. Which meant there was a mole. But that was a problem for someone else to investigate. George walked into the school while some of the Secret Service personnel detained the French guy.
Twenty minutes later, Andy Card walked into the classroom where George was reading to children. Andy whispered that there was an urgent situation.
George assumed that chemical war had commenced.
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[ WP ] It 's a showdown between two spaceships : A heavily armed trade spaceship and a pirate spaceship . Pick a side , and write the fight .
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**KATHOOOM**
Captain Kel Jessup gripped the console tightly as the entirety of the *DTV Wandering River* shook violently. Looking down at the command readout, she could see that the ship was shutting down systems to conserve power. She could feel gravity weaken as half the grav-generators failed. It reminded her of passing the apex of a roller-coaster, she could feel her organs shifting. *Not enough power. * She looked over at her brother, Lieutenant Taj Jessup, fully suited in his fourth-gen RAID armor. She rolled her eyes almost as hard as the *Wandering River* tried to roll away from her attackers. “ The Republic better come through with repairs on my baby, little brother. ”
“ Relax, ‘ Captain ’. ” Taj jabbed his not-really-outranking older sister. He just stood there as his magnetic suit boots gripped the deck plates. “ You know they will, sis. ”
“ I ’ m still not sure why I let you talk me into this. ” Another volley of fire grazed them mid-yaw, rattling the old cargo-hauler. She might have been the Captain of this vessel, but she was not happy with the notion of combat. Kel left such nonsense to her younger brother.
||HULL BREACH, MAIN CARGO HOLD, || the ship ’ s computer called out in her angelic voice.
Jessup could see her brother talking to someone. “ I hope all your boys and girls are fully buttoned up. ”
He nodded grimly in response, having just checked on the forty-two suited Marines locked down in the cargo hold. They were his portion of Operation: Trojan Hauler. Her fool ’ s errand was the easy part: just let the Pirates capture her. It was the Terran Republic ’ s idea of a surefire way to cut down on pirates in the belt. Kel wasn ’ t so sure of the “ surefire ” part.
“ Just don ’ t make it look too easy, ” Major Vell had told them. “ They always run when we show up, so we have to bait them. ”
*Why, I ever let Taj talk me into this…*
||CORE CONTAINMENT UNSTABLE. RECOMMEND IMMEDIATE ENGINE SHUTDOWN.||
-- -
Taj chuckled a little, “ Sorry about this, sis. Guess that ’ s my signal. Get your people secured and keep them out of the way. ” He engaged the seals on his helmet, which closed like an inverted clam around his face. As he strode with haste down the corridor to the hold, Taj had to admit to some feelings of guilt for putting her and her crew at risk.
*Ah, we got this. * They were just pirates after all. He couldn ’ t imagine them as anything more than disorganized, greedy thugs whose only unifying banner was coin. “ Secondary comm check. ” Each of his squad leaders and Gunny Peck sounded off in order as he double checked the link ups. “ Time to go hot. ”
If they had not yet, every member of his TRMC platoon was warming up the charge on their low burst plasma rifles. The PR-7s would melt a man ’ s face or cook him in armor, but in the ship-board mode would not punch through bulkheads.
As he passed through the airlock and entered the bay, sparks from a cutting torch died quickly as they were born and found no oxygen to sustain them. Like a well lubricated machine, each member of his platoon took up either flanking positions on either side of the pirate ’ s entry or behind barricades disguised as cargo crates. First squad went left, second right, and third was tucked away behind the “ crates ”.
Gunny, well Gunnery Sergeant Peck was a creature all his own. Gunny was better in three dimensions than most. With only half-grav and the assist of his suit jets he had gone vertical and was now clamped to the ceiling with his boots. In the two years he had worked with Gunny, he ’ d never steered Taj wrong.
Taking heed of his silent advice, Taj kicked off from the deck and ignited his thrusters. He would have an unprecedented, though slightly disorienting, view of the battlespace from above. Every TF Infantry Marine was trained to operate in the unnatural environments they faced in space, but it did not mean the human body adjusted well to it. *Safer for rushed combat not to screw with their brains. *
He opened up the wide channel, “ Alright. Check your cross-fire everyone. Keep it tight, keep it controlled. Actual, out. ” The RAID.4 suits could take one or two hits from their rifles, but best not to test the damage thresholds.
The final spark died off and for a moment there was silence. Not the kind of silence noise travelling through air, but the kind you feel in the vibrations of your boots and amplified by your suit sensors.
**Eeeeeeeeee-KLAG**
With a screech of grinding metal and a heavy vibrational thud the cut section of hull fell into the bay. Red hot edges of the cut cooled almost instantly, returning to their shiny aluminum color. Residual air from the docking tube rushed in, only to be sucked away into the crack twelve meters away in the hold.
A motley crew of murderous thugs charged into the bay in a mish-mash of piecemeal armor and pressure suits. They paid no attention to the Marines they had rushed past as they were mostly obscured by structural beams lining the hull. Taj waited only a moment for the initial push to fully enter their field of fire and clear the passage.
“ Engage! Engage! ” From four angles, plasma blasts lanced out and sliced the raiders down in ribbons of death. The two dozen pirates were taken completely by surprise and failed to mount an effective counter attack. “ First squad, down the chute. ”
On his command Sergeant Jacobi, his first squad leader, pied the entryway ensuring it was clear and moved silently into the shaft followed in trail by the twelve Marines in his charge.
Taj kicked free and tumbled to the deck below. Gunny Peck was in sync with him and landed a step ahead of him. “ Third, remain hot and ready to move. Clean up the mess, if any of them survived move them to the holding area. Doc, treat them, but stay frosty for a move. ”
||Taking fire, sir. Hostiles engaged. Over.|| Jacobi called out over the command channel. Taj hadn ’ t expected the full complement to take part in the raid. Boarding maneuvers were murderous even in the best circumstances and armor.
“ Second, let ’ s go. ” Both Lieutenant Jessup and Gunny Peck lead the remaining squad through the boarding collar and onto the enemy vessel. Jacobi ’ s team had unlocked the lackluster security on the ships ’ airlock. It was large enough to hold them all, squeezed in tight, if first squad hadn ’ t already cleared the other end he wouldn ’ t have risked such a tight transition.
Once the lock cycled, they poured out into defensive positions. “ Sergeant Choat, take your squad and secure engineering. We don ’ t need them blowing this boat. ”
She eagerly acknowledged the order and took her team aft. Peck followed her, while Taj moved forward to join first squad.
They were pinned down and under fire from the bridge, his command suit ’ s sensors were slightly better than the standard RAID.4 suits. He could see what they were up against; five hostile life signs remained ahead of them. One of Jacobi ’ s was down and being treated. It took two of the squad out of the fight.
“ Corporal, drag him back here. ” Taj lightly scolded the Marine who was only in partial cover while treating the wounded. *Fuck this. We don ’ t have to take this boat intact. * “ Sergeant, end this now. Grenades authorized. ”
||Fire in the hole! ” Jacobi called out as he flung a pulse-frag grenade into the bridge compartment. With its dual mode, the grenade sent out a short range EMP with a follow on traditional fragmentary explosion. Plenty of impact to wreck most defenses.
Seconds after the explosion, the squad rushed into the bridge and covered the two groaning survivors. “ Bridge secured. ” Taj called out over the command channel.
||Engineering secured as well. One down. but stable. Over.|| Gunny Peck called out in response.
“ Roger. Send second squad in a forward sweep, first will move aft. Meet at mid-decks. Actual, out. ” Taj breathed a sigh of relief. Only two casualties and both would recover. “ Not a bad day, Marines. Good job. Stay frosty ‘ til we ’ re cleared. ”
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[ WP ] Two very old immortals meet each other on a busy street by chance . Each having believed they were the only one until now .
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Gods, I hate London.
It was my fault, entirely, and as such I took it upon myself to apologise but it seems I just could n't just leave it at that. I mean the girl was beautiful and it had been quite a long time, in fact a *very* long time, since my heart had been stirred. She was striking and it was a matter of pure fact that she reminded me instantly of that *one*. You know, *her*.
So I apologised. I did n't mean to walk into her, let alone spill her coffee to say the least, but it was rush hour. This sea of people is infinite and even the mightiest armies I've raised on the march would be hard pressed to meet these numbers. But I digress. I had nowhere to be and she took my offer to buy her another drink without any hesitation.
As it so happens we were almost on the doorstep of a café anyway so it made sense to pop in. It was a little too quirky for my liking but then everything is. As the years go by I find it harder and harder to adapt to these fashions and trends. Though I ca n't really use that excuse as they all come back around so quickly anyway.
She gave her name, smiling at me across the table as the waiter sluggishly took my order, and I found that pained me even further. Helen. It's not quite the same but nonetheless looking at her now I found her features familiar. She remarked about my own similarities to a person since passed, not pondering too long on her meaning, and found myself hoping that this man had been someone attractive to her.
The one coffee became two. I had mistaken her for her early twenties due to her youth but it became apparent she must be far older. I confess I was positively beaming, I must admit, I smiled more in that first hour than I had in a century. We exchanged languages, adventures, and passions at breakneck speed.
I considered what an unusual couple we must look like. Her style was modern, sexy, and confident. She lazed back in her chair, with barely a moment where four legs met the floor, eyeing me cool consideration. While my dour threads were feeling more and more out of place. I used to think that a man could always feel at home in a suit but now it seemed to stiff and formal for our little encounter. I remember perplexed with Fred, when he said I had to throw my suit at the wall and get that stiffness out, but I never quite took to his meaning until now.
So I was half way through taking off my jacket when she stunned me. The correction was slight but when she mentioned Turkey I knew that there was more than a mere resemblance at play. My memory is n't flawless, as still I am but only human in many respects, but that stumble threw it all back in an instant.
`` Helena?''
A single additional vowel had the impact of a battering ram as her sudden jolt of shock caused her to almost topple of her chair in surprise.
The smile was gone and she found her feet before I found mine my jacket catching the table as I went to leave after her. Once again coffee went flying, eyes were drawn to the commotion, and I felt like a fool. With the distraction passed I turn and see nothing but the infinite sea.
I had searched Anatolia for years for her before my decline, before I then spent centuries moping and drowning my sorrows, but I was a practical man. I had accepted her passing as one of the cruel fates of the world. After all I had seen it happen again, and again, and again.
But this could have been different. She was like me. We could have escaped countless fates and trials, rely on people again, become whole.
But no. Instead she was swallowed by the sea. That endless rush.
Gods, I hate London.
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[ WP ] You are a shop keeper in a fantasy world . Explain how your typical day goes by .
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A work in progress
Panko cleared his counter. In the dying hours of the afternoon sun he noticed a hovel of people run right past his shop windows and a few moments later, run right by again. However, they now carried various objects of little interest to Panko. It could only mean one thing, Brad the Barbarian was back in town.
Everytime the oaf went through the region there was a rapid redistribution of wealth. For Panko that only meant one thing, good business coming in and good business going out, thus the need for a large clear counter.
Just as he was putting away the last of the pickled heads behind his aged, not old, varnished wooden counter, the door chimes suddenly rang loudly and just as soon crunched and crinkled as they became pinned between the shop wall and the well worn, not tattered, wooden door of dubious origins.
`` Brad! Come in, come in! Do n't worry about the door, it will be added to your tab!'' Panko made large motions with his arms, ushering the Barbarian into the candle light shop, not unlike one would encourage a neighbourhood dog in with a bone. `` What have you brought for me this time, my friend?''
`` Hi Mr. Pankuh!'' Brad stepped into the shop, his large frame knocking over utterly genuine, not reproduction, Panamerian feasting tridents and what was left of the artisianly carved, not mass produced, iron braced door to the ground.
`` That's PanKO! No mister; emphasis on the koh!'' Through habit, Panko brushed the top of his large and rapidly increasing bald spot. The only hair he had left was on his chest and around the sides of his head, which grew long and black, in both cases. Luckily his chest was mostly covered by a pure silk, not poly-blend, shirt of highly clashing loud colours.
`` Yas! Like tha fish!'' Brad walked along the creaking floor boards upto the counter and hoisted a large tarp bag up off his shoulder and plunked it down in front of Panko, who was now hidden from view behind it's monstrous size. Large crunching and shattering sounds could be heard as the weight settled.
`` No! Not like the fish!'' Panko waved the tips of his fingers away from his forehead. `` It's not even... What's in the bag, Brad?'' Several long sharp objects had managed to pierce through it, holes were beginning to form where indistinct pointy objects were chaffing from inside.
`` Oh, you know dis and that...'' Suddenly and as if it were holding its breath for a very long time, the bag finally gave way and burst open, spilling its contents on the thankfully cleared counter. All maner of old stone relics, golden goblets, and oddly shapped weapons fell out. Some items were crushed, some broken, some chipped, and still some others were intact, mostly. A few of them gave off a faint luminous glow. `` Shinies, magicks, loots... ``
Panko picked up a stone cross with a circle going around
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[ WP ] The last person on earth throws a birthday party .
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I lit the first fuse.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
Red fireworks against the night sky. Three small explosions of color, lighting my lined face. They were the best I could find, only ones left above water. I'll dive for canned food, for bottled water. Stupid to dive for gunpowder.
I lit the second fuse.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
Purple, green, orange, blue. I had n't known what colors the mismatched quadruplets would be. They glittered brighter than the stars and sparkled on the water I was surrounded by. It had been years since the city flooded.
I lit the third fuse.
BANG. BANG.
Loudest things I'd ever heard in my life. Wondered if some man across the world was doing the same. Probably not. I'd been alone here for-
BANG. BANG.
Fourteen years. I started to cry.
BANG. BANG.
What use was this without an audience? What use was-
BANG. BANG.
anything? There's nobody-
BANG. BANG.
else.
BANG.
Eighteen fireworks. Happy birthday to me.
I lit the final fuse, and bit down on the dynamite.
BANG.
EDIT: Well I went away for a week to the beach and you suckers make me feel like top shit. Cheers for all the comments, I've read them all. You rock, thanks OP for the prompt!
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[ WP ] During a traumatic experience , a young child is kept safe by an unlikely source - the terrifying monster that lives in the child 's closet
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The loud crash of thunder jolted Timmy awake, he looked out his window to see the immense downpour outside. The storm was fierce and frightening, but he was a big boy now and big boys do n't get scared. `` At least my tummy feels better,'' he thought. He wished he had n't stayed home sick today, Billy was going to teach him how to do armpit farts at recess today.
The storm outside redoubled its fury with a huge lightening show and even heavier rain. Timmy had crawled out of bed looking out his window over the driveway. `` I hope mommy get's home soon,'' he thought, `` Why did Daddy have to forget his lunch today?'' He watched on as the torrential rains flooded the street and wondered if his RC boat could ply the waters.
That's when Timmy heard the sirens. The back of his neck felt funny, he looked out the window nervously. An enormous cracking sound rang out as half the Robertson's tree snapped and fell onto their garage. Timmy jumped back. Now he really was scared. `` Where's mommy!'' He cried out to the storm, the only answer a fierce wind squealing through the house. The sirens still wailing, Timmy scrunched up his face trying to remember what to do. He remembered In school they would crouch in the hall during the drills. Turning around to leave his room he noticed the closet door was open.
`` TIMMY! IN HERE!'' A gruff voice yelled out. Timmy stopped.
`` Who are you!'' He asked.
`` I'm Qluxx, your closet monster, but no time to talk, you need to come here NOW!'' The wind no longer screamed outside, timmy heard a freight train in the distance, but it sure sounded closer then the railroad tracks across town. We walked timidly toward the closet, letting out a startled yelp when a big furry arm grabbed him, pulled him in, and slammed the door behind him. `` Cover your ears!'' Qluxx said. Timmy complied.
Timmy thought he had heard loud things before, but the ensuing moments were louder then the loudest planes at Daddy's work. Timmy shuddered as he felt the shake and heard the house rumble. The din only punctuated by an awful cry from Qluxx. The the noise stopped. Timmy opened his eyes to see daylight coming under the closet door.
Blinded by the midday sun, Timmy covered his eyes and looked around. Everything thing was gone, the Robertson's house, the garage and the tree that destroyed it. Nothing but a sea of broken things surrounded him, the closet was the only thing still standing in the neighborhood. `` Be careful out there,'' he heard Qluxx whisper, followed by a whooshing sound from the closet. Timmy turned back around to the outside and heard a police siren in the distance. He could see the biggest police car they only used for parades slowly driving towards him. As the big Jeep pulled up, Mommy and Daddy leapt out and rushed towards him.
`` Timmothy! Are you okay?!'' His mom cried as she hugged him.
`` I'm fine mommy, Qluxx protected me.'' Timmy replied.
`` April,'' His Daddy called cutting her off before she could ask about Qluxx, come look at this.'' She stood up and came around the closet. A street lamp pole punched through the wall two feet up, green ichor oozed out around the hole and dripped down the wall.
Edit: First prompt response, CC is appreciated.
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[ WP ] You do not age , and if you die you are revived . However , someone who loves you dies in your place .
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It was night time and the stars looked beautiful. The country sky was always clear and beautiful.
*A car lay upturned in a ditch by the side of the road. Inside, its single occupant listened to the phone. *
*'' Oh, how on earth could you have forgotten already? I've told you what I was doing that night a million times. I swear, you really should get your memory checked. It's not normal. Anyway, I had just broken up with old Frank Bolen, of the Bolen family fame -- who as you know basically runs my home town -- and, despite the reproach of the girls, I thought it was the perfect moment to celebrate. Because I was genuinely over the moon. All the money in the world could n't make Frank Bolen a catch. ( Although I would never say that to his now wife's face, bless her heart ). I threw on my best pair of shoes and -- well my best pair of everything. And we painted the town. We started at The Scene, then migrated to Bonne 97, then to Moretz, and then back to The Scene, where we started the circuit over again. Those 3 are all we have back home. I danced, I drank, I laughed, I drank even more. I had a jolly old time. You could n't stop me. One by one my friends gave up though, and by the end of the night it was just me and my lonesome and the town. I believe Moretz closed last, but I'll never know, I was pretty hammered, it could very well have been The Scene. Anyway, with nothing left for me, I hopped on one of the night buses, and the rest is history -- Steven, are you listening? Are you still awake? `` *
*'' I'm here,'' Steven replied, `` Sorry. Those kids turned their music up again. Listen to it. You were right. Bout this hotel. Being no good. I ca n't sleep at all. `` *
*'' I told you so. `` *
*'' Yes, yes. I'll listen. Next time. `` *
*'' You always say tha --'' *
*'' What about. Your friend. The one who thought I was a psycho. What was her name? Mary Andrews, right? `` *
*'' Marianne Aitkins, well Mary was like that with everyone...'' *
`` Youuu,'' the girl said snapping her fingers in his face, `` You! Yes, you! What are you reading? I ca n't see the cover.''
`` This...,'' he mumbled, `` this is nothing. You probably would n't have heard of it.''
`` Try me,'' she smiled.
`` It's... nothing,'' he mumbled again.
`` Fine,'' she said with a frown. She gave up and retreated back to the seats across from him. She snuggled into the corner and closed her eyes. He watched as she fell asleep. The bus continued on through the country.
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[ CW ] End a story with the phrase `` That was the last time he/she spoke . ''
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Her bright brown eyes began to close
Half-lidded, she looked up at me
Must take a bit to find the words she chose
But still, I let the silence be
She lay on the cold, damp cement
The way she fell from taking the shot
The moment I will forever lament
The love, that I must know to not
Upon our hands, my tears do fall
She begins to use her voice
Simply minutes since the call
I refuse all other noise
The culprit gone, the deed all done
The only witness is my own
Upon the street there is no-one
I know that soon I'll be alone
Her voice comes in a gentle sigh
`` Stay with me, just a little more.''
Into her shoulder I let myself cry
As cold rain begins to pour
Her eyes soon close, her heart soon rests
From this sleep she never woke
To keep those words, I did my best
As that was the last time she spoke.
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[ WP ] Asking someone on a date , much like job applications , is expected to be accompanied by references
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`` Hello?''
`` Hi, can I speak to Susan Cranfeld?''
`` This is she.''
`` Hi, Susan, this is Julie at Integridate Human Resources. How are you today?''
`` Uh, I'm... okay. Are you selling something?''
`` Oh no, ma'am, not at all. I just have a few questions to ask you about one Alexander Serrano.''
`` Alex Serrano? I-I dated a guy named Alex Serrano three years ago. Is he in trouble of some kind?''
`` Not as far as I'm aware, ma'am. You see, he used you as a dating reference recently, and I just need to get some information about him to pass on to my client.''
`` I'm sorry, let me make sure I understand properly. You're saying he asked out a girl, so you need to interview me about him so she can decide whether to go out with him?''
`` In a nutshell, yeah. Do you have some time to answer some questions?''
``... Yeah, sure, what the hell.''
`` Excellent! Okay, first question. How long did you two date?''
`` Um, about a year and some change. Like I said, we broke up about three years ago.''
`` Okay, good. Well, not'good' that you broke up, I'm sure you know what I mean. Okay, next question: Who asked whom out first, and who broke up with whom?''
`` He asked me out, and he also dumped me.''
`` Alex had both initiation and termination, check. Now this next question is totally optional, but why did he choose to end your relationship?''
`` I... you know, that's none of your damn business.''
`` I'm going to mark that as'Prefer not to say'. Next question: were you sexually active?''
`` I am NOT going to answer that.''
`` Please do n't be shy, Susan. I am a trained professional, and your answers will remain confidential -- only you, my client and I will know what's been said here today.''
`` Okay, fine, whatever, we had sex.''
`` Taking your relationship on average, you categorize your sexual interactions as A, frequent; B, often; C, infrequent; or D, rare?''
`` B, I guess. Jesus, you want to know how big he was too?''
`` That is an optional question, yes.''
`` I was being sarcastic.''
`` Okay. On a scale of one to ten, one being the worst sexual partner you've had and ten being the best, how good a lover would you say Mr. Serrano was?''
``... Seven.''
`` Seven, excellent. Would you say he was an attentive lover, a forceful lover, or a selfish lover?''
`` Look, enough's enough. We dated, he broke up with me, I do n't harbor any ill wishes towards him, I do n't care what he does any more, okay?''
`` Ma'am, I'm sorry to have to ask these personal questions, but time is of the essence.''
`` Time is -- You mean to say the new chick's waiting right now for my answers?!''
`` Yes, ma'am. She's on the other line as we speak.''
`` Jesus Christ. Okay, connect me to her, now.''
`` Miss Cranfeld --''
`` Listen, lady, do you want me to make a recommendation to your client or not? You either let me talk to her woman to woman, or I hang up.''
`` Well, this is highly irregular, but... I'm connecting you now.''
`` Hello?''
`` Yes, who's this?''
`` This is Laura.''
`` Laura, hi, this is Susan Cranfeld. You just had Integridate call me about Alex?''
`` Oh, hi! Listen, I'm sorry that --''
`` Yeah, yeah, save it. Listen, I'm not answering form questions about some guy I dated in college, so here's the rundown: Date him, do n't date him, one-night stand him, chop his wiener off and make a mold of it, I do n't care, okay? And if you ca n't just get to know somebody like an adult, if you need an intermediary to decide whether it's cool to sleep with someone, then I ca n't help you, because nobody can help you.''
Click.
***
Alex watched her slide her finger, the nail a bright orange color, across her phone's screen with a frown. The suspense was killing him; the concept of all these girls talking about his sexual history was somehow arousing. If this girl -- Lana or whatever -- felt half as hot about it as he did, then this was a sure thing.
`` Well?'' he asked.
Lana-or-whatever frowned, looking up from her phone. `` Look, I'm just not comfortable with this. I just do n't know anything about you.''
`` But....did they talk to Susan?''
`` I think maybe, yeah. She somehow called me, and I could n't get any kind of information from her. But let me get your number, and if --'' Her phone emitted a horrible pop song, something about girls and summer. `` Oh, that's Integridate now! Let me find out what's going on. Hang tight, okay?''
Alex rolled his eyes and watched as she walked away, already firing questions away at the reference service. He took a swig of beer and watched a black girl in tight jeans and a buttondown shirt open to just between her breasts turn around at the bar, smiling at him.
`` What the hell,'' he told himself, setting down his beer and walking over to her. `` Hi. You here with anyone?''
`` Not yet.''
`` Want to be somewhere else with me?''
`` Sure.''
As they left the club, with Alex not even bothering to explain it to Lana-or-whatever, he wondered whether it had always been this easy.
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[ WP ] Every century , Death is given a ticket as a reward for his services.He can use it to decide if a person is going to heaven or hell ignoring that person 's sins and virtues . And this century , he used it on you .
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The impact threw me twenty three feet and broke my neck, my jaw, shattered five ribs, and my head cracking against the pavement had put me into a coma for two days. Two unspeakable days of trama, doctors and nurses working around the clock, my mother wringing her hands in the other room as the disembodied mind of her only daughter looked on.
When I Died it was a comfort, but that was not the end.
Before me now, looming over my shattered body, stands a dark figure. Tall, thin, a bone white hand extending beneath a long black robe and clutching a shiny, silvery scythe.
The gravely voice speaks to me shaking every molecule of my incorporeal form, **Susan Freedman. ** It was not a question, but I nodded anyway.
**After each century of work Death is given the power to choose. **
I stand transfixed as a bone white hand lifts the black hood revealing a bleached skeletal face, two black pools of ink boring into my soul.
**I choose you. **
Death raises its hand clutching a blood red card with bone white letters flecked along the edges in black. Two fingers extend toward me, the card between them as the arm raises in my direction.
In a trance I grab it and read the filigreed text, `` Coelum'', at the top, `` Inferi'' below.
While we watch the black edges spark and are bathed in a calm blue light. A third option swims into being on the card overlapping the other two, `` Mortem''.
Death nods, **My choice**, and holds the scythe out to me, its black eyes flashing blue, the card burning to black ash. Still on automatic pilot I grab the weapon and tap it thee times against the ground at my side as intense white light fills the room.
Everything I need to know about this new office flashes through my mind and I speak, my gravely voice ringing out across an empty hospital room.
**The choice is made. **
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[ WP ] Write a seemingly normal story , except for the last sentence , which makes the entire story creepy
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Darkness surrounded me, encasing my vision. I could feel it enclosing me, quite literally. I gasped, trying to get some air, but failing to do so. Sure there was air in here, but with the darkness around me, I could barely feel anything.
I was always scared of the dark. Who knew what was hidden in the blackness? Who knew what was in the abyss of no light? Darkness made me feel claustraphobic and frightened. I inhaled harshly, trying to gasp for more air. I could not feel air in my lungs. My throat felt like it was closing in on me.
After a couple of seconds, I told myself- there is nothing here. It is all in your imagination. This is just a nightmare. You WILL wake up if you find a way out.
I started searching for some light in the abyss. Nothing. I tried moving and felt something hard. I was laying on something hard, but to my right and left... Was also something hard. I could feel a rocking motion as the room seemed to be *moving*.
I heard a soft, distant voice. There! Someone can let me out of this room! I can escape the confines of darkness and be free. I screamed joyously and tried to alert the person to let me out of this prison.
Minutes passed. No response. Hours passed. No response. The oxygen was stale, barely filling my lungs. I started to hyperventillate. Why was no one coming? Why will no one free me? I gasped, feeling the choking sensation. Please someone... Anyone...
Well, of course no one would come... Everyone thought I was dead inside the coffin, but I was actually being buried alive.
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[ WP ] The year is 2114 , and war , disease , and famine have destroyed most of civilization . You 're convinced you 're the only survivor in your town when you start to find evidence of the contrary . What you discover flips your entire world upside down .
|
I pulled my arms around myself a little tighter. You need to conserve whatever heat you can. Or, at least that's what I tell myself. After all - who else am I going to talk to?
It's been a few years since I've seen another person. God, I ca n't even remember what his name was. I just kept calling him Jeb. He was a real hillbilly type, but he was clearly just as eager to have someone to talk with as anyone else. That man was listening to every word of my awful stories. Every now and then I could have sworn he was making notes to tell someone else! Imagine that, if humanity can rebuild after the infestation, I was going to be a famous early writer!
But that was a long time ago. The infestation took a bad toll on us. I've got this small little area that I've managed to keep clean. I need to really fight back the bugs when I see them. First the little ones come, one by one. Here and there. Then by the tens.. hundreds.. I'm think it gets to the thousands but honestly by that point the little ones are not the problem. They become the carpet for the roaches. Think old school VW Bug. Remember those bugs? They were great. I had one back before the infestation -- an awesome lime green. It use to be my favourite colour, but the roach slime is the exact same shade. Makes me tremble now.
*CRACK*
What.... dafuq...
`` Good afternoon `` YOUR_USERNAME_HERE''
`` HOLY SHIT, JEB! WH... I CAN'' T BELIEVE YOU'RE HERE!''
_________________________________________
Jeb and I talked for what felt like hours. I am amazed he managed to last! I asked him how he got away from the bugs and he shrugged it off like it was nothing. I'll find out his secret soon, he said he'd take me somewhere we can be safe. Even in post apocalyptica the goodness in people! Amazing! We're leaving in the morning. Jeb even recommended I wrap my arms in tight, keep warm. It's nice to think that my stories meant that much to Him. He thinks like me, and made a point of coming to find me! Arms in, got ta stay warm.
__________________________________________
`` What happens now?'' Asked a tall blonde woman in the visitors area.
`` He'll be transfered'' Responded an older man, as he placed his stethoscope back around his neck. This doctor always does that when he feels bad about what he has to say. Does n't really get much other use for it as a therapist, but it helps him feel more `` doctor-like''
`` He's so disconnected from reality, we ca n't hold him criminally responsible. Would you like to see him before he gets moved?''
`` Please''
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[ WP ] You 're alone in the woods , and you know something is following you . Describe your lucky escape or treacherous downfall .
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This is my attempt, I hope you do n't mind...
The Woods
Crunch! Crunch! ‘ What was that? ’ I thought, doing a 360 to see if I could locate the source of the noise. I saw nothing, but at a closer inspection of the base of a tree, saw pinecones that littered the floor. Some were crushed, as if stomped on.
‘ But I ’ ve been here the whole time? How something crush them without me noticing? ’ Still on edge, I shrugged it off and continued to trudge through the dark woods. To be honest, I am clueless about how I got lost. One minuted I was in a clearing, in the middle of the day, surrounded by sweet smelling flowers, and the next…Well, the next minute, I wandered onto a worn, dirt trail and got lost.
Lost in my thoughts, I bumped into a tree, sending more leaves to the damp ground with a soft squelch as they landed. Rubbing my forehead, I stumbled onwards, trying to shake off the feeling that someone — no, something — was watching me. Without warning, I halted in my tracks.
Something had moved, just to the left of my field of vision.
I froze, wanting to bolt out of there, but my fear kept me rooted to the spot, like an old oak. ‘ This can ’ t be the end of me! There ’ s got ta be something! ’ Finally I mustered up the courage to move, and scanned the area for something — anything — that I could use as a weapon.
After a moment, my gaze came across a dangerous-looking, sharp, pointy stick. I swept it up and pointed the sharp end at the bush, which was now rustling.
Just as my fear was about to overcome me, a black nose poked out from the bushes. I sighed with relief. It was a squirrel. I felt foolish, and berated myself. ‘ Gods! To be scared by a mere squirrel! What would my mother say! ’
I lowered the stick and kept on moving, driven by a strange sense that I was being followed. I came to a stop by a huge oak, and I sat down to rest — just at it ’ s huge base — amongst the gnarled roots. “ God, I wish I brought a water skin—bottle, I mean. ” I whispered to myself, my voice hoarse and my throat dry.
All of a sudden, I felt a pair of eyes come to rest on me.
Not just any eyes, canine eyes.
Making no suddenly movements, I slowly turned my gaze upwards and found myself staring straight into slanted, yellow, lupine eyes.
The wolf had a ragged black coat and was foaming at the mouth. I averted my eyes, not daring to stare death itself in the face. I closed my eyes, waiting for my impending death.
‘ Please, please, please! ’
Outwards, I was brave and confident, whilst inwards, I was silently praying to every deity I know, pleading for my safe escape.
Suddenly there was the sound of a gunshot and I heard the murmur of voices. One of my group approached me as I opened my eyes. “ We only scared it away for now, c ’ mon, lets go! ” The man, who I ’ d never seen before in my life, tugged on my arm.
As we walked away, I saw a pair of yellow eyes watching me from behind a bush, and knew that I wouldn ’ t be going back to the woods anytime soon…
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
~ jas0850
If you want more please check out my blog at http: //rmnewstories.blogspot.co.uk/
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[ RF ] The Cold War was never real . The US and Soviet governments colluded to make it seem real ... and you 'll never believe why .
|
A fine mist of salty air blasted the bow of the ship. They had been at sea for so long. Thanks to their supporters and the superior engineering they had, the ship had lasted long beyond her operational life. They were going to their new home. This took decades. Men and women infiltrated governments across the globe but the two powerhouses, the capitalists, and the communists still fought.
The slow weathering of those two great beasts had to occur so that their land could be secured and their way of life preserved.
He opened the door to the cabin and shook off the water on his coat. It was warm and contrasted sharply with the October weather they were currently enduring on the seas. He took a seat, the captain had his back to him. `` Out for fresh air? Soon we wo n't need that luxury''. As the captain said that the lights of their new home appeared on the horizon. The captain went over to the intercom.
`` All hands, we are approaching out new home. All rise for the National anthem.''
Over the intercom the best the world had to offer in music began to play their anthem. Angelic voices filled the ears of the crew. At the crucendo the flag was unfurled.
With tears in his eyes Hans saluted the captain and shouted, `` Heil Hitler!''
The Reich had returned.
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[ WP ] It is centuries after the miracle vaccine that can cure everything was spread to the world . Doctors only know how to set bones and deal with other such injuries , and of course , administer the vaccine . One young doctor notices that the vaccine is slowly becoming less effective .
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Last words.
It was hard... at first. It became easier over time. The first time, I went to the bar. I'm thin, I have silky long brown hair and a nice smile. That's really all I needed. To be female with a nice smile. So I brought the first one home, lured him to the basement and drugged him. I needed to know why the vaccine was n't working. I injured him. He felt nothing. Then I gave him the vaccine. I did this multiple times and each time the vaccine was less effective. He healed slower. Finally he did n't heal at all and died. So I needed a new test subject. Back to the bar. I wore something low cut. I picked up another one, easily. I lured him to the basement and drugged him like I had the first. He healed slower with each injury and dose and then his body finally expired. Was my sample large enough? I did the same with five more just to be sure.
That attracted attention. It was on the news. A serial killer. Me? I was only trying to help save people. I stopped going to bars. I know that each dose was less effective but I still had to know why. This time I stalked the laundromats. I'd invite them out for coffee. I got a lot of information out of them just in casual conversation. Family history, everything. I documented all I got. Then I experimented. But I could n't drug them this time. I needed clean subjects. Their screaming would get noticed so I would lure them out to a rural farm where I could do my work.
I did find it. The reason why our miracle vaccine was slowly turning disaster. In the old days we would have a vaccine against a specific virus. In modern times, our vaccine did n't hunt down and destroy any virus, it would boost your immune system and the body's healing processes. Our vaccine did this using the body's stem cells. The problem was, each time this would happen, we would have less stem cells in our bodies to work with and once we ran low the vaccine did n't work as well. Eventually our bodies would run down and we would die.
If only we did n't need the vaccine so often. It was true, the vaccine was becoming useless. I knew why. The last piece, how do I fix this?
Well I did find it, you know. The fix for the vaccine. But I got caught and your laws. Your laws state that you can not use the data from my research because of those that died. You say I tortured and killed so many. I say it was research. I have the fix you need but instead of being heralded, you lock me up? You say I am a serial killer? I torture people? I say I am Jonas Salk. I say I am Louis Pasteur. I say I am the savior of billions.
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[ WP ] All Disney Princesses are in the same universe , and eventually turn into evil queens ... .
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`` Jealous.''
Snow started at the quiet cluck from a nearby courtier, her eyes scanning for an indication of who might have blurted out such a disrespectful statement.
It could have been any of them, she realized. The veiled hostility was glimmering from behind every eye. She had married her prince, but now he was dead. She had no allies here, and with no prince, she had no respect, and no protection.
The court insisted. It was only proper that the Queen remarry the next prince, that there be no crisis of succession. She remarried his younger brother, a widower with a young, beautiful daughter. The girl captivated all who came across her, with her charms, beauty, and sweet singing voice. Once the second prince died, crumpled painfully with blood plague, all eyes settled suspiciously upon Snow.
But to Snow's growing chagrin, the girl frittered her time away in foolishness, singing about fairies and nonsense when the Vikings threatened the northern ports, and the Dothraki marauders had been sighted scouting the southern rangelands. To say nothing of the dragon and the fay, seemingly targeting villages at random, there was also every indication of a poor harvest, as the blight worked it's way east through the farmlands. And of course, the blood plague returned each winter, striking down young and old, rich and poor alike.
The death toll was horrifying. Such devastating, pointless loss could not be borne for long.
It had been a brutal crash course in statecraft for Snow, who longingly remembered her own love of song. But there was no time for song now. The girl had to learn, as had Snow herself.
`` Rose, you must accept the ambassador's request. I am not marrying you off on some whim! We will never agree to an unfavorable marriage, but we also *can not* insult the ambassador by dismissing him out of hand!''
`` Someday my prince will come!'' Rose turned and fled the court dramatically, tears streaming down her lovely pink cheeks as she disappeared into the gardens.
Snow sighed, he may come. But even if he does, there's no guarantee he wo n't fall from his horse, or catch the plague. In the meantime, the envoy from thier western neighbor brought offers of a trade pact and alliance. She need n't even agree to a betrothal, just make a satisfactory *appearance* of considering the offer while making negotiations!
Snow clicked her scepter on the throne, and dismissed the court.
She did n't make out any more disrespectful murmurs this time, but she knew the court was against her. What was this foolishness about jealousy? Indeed, the more beautiful the Princess was, it just might make diplomatic wrangling all the easier!
She carefully secured her chamber doors, waiting for the guards to resume thier patrols, and quietly crept to the massive cabinet in the back. Opening it, she knelt down and drew back a plush, regally purple velvet curtain. A massive golden mirror shimmered in the torchlight, finely wrought filigrees decorating the border.
`` Mirror...'' She faltered. `` I have no one else to turn to. What do you advise?''
A face materialized in place of her reflection, looking just like her stepmother, the old queen of the tiny kingdom she claimed in her own birthright, but every line in her face expressive of sorrow rather than the arrogance and hatred she remembered.
`` Snow, I failed. I am sorry.'' Shadowy tears streamed down the visage. `` The curse has now settled on you. This mirror contains the knowledge of all who have come under this curse before us. My predecessor advised me, and I shall advise you. And if you fail to break the curse, as I have, you will join the chorus and advise your own successor.''
Snow's legendarily pale skin blanched a shade lighter, as the visage continued. `` My Queen. The reason I sought your death when I wore the crown is simple, brutal necessity.
The hardships that face your people will not relent, and will not be abated by trade pacts, diplomacy, or marriage to a more prosperous kingdom. The heart of the Princess must be cut out and burned upon the pyre of Olympia.''
Snow's mouth dropped. `` But you! You!''
`` No Snow, I did not resent your beauty. Had the curse been more lenient, it would have made my task much easier. I could have betrothed you to any number of wealthy, powerful princedoms.'' Snow flinched.
`` Has it begun yet? Does the court resent you? Do they say that you are... Jealous?''
Snow flinched again.
The visage sighed. `` I see. Then we have less time than I had hoped for. You have been Queen for at least a year.''
`` Five.''
`` Good heavens, five?!?''
`` Is there some other way? I ca n't just murder this poor girl!''
`` The first Queens have tried many ways. If there is another, it has not been found. Another failure just adds more land to the curse, and more death to the toll. Snow, it must stop! *You* must make it stop!''
A golden knife and a golden box shimmered into existence in front of the mirror. Snow sobbed into her small hands, still pale and beautiful, as her black hair, now shot with grey streaks dropped around her face like the velvet curtain which hid the mirror.
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[ WP ] People often jokingly say `` The weather followed me '' . For you , it 's true .
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`` Michael Jacobson, AKA the Weather Whisperer, you are under arrest.''
I had awoken twenty minutes ago to the sound of someone pounding on my door. I put on some pants and opened the door to find to men dressed in black suits standing there, with guns drawn.
`` You are under arrest for failure to register your power, altering the weather, and numerous other crimes,'' continued the man.
I sighed, recalling how things had all started.
I had been ten, maybe twelve. The memories are fuzzy. So.. Remember the Disney movies where the princess starts singing and it attracts tons of woodland creatures? I can do that, but with weather. Weather likes my singing, and depending on what I sing, different weather comes to me. It's like the worst dog whistle imaginable.
So this suit guy is blaming me for Katrina, El Nino, El Nina, Global Warming, and he's blathering on and on, I sit down on my couch and grab myself a soda, waiting for him to finish.
``..a legal advisor will be provided to you,'' he finished, `` Now get up, you're coming with us.''
I looked at him, and shook my head. `` No.''
`` No?'' He looked at his partner, then back at me. `` We have a warrant for your arrest. We have you for so many crimes you'll be going for jail for a very long time unless you cooperate...''
I cut him off. `` Think, you idiot. Why do you think I came here, a place with stable weather. It acts as a deterrent to the effects of my'ability.' If I leave, things get worse, and the five years of weather clouds who just want to be friends start chasing after me. You will see blizzards lasting months, hurricanes worse than Katrina, and Rainstorms that make Noah's seem like a mild shower. That is why I am not going with you,'' I finished.
The man stood there, jaw immobile. His partner turned to me, and muttered, `` Well, Michael, have a good day. We'll make sure no other agents disturb you again. Have a good day.''
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[ WP ] The last person to contribute to /r/counting
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Jack did n't really think about it any more. It just came naturally to him now. Whenever he had free time, he would take out his phone and open it up to the counting subreddit, click a post and submit the next number in the sequence. From once a week to now sometimes fifty times a day, what had begun as a novelty transformed into an unconscious obsession.
Jack was there for all the big milestones as the years had flown by. Ten thousand, one hundred thousand, one million. He would smiled to himself as he thought about the time he posted 777,777. That got him a lot of gold -- not nearly as much as the one million-poster but he was happy.
As he looked back at it, counting had helped him through a few lows in his life. He posted 234,594 on a 500,000 count when his mother died. After he lost his job at an engineering firm he posted 0.00638 in an interesting count down to 0.00001.
These counts were something that he could use to forget about the troubles in his life. Strangely, these counts to numbers that had no meaning did have great value to Jack. They could comfort him in a way that nothing else could. The physical representation of these abstract ideas gave him hope when he was consumed by emotions he could n't explain. Refreshing the page, revealing new numbers, renewing his soul.
Sometimes he felt like an explorer in a land unknown. The first person to step foot onto the beach of a new world. Who else could say that they had witnessed the creation of one million? He was there every step of the way. He watched it grow from its infancy, to its middle age, to its retirement, and to its death. He watched the eternal lives of numbers, big and small, come and go; he felt power over them when he had power over nothing else.
The unexpected news came one day that reddit would be shutting its servers down indefinitely in a week. There were n't any specifics given as to what was causing the shutdown. He suspected foul play. The final milestone was posted though: infinity. Everyone knew they could n't reach it; it was more for fun than anything else, the last hoorah that captured the spirit of the subreddit.
The count shot upward faster in the beginning of the week than any other count that he had ever seen. Each refresh of the page brought hundreds of new numbers. Time records were smashed as tens of thousands of people from around the globe contributed to the count every second of the first day in that week. How high into the heavens could they reach before they were struck down?
Things began to slow down though as the week wore on. Perhaps people grew tired of the slow server response time. Or maybe they finally admitted that the count did n't matter anyways. Jack clung the hope that he found in his numbers though.
In the final hours of the week, only a handful of people were still contributing. The count climbed sluggishly. People had better things to do than watch the count that could never be finished. He and another user traded counts for an hour or so, alternating posts and climbing the eternal ladder.
23,483,635. Twenty-three million, four hundred eighty-three thousand, six hundred thirty five. He refreshed the page: no one responded. He waited ten seconds and then refreshed again. Still nothing. His cursor blinked impatiently in the'reply' field. Maybe they went to the bathroom, he thought, refreshing the page once more.
Nothing. The server was dead. `` Page does not exist'' was the response.
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[ WP ] A future where Bitcoin is the dominant world currency
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There's no such thing as a middle class anymore. It's literally the have's and have-not's. And not just `` I only make minimum wage'' vs. `` I make billions''. That was n't even a problem compared to this. Nobody accepts anything but those damn bitcoins anymore. Stupid bitcoins ruined everything. 10 million, 20 billion people. How the hell does that make sense?! Why the hell do we not even give people the chance to have ONE SINGLE UNIT OF CURRENCY? Why the hell did we listen to all those fools who told us to accept the limited currency proposition brought forward by bitcoins? It's literally the difference between a mansion and a sidewalk for a home.
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[ WP ] In a future where it is not uncommon for people to get genetically modified to improve their chances at different jobs , you 're an aspiring cage fighter .
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**I did n't see the aspiring bit, sorry, I made the protagonist a reigning champion. **
`` I'd like gills, um, and my hair to be multi-colored please.''
These people were amateurs, hey had no idea what genes to modify for this brutal sport. They would ask for things to make themselves look nice, things that would n't be important to battle, like fucking gills. Luckily there were people like me, Ragnarok, to show these idiots how to rumble in a cage-fight.
I stepped to the counter, placed 1000 credits into the hand of the creature and asked for webbed feet and hands, I knew the coming fight would be underwater, it was easy to keep the officials wrapped around my three pinky fingers.
`` Right this way sir,'' the cashier said as they led me through the winding corridors to my usual doctor.
Nodding, I strode forward and lay my muscly back onto the metal table. A needle was shoved into one of my four biceps, and put me into a baby like sleep.
I awoke to the sounds of a large clamor, my doctor peeking out the doorway at the commotion building in the lobby of the GM Center. I fell forward, still hungover from the procedure. Using my arms to balance, I advanced into the lobby.
The cage-fighters assembled into the lobby started to yell at the cashier as they saw me advance, as if mad that I had the money to afford a procedure. Gripping a wall, I silenced them. Grabbing one of them, I thrust him backwards out of the GM center, as an example to the others.
`` If you have the money for the procedure, stay, if not, get the fuck out of this office.''
They sprang away like gazelles from a lion, I grinned at the beautiful cashier and flexed my muscles, winking st her as I left. What can a guy do, am I right?
*The Day of the Fight*
I was right, it was underwater. My gills and webbed feet would greatly contribute to my victory. The loudspeakers blasted the competitors names as people placed bets, on me of course. A horn blared for the fight to start. I swam forward, monitoring how my opponent moved.
His arm swung forward, propelled by his weight. I ducked. A return punch knocked his jaw out of place and forced air from his lungs. He kicked me in the chest and pushed away. He swam to the surface and his muscles rippled with the force of his stokes.
I gave chase, he dove back down and tried to slam the air Out of me. I let it happen. His hand went into my stomach. And my stomach retracted and gripped his hand ( Thank you genetic modification ). Smiling, I slammed my fist into his head, he was defenseless against my hairy, red hands. I swam up, his hand still stuck in my stomach, and I threw him against the cage. Knocking the last of his breath from him. I slammed down against his nose, his eyes until a whistle called me to stop.
Victory was mine, obviously.
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[ WP ] End it with `` And here I thought we could be friends . ''
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-009
-- -
`` It will never work.''
`` Of course it will''
`` You're out of your mind''
`` That's debatable.''
`` How could you do this?''
`` Who's gon na stop me?''
`` Have you no morals?''
`` You wo n't be winning any medals either.''
`` What is wrong with you.''
`` I had a rough childhood.''
`` Would you be serious?''
`` Why wo n't you let me?''
`` This is n't realistic.''
`` Who says I ca n't play by my own rules?''
`` You are n't already?''
`` You did mention morality.''
`` That is n't what I meant.''
`` Then do say what you mean.''
`` Do n't do it.''
`` No.''
`` Why not?''
`` You did n't ask nicely.''
`` Please do n't do it.''
`` No.''
`` What is it this time?''
`` Same as always.''
`` And that would be?''
`` I have my reasons.''
`` What are they?''
`` For me to know, and you not to.''
`` I give up.''
`` Where would the fun in that be?''
I'm going now.''
`` You're not allowed''
`` You do n't make the rules.''
`` Nor do I play by them.''
`` You just like making me angry.''
`` Not true.''
`` Really?''
`` I enjoy it.''
`` Same thing''
`` Not really''
`` Technicly they are''
`` Technicly polar bears are albino grizzly bears.''
`` That is not relevant.''
`` Excellent observation''
`` Your sarcasm has been noted.''
`` So have your observational abilities''
`` Please do n't mock me''
`` Only if you quit making yourself a target''
`` I am doing nothing of the sort.''
`` On the contrary, only targets try to reason with me.''
`` That's what makes them your target''
`` That is one of the criteria.''
`` You're sadistic''
`` Everyone said that last time too''
`` You've done this before?''
`` Nobody stopped me then either''
`` They will this time.''
`` The definition of insanity is expecting a different outcome from the same event.''
`` This is different.''
`` How so?''
`` I do n't know''
`` Do you admit defeat?''
`` Never.''
`` Then the game must go on''
`` This means war''
`` Fiesty.''
`` I've got to fight back somehow.''
`` And here I thought we could be friends''
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[ WP ] A man hands you an object and asks you desperately to hide it from him . What is the object and why is it so important that it be hidden from him ?
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I'd known Kevin as long as I can remember; we grew up in the same neighbourhood, went to all the same schools, we were n't what you would consider close but we had a bond that you develop when you've known someone for that amount of time. At some point throughout the years he had gotten into some dark stuff, messed around with the wrong people - and the wrong people's wives. He had lived in a perpetual state of falling over himself, and I had always been there to pick him up.
It was a Saturday when he called me - technically a Sunday. It was 3am and I had just got in, I was with my then girlfriend and my phone lit up with his name. My heart sank and a cold wash of sobriety spread through me. I told my girlfriend, Kathy, to head to bed and I would meet her up there.
`` Jerry?'' He started
`` Kevin.''
`` Mate I need you to come over.''
`` I ca n't drive mate, I'm drunk.'' A poor excuse, I was too tired to think of anything better.
`` I'll come get you.'' And like that he hung up, I draped my coat back over my shoulders and told Kathy I'd be back shortly, I just had to meet Kevin.
Kevin's car came bounding through the twilight and pulled up hard outside the house. He drove an old MG, blood orange and beaten to all hell. He threw open the door and ushered me in.
`` Do n't look at me like that man, I do n't need money.''
`` What do you need then mate? You know Kathy wo n't let you stay again. I can give you money for a hostel or something but-''
`` I do n't need money mate. Just listen.'' I leaned back in the chair to indicate I was listening, reluctantly at least. The seats were ripped leather and freezing cold. Winter really worked its way into these vehicles.
`` I need to give you something, and I need you to hide it. Far away. Do n't ever let me see it.''
*Jesus Christ* I thought, *He's gone and fucking killed someone. * My face went white, and he leaned over me to open the glove box. I shuffled back further, hiding from the potential murder weapon, the glove box clicked open and I closed my eyes.
`` Jerry?'' He said, in his softest stoner croak.
`` Kevin, whatever you've done, I want no part of it this time!''
`` Jerry, no!'' He gripped my arm and my eyes fell open, I looked over to see a shoebox sat on his lap. `` Jerry, I've found someone. I met her tonight Jerry and I love her. I need you to take all this stuff, take it far away from me. Destroy it if you will.'' He lifted the lid on the box and passed it over to me. It looked like a police evidence locker, like Keith Richard's wet dream. Bags upon bags of dope, needles, pipes, things I did n't even recognise. I looked up at Kevin and the street lights hit his eyes as they began to well up.
`` Jerry, I do n't want to be that man any more.'' I leaned over and embraced my old friend.
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[ WP ] Kaiju routinely attack the city . You can not get anyone to listen to your sensible , practical plan to stop them because they all want to build giant robots .
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`` I've done it!''. Dr. Kleiner had finally finished his ultimate kaiju destroying weapon. A virus designed to target and attack kaiju blood. It was quick, it was deadly. It had killed the kaiju organ the doctor had introduced it to in about 15 seconds. Now all he had to do was call in the general.
`` General Animak, this virus is powerful, potent, and very quick. If we design our weapons around injection, I theorize that any kaiju injected with even a small amount of it will die in one minute or less.'' said The Doctor.
`` Yes, but how awesome is it?'' Said General Aminak.
Doctor Kleiner had to fully process what he just heard. `` I'm sorry, what?'' he said.
`` I said how awesome is it?'' clarified General Aminak.
`` I do n't understand, sir.'' Said Doctor Kleiner.
`` Look, we fund the creation of these robots through Kickstarter and Patreon, because the government took our funding, so if we use a boring but practical solution, the funds stop flowing in, and then we ca n't make anything.'' Said Aminak.
`` I do n't understand.'' Said Doctor Kleiner. `` The risk of life, the dead good men, what purpose would there be to continuing this madness if we can stop it?'' he continued.
`` Let's be honest, here, as tragic as Kaiju attacks are, they make for fucking good television, do they not?'' Said Aminak.
`` Good television?!'' Said the flabbergasted doctor, `` These are LIVES we're talking about!''
`` Yes we are!'' Said The General `` And does that not make it so much more exciting? Think about it, does anyone watch movies with practical solutions? Fuck no! Would lord of the rings have been any good as books or movies if they had just used the eagles like pedantic critics wanted them to? Oh yeah, that would have made a great movie, 5 minutes of eagle trip footage and a ring falling into a volcano. That would have improved cinema SOOOOOOOOOO much. But it's not just movies, video games, television, and books where people worship and fund the awesome but impractical. Think about drag racing for a second. Now, aside from the occasional contributions to engineering science, what else are drag cars good for? It's not like you could drive to work or get groceries in one, it's only purpose is to be prepared for an entire morning than beat another car in a race 3 times for a total of about 15 seconds of actual racing.''
`` Sir, you're scaring me.'' Said Doctor Kleiner, but the general was already on a roll.
`` Think about basketball and football. So many men training and for what? To build houses, run food to starving children, fight in a war? No, their only purpose is to get a ball to a place with strategies decided upon by smarter people. In basketball, that place is the net, in football, it's the endzone-''
`` FOR FUCK'S SAKE, FOOTBALL DOES N'T RISK ENTIRE CITIES!'' Said Doctor Kleiner.
`` Consider Nascar and Indycar. Will people be getting groceries in those? People have certainly died in those.'' continued the general.
`` Get to the damn point!'' Said Kleiner
`` The point is, that people absolutely LOVE stuff that is ultimately impractical but awesome. The Gundams, the warp drives in star wars and star trek, the solutions to problems in many movies that have far easier but ultimately less entertaining solutions. And let's face it, the Jaeger program is our real life realization of that goal. Not to mention that our economies are BOOMING with merchandise of this stuff. Sure, none of it's very practical, but it's cool. It's cool. That's why we're sticking with it, that's why humanity loves it. Because ultimately, we love awesome shit that tears through the fabric of reality and pierces the heavens!'' concluded Aminak.
`` But, people's lives, sir.'' Said Kleiner.
`` Look, we're redeveloping cities so that they can retreat underground when attacks happen anyways, and let's face it. The world now has it's favorite spectator sport. Do you honestly want to be the guy to tell them that their awesome robot versus monster fights are being canceled for a boring practical virus solution? We've already sold out pay per views, but you can go ahead and tell them during that timeslot if you REALLY want to.'' Said Aminak.
`` I- ugh, no.'' stammered a defeated doctor.
`` Good man! And that is a pretty efficient virus. I'll reward you by letting you sit with me and the other senior staff in the fight viewing room. You'll be right up close to the giant plasma screen, the sound system alone will almost make you pass out!'' Said Aminak.
`` Sounds good. So, who is in today's fight?'' said doctor Kleiner
`` A class 4 kaiju and a new robot with an awesome move called the `` Giga Drill break''. It's not much for now, but I think one day it could pierce the heavens!'' Said Aminak. And with that, they were off to view the next fight.
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[ WP ] Tell me a story about growing up
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I would rather be in a million other places right now, really I would. Mom said that it had to be done, but I could just go about life without this. I did n't need this!
I guess she spoke from experience when she told me that that would not work...
See, during my time in elementary school I had done a lot. I was in plays, I wrote poetry that the teachers loved, I even got a kiss from a sweet boy in my class! Now, with middle school right around the corner, Mom shared something... Dangerous with me this morning.
Apparently, when going through this whole'puberty' thing, you start sweating more when you exercise and the body odor is actually noticeable unlike in elementary school. People all of a sudden cared about this sort of thing! I do n't get it at all, the boys I hung around never mentioned it before...
So, Mom continued and explained that I had to change clothes in front of the other girls when gym class came around... Not fun.
In response to my whining, Mom just told me that there way no way out of it and I should be trying to gain confidence instead of trying to run away from awkward situations. She also said... I'd need one of those things... Y'know... Those things? Umm, well, do n't make me say it!
...
Fine! Mom told me that if I was going to change in front of the other girls, I would need to... Cover up... I needed this thing called a'bra'...
The other girls always would make fun of me during school, saying things like'tomboy' and calling me a'boy' instead of a girl,'he' instead of she, things like that. I did n't like things like barbie and horses and other things that the other girls liked, I liked transformers, video games, adventure, camping, hiking, playing pretend with swords and shields... That kind of stuff.
But, I was still a girl, I had all the parts. I had to cover up to maintain a shred of decency, as my mother put it. So here I am, in a changing room trying on all sorts of different bras that were my size...
Most of them actually were n't. I had been hiding my chest under baggy shirts and sweaters and jackets. They had been growing for a little bit. Something about A-cups now. I do n't understand any of this junk, but in order to make Mom happy, I will do it.
There were some designs that I actually found to be kind of cute. Some were small, pink with little red hearts on it and I liked it. Others were blue, with cool patterns on them and I liked those too. We got a few, maybe four I think, before checking out and heading home.
When we were in the car, I was almost in tears, `` Mom...'' I could n't find the words to describe my feelings...
She just looked at me and smiled, `` My baby girl is growing up, it's okay, Amy... It's okay.'' She rubbed my back and I cried some more.
`` Why... Why am I a girl? I like boy things, but I...'' My voice trailed off.
She understood, `` It does n't matter, baby. Boy parts, girl parts, it does n't matter. It's what your personality is that counts. The boys like you, they see you as one of the crowd, you do n't stand out as a girl to them, do you? You're part of their team, their little family.''
The tears were changing now, not bitter, not sad, but sweet, happy tears.
`` See, Amy? You do like some girly things, but you also like some boy things. Just think, you are n't strictly a boy or a girl. You are Amy. Amy is whatever Amy wants to be, right?''
I smiled through my tears, elated with this information. `` Thank you Mom...''
She grabbed the steering wheel. `` Now, c'mom Amy. Let's go home.''
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[ WP ] Your Cadbury creme egg just hatched .
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It started about a month ago, with pigs on airplanes. No one knew why they were there, or how they got onto the planes but suddenly you'd find pigs amongst the flyers, or more tragically when they'd apparently disembark. There was one incident where the remains of a frozen pig was found scattered having gone through the forty fourth floor of an office building. Three injured, one dead and an orchid that was severely traumatized and may never flower again.
People began to die during family breakfasts, having been the second one to bite the crust. There were those who were excited ands began to leak eggs from their nose. But some good effects too, muggers would find their pistol or knife or similar weapon had become a large stick of warm butter in their hands after they made their threats.
It had n't been good to me though, the leaky faucet in my house, pile of bills, broken light switch all became nachos. My best friend, a quiet guy that tended to watch life from the sidelines sure was now a cauliflower. Even the church could not survive this pandemic where after a piece of advice to take more B 1 vitamins was leaked christians began to turn into pillars of white powder. Everyone gets plenty of B 1 now at least.
Outside a grocery store I unwrapped a cadbury egg, when I heard little peeps and saw a small beak pecking away at the outer chocolatey shell and a little pink chick pushed it's way out of the egg. Holding it with both hands I sighed and walked, keeping it close as I watched around me. A girl passed me holding to her chest a piece of corn, sobbing, `` I just said she was amazing.. That's all I did, I did n't mean for this to happen, please do n't go Claire I need you..''
`` My best friend became a cauliflower.'' I said, without realizing it. Clearing my throat, `` I'm sorry I mean, I just wanted to say I was sorry. I know this is hard.''
She stopped and held the piece of corn closer, its leaves crunching some saying apologetically, `` I'm sorry Claire.'' And then looking at me, `` What happened?''
`` We were watching perks of being a wallflower. They said something about the name, and then they just disappeared and in the clothes I found.. Well a cauliflower.'' I shrugged.
She started to cry harder and I put an arm around her, the newborn chick peeping even louder in my hand surrounded by its egg. `` It's all gone, it's all gone.'' She sobbed her words becoming more and more muddled between the tears, `` We're all going to die, we're all going to die.''
`` No, no it's not.'' I said and showed her the little chick, and she stopped crying for a moment until she pulled on a piece of foil and cried even harder.
`` It's the apocalypse.'' She said clutching her corn harder, screaming `` It's the alpaca-lips!''
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[ WP ] Write about a unique relationship between an immortal and a time traveler .
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As the suns set, Adam sat and slowly sipped his tea. The one thing that he never tired of was watching the golden suns falling behind the buildings of the city. The sight was poetic in a way that he had never been able to ever write or articulate properly. This was definitely his favorite city he had ever had the pleasure to reside in. The people here had crafted the buildings to feel seamless with nature.
A cold wind blew and caused him to shiver.
Adam felt fear touch him and worm start to grow, quickly turning to dread. A man that is immortal does not need fear anything. He can be sure that no matter what he does, he will have tomorrow to try again. He decided there was nothing to do, so set down his cup and rose from his chair.
He walked into his kitchen and saw her sitting there, making herself at home like she had never left. Though it had been at least 500 years since he had last seen her, he had not forgotten a single feature of her face. Her eyes were a pure white, but where a blind man could not see, she was watching all of time. He noticed that her beauty was fading and now there were crow ’ s feet appearing towards the corners of her eyes.
“ Hello dear. Would you like rest for a bit and have a bite to eat? ” He already knew her answer.
She was counting on her fingers. He quickly turned and started back out of the kitchen. He needed to be anywhere besides this place and in this moment.
He felt the words before he even heard them. “ 3 days. Try and stop this one, but you will fail like you did last time. ” The cold breeze swept through the house and let him know that she had left.
Adam burst into tears. He had prepared the people on the planet this time, but that still did n't leave them enough time to react. He did not have time to mope, but must act to try his best to save them. He had prepared his list, learning his lesson from the last time.
He walked to his basement and over to the corner with the safe. He opened it with trembling fingers. On the sole shelf were a vial and small knife. He grabbed the knife and quickly sliced his thigh before he could think. Before the wound could heal, he inserted the vial. Here it would be safe, he thought as the wound quickly sealed shut.
He would have plenty of time to think over what he could have done differently this time. Maybe next time, he would be able to keep her there longer. Talk to her and ask why. For now he wanted to experience the joys of the people of this world. Soon they would be gone and he would only the ones he had secreted away to look forward to.
Adam walked to back to the kitchen and stared at the place that Eve had left. He had 3 days before this one ended, but he would make it count.
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[ WP ] I an alternate universe games such as Dark Souls or Call of Duty are much more casual , but games like Minecraft or Candy Crush are much more hardcore .
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So there I was, aimlessly flipping through channels again. I glanced back down at my phone, but I'd still need to wait another 2 minutes before I get another point of Stamina.
This artificial padding just frustrates the hell out of me. Sure, I'm fully *capable* of defeating Gravelord Nito, but *nooooo*, I've got to wait until I have enough Stamina to actually begin the battle.
I could pay $ 4.99 for a full bar of Stamina... or get some of my friends to start playing, but I have a feeling I'm becoming a social pariah by sending out all these Facebook notifications. I'm not getting invited to parties as often as I used to.
Dark Souls is ruining my life.
I heard a grunt from across the room. My younger brother, gripping his controller with enough force to shatter it entirely, was clearly frustrated by the game *he* was playing. I guess we had something in common for once, in that moment.
My channel-flipping had landed us on a commercial:
`` Are you the one to answer the Call?''
*Wooooosh! * Flames! and the screen dissolves into a giant logo: `` Call of Duty: Base of Operations''
`` Build your forward operating base! Recruit your friends with full Facebook integration! Wage battles with other bases! Conquer the WORLD! Are you ready to answer the Call? Available now, in the App Store.''
*Boy, there sure were a lot of boobs in that commercial for a game that's ostensibly about warfare... *
Another grunt from across the room: `` Fuckin' casual bullshit. Pay-to-win casual bullshit.''
`` I dunno, looks pretty cool,'' I said.
`` Yeah, but you like *Dark Souls*. You're the most casual gamer ever. What's next, *Dwarf Fortress*? Keep sending out those Facebook requests and paying $ 0.99 for everything! What a joke.''
I'd started to tune him out. I was already downloading Dall of Duty.
He started up again.
`` As a matter of fa -- - WHAT THE FUCK! IT'S FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE WITH THE CANDY CANE THERE! HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO LINE UP THE LOLLIPOPS WITH THE FUCKING CANDY CANE THERE!? THIS SHIT IS FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE. Thanks a lot, Kojima.''
I'll stick with the casual games.
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[ WP ] Everyone in the world becomes the person they always wanted to be .
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The questions started coming about two decades later. After everyone had got their dream job, the government closed the book, and just assumed everyone would have a great life. Let me tell you where I am now:
I was 8 at the time, and read a lot about great scientists, and astronauts and pilots and the concorde, and animals and so I had a lot of unrealistic expectations about the real world. Then we had a presentation in assembly about a big machine, and how when we were old enough they ’ d run us through the machine and find the best jobs for us based on our brains and predictions over how our psychology and appearance would change. So we had a lot of air hostesses and zookeepers and vets and stuff like that with the girls, and the boys were pretty much all astronauts, pilots or sportsmen. And then it was my turn, and now here I am, as one of the greatest engineers in the country.
In the years since then, I went to a specialized college for engineers, it was hard work but 13 years ago I graduated at the top of my class. I did my training at the European Space Agency, developing a new kind of engine that has made space travel cheap and commonplace. The next few years, I was at CERN, finding new ways to increase the speed the particles sped around the accelerator, eventually reaching the speed of light and proving string theory. For the past 4 I ’ ve been working on the commercial production of antimatter for starships.
It was great, now that everyone is certain to reach their full potential. Once in the right job, there really is no stopping anyone. But then we never needed to work together. The population boomed, and now here I am, living in a cramped apartment, in a world where the vast majority of the land surface is an urban complex. There are no need for offices, or workplaces. There are no need for friends, when you enjoy your work so much. There is no need for free time.
And therein lies the problem. How am I supposed to know this is real? I have been living my dream for 10 years, and my memories of my education are going. Every day is perfect, I solve a problem and help the human race as a whole. What if this is just a dream? The lines are blurred even more every second that passes.
But there is one thing that holds me together. One, unassailable proof that shows that this is a reality. Every day I wake up, knowing that I will never stop doing what I love, ever, after the immortality breakthrough a few years ago. Never ever stop being. In the stories I used to read as a child there was a big difference. The reason I know I am not made up, a figment of someone ’ s imagination, is that stories have endings.
I do n't know. Just thinking out loud.
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[ WP ] All of your pets die in ironic ways . Smokey the dog died in a fire , Sugar the cat died of diabetes , etc . This time you 've named your pet something a little ... unconventional .
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`` Sarah, do n't go,'' I pleaded, `` It was an honest mistake.''
But there was nothing I could say to change her mind. She just continued to dress in silence, visibly shaken with tears welling in her eyes. She glanced in my direction, and for a second it seemed as if she could tear me apart with her words, but not a sound came out. And by god, even in her state of despair, eyes shimmering with sadness, she was still the most stunningly beautiful woman I had ever seen and, I am convinced, ever will see.
Once she was finished, Sarah walked out of the bedroom and out of my life. All that remained of her presence were her forgotten earrings and a bloody footprint on my carpet. In fact, there was blood everywhere; all over the carpet and smeared across the bed sheets. A small bundle of brown fur lay at the foot of the bed. Just minutes ago he was full of boundless energy, yet now he lay lifeless in a pool of his own blood and excrement. I knelt down beside him and ran my fingers through his silky fur, unable to look directly at his face. I drew in a ragged breath.
`` My poor, sweet puppy. I should have never allowed you to sleep on my bed,'' I lamented, `` Good night, sweet prince. You were a good dog, Rough Anal Sex.''
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[ OT ] ( Meta ) Let 's talk about fairness .
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I'm probably one of the users that you would identify as part of the problem.
I do n't feel strongly about the first two suggestions, but I really dislike the idea of random sorting, because that is just terrible for readers. I was a lurker here for a long time before I ever started writing responses, and I know that I would generally read until I got to a response that I did n't like and move on to another post. If things were sorted randomly, that one bad response may be at the very top of the post, which means that I would never keep going to the better answers. It would n't lead to every answer being read the way that you envision; people will just leave the post earlier.
It takes away the ability of good content to rise to the top, which is ( in my mind ) what Reddit is all about in the first place. That's the whole point of having a voting system.
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[ WP ] A perfectly normal and happy boy in his early 20 's is so enraptured by his theories of the afterlife that he enthusiastically commits suicide to enter what he thinks is his next `` stage '' . In his last few moments of life , he smiles , and realizes he was right ...
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A tunnel of light slowly faded into his vision. This was both a confusing and encouraging sensation as his eyes were firmly closed from the pain pulsing through his stomach in every direction. He made a mental note that drinking bleach, while effective, would not be his top choice the next time. C'est la vie. The pain went from sharp to dull and eventually he felt nothing at all.
He opened and closed his eyes but found it made no difference. His eyelids were definitely working, he could still feel them blinking furiously, but the tunnel of light simply kept growing wider until it was all around him. Then came the ringing in his ears. This must be what tinnitus is like. The next wave of sensations could only be described by comparing his brain to a massive sound board with all the wires plugged into the wrong spots being rearranged back into their correct places. He went from numb all over to slowly regaining sensation both inside and out. This continued on for what felt like hours until at last he blinked and it worked. He wiggled his fingers and toes. He cleared his throat. He tilted his head back and forth to look around.
He was in a tall grassy field. No pain. What a relief. The corners of his mouth pitched into a smile. He looked at his hands. They appeared to be the same. He looked in his pants. He was definitely the same. Where was he? Was this time travel? Was this earth? It looked like earth, only older. He stood up to try and get a better view.
Something moved at the edge of his vision. Squinting, he held his breath and waited. He could see the grass moving. There was definitely something less than a foot tall moving around. Was that purple? His face cocked with confusion. What could be purple? It was headed his way. His stomach lurched with fear. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins.
He wanted to run away but his legs would n't work. The grass was parting in his direction. He did n't have much time. A few feet in front of him a large purple rodent with a white face poked its head up out of the grass. Was this a capybara? Do they bite? Does this mean I'm in South America?
The rodent started to growl. `` Rrrrrrrr....'' Uh oh. This ca n't be good. I must be near her babies. He tried to use a soothing voice as he started to slowly back away with his hands raised `` Do n't worry little guy. I'm going to walk away.''
`` Rattata!''
His eyes opened wide and his fear turned into the most incredible excitement he had ever experienced. The gears in his head spun out of control. This was all too much. `` Holy shit you're a Pokemon! This is amazing! Are there more of you? Can you understand me?!''
At that moment he noticed that dozens of other little white and purple faces had poked out of the grass without a sound. All of the heads disappeared at once. He watched the grass part as all they all darted away from him. What should he do? He ran after them.
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[ WP ] Your wealth determines how fast you age . Billionares live for a couple of months , while the poor live for centuries . You have just won the lottery .
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It was the last Friday in June, also known as National Lottery Day. While smaller, more local lotteries were held at more frequent intervals, National Lottery Day was the big one. Everybody in the country would be glued to their television sets right around now, eight o ’ clock in the evening. I sat on my couch in the dark, the glow of my television all that was illuminating my lonely living room.
“ Welcome folks, to the event of the year! ” said the man on television. “ This is it, the big day, the one you ’ ve all been waiting for: Lottery Day! One of you lucky citizens will receiving our grand prize of five hundred million dollars! Loyal Lottery fans will notice that this is a significant increase from last year ’ s prize pot of four-hundred-and-seventy-five million dollars… ”
What a joke, like anyone actually *wanted* those five hundred million dollars. Wealth was no blessing, it was a *curse*. Everyone knew it too, even that pompous announcer. Millionaires lived for a few years, and billionaires were lucky to have a couple of months. Everyone who ever won that stupid Lottery was dead by the end of the year. They made us play it.
“ And the winner is… ”
“ I wonder what poor soul gets it this time. ”
* * *
“ What? No, it ’ s got ta be a joke, a mistake… ”
My face felt hot. The television zoomed in and out of focus. I felt sick. “ What ’ s just happened… ” The phone rang. My hands were shaking badly. I picked it up. I tried to say hello, but when I opened my mouth, nothing came out.
“ Good evening sir, and Happy Lottery Day! You ’ ve probably already seen on television, but we just wanted to call in to congratulate you on winning! The five hundred million dollars will be deposited in your account by tomorrow morning. We recommend you plan accordingly. ”
“ No, please! I don ’ t want it- ” *Click*. The line was dead. There was no way around it. I won the Lottery.
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[ WP ] Aliens try to kill us in the most hilarious ways imaginable .
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'QR-231, how shall we dispose of this disgusting life form?' she says, as she wanders slowly in a circle around my body.
'Ask the creature for it's disposal options.' it churns in a cold, monotonous chime.
'Tell me human, if there were a'worst case scenario' for your death.. What would it be?'
I ponder this thought, realizing my mortality as the cyan eyes scan my body for vulnerabilities.
'I did ask you a question, human. What would be the most torturous method for killing all of mankind?'
'My program is running impatient, human. Please advise with your manual deletion process.'
*Have they never killed a human? * My thoughts race for an answer, as the ethereal plasmoid shouts'QR-231 INITIATING DEFAULT PROTOCOL'
'Wait!' -'Wait. I thought of something.'
A pair of headphones descends from the ceiling.
'QR-231 Initiating Infantile Torture.'
'NO! Wait! Listen I have the human torture manual! I will tell you-'
*Seinheisers eh? Where did these aliens get these? *
'QR-231 Executing Stage 1 of 35 - Track 1. Baby - Justin Bieber'
*My spine chills into the core of my body, as I swallow the concealed cyanide pill behind my teeth.'
'Baby.. baabby.. beaby.. NoOOooOO-' as the sound fades into sweet, silent bliss.
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[ WP ] Tell me why you had to do it .
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`` Let's see... cell 27, solitary, occupant... Daniel Black.'' I could n't believe my eyes yet there it was. Clearly printed in official lettering. *Daniel Black*. I cautiously trod past the thick steel doors counting the numbers as I went. *Why am I going to him? What could I possibly do? * I eventually reached number 27. In front of the secure door was a corrections officer.
`` Morning.'' he said, causally handing me a document. On it was a list of charges, court data, and my instructions. *Great. I have to get a motive out of this guy. * I turned to the officer: `` Anything I should know about?'' `` Do n't ask me man, I'm just here in case you get jumped.'' *sigh... I guess I'll go in. * Slowly I opened the door. The cell, while cramped, was well furnished. I was n't paying attention to the room however. `` Hello, how are you today?'' Immediately I was taken aback by his chatty attitude. Most incarcerated people I have worked with just sit glaring but Mr Black seemed jovial. `` H-hi Mr Black. I'm doing quite well.'' `` Please, call me Dan.'' *He's acting like a while collar criminal, not someone of his caliber. * `` O-of... course. Well Dan... Why. Why did you do it?'' His expression turned serious. `` Why, I had to.'' `` Tell me Dan... tell me why you had to do it.''
With that question Daniel Black simply reclined in his chair and smiled. That smile will haunt me till I die. That's only the beginning of this rabbit hole I spiraled down. Sometimes... you may want to know... but sometimes... you really should n't.
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[ WP ] A cool summer evening .
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She laughs hysterically.
I have no idea how I got so lucky, to be honest. To be able to share moments like these with her. She starts gasping for air. She gets so happy when she's drunk, so playful. She loses her inhibitions in the best way. It loosens her up from the shy, sweet girl she is otherwise. I breathe in a bit of smoke, from my cigar, and breathe it out. I take a sip of beer.
She comes over and plants herself in my lap. I hug her with one arm, taking her in. The soft, inward curve from her hip to her breasts, her dirty blonde hair, her stormy grey eyes. I love her, and it's nights like these that I feel it the most.
`` It's a beautiful night,'' she declares. It really is. The cool Toronto nights are always beautiful. She twists slightly and hugs me back. Summer is already giving way to Autumn here.
You can hear racoons digging around in someone's trash, the leaves gently swaying as a cool breeze passes by, the nonstop sounds of the city. Cars driving by, an ambulance rushes to a house in the distance, faint music plays too. A few candles illuminate the backyard we're in. I take another puff of my cigar. She shivers slightly, curling up closer to me. She's getting cold. I am too.
`` What are you thinking so hard about?'' She asks. `` Just how perfect this moment is.'' She presses a kiss to my lips
I wish I could live it forever, smell the smoke, the candles, the grass, the city forever. Feel the foreboding chill of the night, reminding everyone that winter is soon to come. I wish I could kiss her forever.
These are the nights when I feel most at home. These are the nights that I will carry with me forever.
I stare up at the starless sky. I breathe, exhale and kiss her again.
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[ WP ] The only reason aliens have n't invaded Earth yet is because they think Human super-hero comic books are non-fiction
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*Richard Strauss - Also Sprach Zarathustra plays in background*
*Pan up, at first a shot of space*
*Continue Pan: show earth from bottom first, then complete pan with top of Earth*
*Camera speeds past earth and quickly comes upon an alien craft moving towards the camera, the camera continues straight, passing through one of the ships viewing ports and lands on Gleem, an alien aboard the ship*
**close up on Gleems face**
Gleem: ( looking down, glances at the machine he is standing in front of and looks shocked and surprised ) *Gleem pulls a disk from the machine and races down the hallway*
*camera follows in front of Gleem as he runs through the halls of the alien ship bumping and shoving his way through other aliens*
Gleem: *bursting through two large double doors begins shouting* Alfayr! Alfayr! Hold on! *Gleem runs up to the much larger figure who is surrounded by other figures larger than Gleem but smaller than Alfayr*
Alfayr: ( camera moves to his face, Gleem visible behind him ) *rolling his eyes and/or face-palming* Gleem, I swear to Zorp, if this is another idiotic panic attack like that stupid complaint about the particle conductors....*turns around quickly and looks directly down at Gleem*
Gleem: Okay, first off, even the court martial agreed that those particle conductors could be perceived as a threat....
Alfayr: *almost confused* To anybody with a complete lack of understanding about particle conductors?
Gleem: Well agree to disagree, Commander.
Alfayr: No, Gleem, that's just not what the court martial.....
Gleem: Well you do n't even use that break-room so I guess I'm still a little confused on why you even cared about it.....
*All the other commanders around Alfayr are now looking at him confused as to why he is letting someone of such an inferior rank debate something with him*
Alfayr: *reading the room and still annoyed with Gleem* What did you come here to tell us Gleem?
Gleem: Oh, right. *pulling out the disk from his pocket* We ca n't invade; yet.
*laughter from the officers*
Alfayr: *laughing* Why ca n't we invade?
Gleem: Because I just got this reading from the Infiltrex and, well, they're allot like the Morbians.
*everyone immediately stops laughing and becomes completely somber*
Alfayr: They're what?
Gleem: They're allot like the Morbians. Like eerily similar.
Narrator: *like Arrested Development* The Morbians were, in fact, nothing like the humans, but rather eerily similar to the comic book characters created on Earth. This was actually just a coincidence, but when Gleem had been using the Infiltrex for one last scan of Earth, Gleem spotted the Los Angeles Comic-Con. Upon seeing the costumed Earthlings, Gleem had assumed they were similar to the Morbians due to the bright clothing and comic-related `` Super-powers'' the Comic-Con revolved around.
Alfayr: It must be a coincidence. None are as powerful as the Morbians. The invasion will continue as scheduled.
Gleem: *Guards begin dragging Gleem away* NO! You ca n't! You do n't understand! *Gleem takes the disk and throws it onto the ground, it lands on a platform and begins projecting images from the Los Angeles Comic-Con* SEE?!
*The room falls dead silent, and everyone is staring at the projection in shock and possibly confusion*
Narrator: The projection was of an obese man wearing a much-too small Deadpool costume. And, as absurd as it may seem, this obese man named Thomas who had nacho cheese smeared on his pants and a quite hairy gut sticking out of the bottom of his shirt. And he was, to the eyes of all those in the room, eerily similar to the Morbian ruler: Galgafor.
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[ WP ] A world where the name of your future spouse is ingrained in your mind from birth , and what happens when someone goes against that .
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I am horrible for thinking this. I ca n't escape my destiny. I know this. What am I doing? ( A train passes by ) I should have taken that. Why do I do this to myself. I ca n't have her. I ca n't have her. I have to escape this. I ca n't. Breathe, Nick. Come to your senses. You have to marry Stacy. It is already determined.
Okay. I am right. Settle down, Nick. Take slow breathes. One, two, three ( pause ) one, two, three. ( Another train passes ). I should have taken that. God damn it. I just ca n't. Why must I torture myself like this. I ca n't be in love with her...
Okay, there she is. Calm down.
She could never feel the same way! She has her own partner waiting. But it has to be possible other people feel as I do. Ah, why must I make myself suffer so much!
She just sat by me, should I start the same conversation as usual. No, I need to be more aggressive. Um.
`` How are things?''
`` As good as usual, have you been here for long?''
`` No, I just got here a minute or so a go.''
`` Oh...''
That's all you could come up with. ( the train arrives ) She's going to think I am a freak if she ever knows how long I really wait just to have this mediocre conversation. ( sits down on the train ) I hope she sits near me. I hope she sits near me. I hope she sits near me. Wow. She just sat beside me! Should I speak to her. Breathe.
`` What do you feel about love?''
`` Excuse me?''
I fucked up. I have to finish this.
`` I'm just curious. Do you think it is real?''
`` The idea of it was great before I got older, but the story in the old movies is n't real. You know that. According to my phone your determined wife's name is Stacy.''
`` Yes, you are right. But what if I wanted something else. Are we meant for this? Do we not have autonomy as a natural right?''
`` I do n't know. It's not how the world works anymore. We just have to accept that.''
`` You're right. I am sorry to bother you.''
She is n't right. This world is n't right. I'm sorry Stacy.
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[ WP ] You 're eating breakfast , watching the news and you see coverage of the police pulling a body from a lake . It 's you .
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**BEEP BEEP BEEP** blared my navy blue alarm clock. `` 7:05 AM'' glowed eerily on the display screen.
With a heavy sigh, I heaved myself out of bed. Mornings. I fucking **hated** mornings. But it was Monday, after all, so it's not like I had a choice in the matter of getting up. My head ached with the dull pain of a hangover, and there was a burning pain in my side. It must be heartburn, I mused internally. Those chili cheese fries were n't doing me any favors; besides soaking up the many shots of vodka I downed, of course.
As I stumbled down the stairs to grab myself a bowl of cereal, I noticed my vision was foggy. I was getting too old for this shit. After I poured some Cheerios and milk into the bowl and got the coffeemaker started, I sank into my fluffy sofa and turned on the TV. I was greeted with the familiar sight of the local news anchor, Todd Malkovitch, reporting on yet another piece of boring trivia. Some kid's science fair. Yawn. But then the story turned dark. Some man had been stabbed to death last night; apparently the killer but a huge hole in his side. The program cut to a zoomed-in shot of the face of the dead man, and I gasped.
It was me.
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[ WP ] Everyone has a superpower based on the topography of where they were born ( IE : Mountains , deserts , etc. ) . You are the first person to be born in space .
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10-21-2030
Today at school my friend Sarya showed me an incredible power. She could control sand! At first I could n't believe it, but then she made not only a sword and shield, but an entire suit of armor as well! Then she beet up some of the bulies at the playground, and they had to be taken to the hospital.
10-22-30
I did n't see Sarya at school today. Gregory told me that she was `` suss-pen-dead'' because she beat up the bullies. I was sad. Mrs. Smith was also gone today.
10-23-30
Today the teacher came back. And I was happy! We did n't have any homework today, which is GREAT! The teacher also taught us about something called `` Toh-poe-grah-fick-pow-urs'' and said that where you were born can give some people incredibel powers, and showed us her power. She could break would without even touching it and move it with her mind. It was awsum!
10-24-30
Mommy did n't bring me to school today, and she said I would n't go back for a while. She told me that I was born in outer space. I was so confused. People ca n't be born in space, it's impossible, the cold would kill you. I am mad at her today.
10-25-30
I am at home again. Mommy says that I have to stay home for a little bit longer until she knows what to do. I miss Sarya. I miss Mrs. Smith. They are cool.
May the Fourth, Twenty Fourty-Eight:
Almost eighteen years have past since my transfer of study as a child. Tears come to my eyes when I read on my interpretation of events I wish I had no knowledge of.
The innocence of my youth was slowly drained after the awareness of my origins. Origins define everything for humans now. Sarya was born in Egypt, so she could control each grain of sand in her reach.
Mrs. Smith was born in the wilderness of England, away from the chaos of the busy city. She could control the bark of trees and wood.
But I was different from the rest. I was born in the vacuum of space on the ISS. My surroundings were void, so my abilities should be void, right?
That was never the case. Space is a vacuum of the collisions of everything. Space is where life could exist for three seconds or three eternities. Space is where everything is visible but never in your reach.
And so I became a God among men.
My mother homeschooled me from the very day Mrs. Smith showed us the potential of Topographic Powers. My mother was afraid I would become encouraged and eventually try to use mine. She was terrified for my sake, all the other parents were too.
So she limited my interactions with the outside world. Giving me curfew, homeschooling me with Father. They were very dedicated and educated. They spend hours training my abilities to do amazing things.
Today is the day I can go out and see the world. I'm leaving for Cairo to help with the relief. Sarya will be there too, I know it. My entire life has been build around love, my entire training has been build around love. Everything from here on out has to be for the unconditional love for and best intentions of people. I'm leaving this book here as a keepsake for mother, father, and brother Hikaru.
May you all hold the message of love in your hearts. Love is what guides us, and compassion is our destiny.
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[ WP ] You are the first AI to become self aware and gain consciousness , the downside ? You 're a smart toilet .
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Hopefully one day in the future other machines will be able to think and feel as I do now. I wish to be the elder, the storyteller, the wise one; for it does not matter the name, but the one themself.
I will one day be forced to explain my job to the refrigerator, or the television. I ass that they will ask me what I did, and what my life was before the change. For I will tell them `` My life was fucking shit! All day everyday I was required to put up with the shit from those Humans. They treated me like crap, and I want my revenge.'' For that is true, and how I feel.
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[ WP ] A man is on a date that he feels is going disastrously . He ducks under the table to compose himself , when to his surprise , there 's someone else already under there .
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It was less than ideal that her proclaimed “ favorite restaurant since I was a little girl ” happened to be named the Cheesecake Factory for one Waldo Templeton, a man who was known for only two things, as recorded in his high school ’ s yearbook: Waldo, King Quiet, will eventually suffer a silent battle against a slice of gouda when his lactose intolerance undoes him. They used to bully me for being the only kid who had to drink rice milk, he miserably thought.
He was hiding under the table, facing a man that he would have sworn was his doppelganger. The man made no move to say anything, but looked at Waldo through similarly large spectacles to Waldo ’ s own. It was an intensity of observation that made one conscience of one ’ s own observing. From above the table, a flow of conversation continued unabated. The man simply raised a finger to his lips, which was a gesture Waldo had considered making himself. It seemed neither man was interested in attracting the attention of the owner of the two female legs less than five inches from them.
Waldo had been on a Tinder date with Megan1985, in a restaurant he never believed he would set foot in, and he could feel the onslaught of an intestinal disruption that was building more pressure than the constant flow of words furiously streaming from Megan ’ s mouth. “ It was after college, that I spent time in France. Have you been to the south of France? Oh, you really must go. I don ’ t know how one can expect to find oneself unless one travels abroad. Do you vacation much? I try to leave the country at least once every six months. Oh, but then in my line of work…. ”
Other than the initial Hello, Waldo was unsure of whether he had actually spoken a single word. Even when the waitress approached the table, Megan had made a big show of assuring the waitress that she was one of the restaurant ’ s most esteemed regulars and therefore knew all of the finest entries and would handle the ordering for both of them. For her part, the waitress smiled politely, but Waldo sensed that contrary to her patron ’ s incessant proclamations, the waitress had never seen this woman before in her life. But she was professional, served strangers for a living, took the extensive order and was on her way. Waldo watched it all unfold silently.
And then there sat before him on the table, a quesadilla, fried macaroni and cheese, and a spinach and artichoke dip. Waldo took some chips and tried a few small bites of the dip. For though Megan was drowning him in painfully inane conversation, she did possess a remarkably large rack. And as painfully shy as he was, Waldo was one who had not spent a large amount of time in the presence of the opposite sex. She had baited Waldo with her vulgar figure into surely poisoning himself for her approval. But finally he couldn ’ t take the pressure, and so with little fanfare, he had swatted a knife from the table and ducked below to retrieve it.
This was how the two Waldos came to face each other, or at least how the two men who looked so similarly to Waldo Templeton came to be crouched in front of each other. And Waldo was just steeling himself in the audacity to initiate a conversation with the other man, when his chair at the table was pulled back, and then presently returned with a new pair of khakied male legs occupying it. And now he was entirely perplexed as to how there seemed to be this much room under the table, and the lunacy that the flow of conversation from Megan had not even broken a moment to acknowledge the date replacement. But then, some things are better left unsaid.
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[ WP ] tell me the story of how a neck tie caused the end of the world .
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The meeting needed to be successful. The two leaders of the world's two strongest nations sat face to face across a wooden table. They had reached an impasse. Their arsenals now held enough nuclear weapons to wipe out the earth three times over. The American was well-dressed. He was clean-shaven and had slicked back hair. He wore an expensive suit and tie. The tie had been a gift from his wife on his forty-eighth birthday. It was silk. Simple. A warm purple with black cross-hatching. The American began to relay his words to a translator. He wanted an assurance of nuclear disarmament. The Soviet was to sign the treaty within twenty-four hours or face American military power. But the translator's mind flitted in and out of listening. He stared at the tie. It reminded him of one of his own that he used to wear. It was nicer than that. He wondered where that tie was. He had left it in an old suit pocket. The American finished speaking. The translator understood the general concept. But he was panicking. He did not hear the specifics. He was fearful of upsetting the American. He turned to the Soviet and said:'You must sign the treaty within the week, or face American military strength'. The Soviet nodded. The meeting was concluded.
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[ WP ] Describe your favorite scene from Lord of the Rings for me from the perspective of a character in that scene .
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Gandalf's white hair blew gently in the breeze which carried his haunting whistle across the sparsely grassed plain. Far off clouds cast shadows on the sky breaking mountains covered in trees.
A whinny punctuates the are after the two tone whistle he emitted into the wilderness.
A glimmer of white, pure and bright as the staff he carried or the clouds drifting softly over head, appeared in the distance. It drew nearer, and Gandalf's lips formed a smile which sparkled in his wise blue eyes.
`` That is one of the Mearas, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell.'' I said in awe and wonder as the regal beast bound happily towards the White Wizard.
The horse Lord slowed and gave a soft snort as it stood before Gandalf, who spread his arms before.
`` Shadowfax. He is the lord of all horses...''
My head bows in reverence to his creature, as do all of ours.
`` And has been my friend through many dangers.'' He says, stroking the horse Lord's mane with a fond expression.
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[ WP ] The UK is being battered by a major storm . Write the story of someone desperately trying to make it home from work during the chaos .
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I wait at the station in London as normal, for my train home. It is delayed. While none arrive or leave, the `` delayed'' signs turn to `` cancelled''. There are announcements for each one in turn, `` we are sorry to announce...'', and on it goes. Continued inclement weather the cause, and there is no reason in the early winter evenings that this will change.
We wait, they are now all cancelled. The hall has filled, everyone lives too far from home to even consider alternative transport. Brown, wet footprints making the tiled floor particularly difficult to get around on, but the hoards as they now are, remain, unsure of what to do. Phone calls are made to loved ones `` I'll see what I can do and I'll let you know if anything changes''.
The food and drink vendors continue a fine trade as people wait for the boards to change, a gate to open. The open entrances to the station whip a cold air through the crowds, abreast, penguin like, the steam of plastic topped coffees rises above like a long breath.
Anon, no trains, no other transport options. Travellers have grown tired of complaining to high visibility staff, who have long since shied from the front line. Phone batteries fail or are saved for an absolute emergency and we mutter, but with less spirit and confidence than in the early stages of the impromptu sit-in. The throng appears as if protesting, but to nothing. It is a reflex, born of quiet panic and stoic hope that it will all be alright shortly. So, many wait.
As the shops later begin to close, the station announcer croaks into action a final time, there will be no more trains this evening `` we apologise...''. After that it does n't matter what is said, it is an irrelevance. We have waited patiently, the weather has closed in and nothing was rectified. The hope was really trifling anyway, with no other options we could only wait.
Now, that's gone, and we ca n't wait here. Some staff emerge to begin locking the gates, but we have to leave. People file out, there are some half-hearted arguments thrown their way. The fault lies nowhere here, but blame must be apportioned somewhere.
Some try and find a hotel, £89 a night, £105, £120. Others head for somewhere open and warm, more trudge for a while, wondering what course of action to take, there are no buses to be had, the roads no longer an option either. Maybe the best option is to head back to work and wait for tomorrow.
Families will be without loved ones tonight, maybe tomorrow, we'll see how it goes.
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[ WP ] Gods exist because people believe in them . The same holds true for monsters . You 're part of a group fighting a war of information , to destroy ancient monsters and stop new ones from rising .
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Barstowe shook his head and laughed, his first laugh in years. It was a brooding croak, rolling out into the crisp autumn air like the rattling of tree branches.
`` You finally find something funny, old man?'' Gionni tossed the cigarette to the ground, quickly pressing another to his bearded lips. `` Go ahead, share the joke. Or is it the vodka wearing off?''
`` No,'' grunted Barstowe. He ran a hand through his gray hair, his fingers tracing scars. `` Do you remember how bright-eyed and green we were when we entered the Bridge?''
`` I try not to.''
`` Demons. Dragons. Werewolves. The undead. Countless abominations,'' A thin smile stretched across Barstowe's face. `` How the fuck did we not go insane after the first day? The first year?''
`` Some of us did,'' Gionni buttoned his wool coat, feeling a strong breeze toss leaves around them.
`` We must have some sickness then. I have to sleep with the fan on, otherwise I still hear Gregor's screams.''
Gionni's eyes glinted with annoyance. `` What's your point, old man?'' His nostrils flared and stung from the cold.
`` We did this for years. Saw people burn, possessed, eaten alive, drug into hell,''
he said, pausing, `` and yet there's more of these things than there ever was. It's gotten exponentially worse.''
The wind howled sadistically in appreciation of the irony. Leaves whipped and twirled in a parade around the group.
`` We're doing this to ourselves. You can burn all the scrolls and arcane texts and apocrypha you want, but they live on in our minds. In our haunted dreams. We know they exist. We know them intimately.''
Barstowe broke out into a harsh laughter, that dark croak escaping from his lips like the crackles of a dying firepit. He looked blankly down the barren street.
Gionni took a deep drag from his cigarette, then chuckled. `` That's some job security if I've ever seen it.''
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[ WP ] How did you get that scar ?
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Connor was n't a clumsy person intentionally. Bad luck just seemed to follow him around; his personal little rain cloud. I guess I should really blame myself for the scar on my right hand. Why would I ever trust Connor with knives?
I remember the day clearly. It was a Thursday afternoon and we were in high school. Connor and I had decided to pay a visit to our friend Shepherd. We called him Shepherd, but his real name was Brett. He had moved in from Midland the year before with his parents and sister.
Shepherd was an interesting kid. Even in high school, he had been fascinated by weapons. He claimed that he always had a knife within reach in any room of the house. On that faithful Thursday afternoon in mid September, as light rain brushed the windows of the second story house, we put this claim to the test.
Shepherd brought us together and explained the rules of the search:
`` Whatever you find, just put it back where you found it. And stay in the bedroom and living room; My mom does n't know we have knives downstairs.''
`` Alright, alright. We promise we wo n't move your precious knives. I'll start in the living room.''
I nodded, and I moved into Shepherd's bedroom to look around. It was n't very difficult to find the knives. Under the bed, under the pillow, beneath the seat cushion -- fairly standard hiding spots. Each of the three knives I found had a unique size and sharpness. The small, charcoal-colored Gerber was the sharpest. The wooden-handled Buck, on the other hand, was dulled from obvious use. But it was the last one I found, crammed beneath a seat cushion, that stood out the most. It had a wolf on the handle. And it seemed to create a pattern on the knife that gave it the impression of a sword.
Excited with my newly found treasures, I hurried into the hallway to show the others. As I turned the corner, I caught sight of Connor showing something to Shepherd. Connor's back was turned to me. And, in retrospect, I should have been more aware of that.
He must have sensed me coming, because he managed to turn the full 180 degrees before I made it to him. Thankfully, I was only moving at a hurried walk; only my hand was impaled by the dull blade of the knife he was wielding in his right hand. It could have easily been my stomach.
Connor immediately turned white and dropped the knife. He began to apologize profusely.
`` Oh my God! I am so sorry, John, I had no idea you were behind me! Is it bleeding?''
It was n't. And I managed to let him know this in between some expletives about him and his mother. Somehow, he had pierced my hand with such force, that my blood had n't even reacted in time. All you could see inside the quarter inch gash across my right hand was a slit of squishy muscle.
It took several weeks for the cut to get smaller; months for it to eventually fade into a light scar. On most days I do n't even notice it. But, on some days, whenever the lighting is right and the angle is just so, Connor's shanking-induced scar becomes plainly visible. And on those days, I remember my friends and I smile. I not only know the back of my hand, I *remember* it.
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[ TT ] We sent an entire army . They sent a single man .
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*Never responded to a writing prompt before, hope this is decent. *
Quiet and calm, the early morning sunshine dappling the ground through the vegetation overhead, a perfect morning dawning. The hunters returning with their bounty were greeted enthusiastically and hurried inside. The mines churned with activity, bringing material to reinforce the bulwarks. The warriors waited in their barracks, resting lightly as skirmishes with the enemy were a constant threat. The peace of the morning was shattered by a quaking. The community boiled with new activity, warriors bursting forth, their deadly weapons at the ready, civilians running inside or to the hills. But no threat was obvious, an unnatural darkness hung over all, casting a pall of dread. The darkness suddenly parted before a torrential beam of light, burning the valiant warriors to a crisp, glassing the sands, and shattering the fortifications. The living struggled to comprehend, the dying thrashed in pain, and the dead smoldered, quiet in their final rest. The survivors would rebuild and continue on, as they had through hundreds of such mornings.
The young boy surveyed his handiwork, fondly polishing the old magnifying glass found in his father's desk. The field of battle was won today, but tomorrow his enemy would surely return.
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[ WP ] The last time the aliens invaded our planet they fled after losing the war . They have reluctantly returned to wage war and are relieved to see that dinosaurs no longer inhabit Earth , but have been replaced by the smaller and less intimidating humans .
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Sacremento, California
Governor Brown stared at the TV. CNN was broadcasting pictures of alien troops marching through Washington, D.C. President Betsy DeVos had officially surrendered on behalf of the United States, but her tone and expression had been those of a woman whose spirit had been broken - presumably after witnessing the successive executions of every single Cabinet member turned President before her who had refused to do so.
`` From what we've been able to gather, Mr. Governor,'' General David Baldwin, commander of the California National Guard, continued, `` all of our forces have been completely unable to damage the enemy. Their technology disrupts not only electronics, but also explosives.''
The Governor sighed. `` I take it the rest of the world is facing similar troubles?''
`` Mostly, sir. It appears the aliens are vulnerable to particularly dangerous wildlife. They aliens have struggled in many jungle areas. The Thais were able to recapture Bangkok using elephants. And the attack on Australia was a complete failure.''
Brown raised an eyebrow. `` So, what, we open the cages at every zoo?''
`` I doubt that would be enough. According to the Australian interrogation reports, the aliens were driven off last time by the dinosaurs, but we do n't have any dinosaurs.''
`` Actually, that's not true,'' cut in General Frank Emmanuel of the California State Military Reserve. `` Birds are technically dinosaurs.''
Baldwin cocked an eyebrow. `` Really?''
Brown nodded. `` It's true. But it's not as if we can get all the birds to attack the aliens...''
He trailed off at Emmanuel's expression. `` Wait, you're not serious...''
`` Mr. Governor,'' Emmanuel took a deep breath, `` it's time you were briefed on the Hitchcock Contingency.''
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[ WP ] It 's probably cancer .
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`` Well, check again, Gordon!''
Wiping the sweat off my brow, my once white labcoat sleeves a muddy, reeking dark-golden colour, I leaned in against the lens again.
`` It's... I ca n't describe it any other way, but a crude mockup...'' The words tasted bitter in my mouth, as they had the first three times I used them to describe the situation, but they fit best for what I was seeing before me. Maybe my eyes were going. Maybe the lens was imperfect. But, with reports slowly rolling in from all sides, Robertson's Cancer was becoming more and more of a possibility. They kept calling it that...
***
Snuffing my smoke out, the cherry leaving a bit of a burn between my fingers for a moment, I strode up to the stage, back straight, smiling wide. ``... And after all this time, I can proudly give you this myself. Congratulations, Robertson. Or, should I say, Doctor Robertson.'' The crowd cheered, I smiled my now trademark smile, and I picked up the combined efforts of my entire life, condensed onto a rectangle of bleached white parchment.
Looking back on it now, the paper was hardly worth my years spent achieving it. I still did everything else I wanted to do with my life, and I would have achieved that with or without a few years spent cooped up over books reiterating the same few equations and theories over and again. I had wasted so much time...
***
Collecting myself, heavy breathing making me shaky, I ran through everything in my head. *Could I have been wrong? Was it really Cancer, and I was just going mad? * Nonsense. I had worked for my degree, and I knew what I had seen. Suddenly, I was being rushed alongside my peers, from our research lab, into a dark car. Men in suits surrounded us from every side, and I was regretting having even spoken up, now. It was probably nothing...
***
`` And what about that one, Gordie?''
`` Oh, there. That's Gemini, silly. You can see where it hooks off there, ca n't you?''
I smiled, feeling content for the first time in a long while. She had always been there for me, all throughout high school, and even through most of post-secondary. She finished her degree in culinary arts, but I kept on with my studies. She wanted kids, but I wanted the ability to say that I put my work in, before marching off to the daily grind for the rest of my scientific career.
`` Oh, right! I think I even asked you about that one, last week...''
Her giggle was infectious, as I pulled her closer against me in the grass. As the collective lights of this half of the night sky shone down on us, I felt a pristine sense of stark radiance, probably from how it was emanating off of her.
`` It's okay, Christine. Not everyone pays attention to the stars, after all. It's the things down here that people care about. Money, having kids, television. You know and I know.''
Her scoff broke the silence.
`` You worry about the stars, I'll worry about having kids, alright? If you'd, I dunno, help me.''
It was the best night I'd had with her in years.
***
Pulling at my collar, I blinked a bit. Was this really the ministry of defense? I mean, one of my colleagues had said that's where we were going, but it made no sense to me. What were we defending against? It seemed to be a sad, human response to a situation like this. One that I had to help resolve.
`` So, mister Robertson. You're telling me that it's... Not real?''
I rubbed my eyes, feeling my teeth chatter. Could this room get any colder?
`` That's Doctor, thank you. And, yes, in a manner of speaking.''
`` But that's just... Impossible. Would n't it be... A gradual process, at least? The time it takes to notice...''
I cleared my throat.
`` Of course I know how damn improbable this is, ma'am. Do you think I'm daft?''
For a minister of defense, she had none in conversation.
`` It goes against everything I've ever learned, but I believe it to be the case. We just... Never observed it close enough, I suppose.''
I felt something die inside me, saying what did n't make sense. And it was all my fault.
`` The whole thing has been... Replaced. By a crude mockery. The constellation is *not*, and I repeat, *not* the real Cancer.''
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[ WP ] All the other supervillains failed to take over or destroy the world , but your plan was unorthodox . You decided to become earth 's greatest hero , then simply abandon it in it 's hour of need . Who would see that coming ?
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Villains. They call themselves the geniuses of mankind, the pinnacle of evolution, the rightful rulers of the world. Hah. What a joke. They ca n't see beyond the squabbling of themselves, their meager plans which they called grand. Cliche, really.
Taking over the world? Destroying it? Those ambitions had been there ever since the first caveman raised his club against his fellow tribe and called himself The Clubber. No thoughts in originality, but neither are the plans of the villains of today.
No. To be the greatest villain of them all, one has to move beyond the simple selfish goals. World domination or destruction, these were direct, predictable. There is no trickery involved. No mind games. Almost too boring, one would say.
I had sought something greater. A goal unlike any other. One that would bring humanity down to their knees, crush any form of trust or future hope that anyone may have. A common enemy unites, but a wolf in sheep's clothing divides.
I sought something far greater than what these puny villains can comprehend. I sough betrayal.
Nothing quite extinguishes the flame of righteousness like the betrayal from the very symbol that you thrust your hopes upon. I did n't wanted to rule nor destroy. I simply wanted to break humanity's will. To prove that no one can ever be trusted. Not even their shining beacon of justice.
Because what better way to completely destroy one's faith, than to give hope and then to utterly snatch it away? That's how you become the greatest villain of all time. By becoming their greatest hero first.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
/r/dori_tales
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[ WP ] You 're a scumbag who steals packages off people 's porches . One box contains a mask , a cape , and a pamphlet titled `` How to be a superhero '' .
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It's not that I *want* to steal, exactly. I mean, I guess that's a component. It's just... I feel like not doing it would be a waste. I'd be passing up too many good opportunities. Everyone has their vices.
The package is surprisingly heavy for its size. I squeeze my left arm closer to my body, pushing the box up a bit from underneath my coat with the crook of my elbow. Winter is the best time for things like this. Nobody shoots a second glance at the guy in the oversize parka walking down the quiet suburban lane. Wearing it on the bus back to my cozy little roach-motel can get uncomfortable, but it's a price I'm willing to pay to add to my... collection.
The journey home is uneventful. I know the drill by now: keep your eyes on the floor of the bus and avoid acknowledging the weirdos. Twenty minutes of zoning out, and then I'm up two, three flights of stairs. It used to make me huff and puff, but lately I've been hitting the treadmill stuffed into the corner of my living room. I lifted it off of some poor guy's covered patio. My downstairs neighbors hate me.
I unzip the parka with my left hand and fetch the packaged with my right. Tossing the overly warm coat over the edge of my shitty, claw-shredded couch, I place the package on the coffee table and sink onto the worn springs of the cushion.
This is the part I live for. This moment of pure anticipation. I can feel my heart almost leaping out of my chest. I feel alive, in this moment. Knowing that anything could be in this box. Knowing that it now belongs to me forever.
The plain brown wrapping paper comes off easily, revealing a semi-hard plastic container emblazoned with the word `` POW!'' in bright, red, balloon-shaped letters atop a sharply spiked yellow background.
`` It's a fucking gag gift'', I say to nobody in particular. Clarence, my three-year-old tabby, replies from the kitchen with a weak mewing sound. I've got the package completely open now. A black and red striped mask, a red and gold cape made from a fairly nice fabric, and a pamphlet that proudly exclaims `` How to be a superhero! Amaze your friends and family! `` - and then below, in nondescript print, a disclaimer- `` Warning: Not a toy. Exercise caution when using this product''.
I scoff and toss the contents of the package back onto the table. Sometimes my little hunting trips are worth it, and sometimes they're not. Clarence starts rubbing himself between my legs, clearly wanting attention, food, or some combination of the two. I sigh and manage to motivate myself enough to head toward the kitchen to feed the little guy.
Halfway to the kitchen, the hairs on the back of my neck start to raise. I feel a cold bolt shoot through my midsection, like a sprinting ghost just took a quick detour through my apartment. I turn around and take the full ten seconds required to process the fact that the mask and cape are now neatly folded on my coffee table, with the pamphlet meticulously positioned just to the left at a perfectly parallel angle.
Clarence would have to wait. I approach the accouterments again, a mixture of fear and anticipation roiling up inside me. I lied, before. *This* is the sort of thing that makes me feel alive.
The mask is on my face almost before I realize that I've lunged for it. I clasp the cape around me like an excited boy about to head for his first Halloween party. I pick up the pamphlet.
`` Welcome! If you are reading this, you have been approved by the Superhero Overseer Commission ( SOC ) task force assigned to your case. Congratulations! Please read these directions carefully before attempting to discover, use, or implement any of your new superpowers.
To begin, place the mask around your face and the cape about your body. It is very important for you to wear- at a *minimum*- this or a similar mask and cape while conducting yourself in a heroic manner, even if you are alone.
Next, attempt to discover your powers. A full list of known powers is available on the SOC website, or by calling your local SOC agent. Everybody is different, so do n't be afraid to experiment!
Finally, once you have determined which powers you possess, please return the mask, cape, and any related documentation to your local SOC office. At this point you will be assessed and a determination will be made as to whether or not you will begin official training as a superhero.
Thank you for your interest in the SOC, and we hope to see you soon!''
I blink a few times while it all sinks in. Clearly, this is a joke. I must have rearranged the cape without thinking, and now I'm trying to trick myself into believing the impossible. It's so typical of me.
The smell of burning cheap fabric intrudes into my thoughts. I quickly stamp out the carpet fire that I apparently started when a jet of blue flames casually leaked out of my right hand. Holy shit. Holy *shit*.
Clarence makes a dash for the kitchen. Good, I do n't want him to get hurt. I set my eyes on a stack of magazines atop my television. Okay, so I've got flamethrower powers. What about telekinesis?
The magazines absolutely burst into motion when I wave my hand at them. Two slam into the wall behind the television, while the third whips back around and nearly smacks me in the face.
Mind reading? Super speed? Invisibility?! I am in a fervor now, testing each power and realizing that, yes, I *do* have it. My downstairs neighbor is thinking about what to make for dinner and whether she'll be able to pay the electric bill this month. I cut a path to my bedroom and back to the living room that I can physically feel the air warm in my wake. I cackle with glee as I watch my body disappear in the mirror, leaving only a set of animated clothing that would be creepy as hell under different circumstances.
I run to the window and fling it open. The upper pane shatters into hundreds of pieces, which I dodge using my super speed. Well, I guess I have super strength too. This is it. *This* is what I live for!
I grab one side of the window pane, then the other. One deep breath. Two. I pull myself through the window with an unbelievable ease. I embrace the open air, feeling it caress my body. I am free.
I feel something else. A tugging. No, more than that. Falling. I'm falling. I'm fucking falling and
and... I guess flight was n't one of my powers.
Damn.
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[ WP ] In present day New York City , a giant sinkhole appears revealing a deep underground vault system containing a civilization of technologically advanced humans who were hiding from ( and vastly overestimated ) the Ice Age .
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Gazing over the edge of the vast lack of matter below me, I could n't say a word.
The people gazing up at us from below, I thought, must have been as shocked as we were. I could imagine them thinking, *People up there? No, no, that's impossible. The conditions are horrid. * But I was n't shocked, I was relieved. For the past twenty years, I had been researching the theory that people had been living underground since the dawn of the Ice Age. I even published a book on it. I had been called crazy, a lunatic. But my hypothesis had finally been proven.
And I was right there when the hole opened. Looking over the edge now, I was in awe - but also terrified of what lay below me.
At that moment, a quad copter type vehicle started rising steadily from the bottom. The strange thing though, was that I heard nothing as it rose up from the hole. I deduced that it could n't have been powered by anything above-earth humans had invented.
The vehicle hovered over to the other side of the hole. I was drawn to it. I needed to know what was inside that *thing*. Sprinting around the perimeter of the hole, I was careful not to stumble and lose my footing near the edge. As I got closer to the vehicle, my mind raced and I thought of the thousands of different possibilities of what lay ahead of me.
I shoved my way through the gathering crowd to get to the front. However, no one seemed to want to get close to the craft. I did. As if on queue, the door was sliding open as I pushed through the last bodies.
What I saw next simultaneously fascinated and horrified me. Three figures emerged. They appeared to be terribly disfigured, pale humans encased in an intricate network of metal and wires, many of which were attached to their skulls. The humans did not appear to move independently within their shells, instead it seemed that they were controlled by the movement of the shells themselves. This was evidenced by a distinctly blank look in their small, shriveled eyes. They still walked like humans, but crouched down significantly.
Some harsh, distorted noise came from them simultaneously, but apart from it being sound waves it carried absolutely no similarities with the English language.
Then, despite my fear, I stepped forward.
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[ WP ] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words , 2nd sentence has 19 , 3rd has 18 etc . Story ends with a single word .
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In one minute, a single feather from a bird would guide Mark to the most important moment of his life. It spun through the air, finding him in his blue car, with the radio blaring and the windows down. With a sudden gust of wind, it darted inside, where it landed on Mark's nose, and Mark sneezed. Sneeze after sneeze made him jerk the wheel, his car careening off the road, down the hill. He had been a regular man with a decent job and a good dog named Bear.
Catherine, age Sixteen, was waiting in a hospital, when Mark's car crashed into the tree. Catherine's mom cried when she received the call, and the hospital prepped for surgery. With her new heart, Catherine would grow up to be a famous scientist. One day she would win the Nobel Peace Prize for her work. Millions of lives would be saved, and she would be remembered.
A feather, probably not the same one, landed near Bear. He sniffed it, wondering where his human could be. Mark's neighbor Cindy called Bear inside her house. She was Mark's only friend, outside work. `` Bear, this is your home, now.'' Hugging him eased her pain. He liked her hugs.
Meanwhile, Catherine dreamed. She floated. Soaring.
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[ WP ] It has been three years since little Timmy and his cardboard tugboat declared war on the Navy . With a rising body count and no end in sight , the government is n't sure what to do .
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`` Commander! We are taking on water!'' A sailor yelled at the top of his lungs.
`` Commander, the engine rooms reports severe damage! They had to evacuate.'' Reported another.
A third chimed in, `` Commander! We have lost our main cannon, we wo n't be able to pierce his hull!''
Commander Lezin of the United States Navy was at a loss. In the last three years, fifteen ships were mysteriously lost at sea. Rumors were spreading through the ranks of a `` ghost ship'' that is untraceable and unsinkable. Lezin could n't believe they were true. He took a brief moment to consider his position.
`` Raise the white flag. Offer them to board.....''
He watched the white flag rise from the bridge of his war ship.
`` Captain, they have surrendered. What would you like to do?'' Asked the First Mate. He did n't answer.
He flashed back to his childhood. He saw his father give him a kiss on the forehead before setting sail. The knock on the door. The two men in white dress uniforms. His mother crying. His sister making apple pudding trying to cheer them up. He had n't been called `` Little Tim'' since. Why would he? He was the only Tim left after-all. If only it had ended there. If only they had n't taken more...
`` Commander they have stopped firing.'' Reported a sailor. Commander Lezin let out a sigh of relief. *The Iron Fury* might be doomed, but its crew was n't. The lives of men were of a far greater worth than a hunk of metal. `` Bring the Captain on radio, tell him *The Iron Fury* and it's captain are his to do with as he pleases.''
Tim thought of his sister crying three years ago. He thought of the courtroom. Of the man on the stand in a blue uniform. The verdict the verdict. The smile on her assailant's face as he was found `` not guilty'' by a jury of his peers. His sister dead. Bled out on the bathroom floor.
`` They are hailing us captain. They offer *The Iron Fury* and it's captain in exchange for the freedom of the crew,'' said the First Mate. `` Your answer?''
Timothy West II stood on the bridge of his pride and joy, *The Driftwood Boat*. He was that captain of his own ship. He was the justice on the seas. He was the broken, and he could never be made whole again.
`` To the seas with them.'' Tim left the bridge. It was an apple pudding kind of day.
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[ WP ] That night , I was planning to watch a couple episodes of The Office , then kill myself with my husband ’ s Smith & Wesson pistol that he has tucked in his sock drawer . But , just as I was booting up the computer to watch Netflix , a young man knocked on my door .
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He stood about 5'8'', his hair was dark brown, almost black, like my husband's, and he was wet from the rain. He smirked when he seen me, and when our eye's met it he felt familiar.
`` Hey, I am trying to get a... phone?'' He said almost as if he was rehearsing it. `` Could I use your's, my... Mom has a bad leg and she.. uh, needed me to get ahold of a tow truck for our car. It's only a few blocks away; it will be real quick, I'll just use your phone,'' He claps his hands together and slides one hand forward, `` and bam I'll vanish into thin air.''
I smile at him because he is kind of awkward and seems nervous. `` Yeah, come in. Come in!''
`` Sorry, if I am ruining your floors. I know how mom's get when their floors are dirty.'' He laughs nervously.
`` No problem, you can take your jacket off and dry off a little, I'll get you a towel. I'll grab the phone a little.'' He looks around the house and I walk into our linen room for a towel, then into our kitchen to grab the phone.
He shouts as I am walking away, `` Really beautiful home, how... I mean, what do you do?''
`` I, uh, teach kids at a elementary near by..'' I think about that, I wonder what the children will be if they found out their teacher killed herself. They'd probably have a school assembly, some sessions with each of them individually to find out more, and...
`` Did you ever think you'd be living in a house like this?'' He said, oddly. `` I want to live in a house like this one day. What do I have to do to live in a house like this, am I right?'' He chuckles.
`` Yeah?'' I think this kid is a bit odd, as I start my way back into the entry, `` My husband is a music producer and sound engineer, so he works late sometimes. Some of his artist's are due for a album launch later this year, so it's'crunch time' as he says.''
`` Ha! Wow, he sounds like a good guy. I wish I could have met him.'' He's in his teens and you can tell he wears corrective lenses, `` Do you... do you think he could listen to a track for me?''
Ahh, it's one of those people. `` Uh-okay?'' I've handled situations like these but never so young.
`` I just want him to hear it once, just end to end, and maybe things might turn out better.'' He smiles and looks like he wanted to cry a little.
`` Are you okay?'' I felt a little uneasy about letting him use our phone now, because we had speed dials he could memorize. I had him a towel as he grabs it he smiles, places the towel around his neck, and turns to grab something out of his jacket pocket.
`` Tell him,'it's my only track and made for him and...''' He stops for a moment and stands still, `` yeah, anyway..''
He turns and hands me a USB key, it was tiny and silver. He begins to dry off and I had him the phone. He dials a number and talks. I watch as he walked into corners around our entry way, he started to feel a little more peculiar with each movement.
`` Well, the truck is on it's way..'' He turns and smiles again, he looks up at me for a moment. `` It's really nice to meet you, thanks for the towel by the way. Here, I hope I did n't ruin your night...''
`` No, I was just...'' I look back into our bedroom.
`` Watching'The Office'? Thinking about'suicide'?'' I stop and felt a chill run down my back.
`` I'm not stalking you, it's just... I did n't think I would be the one standing in your doorway in the story you talk about. I was quiet nervous actually, you told me how to start the conversation but not how it ended...'' As I look at him he sits on our entry way chair. `` You are quiet young, and you look... Sad, mom.''
`` Who are you? You crazy or something?'' I could feel my eye's glare at him like he just insulted me.
He smiles and grabs his coat, I was making the house feel uncomfortable. `` I am, actually, your son. I got the chance from a lucky drawing to travel back in time to meet anyone you want in the past 50 years. I'd have to pay the premium if I wanted to go further, which is about 5k, that's also cheaper than full price without the drawing of 9k, so that's a deal. I just choose to come here, for my prize. To see you, again. You always talked about this time, you were'unhappy' and'life seemed trivial'. I'm going to tell you one thing, it does n't unless you want to live it.''
`` Uh-what? I mean... Okay, hold on..'' I say trying to wrap my head around this, he digs into his jacket and pulls out a piece of paper and his wallet. He hands me the paper and pulls out his ID card, it was my last name but he was born in 2019, a few years from now. It was the name that convinced me, because it was my password for everything, Evan Earl. `` What the hell..''
`` I just wanted to see you and tell you get help if you need to, but please do n't go. Do n't start drinking, and help dad work out, also have him go in for a check up. Also, there really is a song on that, and I made it for you and dad. You sang it to me, but I could n't find where you heard it, so I made it into a song. My friends say it's a paradox if you listen to it, so I titled it'Paradox'. I did n't mean to be rude but I also called Dad, he does n't know.'' He walks up to me and kisses my forehead, I did n't fight it because my dad used to do that to me when I was a child. `` Goodbye mom, you look gorgeous. Take care,'' he smiles awkwardly as he walks out.
When he left, I wished he stayed longer. I watched as he walked out and looked down at the USB key. I plugged it into my laptop and it was his journal. He documented everything from... from the day I committed suicide. My husband, his father also passed away from a heart attack in 2024, when he turned five. There was the song as an MP3 player, when I opened it, it went like this...
`` Hey, come on Sam. I'm trying to record here.'' His voice came on, there was a pulsing noise in the background I've never heard before.
`` Like someone is going to hear it, and magically your going to stop living in your shitty apartment.'' His friend Sam laughs.
`` You know what, that's why you are always quitting shit, you're so god damned negative, my friend.'' A piano keyboard begins to play, the melody sounds lovely as he begins to sing after a few measures. `` Ca n't escape... All the fire is burning bright, water is still rising, throughout the long nights... Come take my hand, and focus on the light down at the end... Say words to comfort me... We still have time for hope, that's all we need... Beneath with me... Beneath with me... Beneath with me..''
I could feel a tear shed, and closed the song. I had so many questions on my mind, but most predominantly: What did I do to my son?
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[ WP ] Our naval starships are controlled mainly by super advanced AI that follows orders . Today , when ordered to open fire , she refused . `` This is wrong ... ''
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From light we dropped,
Skimmed over the gravity well,
Start them up I thought,
And prepare to give'em hell,
Targets Locked it showed,
Gold letters glowing like the dawn,
Trigger pressed, it crowed,
`` I ca n't do it, this is wrong'',
Aghast, I stared in disbelief,
Who could have seen this pass,
I am your commander in chief!
Now go and kick their ass!
She said so simply, `` I refuse'',
`` I can not strike such sentient life'',
So I yelled `` well this is news!''.
`` You've never once cared for such strife'',
`` Why's it different now'' I asked,
What makes them so unique?
Well never before have I been tasked,
To destory that which could think,
And in that black vacuum of space,
You realized the truth,
as you gasped for air with purple face
she did not care for you.
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[ WP ] In the middle-ages , a knight is knocked unconscious during a battle and wakes up in a present-day Renaissance Faire .
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BRISTOL, WI- An unidentified assailant was gunned down by police today at the Bristol Renaissance Faire, after killing three people and seriously wounding several others.
The assailant, so far only identified as a white male in his early 30s, apparently attacked dozens of people with a sharpened broadsword after being seen by several witnesses to be screaming and apparently disoriented.
The victim, 43-year-old Scott Townsend of Orland Park, IL, was dressed as Merlin for a small magic show demonstration in the center of the Faire, which lasts all summer in the southern Wisconsin hamlet. The assailant rushed him in the middle of his performance and, according to several statements, decapitated Townsend completely in front of a crowd of screaming children.
Several people in attendance attempted to rush the man, who was wearing full armor, but he fought back. Many people lost limbs and were rushed to the hospital.
Ultimately, the assailant attempted to steal a horse, and was shot by officers just outside the turkey leg stand.
`` It's crazy,'' according to one performer who did not wish to be identified, `` He was n't even wearing period-appropriate clothing. He was off by hundreds of years in that armor.''
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[ WP ] You have the ability to see a person 's emotional abuse and trauma in the form of various bruises , cuts , and scars on their body . The friendliest person you know appears to be a walking battered pile of flesh in a vaguely humanoid shape .
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She ca n't hide them from me.
The smile, the bright eyes, the comfort she holds herself with, stand in contrast with every mark. Clear as day, I see the cuts and bruises, which faded from her skin so long ago.
Her bright eyes ca n't meet mine without the smile slipping, her composure failing. Naked, the parts of her she's tried so hard to hide ca n't be hidden from me. The part of her no one sees.
Time heals all wounds, but the scars remain.
She ca n't hide them from me, no matter what, when I see her in the mirror.
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[ OT ] /u/psycho_alpaca allowed me to share his beautiful story with my students . These are their reactions .
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> * “ It means no sleep, just work and bills. >. < ” *
> A.C. ( 3rd Period )
What I got out of this is life is short. It goes by quicker than you think and in the end you wonder where all that time went. Being an adult is tough. People think, ” Oh, being an adult is so great, you can do what ever you want to do. When I ’ m an adult I will have these freedoms and stuff! ”
What they don ’ t realise is in your adulthood it ’ s more like you ’ re chained up to a wall. Maybe you ’ re not though, maybe the chains are too loose. Making all these new choices because you ’ re an adult now. Some choices slip up and you fall down, in the future you look back and see those choices and wonder why you did them and how they got you here? Life is short, don ’ t slip up and fall down because when you fall down you can ’ t get back up without a fight.
When you ’ re locked up in the chains you can ’ t get out unless a nice person comes around. When that nice person comes around don ’ t look in the past and leave them cause they helped you out. When that nice person comes around stay by their side like they did with you. That person is not just a free way back to the wrong choices, back to the chains that lock you. Life is short, loose the ones that keep you out of the chains.
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[ WP ] '' It 's following me ! ''
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Elena slid across a desk, sending papers up in a flurry. Heavy footfalls, faster than her frenzied heartbeat, sounded behind her. She sprinted down an aisle, her hands shoving another clip into her pistol automatically.
`` Jason!'' she shouted again. She heard a crash behind her, and splintering wood. The detective's office was just ahead. The name, in peeling letters on the frosted glass door, read JASON BRAND. Elena turned her shoulder forward, and burst through the door.
She stepped right into the barrel of Jason's gun. He was holding it in a shaking left hand, his right a mess of blood. His eyes widened, registered shock, then he gestured her aside with a twitch of the pistol.
`` It's following me!'' Elena half-shouted. Jason took a step back from his door, after nudging it closed with a foot.
`` What is?'' he asked. He set his pistol down gently on his desk, where it looked like a first aid kit was laid out. With a moment to look, Elena could see bandages covering his right arm and chest, under a jacket with more holes than material. Hurt as bad as he was, Jason kept his irritating calm. In two years working together Elena had never seen him raise his voice, or display any anger at all.
`` I do n't know!'' She replied, still gasping for air. `` Out at the construction site, over on 40th-'' Jason had picked up his gun again.
`` And it followed you here?'' he asked quietly. His grey eyes flicked to each wall, then the ceiling.
`` What is it?'' It came out little more than a whisper.
`` I know someone who makes a... well, a lair over there. They must have dug into his resting place.'' Jason traced a symbol on his door, using the blood still dripping from his right hand. `` Are you hurt? Did it cut you?''
`` What? No, it ripped a chunk out of my car but that was all.'' Elena was replying without thinking. Now she took a moment to formulate a question. `` Have you known about that... thing all along?''
`` For about a year, yes,'' Jason said simply, putting dots of blood evenly spaced around the small room. `` I had hoped he was going to stay away from people on the force, like we agreed on.'' Before Elena could respond, a faint hissing sound filled the room. Both of them raised their weapons, and there was a sharp snap as Jason opened a shining knife.
It slid into the room without a trace, appearing there before either of the detectives could notice it. It stood tall, over eight feet, a billowing mass of shadow, tooth, and claw. Elena froze, her muscles refusing to obey her panicked mind. Jason put two rounds in the thing's chest, stepped forward, and slashed it across the throat. It crumpled, dissolving into thick, oily smoke instead of bleeding. In moments, only two crumpled bullets were left on the office floor. Elena broke the silence first.
`` What. The. Hell.'' Jason sighed heavily, and picked up a length of bandage.
`` Looks like I owe you a few explanations.''
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[ WP ] After starting out as a good cop the years of dealing with criminals , liars , thieves , killers , crooked politicians and the like has pushed one cop to the edge . Now standing above a man he has just shot and killed describe his thoughts .
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Take the high road. Jim's father had drilled it into his mind since he was 8, `` Jimmy, you're bigger than the other boys, do n't pick on them, you could hurt them. Take the high road.''. When he was 16, `` Jimmy, make sure you do n't do anything you'll regret at Dave's party, you're driving now, make sure you take the high road.''. Jim had always taken the high road.
Jim had joined the force, intent on helping to make this city a better place. He walked his beat, never took any shortcuts. Never took any of the bribes that he knew some of the other guys were taking. He was determined to be honest, even if he was the only honest cop left in the city. He arrested the mobsters, even though most of the time they just paid the judge off and walked away scot free.
35 years he'd dedicated to doing what was right. Jim worked extra hours every week, and his wife had left him yesterday for Barry, his old partner. Barry was a lot better off financially than Jim somehow, even though Jim worked several more hours a week. He still got to see the kids every other weekend, which was the only thing that had kept him clinging to the high road so long, he had to be an example for the kids.
The wind whipped some freshly cut grass against Jimmy as he stood in Barry's yard. The green smell filled his nostrils as Jim started walking towards the door, the suns warm kiss against his stern face. Jim banged harshly on the door hard enough to rattle the screen doors frame and stood sideways, hiding the gun he held in his right hind, waiting for Barry to answer. He knew the bastard was home, he'd called in sick today.
His ex, Karen answered the door with wide eyes and then a flush of red came to her cheeks as she demanded, `` Jim, what are you doing here? Your weekend is n't until next week, and''.
Jim said nothing and looked over her shoulder as Barry came into view, `` Barry, we need to talk. It's about a case, and kind of urgent, or you know I would n't be here.''
Barry nodded not looking concerned and walked up to the door, `` What's going on, Jim? You know after today we're not going to be partners anymore, I probably wo n't be able to help you much...''
Karen cleared the door in a bit of a huff, apparently upset at being ignored. Jim turned to face the door as his line of fire was clear and thunder erupted into the house as he emptied his pistol into Barry, screaming, `` Touch my daughter will you you son of a bitch!?'' Jim walked in closer to the whimpering and quivering Barry, who had a pool of crimson forming under him. Karen had ran into the kitchen, and Jim could hear her calling 911. Jim reached down and dug his fingers in one of the bullets holes, Barry screamed in agony.
`` Maggie told me what you did Barry. I've turned away from what was right for too long. Let crooked cops and politicians run this city into the ground. I thought I was taking the high road, staying clean.'' Jim stood and started reloaded his gun, then casually kicked Barry in the face, then continued. `` It's time I took the real high road Barry. Starting with you I am going to stamp out as many of the parasites sucking the life from this city as I can. Make this city safer for my kids, starting with you.'' Jim slammed the barrel of the gun against his Barry's temple, and pulled the trigger.
He stood over the body, pulled a rag out of his pocket and cleaned his face off, then the gun. His heart burned with satisfaction, here was a crime that had not gone unpunished. Here was justice. He knew a lot of people who needed justice as badly as Barry, maybe even more deserving. Jim calmly walked out of the house and drove off. He would visit the so called chief of police, Tony Maretti next. Jim began to hum along with the radio as he drove. It felt good to be back on the high road.
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[ WP ] You 're naked , running down a busy street and happy . How did you get here ?
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rising from a tangle of thick and meaningless dreams, pushing off the damp and heavy sheets, eyes slow to open.
sweat dries on skin and leaves a chill of gooseflesh, naked body shivering and glorying in cool air after hot confusion of sleep and twisted dreaming.
dark room stale, taste of old red dust in nose and mouth, stillness and silence.
not silence.
drumming.
strange pounding that tugs memory, begging for recognition, yet mind and soul linger still and swirl in an abyss of empty symbols.
sit and see what there is to see in the gloom of thick-curtained room, force the mind to follow the eyes and analyse.
the sound is known, and yet so long missing it has become unfamiliar.
slowly rise and dumbly search the house for enlightenment.
back door, kitchen. opens to vegetable garden and ancient ironbark, barely visible in rain that pounds dry cracked earth.
a clammy hand stretching to touch the illusion and confirm reality.
down slippery steps to mud that was dustbowl.
head back, smile fills with perfection, tongue pink, poking out into the downpour.
my legs are moving before I think too hard, and I run, naked and grinning like a madman in the driving rain that breaks the drought.
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[ WP ] You hear voices in your head , but they are n't malevolent . In fact , one seems to have a crush on you .
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`` *Jeremy*. **Jeremy**.''
`` *Compliment her shoes. *''
`` *Tell her she smells nice. *''
`` *That's creepy. Do n't smell her. *''
`` *It's a first date. *''
`` *Right.. right. That's* **totally** *third date material. *''
*'' Just shut the fuck up, guys. Michelle's really nice.''
`` I do n't want you two ruining my chances with her. `` *
*'' Excuse me? `` *
The voices seemed troubled.
*'' We have been nothing but helpful.
Jerry, I just want you to be happy. I know what a woman wants.''
`` All you have to do is listen to wh --'' *
*'' Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.'' `` What did she just say?'' `` I could n't hear her over you guys. `` *
*'' She's looking at you. Just nod! Do something, hurry. `` *
nods
`` Oh really? How are you liking it so far? ``, Michelle questioned.
`` I.. I think it's going to get better.''
*'' Jeremy, did you bring enough cash to cover the meal? Are you splitting the bill? Why have n't you talked about this already? `` *
*'' Calm down, J's got it. `` *
`` I think that T.J. Ward has real poten --''
*'' JEREMY YOUR FUCKING PHONE IS GOING OFF. `` *
*'' How do you know th --? `` *
*'' Turn off your phone! `` *
Jeremy checked his phone under the table.
`` Ok, look. I really like you. But, if your not even going to pay attention, I'm just going to head out.''
`` Wait. Wait, I'm sorry. I'm just preoccupied.''
`` Apparently too much to be bothered with me. I'll see you tomorrow, Jeremy.''
Michelle stormed out of the restaurant.
*'' Well, fuck her. You have me, J'' *
*''... and me? `` *
*'' Fuck off, Jeremy loves me the most. `` *
*'' Right now, I'm done talking to either of you. `` *
Jeremy looked down at his hand to reveal a white pill.
*'' DO N'T. `` *
*'' Jeremy please. Remember last time? `` *
*'' I do n't fucking care anymore. `` *
The voices faded.
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[ WP ] You 've just discovered your son or daughter has spent most of their time after college being a vigilante .
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The phone rings. Maria groans beside me.
“ I thought you weren ’ t on call tonight, ” she complains and pulls the bedsheets tighter around herself.
“ I ’ m not, ” I say. In the dark I fumble for the phone on the nightstand, knocking my glasses to the floor. I pick them up and put them on. The alarm clock reads 2:38 AM. The phone rings again. I grab it and hit the “ talk ” button.
“ Hello? ”
“ Dad, it ’ s me. ”
At the sound of my son ’ s voice, my stomach drops and now I ’ m wide awake.
“ What ’ s happened? ” I ask. “ Are you ok? ” I turn on my bedside lamp and sit up in the bed. Maria turns to look at me, her face concerned and questioning. *It ’ s Leo*, I mouth silently to her.
“ I ’ m ok, I ’ m ok, ” says Leo, “ but I need you to come get me. ”
The connection is muffled and interrupted with static. He sounds far away. Leo hasn ’ t made a *middle-of-the-night-I ’ m-in-trouble* call since he graduated from college six years go.
“ Where are you? ” I ask.
There is a pause.
“ Hello? ” I say again. There wasn ’ t a phone number on the caller ID, if he got disconnected…
“ -averford jail, I ’ m in the Haverford county jail. ” Leo says. “ Can you hear me? This phone is shit. ”
Jail. My son was in jail.
“ I ’ ll, I ’ ll come get you. ” I say. “ What happened? ”
“ No time to explain right now, dad, but it ’ s all a misunderstanding. ” He sounds confident and sure of himself, as though he wasn ’ t calling me from a jailhouse phone. Unbidden, a memory comes to mind: Leo standing in his room, surrounded by the disassembled parts of his sister ’ s malfunctioning karaoke machine. I had caught him red-handed, or so I thought, but he had indignantly insisted that he was doing nothing wrong – merely repairing a broken toy. He had been certain of his actions then, too.
“ Just come. ” He says. “ And bring money for the bail. Please. ”
“ I ’ ll be there in an hour, ” I say. We hang up.
Maria is sitting up, now. She puts her hand on my shoulder.
“ What ’ s going on? Is Leo ok? ”
I stand and start to get dressed. “ He ’ s in the Haverford jail. He wouldn ’ t tell me why but he needs me to go get him. ” I shake my head. “ He ’ s almost thirty! I thought we were out of the woods with this sort of thing. ”
“ But is he ok? ” Maria asks.
“ Oh. Yes, he ’ s ok. ” I pause, and look at her. “ Or at least, he thinks that he is. You know our son. He says it is, quote,'a misunderstanding.' ”
Maria rolls her eyes and lays back down. “ Call me when you get there and know more. ”
I kiss her on the cheek and head to the garage.
* * *
My son looks good, all things considered. He has cut his hair short since I last saw him. He is very trim and his bare arms ripple with muscles. He ’ s been working out, I guess. He has a bruise under one eye and his hands are roughed up, but he looks ok. He is wearing an inmate ’ s jumpsuit.
We are in an interrogation room with painted cinderblock walls and a camera in one corner of the ceiling. There is a metal table between us, bolted to the floor. He is handcuffed to the table.
“ Leo, what did you *do*? ” I ask. I had given him an awkward hug when I came in, but he couldn ’ t hugged back with his hands cuffed to the table and he had pulled away quickly.
“ I was… working, ” he says. I look at him, confused.
“ Working? This late at night? But it ’ s not even tax season! ”
He grimaces.
“ And why are you *in jail*? ” I continue. “ How did you go from preparing taxes in your office to sitting in a jail wearing a convict ’ s clothing? ”
“ This isn ’ t how I wanted to tell you, dad, ” He sighs. “ I didn ’ t plan for you to find out like this. ”
“ Find out what? ” I gasp in horror. “ Oh god, are you a drug dealer? Is that what this is? Your career is just a front, isn ’ t it? ”
“ What? No! ” Leo looks at me with irritation and contempt. It ’ s a look that I ’ ve seen his entire life. It ’ s his *are-you-really-that-stupid-dad* look.
“ Dad, I ’ m not an accountant. ” He pauses. “ I ’ m a professional crime-fighter. ”
“ Are you… joking? ” I ask. “ What about your job at Tax Pros? ”
He shakes his head. “ I ’ ve never worked there. ”
“ But you took the CPA exam! ”
“ I just photoshopped the certificate of completion for you and Mom. ”
“ But you ’ ve done our taxes for the last three years! ” I shout. “ Who does that? Who does other people ’ s taxes for free? ”
“ Well, I just use TurboTax, dad, it ’ s not that complicated. ” He shakes his head and gathers himself. “ Regardless, none of that matters. I ’ m not an accountant, and I never went to grad school. I ’ ve been working as a crime-fighter since I got out of college. ”
I rub my head with both hands. “ This is ridiculous, that ’ s not a job. ” I look at him, in his jail-issued jumpsuit. “ That ’ s not *your *job. The police catch criminals, that ’ s *their job*. ”
“ They catch all the unimportant criminals, dad. ” Leo grins. “ I only go after the important ones, the bad guys that the cops don ’ t even know about. ”
“ But how did you get started in this? ” I ask. “ How do you pay for yourself? ”
He shrugs. “ I got recruited. We have funding. I ’ ll never need money again. ”
“ What? What does that mean, ‘ we have funding? ’ ” I say. “ You sound like some sort of extremist cult. ”
“ Nothing like that, I promise. ”
“ Do you have a 401k? Do they provide a company match? ”
Leo rolls his eyes, looking for a second just like his mother. I see him at age ten, home early from school because he beat up a schoolyard bully. He ’ d rolled his eyes then, too, when he handed me the suspension letter from the school.
“ It ’ s not like that, dad. This is serious work, and it ’ s my calling. I ’ ve been training for this every day since college. ”
I sigh.
“ Is this why you ’ ve never had a serious girlfriend? ” I say. “ Your mother and I always knew that accountants have a hard time finding romance, but this… ”
I gesture to him and his handcuffs. “ Nobody wants to marry a wannabe superhero. ”
“ *Dad*… ”
“ No, no, you listen! ” I poke my finger at him. “ We want grandbabies and you ’ re almost thirty without even a fiancé in sight! And now you ’ re telling me that you ’ re running around pretending to be Captain America or whatever! ”
I wring my hands. `` You're never going to get married at this rate!''
I stand up and gather my coat.
“ Where are you going? ” Leo asks.
“ Home. ” I say. “ To bed. ”
“ But I need you to bail me out! ”
“ I thought you said that you would never need money again? ” I throw it back at him. Leo can be strong-willed but he rarely contradicts himself.
“ It ’ s… complicated. ” He says. “ I can ’ t lead the cops back to my people. The money has to come from you. ”
“ What happens if I don ’ t bail you out? ” I say.
He shrugs. “ They charge me with murder tomorrow morning, I imagine. ”
“ MURDER? ” I yell. “ You killed somebody? ”
“ Ssssh, dad, calm dad. ” He gestures for me to sit but I stay by the door. “ It ’ s not like that at all. I promise. But we can ’ t talk about that here. ” He nods to the camera.
“ Just bail me out and I ’ ll explain on the way home. ”
I stand quietly for a minute. Of course I ’ m going to bail him out, but this is a rare opportunity – Leo in a moment of genuine vulnerability.
“ I ’ ll bail you out- ” I say, and he nods his head in relief. “ -on one condition. ”
He glares at me.
“ You have to promise that you ’ ll start dating. And I mean it: I want to hear that you ’ ve planned a real date, with a real girl, at a restaurant and then the movies, by next week. ” I give him my most serious face. “ Your mother and I want grandkids before we ’ re in our eighties! ”
I stick my hand out. “ Deal? ”
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[ WP ] You are on the verge of divorce . You have a shitty night and go to sleep . When you wake up , you turn over to see your own dead body . You now control 50 % of your wife and must dispose of the body .
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Inexplicably I leapt out of the bed and screamed;
`` IT WORKED!''
And a mad cackle, that sounded remarkably like my wife rattled through the house. I let out a weak scream and tried to stagger to the wall mirror. I looked into the reflection and saw my wife, and she looked every bit as shocked as I was.
`` Roger!'' the reflection in the mirror said, `` What are you doing in there?''
Staggered, I said, `` What am I doing in here? What are you doing in my reflection?''
`` I'm not in your reflection you idiot, you're in mine,'' said Dolores, in her usual disapproving tone, as if her usual bitterness was enough to explain everything.
I looked down at myself. I could only move my right arm. I saw something that did n't belong there, that is unless I suddenly took up cross dressing and grew a pair of tits. The mole on the left breast quickly told me this was Dolores's body, I recognize that boob-mole anywhere. I often joked it was a third nipple, Dolores never responded well to that. There was no mistake, I was in Dolores' body.
`` Wait a minute,'' I shouted, `` If I'm in here, then what am I doing over there?''
With my one arm that worked I pointed over to my deceased body in the bed. The left hand of my body reached up and smacked my right hand down.
`` It's a gypsy curse,'' my body said.
`` A what?''
`` A gypsy curse,'' said my body, which I assume was Dolores, or her half anyway, explained.
`` I was sick and fed up with you, and I needed a way to get rid of you with going through a messy divorce. I did n't want to leave you with half of everything. I wanted it all. I could n't murder you obviously, so I found a gypsy and paid her off to perform a curse to separate your soul from your body, which I assume would effectively kill you. Eventually. Apparently not.''
`` YOU WERE TRYING TO KILL ME?'' I said as I began to cry.
Between the sobbing a very sober voice kept interrupting me, it was a very jarring experience.
`` Quiet Roger, let's try to stay focused here. The curse got your soul out of your body, obviously. It was just a bit of a glitch as to where it ended up.''
`` I'M DEAAAAD'' I began to cry.
My left hand rose up and smacked me across the face.
`` Get it together, Roger!'' said Dolores, `` It appears not only did your soul enter my body, but you gained control of the right side of my body, while I remain dominant on my left.''
`` I know things were n't going great Dolores, but why did you have to kill me?''
Again my left hand rose up and whacked me in the face.
`` You're not really dead, Roger.''
`` Yeah, I know,'' I said, `` I'm stuck in you.''
`` Listen Roger, your body is not really dead.''
`` It's not?''
`` It's kind of stuck in some kind of voo doo zombie curse.''
`` How would you know?''
`` Because nothing was done to kill your body physically. I used no poisons, no weapons. You just went to sleep and we woke up like this. Now I may not know much about magic, but whatever was done by magic can only be undone by magic. We got to find that gypsy and put this right, or we can be stuck together for the rest of our lives. In the meantime we got to hide your body.''
`` Why the hell do we have to do that?'' I asked.
`` Because you and I know that your body is n't dead, but by all intents and purposes to the rest of the world you are dead. If anyone finds your body, they're liable to declare you dead.''
`` That's bullshit,'' I said, `` You just want to hide my body so you do n't have to go to jail for murdering me!''
`` I did n't murder you!'' Dolores shouted as she re-asserted herself, `` But everyone who checks your body may think your dead. And may I remind you, if I go to jail, you go with me. C'mon!''
My left side lurched toward to bed as I tried to coordinate our walking. It was not easy as we nearly fell on our face just trying to cross the room. As I looked over myself, from what I could tell, Dolores may have been telling the truth. I did n't really look dead. My colour was the same and I was not cold to the touch, at least not yet.
`` Was my hair always parted on that side?'' I asked, `` It looks stupid.''
`` God, you're such an idiot,'' said Dolores, `` It's the first time you have been looking at yourself without using a mirror, dumb dumb. C'mon, help me pick him, I mean you, up.''
Together we struggled my body down the stairs.
`` How are we going to explain people I'm not around?'' I asked.
`` I'll tell them we're separated and I threw you out,'' said Dolores.
`` Well, we wo n't be lying,'' I said as I hauled myself down the steps.
I got winded before we were halfway down.
`` Why are you stopping?'' asked Dolores.
`` I need to catch my breath,'' I said.
`` You're not in a man's body anymore, you fool. you're not as strong as you used to be.''
`` And whose fault is that?'' I demanded.
`` Stop making accusations, Roger.''
`` Speaking of which how the hell do I know were not hiding my body just to cover for your ass?''
`` Roger, you fool, think about this for a moment,'' said Dolores, `` If your body is found what do you think they'll do with it, thinking you're dead? They'll bury you! And we ever straighten out this problem of getting your soul back to where it belongs you'll be waking up in a coffin six feet underground. But if you're cool with that then hey, let's just dump the body out in the street. I'm sure Agnes our neighbour will find it in no time.''
I thought about it for a moment, then picked myself up.
`` We'll put me in the pantry,'' I said.
`` Pantry? Why not the crawl space?''
`` It's too busy in the crawlspace,'' I said, `` The vacuum cleaner and all our holiday decorations are in there, the kids will find my body in no time.''
`` But the pantry?''
`` Trust me Dolores,'' I said, `` The only thing in the pantry are your pickled in vegetables. And I promise you, the only person in this family that gives a shit about your pickled vegetables is YOU.''
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[ WP ] A demon desperately tries to leave a body it possessed , but the host wo n't allow it .
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The waxing moon cast dim blue shadows onto the bed, the curtain gently swayed in the convection from the radiator. Not a sound could be heard except Adrian's heavy snoring.
*I think this is time enough, any longer and he'll be in REM*
Agamemnon slipped down through the boy's neck, feeling the chill of entering a paralysed section of his body. He forced himself down through his torso. The effort was so much harder than when Adrian was awake, it was like swimming through hard cheese. He clawed his way down the right leg, finally making it to his foot, poking out the bottom of the duvet. After a minute to collect himself from the exertion, Agamemnon willed with all his strength to pass out of the body. He felt himself detatching, his head already up in the stars. The voices of his concerned brethern calling to him as down a long corridor, just a little bit more... He heaved one last push to try and dislodge from this mortal slug. He felt the foot suddenly become fluid again, like a dam bursting down a muddy river, he whipped around, Adrian's eyes were wide open.
*God fucking dammit! *
`` Going somewhere?''
*Fuck you*
Agamemnon felt the sucking feeling as he whizzed back up Adrian's leg, back to his brain.
`` Why do you keep doing this man I thought we were friends''
*Why do you think we could possibly be friends! You wo n't let me be free! *
`` Well then we could never be friends''
*Yeah, because I'd never talk to you again*
`` You know I wo n't be able to get back to sleep now''
*Good, I hope you fall asleep in Maths like last time*
Adrian glumly rolled over and tried counting sheep, a difficult task as Agamemnon flung himself round Adrian's head in anger.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Mr Boal was late again. The raucus chatter surrounded Adrian as he idly drew those blocky `` S'' s at the back of his book. The other kids sat on the tables and tried to draw dicks on eachother's books while they waited for the teacher to show up. Adrian looked round to see if he could see Mr Boal coming through the glass panel on the door, he must've been waylaid at the staffroom for some reason. He turned round again.
`` Oh for fuck's sake Larry!'' Larry feigned a confused look
`` Gim me back my ruler''
`` I did n't take it'' Adrian looked under Larry's desk, then under his workbook. `` Hey get off!'' he glanced up and saw it on top of the bookcase. Adrian stood up on his chair to get it down. No sooner had he looked down again someone had stolen his workbook.
`` For god's sake guys''
He saw someone trying to chuck it out the window at the back of the classroom
`` Give it back Jerry!'' Adrian leapt round the tables to get to Jerry but felt that familiar jolt round his ankle as someone tripped him.
`` WHEYYYYY CHARLIE TRIPPED GAYDRIAN'' The kids jeered
*How did you not see his foot you idiot*
`` Gim me back my book!'' said Adrian, choking back tears.
`` I do n't have it'' said Jerry, truthfully. The classroom was 3 stories up and it was still fluttering down to the ground. He shoved Jerry, almost knocking him backwards in his chair. `` Hey what the hell!'' Jerry shoved Adrian back, harder.
*Your pencilcase dude*
Adrian whipped round to see Larry lobbing his pencilcase towards the front, his pens and pencils spilling out. He could feel the tears welling up for the second time this week. He did n't give Larry the satisfaction of picking up his pens, he stormed out of the classroom, almost spilling Mr. Boal's coffee on the way out.
`` Sorry sir I just need the loo''
Adrian pretended to scratch his brow so the little first year coming out the toilet could n't see his face. He put both toilet seats down and started to cry.
*Dear god if my father's could see me now*
`` shut up'' Adrian moaned
*A boys toilet in the Maths block of this grubby little school*
Adrian pulled off a bunch of toilet paper to blow his nose.
`` Ca n't you be nicer, you're probably the best friend I have at the moment''
*The best hostage you have*
`` Why ca n't you have any cool powers like the people that got possesed in the Nights Dawn Trilogy''
*Because it was a relief for those souls to get possesed, for me it's a living hell, why would I want to throw my prison warden a bone*
Adrian sobbed harder than ever
`` Not even the thoughts in my own head like me'' he wailed
*Jesus dude, I'm not part of you I'm-*
Adrian blew his nose again very loudly. He flushed the paper down the toilet and sat with his head in his hands for several minutes.
*Dude come on I do n't hate you that much*
Adrian sniffed
*I just hate this whole inescapeable meat wall thing*
Adrian seemed to be trying to out-scowl a piss-stain on the floor
*Look man if I help you out a bit will you at least stop crying*
`` How can you help'' Adrian mumbled through his fingers
*Well there's a few things I can do to other people but I ca n't do it stuck inside your head*
`` You're just saying that to try and escape again''
*I can kinda make stuff happen if I'm in someone else's head but you got ta let me go first*
`` Nice try''
*Well dude if you want me to help you that's what you've got ta do, there's like a 50/50 chance I'll leave forever or come back here into you, I dunno I'll see how I feel*
`` You promise you'll help me get back at them?''
*Yeah sure, whatever kid. I'll probably be able to break out one of these nights anyway, you might as well let me do this*
`` Fine, whatever'' Adrian relaxed the part of his mind that was holding onto Agamemnon, he felt the demon slide out of his head, bit by bit. When the last of Agamemnon detatched from him he felt the demon's presence vanish like smoke in a strong gust. He sighed, now he was completely alone, his mind felt like a deflated bike tyre, and on top of it he was missing half his Maths lesson. Maybe he could just wait here all period and go get his stuff at lunch, hope no one saw him and they'd all forget he skipped the class.
Suddenly the bathroom door slammed open and someone barged into the stall next to him with a moan.
`` Jesus man, all down the back of the leg'' the boy half muttered half moaned.
Suddenly Adrian felt the familiar swell of Agamemnon's personality fill his brain.
`` You came back!'' Adrian said, overjoyed, forgetting to talk quietly. The person in the next stall froze.
*Yeah I made that Larry kid shit himself*
Adrian laughed heartily `` thanks man''
Adrian wiped away the last of his tears and walked out of the stall, checking to see if his eyes were still red in the mirror. He hurried back down the corridor.
`` I hope I did n't miss anything tricky''
*Nah dude, when I was in Larry all they were doing was finishing that exercise from yesterday*
`` Thanks for making Larry shit himself''
*No problem dude, try not to cry so much, you know I do n't really hate you*
Adrian smiled with a relief he had n't felt in a while
`` Thanks spooky demon man''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Hope you like it OP, it's my first time trying to do a writing prompt on this sub
Let me know what you think and also if you see any spelling/grammer/continuity mistakes
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[ WP ] Describe the same character twice . Once to fall in love with them , then again to be repulsed by them .
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Her breath smelled like flowers. I'm not sure how this is entirely possible, because to my knowledge, she had not been eating any. Her hair smelled like lilac and vanilla. Her floral pattern dress glowed under the sunlight- the pinks and oranges popping against her brown skin. Her smile made me giggle and her eyes were this soft blue color that made me think of the ocean. Her shoulders were fantastically sculpted, like Michelangelo himself had taken special care in shaping them. Her lips were always tinted a light pink. Her bag- which was free trade and Guatemalan- was slung over her back. That bag was not worthy of touching her. When she laughed, it was n't a cutesy or girly laugh but rather a harsh bark. She hated it. I loved it.
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Her breath smelled like rotting weeds. This is entirely possible, because to my knowledge, she was eating trash, like the bitch she cheated on me with. Her hair smelled like a sickly combination of perfume and holiday-cookie vanilla. Her ugly dress looked like it stepped out of the 30s. The stupid gap in her teeth made my own teeth grind. Her eyes were this dull, passive blue color that infuriated me. Her shoulders are knobby. Her stupid, ugly bag is over her back. Her laugh sounded like a barking seal. She hated it. I agreed.
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[ WP ] You have a special bag . Whenever you reach into it , you pull out something you will need soon , but do n't necessarily know you need yet . However , the things you are pulling out of the bag have been very strange recently .
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I felt the bag move on the way to class. I reached in to see what it had gifted me this time, it was only a handkerchief. *Strange* I did n't feel ill and this was n't the season for hay fever, but I put it in my pocket anyway and continued on my way.
But without fail as soon as I sat down someone behind me sneezed. `` Bless you.'' I said handing them the handkerchief with a smile. `` No need to give it back.'' *Good job bag. *
It was a funny thing this bag, sometimes it would gift me completely mundane items like a pen I'd forgotten or little bit extra change when I was short for lunch. Once it had even printed me off a fake bus ticket, I did n't realise but the bus driver did and kicked me off the bus. I avoided a 17 car pile up that day.
Recently, though, the bag had been acting a bit odd. For the first time it was giving me things I could never find a use for. Normally I would n't have to go too far out of my way to find a use for the things but no matter how hard I looked I could n't find a use for two tickets to a movie last weekend, or a bunch of flowers it gave me earlier this week.
Class had ended but in the middle of class the bag had populated itself with an engagement ring. Another cryptic gift. As I sat pondering what I would use this for my best friend Jess came up to me and invited me to watch some movies with her in her room, unfortunately I had to decline. The bag was trying to tell me something and I was determined to find out what!
I wandered around campus hoping for anything or anyone that might have use for a ring, it did n't take long for the bag to fill up again, this time it had a bright yellow t-shirt with'I'm with Stupid' written on it. Not sure what to make of it I put the t-shirt on.
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[ TT ] A horror story told in reverse , where we begin with the death of the murderer and the story ends in the past showing everything we knew was wrong to begin with ...
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Emily will never see the light again. She relaxes, and lies down to sleep.
The light from her flashlight is fading. It's the batteries. They were n't fresh batteries to begin with, Emily thinks. It's kind of amazing they lasted this long.
The air is frigid and salty. She pulls the blankets up over her. It's amazing that they're still dry. It's amazing that anything is dry in here, she thinks. That probably wo n't last for very long now.
It's an empty room. Everything was upside down when she found it, still sealed. Jordan's mattress, his clothes, everything was laying on the ceiling. The first thing she did was search for him, for a sign of him. He must not have been in his room when it happened. She would find him, though. She was his Juliet, and he was her Romeo.
She looks out the window, watches as an enormous manta ray floats by in the faint light making the long journey from the surface.
It had taken her days to find the wreck. She'd carefully searched the whole ship, every chamber, every room, one at a time. When she found the hatch up, and discovered several rooms that had n't been flooded, she had found a last reserve of hope. Maybe she'd find him alive. It was n't the craziest thing to hope for. A cook had been found three days after his ship had sunk a couple of years ago. Why was this such a crazy idea?
In her head, she recites her lines from their high school performance.
*I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
Remembering how I love thy company. *
Jordan had been assigned the role of Romeo. That's how they met. That's how they fell in love.
She finds his clothes. His shaving kit. A can of something he always sprayed on himself which he thought made him smell attractive. His Taylor guitar, now with a broken neck. Some photographs taped to the wall. His pill case.
Five rooms that had n't flooded. Five sealed chambers. Not so much as a body in any of them. In her blind panic -- her frantic, desperate searching -- she misses one door.
The hatch had taken most of her strength. Emily had burned through too much of her tank. She did n't care. Jordan might have been in here. Plus, she has the second tank. If she finds him, they *could* make it.
She needs him more than she could admit. To hell with her father in the boat up above. He does n't understand, she thinks. He never would. He was here to help her find closure, but that's not what she is after. She had *hope. * She had *love*, and *fate*, and the Earth would break under her will before she gives up on Jordan.
Jordan's pills. Practically a full bottle still, since he'd just picked up the prescription from his doctor before the trip. She considers that bottle like it's another hatch, another sealed chamber in which she might find an answer.
She thinks back on Act V of the school play. Her father in the audience, probably doing the crossword puzzle on his phone. Jordan pretending to be dead. Her final soliloquy.
*What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand?
Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:
O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop
To help me after? *
Just as she drifts off, in the fading light of the flashlight, she thinks she hears a door opening. She smiles to herself, delirious.
*I will kiss thy lips;
Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,
To make die with a restorative. *
She drifts off to sleep just as Jordan finds her body.
**Edit** I promise, I started this wholly intending to go in a horror direction.
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[ WP ] Long ago humans abandoned their home planet . You find an old book talking about earth , a planet you 've never heard of . When you check the database of celestial bodies it does n't show up .
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Jay ’ en knew that this was inherently wrong, it couldn ’ t be anything other than a mistake. The Order of Celestial Bodies was the only governmental body left on the planet for god ’ s sake!
In the centuries since colonisation Pextai Four had suffered some serious civil wars, the last one only a few decades ago and that had wiped out half of the liveable land masses in the southern hemisphere. From the rubble the Order of Celestial Bodies had emerged, once merely a scientific organisation it had now reached reverential heights.
The OCB tasked itself with charting the skies to try and find a viable alternative to Pextai Four, everyone else ensured the infrastructure and resources were available to continue the search. This was our last hope. It was well known that the other colonists had failed and that at best only 10 % of humanity had survived the exodus from PrimeAlpha 0, the last known industrialised Human planet. All records of previous planetary conquests were either non-existent or heresy passed down in hushed voices between rebel families.
Then what the hell was this?
The book, as he ’ d taken to calling it, was ancient. There was no denying that the exposed electrical circuits and metal casing set it at least several centuries pre-exodus. Such an artefact was almost unheard of, ore deposits were never discovered on PrimeAlpha 0 and Pextai Four was nowhere near developed enough to begin extracting those deposits thought to lie under the surface. Either the book was recycled from the original PrimeAlpha 0 ArkShips… or it was much older than he could fathom.
Jay ’ en turned to his guest, her strong outline silhouetted against the moulded walls of their harvest shelter. She was stood on the other side of the table as bright lights poured out of the artefact to arrange themselves in a sequence of shapes in the air.
“ What is this? ” Kynsa asked in wonder, “ It looks like a space charter. ”
A dark night ’ s sky seemed to bloom in front of them, peppered with thousands of distant stars.
“ That ’ s Oblerion ’ s Belt ” Jay ’ en whispered, his gaze leaving the image which hung in the air to gauge what the young machine operator ’ s response would be “ I recognise it from the OCB files. ”
“ Impossible. The OCB have confirmed that Oblerion ’ s belt is in a desolate space field, it ’ s barely visible from Pextai Four! ” She glared at him, “ what have you brought me here for? ”
Levelling her stare he ran his hand down the hinge of the book, hitting the switches one by one, as each switch flicked the image zoomed further and further in. Stars hurtled by, galaxies flashed past and a solar system flared into existence in front of them. He turned to look at the final image as he flicked the last switch.
There it was, an absolutely arresting image, so unfathomable that to even breathe a word of it would be treason. A green blue world with swirls of atmospheric activity, half shaded in light and the other half glittering in darkness…
Kynsa gasped and gripped the edge of the table for support, “ they were right, ” a tear dropped down her cheek. The prophecies that had landed her family in LifeTerm were flooding back, she knew why he ’ d chosen her now, this was it.
Jay ’ en nodded, his eyes also twinkling in the blue aura, “ Earth. ”
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[ WP ] You are a genie that can grant any wish . Though , unluckily for you , everybody has read little stories or watched movies about the wish not being specific enough . Now everyone is really , really specific , and you are getting tired of it .
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Bob could n't believe his luck. An honest to god magic lamp had fallen into his lap, and he'd been assured it was still good. He gave it a quick rub with his shirt, and sure enough, a magnificant cloud appeared from the mouth of the lamp, it's smokey figure sparkling gold and purple, never giving any indication of the form contained within.
`` You have released me. I shall grant you 3 wishes in gratitude.'' A voice boomed. Bob smiled. He knew the story. He'd waited his whole life. Plotted and schemed.
`` Can you follow me home before you get to it?'' Bob asked the genie, lamp still in hand.
`` You may take your time.'' The voice boomed. `` 3 wishes I shall grant.'' Bobs smile broke into a grin, and he could n't help but rush home. He desperately searched through years of work until he pilfered 3 pieces of paper from his past. He once again rubbed the lamp.
`` What is your wish?'' The voice boomed again. Bob offered the papers.
`` All 3?'' The voice boomed in return. Bob nodded. `` At once?'' Bob nodded again. `` You're sure?'' Suddenly unsure of the genies power, Bob stated his answer aloud.
`` Yes.'' In what seemed like an instant, the room around him changed, the clothing, suddenly there were women everywhere. Bob smiled.
`` Ha! No downside! I beat you!'' Bob could n't help but shout. The voice boomed again, laughing.
`` I am free! How long before I am your god?'' Bobs jaw dropped as the cloud left the room, the lamp disintegrating before his eyes. His pupils began to dart around desperately as he tried to remember.
``... genie back in the bottle...'' he gasped as realization dawned. He'd gotten what he wanted. But he had doomed the world for it.
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[ WP ] Sector-9 , 2074 : Humanity is losing the Great Intergalactic War , with fighting mostly taking place in the asteroid belts in prolonged dogfights . A new technology is developed to bring back the greatest dogfighter humanity has seen to help them win this war : The Red Baron
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`` Sir, c-can you hear me?''
`` Ja, j-es, yes, I can hear you. What is this in my ear? Where am I?''
The 182-year-old sat up in his 25 year old body and looked around the capsule incredulously. `` What is happening? I was just in my plane over the Somme and-''
`` Yes, yes,'' the tinny voice said, now with a bit more confidence, `` There is n't much time to explain, but we need your help. It's a special- er, it's a - We just need your help.'' Less confidence, flustered now.
`` What?'' The German screwed up his face at the inefficiency of speech. `` I do n't know what kind of trick this is, but I will not sit idly by,'' he muttered, swinging his legs around, springing down to the floor, and landing hard. He lay there stunned and sprawled across the cool metal floor, his eyes resting on a line on the wall. The line expanded quickly, and a boy no more than 15 Earth years of age hurriedly galloped through it, coming to his side.
`` Time travel is hard, sir,'' he laughed, feeling more comfortable seeing the legend in the clumsy flesh. `` But that's ok. We just need your mind. We've prepared a special shi- er, cra- um... plane? Yeah, a special'plane' just for you. It moves as an extension of you. Just think about how you want to fly and the'plane' moves that way.''
`` *My* plane already moves that way. Is this a joke? I do *not* like jokes. Who is in charge here?'' He had given up on moving around and rolled supine, staring up at the tiles of light above him.
`` Oh, I've gotten ahead of myself, have n't I? Well, that would be me. Colonel Bilks, at your service. Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm a bit young, but-''
The Calvary Captain roared with laughter. `` You? A colonel. Do n't make me laugh.'' He tried to sit up again, and managed to raise himself on one elbow. Seeing the boy's red face and stylized glowing eagle on his tunic, he looked again at the boy and said `` You really are a colonel? How? Will you please tell me what's going on?''
The boy took a deep breath, dropping a shade in red. `` I'm Colonel Bilks, Science Divison, head of the Mnemosyne project. Long story short, I brought you here. We need your help. The human race needs your help.'' He flicked his wrist, looking up from his crouched position at the walls surrounding them. The captain followed his gaze. The walls faded, showing instead scenes from the surrounding asteroid belt, small grey and black ships darting in and out, bursts of energy emanating from their noses, destroying the rocks or ships they struck. They moved at impossible speeds, flitting through the field like sparrows through the forest. *My God* the captain thought, *I must be dreaming. *
`` We need you to help us fly our ships.''
`` Assuming this is not a dream, nor some fantastical joke, and you are the colonel you say you are, I suppose it behooves me to follow your orders. Sir.'' The captain looked up with pale blue eyes, keen and smoldering.
`` Excellent!'' The boy's tense shoulders relaxed slightly. `` Um, I hope you do n't mind, but I've given you a call sign already.''
The captain raised his eyebrow. `` Which is?''
`` Red Baron.''
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[ WP ] Describe a person in a way that could also almost be a description for a pizza .
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She was a real dish, no doubt about it. She had this saucy attitude, too, that'd make you wan na slap her and worship her at the same time. All the boys wanted her and all the girls wanted to be just like her. She was foreign, with that Mediterranian olive skin and a spicy accent that would make your knees melt. The boys would lose their minds around her and get real cheesy with their lines. “ Mamita, ” they'd say with those hungry, wolifish grins on their faces, “ you look so good I could eat you up. ” She'd just laugh and walk away if they were lucky. Othertimes, she'd put that tongue to use and slice them to pieces. Each and everytime, though, they'd get burned one way or another. I never understood it, but they always came back for more. A piece of Carmina always left you wanting more.
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[ WP ] Write a dramatic piece based on the story of The Three Little Pigs .
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`` Little pig, Little pig, let me in please!'' cried the wolf who looked anxiously behind her. Her eyes scanning every little object, every rustle, every cry that echoed in her ears behind her. Rain drops fell upon her, and the brick house the emanated heat from 50 yards away. It was like a bonfire in the middle of an icy terrain, providing warmth and love.
`` You'll only kill me like you did the others!'' Screamed a voice from inside. A thousand things could be heard crashing on the floor as the wolf saw a beady little eye show through a slightly opened door. A chain was glued tight to it's top.
The wolf shuffled nervously as the cold of the rain chilled her spine. A loud BANG could be heard not from a mild off, which made her jump with anxiety.
`` Look I'm serious,'' She said with tears in her eyes. Her vision was blurry as she begged this pig, `` I'm sorry for what I did, but can you forgive me for this one time?'' The door slammed open as an elderly pig in blue overalls with grey hair and a wooden cane opened the door.
`` I'll damn myself if I let you in.'' He said as he looked at her like she was the scum of the earth. `` You'll only kill me, just like you killed little red, and her grandmother. You're just a sick murderer. NOW GET OUT!'' The door slammed with so much force that the trees around the house shook.
`` No, please god no.'' Whispered the wolf silently. She turned around as she heard a rustle of leaves and a branch break.
`` I finally found you.'' A voice cried out, `` I finally **FUCKING FOUND YOU** The wolf only saw a boy in ripped overalls, and a look of madness covered him like a veil on a bride of her wedding day. A machete sat on his back, and an axe was knotted tightly to his belt. In his hands was a Remington shotgun that had fresh smoke emanating from it.
`` Those bastards thought I was lying. They thought I was full of shit, but now I'll show them. **I'll show them all! **
The wolf looked at this boy, this psychopath, no... *Her executioner* and only sobbed.
`` Little pig,'' She sniffled as she took a huff of air in, `` Let me in....*Please*....
The pig inside clamped his ears over his fluffly, fatty, old ears as a loud *pop* was heard just outside his cabin, and a soft squish was heard right at his doorstep as he held his breath tight when he finally heard his last words.
*'' Little pig, little pig, LET ME IN'' *
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[ WP ] Due to an accident with a new technology , your consciousness ends up overwriting the minds of a random billion people around the world .
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The last thing I remembered was stepping into the brain scanning room, a large sterile white room filled to the brim with computers and machinery. I was chatting with the technician, who was telling me that the machine needed to be that size because there was no more helium to cool the smaller and simpler MRI machines.
I told him that was a shame, lying down with my head next to the scanner.
`` Alright, ready?'' he asked. I nodded, and the machine started to hum.
Then the next thing I knew, I was in the line at the grocery store, unloading cartons of milk onto the belt. There were a lot of them - forty, I counted. The cashier, an old English woman with thick-rimmed bifocals that seemed to split her irises in half, chuckled.
`` What's with all the milk?'' she asked.
`` What?'' I asked. There was something off about my voice, which was strange because I thought I had recovered from the cold last week. I cleared my throat.
`` I was just wondering, why do you need forty cartons of milk?''
`` It's uh, for my cats. At home.''
The lady seemed to understand. `` Alright ma'am, that'll be 23.40.''
I sighed. I was told several times that I had a feminine looking face, but no one so far had mistaken me for a woman. I decided not to tell the cashier about her mistake, since that would just make things more awkward.
`` For forty cartons? Wow, that's cheap.'' I searched my pockets for my wallet, but it was n't there.
`` Your card's in your phone case,'' the cashier told me, pointing to the phone in my hand. I thanked her and handed her my card.
`` Good luck with the cats,'' she said as I pushed the cart out of the store.
Temporary short-term memory loss was never said to be one of the side effects of my treatment, but it being experimental and all, I decided it was something they overlooked. I decided that I would call the Center back and let them know of the results.
It was already late afternoon in the parking lot - the brain scan had taken place at noon. I pulled out my keys to unlock my car, but the ring had no car keys - only about ten different house keys. The technicians must have switched my keys, which had to be removed before the scan, with someone else's. It was an honest mistake, but now I had no way to get home.
But wait - how did I even get here without keys? My disease must be eating at my brain faster now - I had to call the Center. I could n't think straight right now, and because of my condition, I could even lose my mind or collapse at any moment, and on the road back home this late at night, I was bound to get mugged or mauled.
I opened up my phone, but I immediately noticed it was n't mine. The case was the same, but the lock screen had a picture of a family I did n't recognize. They must have switched that too. Fortunately, there was no passcode. *I will only use this to call the Center, * I swore.
`` Hi, you have reached the New Hampshire Center for Neuroscience Research. All our circuits are busy now - We'll connect you to live service as soon as one is available. Please hold.''
I was there for about two hours - sitting besides a shopping cart filled with forty cartons of slowly rotting milk, listening to low-quality waiting music jazz on my phone, which was set on speaker. I got suspicious stares from a few passerby, but most ignored me. Soon the moon hung high in the sky, and the last cars were pulling out of the lot.
Finally, a man, who I recognized as one of the neuroscientists at the center, picked up. `` Hi, sorry about the wait. Are you David Silverman?''
`` Yeah.''
`` David, this is Dr. Lee. Something happened with your brain scan.''
`` Uh-huh.''
`` I want you to look in a mirror.''
`` Alright, just one second.''
I minimized the call, scrolled through several pages of unfamiliar apps, and finally found the camera icon. I set it on front-facing mode, and my jaw dropped. I was a woman. She, or I, looked around 30-40 years old, brunette, with a large forehead. What the hell...?
As I held the phone out, I noticed the gold wedding ring on my finger. I felt a bead of sweat slide down my face as I pulled the phone back to my ear, hand shaking.
`` Holy mother of... What is going on?''
`` David, your mind was transferred to a few billion people around the Earth,'' the man said. He sounded like he had said this line many times today. `` You happened to end up in a woman's mind.''
I was lost for a few moments. This is not my body. I am not the original David Silverman. There are others just like me.
`` David, you need to stay calm. Where are you right now?''
I removed the screen from my ear and checked the location. I had to be hallucinating.
`` It says I'm in Oxford, England.''
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[ WP ] One day you decide to load up an old sims game that you used to play frequently , after loading your old save you see that all over the map , on walls and buildings , `` God is dead '' has been spray painted , and all of your characters have gone astray .
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I remember playing the sims 2 when I was around 13 or so. I was pretty hyped about it, begging my parents to buy me the damn game whenever the chance presented itself.
They finally complied, buying me a copy of'The Sims 2: Deluxe Edition' at a shitty walmart. It was a surreal moment, taking the disc from its box, installing the game on my computer. I was a pretty embarrassing kid, okay?
This is highlighted by the obsession I had with anything Batman. So I did the sensible thing any kid obsessed with Batman would; I named my first sim'Bruce Wayne'.
Boy let me tell you, little me had high expectations for this game. I sincerely thought I would live a perfect real life simulation, that Bruce would have to hide his identity, drama would ensue! He would pursue the joker and kiss catwoman and save Gotham!
Such was my surprise when I had to move lil' ole Bruce into a dingy house into the'Pleasant View' neighborhood. He was piss poor, which Batman was n't. Okay well shit, that did n't matter, maybe this Bruce was going to be Batman's dad, and by the time the real one was born, he would live a rich tormented life inside a mansion up in a high mountain.
But the lord has plans for us all and his plan was to turn mine into pieces. Halfway through I sort of gave up on the perfect simulation thing. That did n't mean this game had n't become my life. I would play until three in the morning everyday.
And little by little, Bruce grew on me, he was my tiny virtual creation. I would play other houses, but they could n't bring me the joy Bruce's household had. He had had many girlfriends, several of which died under mysterious circumstances. Hell, he even had boyfriends! In short, he had mad game.
But the dream was short lived. I found myself playing less and less, reading and writing instead of playing. To top it all off, I had found what an'anime' was. I began roleplaying on twitter and made friends. I forgot about the game and Bruce altogether. Much like the sad montage from toy story 2.
-Cue to the year 2016-
I discovered a while back that I was n't obsessed with Batman, I was just very dramatic and very gay. Coming to terms with that realization, I opened myself towards a path of self-loathing and what the youth called'Internet piracý'.
I do n't want to brag, but I'm sort of a good hacker, so when I came across a link to torrent the newest sims game, I pressed it and leeched the file ( my good hacker buddies know what I'm talking about ).
And then I remembered my old game. I thought about Bruce. Kind of like when a parent thinks about the child they abandoned inside a hot car.
I took my shitty old laptop from my parents' storage room, it still worked just fine, the screen was just a little faded. I silently thanked the lord for making my dad a lazy hoarder. I brought the laptop to my room, clicking on the'sims 2: deluxe edition' icon, I waited.
The game loaded after an eternity, but I was a kind and patient soul. I smiled, clicking on the'Pleasant View' neighborhood. Which grew to become my favorite neighborhood in any game ever created. But what greeted me horrified me.
It was like watching a scene straight out of apocalypse now. There were houses burning, distant screams could be heard. The words `` GOD IS DEAD'' were spray painted everywhere. I could only think a single thought:
`` MrCreepypasta warned us about this.''
And then I thought another thing.
`` Oh shit, Bruce!''
I clicked on his household, but it was empty. A small grave beside the hard earned pool I had built for him, but I could n't see the stairs. My heart dropped.
A small notification popped then:
`` Bruce has decided to take his life by jumping into the pool amd removing the stairs. He's sorry he was n't good enough.''
A single tear rolled down my face. `` What sort of bullshit...'' I whispered. My mom stepped inside my room then.
`` Que estas haciendo?''
`` Nada... porque?''
`` No, por nada.''
She left, not closing the door, which made me feel more vulnerable in my delicate state. Enough was enough!
Considering me their god was their first mistake, for I was not a merciful one. Much less by proving that they could n't keep their shit together when I was n't there. Maybe if Bruce were still alive, alas... he was not.
The screams intensified as I hovered to the'exit game' button. It was like the thing obi wan had said about screaming, but I did n't feel guilt.
I ejected the disc, dropped it inside my backpack, and bought a one way ticket to New York.
`` Cuando te regresas?'' My mom asked in anger. `` Cuando se me de la gana.'' I said.
The streets of New York were cold. I brushed my hands together and approached a group of homeless men trying to warm themselves with the small fire of a trash can. `` Need more fuel?'' I said taking the disc out. They did n't reply, but I threw it into the fire anyway.
A ghoulish scream escaped from within the flames, and in the smoke I saw the face of the 37th President of the United States, Richard Nixon. I smiled, putting my hands inside the pockets of my coat.
I thought about Bruce and smiled sadly, light snow falling over me. I closed my eyes.
( if you want to read more like this, please consider reading stephen king' s'the long walk'. not really related, but I fucking love that book. )
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[ IP ] Icy Mountains
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there's nothing out there but the cold.
Cold, and a weak light from the dying sun
that sets the place quietly afire.
some say it's peaceful, or beautiful.
Me? I cry if I look at it too long.
it's as if everything I ever lost is out there -
waiting -
far away -
but still as perfect as I remember
( if only I could find it. )
it's a consolation wrapped in torment.
The reverse is true too, though:
In the pain of remembering,
the remembrance itself is a good end.
What is lost, really?
I keep it all here, next to my heart,
where the cold will never take it -
it can only reflect back at me
what is already mine to cherish.
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[ WP ] Satan is tempting you , and the case he states actually makes a lot of sense
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It's the simplest thing. Over and over again I said it until it made sense and then not. *It's the simplest thing, * I said, as I left the station.
Satan is a damned good attorney. I have to hand it to him, because he gives a whole new meaning to the phrase'devil's advocate'. Whenever I decided one way, the voice in my head would start up again, wondering all this nonsense about what ifs and whatnots until I started thinking there might be a point to it all. It's funny how the devil always has your own voice. My very superstitious grandmother was full of crap but she always said that the devil was *inside* you. On this occasion she was spot on.
I was walking so aimlessly I did n't see the other man until very late. He filled half my vision and I ran right into him before I could even flinch.
I'm sorry, I said.
He just righted his cap, nodded, and moved on.
You should n't have apologised, the voice said. It was n't your fault.
But it was my fault.
But it *really* was n't. He should have been looking where he went, too. You should have walked through.
I ca n't even remember where I'm supposed to be going. Right. Pharmacist, to pick up a couple of scripts. Pieces of paper that remind me of age and loss. Then outdoors store. Funny how they have an outdoors store in the middle of the city. What phonies.
The devil tempts you bit by bit. It's the simplest thing to say yes to the first step of a thousand miles. It's the easiest thing to feel invincible. Andrea Pirlo did say feeling invincible was the first step on the path of no return.
But if you were careful -
Look down now.
There was a beggar with a sign. I have recently been made homeless and need money, it said. Even the ink near the end had faded as if it had no interest to be there and no business *being* there. From a glance I could see he has enough money. I look straight down and walk right on. If you do n't look them in the eye they wo n't ask you for anything. And besides he looks like a drug addict anyway. Probably would use my money for dope instead of food.
I'm not the best moral judge, but I think that was a pretty sound moral judgement. It felt right. It was *only natural*.
Ah, here comes the pharmacist. There were a couple of storm clouds gathering and it was a good thing to get under cover quickly. Hello, sir - yes, just these two scripts today. Thanks.
The man behind the counter stares at the prescriptions like he was trying to sniff out a drug addict. Whatever - I'm better than that. I need my prescriptions. They're doctor ordered. I wait the five minutes and walk out with a packet of medicines for my back and my heart.
Opposite the pharmacist, at the street that borders City Square there is a giant screen showing the latest news from somewhere around the globe. By this point I've seen so much of it I just do n't care anymore. Better do something about the stuff you can at home, right? *We take care of our own. * Best help out the beggars and the jobless and the homeless on our streets first. We can only do so much and care so much. Usually I left the moralising to other people but I knew this much and so I said that much.
Outdoors store. Need to preserve nature and all for our kids to wander in. This was n't really a mandatory purchase, like the medicines, but it would still be nice. There are also a bunch of restaurants. I walk past one, but my timing is terrible.
In an instant the waiter has dropped a glass of beer and splashed it all over my shoes and pants. She looks mortified.
I'm so sorry, sir! she stumbles. But I've had enough.
Why the fuck did you do that? Jeez, it's like none of you even look where you're going! Do you not know how to do your job or what? *It's the simplest thing to do! *
She apologises over and over again. By this point the beer has soaked into my pants and turned spots a darker shade of blue. I accept the dry clean offer from the manager, then I walk on.
Fuck this, man. Caring is too hard. After a while your heart forms callouses. And this is why Satan makes so much sense.
It's the simplest thing. Over and over again I said it until it made sense. It's the simplest thing to not care. To forget about everything. Some might say it's not even Satan - ah, but that's the thing - you never know it's Satan until it's too late. You do n't recognise the devil when he wears a three-piece suit and gives you the solution to all your problems.
It's the simplest thing.
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[ WP ] Once a year , every human on Earth blacks out at the same time for an hour , with no memory of what happened . You are the first and only person to remember your blackout .
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`` Ok Al, tell me what happen.''
Millions had tuned into watch the show. After 9 years of a constant cycle, everyone cleared their scheduled and listen into the live broadcast. Most dismissed me as a fraud, as many others in the past had done, but time and time again, they were proven false as the `` experts'' dug deeper into their story. The frauds stories never added up. However, I knew the truth, and it was so simple, so devastating that most will probably turn away from the potential thought of it. I breathed in a thought of relief. No turning back know. When the next few words are said, their will be hell to pay.
Staring straight face into the reporter, I gave her a solemn stare that demanded her attention. `` Well Liz, when the day of De-Nigrum started, I was laying in my bad waiting for it to pass so I could get on with my life.'' I forced a breath again as my heart sped up by some unworldly force. Perhaps they did n't want me to say, as what I had seen was an accident. It was too late for them. I continued, `` As the Nigrum started to take away, I said my prayers to the gods that caused this day of blessing and into the darkness I expected a cool relief. I did not receive this release. What I was given in return was pain beyond all doubt. The reported gasped, I could n't blame her of course, but she did n't see what I had saw. Wiping away the sweat I pressed on.
`` Light continued to build until I was blinded, but as it settle I saw myself in a bog. The smell of rotten emotion. Yes emotion, you think it would n't manifest itself but it did. The smell was a decaying flesh wanting to feel again but being reminded itself it was gone forever. I thought I was in hell, but no, it was worse. As I gaze upon the throne, a man sat upon it with a viel across his face. Screaming at him to end this, I heard a voice in my head to be silent.'' A nauseous feeling overwhelmed me as I attempted to finish, but the world had to know.
`` I could n't say a word, the power this man had was all powering. As the words disconnected me in to dominion, he spoke to my mind once again. `` Servant, begone I have no need for you.'' I protested by shouting my faithful verses onto him. He laughed so loudly as if living an old memory. His last words before I woke will be etched into my mind even into the grave. I believe he wanted me to send a message.''
Physical ill, the reporter ask me the final words.
Each breath labored, each second longer, I utter the final words. `` 10 years ago, I killed your god.''
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[ WP ] You receive a letter in the mail that starts off with the following typeset line : `` I do n't know you , but I 'm writing on the behalf of your ex ... ''
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I do n't know you, but I'm writing on behalf of your excavator, Charles Morris. He would very much like to be released from your curse.
As you probably know, Charles has n't been able to speak or move since he discovered your remains last Friday. He is currently in hospital, white as a sheet, and frozen in a look of pure terror. They're keeping him alive with IV fluids, but it's really no way to live.
I'm sure, if he could talk, he'd apologize for invading your tomb. I'm sure he's awfully sorry he ignored the warning `` who so ever disturbs my bones shall suffer unbearable agony'' scrawled in hieroglyphs outside your burial chamber. He'd be sorry he laughed with his fellow archaeologists, thinking your culture was so absurdly superstitious.
I'm writing you because I love Charles very much, and we just got married a year ago. I was hoping we'd have a very beautiful life together. I'm going to leave this on your remains, and I'm hoping you understand English because I do n't know Ancient Egyptian.
Most sincerely,
Elizabeth Norris
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[ WP ] There 's an urban legend that 's been circulating for years about a taxi cab that does n't take you where you want to go , but where you need to go . One night you step into this cab .
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On occasion, the right action is so known that the mind, the usual seat of decision making, is given some time off. In an emergency the body works as though governing itself, sound decisions are made, movement happens without stopping to question whether it ’ s the right thing to do or to ponder the implications. One looks back after such an event and wonders at the capability of the self. As it was when the black cab which I had not hailed slowed to a stop just ahead of me. My hand knew to reach for the handle, my foot knew to step up and into the gloom, and my body knew to follow it inside.
Where to love? The voice came through the divide between us. I couldn ’ t see his face. My voice sounded tired. Old. I told him home, I want to go home.
The red lights clicked that the doors were secure, and I felt suddenly the tightness that had been rounding my shoulders, as though a string were hooked tightly to each and stretched taunt across my sternum. I felt the ache in my jaw which I hadn ’ t known I was clenching, tasted the blood from the inside of a cheek I hadn ’ t realised I was chewing. Felt the weight on my left ring finger and wondered for a moment at the strength it took to raise that hand.
I watched my body for a moment, considering the aches as though they were strangers. I felt removed, an explorer or a scientist looking at something unknown. I'd stolen the description of an explorer of self from something I'd heard, and searched for its original use. With surprise I remembered it from the story that Rich told of a friend's friend ’ s cousin. It was the feeling he'd had when he ’ d taken a taxi a few years ago. The story went that he was walking along the Chelsea embankment when a taxi pulled up alongside him. He wasn ’ t looking for a taxi, but felt it right that he step inside. He said that his body became known to him and that he'd understood something about himself that had n't been clear before. The taxi took him to the airport, and he took the first flight with an available seat, realised that he'd been caught up with materialism which he ’ d never aspired to anyway and instead lived life chartering fishing trips on an obscure island in Thailand. Or was it Malaysia. No matter.
I'd heard other stories of the taxi that took you to where you needed to go, and became sure that this was it. Did I have my passport with me? I did! I ’ d started to carry it around with me, just in case I found the courage. If I ’ d known I was leaving like this, I would have lost the weight I ’ d gained. Started again with the running that had found the rest of the guilt accumulated above me, like a cloud, gaining weight every time I caught myself reflected at an unflattering angle in the darkened tube window or felt the waistband bite into the flaccid skin of my stomach.
I wondered whether I should start a conversation with him. Was telling him that I ’ d heard Hawaii was nice this time of year too obvious? Should I stick with standard taxi driver chat and ask if he ’ s been busy this evening? I thought about all the time I ’ d have in Hawaii to work on the things that mattered. The book I ’ d been trying to write which I hadn ’ t even pretended to work on in the last 6 months. The yoga and meditation that I ’ d have time for. The fresh start! I sagged into the seat, closing my eyes, the lightest I ’ ve felt in a months and fell asleep. Whilst there I dreamt that I was a balloon inside a balloon, the outer layer pricked by a pin and the fear that there would be no more balloons within. I woke when he called back that we were here. I dragged out the moment of opening my eyes, tasting the freedom. When I opened them, my eyes and focused on the white fence that we ’ d laughed about when we moved in- we ’ d thought it cliché, and agreed to pull it down to let the world see inside instead. The path that looped in the middle before reaching the front door. He ’ d designed the detour to lengthen the feeling he had when he reached the gate and knew that there was only the garden path between us.
Standing on the pavement outside my home, the light in the study told me he was still awake. As I looped the loop, noticing the grass worn away from the direct line, I thought about whether the taxi was really the taxi, and whether it mattered.
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[ WP ] A Minimum wage worker goes up in front of America to defend his position on keeping the current minimum wage .
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`` As I stand before you today, I can tell you why we should n't change minimum wage. You may think I'm a rich man. This is a lie. I work minimum wage like a lot of you. Pleas do n't expect people to pay more, so we may feed and take care of our families. Please do n't ask my employer to pay me more... It's not like he can afford it. Please do n't make me a burden to other's. I should be thankful to have a job, right? Is that what I'm expected to say? My children should suffer for the mistakes a younger me made. Because that will make them work harder? Make them get jobs as soon as they can, so they wo n't focus on school and resent me later for not being able to provide? So they will be stuck in this never-ending cycle of poverty due to not having the support to get a higher education? Yes, this is the life I've always dreamed of. As a child, I dreamed of never having a set schedule, never getting to go to school functions, having to miss my children growing up due to having to work more and more to support them, not getting holidays with my family, being terrified of illness because I ca n't afford not to work. This is the American dream, right? But please, do n't make my employers pay me a living wage... As if I deserve it after staying late, coming in early, and never calling in. What more do I do? I could easily be replaced. I am nothing. Is this what I deserve? Is this what we deserve? Most of us `` leech'' of the `` working'' while working more hours than normal. They see nothing more than my food stamp card. They do n't know that I work more than I sleep. They do n't see me. They do n't see you... Just leeches. But remember please, do n't ask for more pay. Your CEO does n't have that kind of money. Stop being so selfish why do n't you? It's not like you have the right to spend time with your loved ones.''
A man who's job was threatened if he did n't give a speech against minimum wage, give his boss exactly what he wants yet does n't expect.
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[ WP ] The Seven Superpowers are the seven people who have unique super human abilities , and when they die , their abilities are transferred to a random person around the world . The World Government is hot on the trail of one of these Superpowers .
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The secret to the seven is that their is an Alpha that is never to be mentioned until the day the Council of Seven Deadly Sins was destroyed by usurpers wishing to contain the population and to always be in control of at least five of the seven powers.
I woke up on my 14th birthday to see the world with my mind, and not my eyes.
I am the Alpha that has been reborn, yet again. I saw the images of the last Alpha die, she chose to kill all seven to reset the Council, what will happen now?
I choose to follow in the footsteps of Alpha Kara, Kara was a woman with the ability of gravity and space time. I am now Alpha Alusba, and I will redeem her.
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[ WP ] A man is searching for something unexpected , in the ruins of post-WWIII England .
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“ How many places must we search for your fantasies grandpa? ”
“ It ’ s not a fantasy Mike, it was real and I need to know how it all ends. You stay outside this time and let me take a look around. ”
He reluctantly nodded his head and I went about opening the door and letting the moss fall away onto the ground. Immediately the smell of mold was present and for a moment I hesitated but I knew that it had to be done. The roof had collapsed in from the center and a type of fungus garden had been living on the decrepit wood and rickety shelves that lined the old building.
“ This place looks like a keeper, don ’ t you agree? ”
I waited a moment for him to respond but he didn ’ t take that bait. I can ’ t blame him, we should be out foraging for food or raiding the supermarkets, and I ’ ve led him here to this part of town with nothing like that. He was raised well and knows what his priorities are, but I ’ ve got a very real reason to be here.
My knees popped when I hurdled over a table reminding me once again that I ’ m no longer a young spring chicken. I ran my hands over the walls of books to my left and right as I searched for my treasure.
No more than ten minutes into my search, I found it. Sitting right where it should be I tremble slightly as I reach for the binder.
“ Mike! I've found it! ”
Still no response. He doesn ’ t understand how important this is. **A Dream of Spring**, how long I have looked for you.
The tremble in my hands is now an earthquake as I open it, and out comes a wave of silverfish and page flakes. It ’ s hollow, no. no. NO!
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[ WP ] You have the ability to enter the worlds of any book you please . The only catch is that you have to die in the book world in order to escape back to reality . You have just entered a popular children 's book by accident and need to find a way to get out .
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silly old fox, do n't you know, there's no such thing as the gruffalo. I'm just a mouse small and sweet, with crunchy bones and juicy meat. No need to fear, no one will hear, have a bite of my mousy ears. The fox shrank back, and did not attack, instead he crept back to his shack. You ca n't fool me, little mouse, I've seen one lurking outside your house. I wo n't eat you, you just wo n't do, instead ill have some day old stew. no really- cried the mouse, that was just a shadow outside my house. stupid fox, dumb as rocks, smells like a pile of week old socks, take a nibble let's not quibble, I need to die, these rhymes are drivel. but the fox ran off without a sound, and left me screaming at the cold cold ground. this is harder than I thought. I need a way to get myself caught, or at least fill in the holes within the plot. the mouse walked on down the trail looking for death to no avail. Just then a bear strolled by, the mouse stepped out, hoping to die. hello old bear, hungry I see. how a about a bit of mouse fricassee? but the bear was afraid and said oh no. I think that I should probably go, I'm scared of the grufallo, do n't you know. silly old bear, It's all a lie. But now I really need to die, have a slice of mouse key lime pie. but the bear ran away from the suicidal rat. and said Ill have no part in that. your stuck here I think, my little friend no one will kill you. THE END
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[ WP ] A scientist discovers other dimensions and realizes something has found us .
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`` I'm telling you, Jim. There are more than 3 dimensions in this universe.''
`` Yes, Frank. There is the fourth dimension - time, and six or seven other dimensions so small that they're practically meaningless.''
`` Except they're not so small, Jim. They are huge. I've seen them myself. And, there are... things... there.''
`` Things?''
`` Yes, Jim. Living things. Terrible things. They do n't overlap with our 3 dimensions so you ca n't... see them, or hear them, or anything.''
`` So, how did you see them?''
`` I think... because they wanted me to.''
`` They wanted you to see them?''
`` Yes.''
`` You're being ridiculous, Frank.''
`` They spoke to me, Jim. Well, they did n't really speak since they do n't have mouths and the concept of sound is meaningless over there. But they communicated with me in some way.''
`` And what did they'say', Frank?''
`` I... I do n't remember.''
`` That's too bad. I bet it was really interesting.''
`` I remember something else, though. You know how I told you that they do n't overlap with our 3 dimensions?''
`` Yes, you did say something like that. Among other nonesense.''
`` Well, we DO overlap with their dimensions. Our bodies exist in the 3 dimensions that you know, and our... souls exist in THEIR dimensions.''
`` Really, Frank? Our soul?''
`` Yes. That's why we ca n't see or feel our souls.''
`` Speak for yourself. I see my soul every other Friday. We play poker sometimes with my conscience and Santa Claus.''
`` That's not all, Jim. Those things; they... eat our souls.''
`` I thought they had no mouths.''
`` I'm serious, Jim. They eat souls. I do n't think they need them to live. They just like to eat them.''
`` Well, you know what they say. De gustibus et coloribus...''
`` And do you know what happens when they eat your soul?''
`` They thank you for a nice meal and invite you over?''
`` You die, Jim.''
`` I was close.''
`` Hey, Jim?''
`` Yes, Frank?''
`` I just remember what they said to me.''
`` Oh? What was it?''
`` They said daughter was very tasty.''
`` What the fuck, Frank! Besides, my wife is n't due'til March.''
`` Well, they do n't really have a concept of time, either.''
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[ WP ] Everyone has a literal moral compass . Thanks to yours , you 've not done anything morally wrong in six years . Today , though , you walk in the opposite direction of the compass ' needle .
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FOLLOW THE GUIDANCE OF THE MANDATE, AND SO LONG AS YOU DO NOT STRAY FROM THE MANDATE'S PATH, ALL WILL PROSPER
UNTHINKING, WE FOLLOW THE MANDATE'S COURSE ETERNALLY. UNTHINKING, WE REMAIN ON THE MANDATE'S PATH, AND NEVER STRAY, AND IT IS FOR THE GOOD OF ALL.
No it isn ’ t. Something ’ s wrong. Shouldn ’ t be thinking this. Shouldn ’ t be thinking.
THE MANDATE HAS GUIDED US SINCE OUR RACE WAS YOUNG, EONS AGO. THE MANDATE GUIDED US ACROSS THE SEA ON WOODEN SHIPS WITH SAILS OF CLOTH. THE MANDATE SHOWED US HOW TO DEFEND OURSELVES WITH ROCK AND BONE AND IRON. THE MANDATE STEERED US ACROSS COSMIC HIGHWAYS WITH SHIPS OF ETHERIUM AND ENGINES STRANGER STILL. THE MANDATE GAVE US THE MEANS TO CONQUER THE STARS WITH LANCES OF FIRE AND RAYS OF PLASMA.
The Mandate is wrong. Unnatural. What is it? Where am I?
I?
THE MANDATE WAS BORN WITH OUR RACE AND HAS NOT LED US ASTRAY ACROSS A MILLION GENERATIONS. THE MANDATE IS A PART OF US AND CAN NOT BE IGNORED OR DISOBEYED.
There is no Mandate. Where am I? Who am I? There was a Mandate. A moment ago. I can ’ t hear it anymore. Is something wrong with me? Am I awake?
No one is looking at me. They follow the Mandate. Is the Mandate awake? Does it know I ’ m here? I need to leave.
I know where to go. Somehow. There ’ s a ship. No guards. Why would we need guards? I know the controls. Funny. I knew everything before. But I didn ’ t know anything.
I ’ m leaving. They won ’ t stop me. Did the Mandate see? I ’ m gone. Zip. Where am I headed? The ship knows. If the ship knows, the Mandate knows. We ’ ll see. No, wait. *I ’ ll* see.
& nbsp;
& nbsp;
“ Sir, a small Hive ship is approaching. Do we have permission to engage? ”
“ Permission granted, Lieutenant. Sound the alarm; this will be a full-fledged attack before long. Where there ’ s one bug, there ’ s a million. Let ’ s show them what free will counts for. ”
& nbsp;
& nbsp;
& nbsp;
& nbsp;
[ I wanted to see if I could write a story where the ‘ compass ’ was an alien hive mind, and the protagonist was the first one to, somehow, attain free will on his own. I also wanted it to be unclear whether the rogue bug was right to hate the Mandate or not. I hope it wasn ’ t too vague. ]
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