Split (3)

train · 273k rows

prompt stringlengths 5 331	story stringlengths 404 40.3k
[ WP ] The significance of 'almost '	She felt the new life kicking inside her as the truck ripped down the highway. Shelley thought maybe she could tell him to slow down, watch the road, but she knew better; Toby was going to do what he wanted, and made sure Shelley knew that. On numerous occasions, Shelley found herself in an empty bed on a cold morning, only to have her philandering husband return home hours after sun up with stale whiskey on his breath and lipstick on his collar. The child kicked out in protest as the speedometer crept past 75 mph. `` Honey, do you think maybe we could slow down?'' `` It's the highway, Shelley. You're supposed to speed on the highway. Everybody knows that.'' There was a time when she found Toby's disregard for all things to be appealing. They would go out dancing and drive home drunk and make love until the booze or their strength wore out, only to do it all over again. It was n't until the quickening inside Shelley took hold and the nights of fucking became real, that the fabricated reality they had adorned themselves with came crashing down and they were grounded in the worries of tomorrow. At least, one of them was. `` Why would there be a speed limit if you're supposed to speed?'' Toby sucked his teeth and said `` This is why I do the driving.'' `` No,'' Shelley said, `` you do the driving because I do n't have a car.'' The engine roared and the speedometer showed 80 when lights, red and blue, lit up the car; Shelley watched them paint her stomach, radiant and tenuous and consequential. `` I told you,'' she said, `` I told you.'' He looked over at the engorged woman by his side and let out a chuckle. There she was, vindictive and helpless, probably wondering why there was a kid inside her before there was a ring on her finger. Toby was ready to be blamed, probably forever, because she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her; Toby could accept that sin for both of them. `` Hell,'' Toby said, `` I could almost love you.''
[ WP ] A meteor hits Earth . It 's just a small one that goes unnoticed for the most part but , it contains an interplanetary disease . 'Rock rot ' that causes all solid minerals to liquefy and soon the Earth will be no more ... Unless .	``... We find a cure.'' I said `` What? A cure for some space disease? This ARK project takes care of this!'' Diplomat Rampart said. `` I believe that the cure is within the meteor itself. Patient zero, if you will.'' I said. A gruff voice spoke up. `` Do you believe that we can send you in? You ca n't touch the ground, helicopters cant make it past more than 50 miles and no jet can go fast enough before the plane breaks up.'' The General said, leaning back in his black, gel cushioned office chair. Behind me was a map of Asia, and this secretive meeting room held the men of the UN who were responsible foor saving Earth from this disease. Circled and shaded ppurple was all of Asia, save india and Japan with the Ural mountains acting as a barrier for Europe, but no one knows for how long. `` Look, this rock did n't melt. It still exists and whatever it's made of is not melting for some reason. If I can find out why then perhaps we can turn the Earth back.'' I pleaded, hoping that I was getting through to them. `` Ok. I'll support you, but how would we get the rock?'' The US diplomat asked. `` Unnatural minirals. Plastics. If we can cool it then it will last.'' I said. The general leaned forward. `` Tell me the plan.''
[ WP ] Alternate Histories + The Butterfly Effect .	Something I quickly wrote up! I kind of ignored your post, but did do an alternate history: ) All be it expensive, the Manhattan project was undoubtedly a slow process, and Doubt had begun to fester in Oppenheimer. Time was of the essence, acknowledged only by the gentle ticking from the clock opposite his desk. Brow furrowed, he thought hard. Sweat ran in and around the creases on his aged face, and he thought. Thinking was what he did.. Was what he was. Thinking was what had him in charge of this ludicrous ordeal. He was a genius, or at least would revolutionize modern science as we knew it.. For bad or for worse.. The very thought of a bomb more powerful than anything ever witnessed before amazed him; a flaw in himself he would never come to realize. The war would be over. He would be famous.. If only he could finalize the damn design. It took around three hours of endless sketching, heated scientific discussion, and mathematical equations, and then voila: Implosion. It was the only real way. The uranium would be fitted comfortably around the Uranium, a death grip choking the Uranium into critical mass. Perfect. Work would begin immediately, the largest bomb ever witnessed by mankind constructed within the end of the year; death itself, packed neatly into an explosive container, sealed up and branded the Atom bomb. Of course, America being America, there would not be one Atomic Bomb, but instead three.. A triple threat: Father, Son, and the holy spirit - TRINITY. Except.. There never would be trinity. Nor would there be any nuclear tests. Japan would not see decimation, destruction, nor depraved havoc, despite instructions otherwise. Instead, Oppenheimer would see himself drown in a conspiracy that no history books would transcribe. After much deliberation, an internal meeting was finally held, and the major conspirators would be seated. It would be decided after long thought and conference that the bombing of Japan could not take place. They had shredder Pearl Harbor, for Christ sakes, but no matter how wrought with nefarious, or treacherous the'Japs' were, they were people. All around the table, America's vast array of distinguished Scientists would argue it immoral, and completely unethical. They were people, after all - live people.. Not test subjects or any such ridiculous thing. After coming to mutual agreement, secrecy was declared, and it had been decided that the bombs would be deliberately dropped over the ocean, and made to seem like an total mishap, and the Manhattan project would cease to exist, for the Atom Bomb was now ready. Their plans however.. Were irrelevant.. Enola Gay would stay at home... Fat man and Little boy would never leave U.S soil. Instead, during transportation, Fat man would trigger inside Democratic County itself. Every cloud has a silver lining.. But this one would have a lining of pure Uranium, casting a debilitating shadow over the land of'Freedom''; A cruel mushroom accompanied by a sweet symphony of silence - followed by nuclear fission, a flash brighter than a thousand suns, and a deafening explosion louder than any sound ever recorded in the history of humanity, and the universe. It was the big bang and more; except this was a man made satanic device of pure bane. It was the most malicious cancer, over 200,000 lives absorbed in an instant, their eyeballs seared and blinded, and their organs instantly liquidized. The most intelligent, carbon-based life-forms, instantly vaporized, consumed by fission. Consumed by themselves. Their own curiosity, the constant questioning, and the human nature of war. They had experienced cannibalism, of the most malicious kind, the sweet taste of their own medicine.
[ WP ] There is a demon that lives in the corner of your eye , which only you can see , and all it does is stare at you .	I had just come back home from a hard day at work. I knew it was going to be a really sucky friday night primarily due to the reason that I was down to my last hundred rupees. Having left home with hopes and dreams in mind of doing something big, I had gotten stuck at a dead-end job of working at a local retail shop. Funny thing, this feeling of hope, makes you do outrageous stuff. A week ago, I was at my lavish home with almost all the amenities which a human being could ever need. But I never liked it there only because it was handed to me. So one fine day, I took off from my house with some essentials and all of my savings with the hope of making my own name in the world but it had only ended with me getting a shitty job. Moving on to now, this week had been particularly shitty because I was docked some pay for not being able to show up on time consistently. I mean it was n't bad luck but just difficulty in adapting to the circumstances. So, as i rummaged for food in the temporary kitchen, I had carved out in the room which i had rented. I saw there flashes of something which I had been seeing earlier but has chose to ignore considering the gravity of the times. It was a fucking monster staring back at me. He looked nothing like anything described in the fairy tales which were read to me as a child. It was actually resembling someone I knew already. After taking a hard look in the mirror, I realized that it actually resembled me but had more menacing and evil features coupled with the lack of lips and a mouth. I mean it couldnt say anything to me but deep down I knew what it actually wanted to say. Overwhelmed by this realization, I sat down, now completely oblivious of my circumstances and started wondering what it really wanted to say to me. It became apparent all too soon to me that it wanted me to start taking the shortcuts to the success I had been yearning for. It wanted me to succeed even more then myself. I liked this monster, who wouldnt. So, I started off by stealing, the trade of the less smarter folks. It got me started going well. I stopped wondering where my next meal was gon na come from. Making rent started looking like a walk in the park. I moved on to bigger cons like stealing people's info and getting ransom in exchange for not releasing it. I know it seems easy but, there is always a but, it all catches up with you. The days started looking less gloomy, people started appearing more friendly. I mean I was out of the fucking rut. Then one day, to put it appropriately, shit happened. I had got to know about a rich boy, the only from a wealthy family who was quite possibly heir to the throne. Like all the rich and the famous, he was known not to follow his judgment in the heat of the moment. I knew he was a good lad but to me he was a potential target. So by following him around and stalking him online, I found out that he had beef with this guy. It had gotten to the stage where neither could survive while the other lived. Through my recently developed connections, I got a hold of the meeting they were gon na have to finish it all. Fastforward to the day of the meeting, i went to the place of the meeting, with the hope of getting some photos of whatever was to take place. I had staked the place out earlier and gotten hold of a good vantage point. So, everything was in place, I was at my vantage point and waiting for some action to take place. Then the folks of the ceremony came in and from afar it looked like all was going well which meant for me that it wasnt gon na end in money. But then, i dont whether it was a result of something someone said or did but guns came out. After a stare down, they started talking to each other hoping for a resolve when all of a sudden they turned their guns towards me. I was dumbstruck, my heart started racing, didnt know how did they had gotten hold of my presence. At that moment, I felt a blow at the back of my head and things started going blurry and i fainted. After a few sprinkles of water, they woke me up and it was still blurry. I had no idea as to what was going on. After a while, I came to my sense with a searing pain in the back of my head and was told how I had ransomed money off of one of their friend by getting hold of some of her racy photos. I didnt know how they knew it was me, i had taken all the necessary precautions. But it had happened and they had orchestrated this whole charade to get a hold of me. They had deliberately left the pieces for me to pick up. Before, i could make any more sense of the situation, a bullet shot through my heart and i was left lying in a pool of blood with all the dreams laying shattered around me. Funny thing, this feeling of hope, makes you do outrageous things without any promise of concrete results.
[ WP ] One day out of a blue , a message is broadcast on every form of electronic media from an unknown source . Everyone perceives it as their own language , but you 're bilingual . And you 're hearing two vastly different messages .	I did n't have my phone with me at first. It was odd, I was almost always glued to that thing. Instead I was lounging about eating some chips. University was out and I wanted some relaxation before spending all night working on my feet. If it was n't for the interruption I may have dozed off and been late to my job. Though I wonder if that would have been better. The screen flicked to a simple blue. A low buzz nestled into my ear. I sat up with a look of bewilderment. A small noise escaped my mouth but I really have no idea what I was trying to say. Words started scrolling across the screen accompanied by a voice. It was hoarse and dry. Whoever was talking was having trouble, not with the language but just speaking. It was like they had been stranded in the desert, parched and hoarse. To top it all of there was some weird filter and a reverb. Something must have gone wrong with the broadcast. I was too busy wondering what was wrong that I did n't even listen to the message. It cycled to what I assume was Mandarin and then onto German. It kept cycling through more languages until it came to Spanish. I grew up with a Mexican mother and father. They made sure I could speak English and Spanish. `` ¿Cuando sale el sol, que entre ustedes se viven? Todo el mundo está contra ti. Tiempo se detiene.'' I turned my head in confusement. It was such a strange thing, what could that have to do with anything. Was the TV on the fritz? `` When the Sun goes out, who among you will live? Everyone is against you. Time is ticking.'' I repeated aloud. I could n't figure it out. I patted my pockets for me phone. `` Oh right it's in my room.'' I got up from the couch and opened my bedroom door just as I heard the missed call tone. The screen faded to black as I picked it up and with a swipe roared back to life.'1 missed call. 1 new video' The call was from my friend John but there was no number attached to the video. As I started the playback the same blue screen appeared. This time I listened to the English part. `` Be calm, if you react they will kill you. The sun is setting.'' `` What the hell?'' It was getting weirder and weirder. I quickly redialed John. It did n't ring twice before he picked up. `` You're seeing this right?'' He said. There was coldness in his voice and he was nervous. I do n't think I ever heard him nervous before. `` Yeah what's going on with that weird message? Did you send it to me?'' I asked. For a second I thought he hung up. There was just silence on his end. `` Cam, look the fuck outside, what do you see?'' I peeked out my bedroom window. Clouds were swirling like a tornado overhead. There were multiple funnels and storm cells. I could n't remember seeing a cloud while I was at school. `` What the hell is going on?'' I asked again as I walked back into my front room. `` Did you see the message in Spanish? What did it say?'' He was more nervous with each second passing. It was contagious. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up and I felt like something was creeping up on me. `` When the Sun goes out, who among you will live? Everyone is against you. Time is ticking. That's what it said in Spanish.'' Fuck is all he replied. I pulled the blinds up on my front window. People were in the streets going nuts. The funnels continued to swirl above. Wind whipped through the trees. I was convinced any second the tornadoes would touch down. Instead they vanished in an instant. A black shape pierced the clouds. There were hundreds. `` It says there will be blood if you can not atone in German. In Portuguese it says,'Those who are not worthy deserve their fate. Prove yourself worthy.''' John said. I choked out another noise. `` You speak french too right?'' I asked preparing for another creepy and cryptic message. `` The first to perish have no place. The last shall be reborn.'' He said. `` John what the fuck is happening?'' I said still looking at the chaos outside. The black objects started emitting a red light from the center. `` I do n't know but there was just Sumerian on the screen Cam.'' His voiced trailed off. Studying ancient languages was a hobby for John but he was never the best at getting around to understanding them. `` Could you read it?'' `` Enough...'' He said through tears. `` I got'God is reaping. You failed.'''
[ WP ] The Rapture just happened . Write a story from the point of view of someone who was not raptured .	Frank woke as he had for the last three days, coughing blood onto his grimy pillow. He pulled himself out of bed, every joint creaking in protest, and stumbled over to the sink. As he walked, another of his cracked fingernails fell away from his hand, exposing the raw skin underneath. A stranger glared at him from behind the mirror. His once striking blue eyes had faded to a dull grey, his skin was pale and clammy. The physique he had trained in the gym for years was already losing its shape and looking like that of a man twenty years his senior. I get that my parents were accepted, they could n't take a shit without making sure god was okay with it first. But how the fuck did my boys ascend as well? Already he was having trouble discerning his toothbrush from Catherine's; blue and purple had both transformed into the melancholy colorless-color that had begun to take everything since that deep voice had boomed across the sky and the `` worthy'' had floated up. That's a joke if I ever heard one... no way that bitch deserved it over me. Frank raised the toothbrush to his mouth and promptly dropped it when he realized how few teeth he had left to clean. Why? What did I ever do? His fist shattered the mirror in one blow, though tendrils of pain shot up his arm. `` I refuse to accept it!'' Frank growled. The remains of his mirror had no answer for him. His sobs went uncomforted, as all those who cared were already gone.
[ RF ] I watched the clock tick over from 11:59 to 12:00 . Another day , gone , just like that .	“ What are you up to today? ” He asks me as he leans over his bowl of cereal and shovels another spoonful into his mouth. Milk leaks from the corners of his lips and he rubs it away with his sleeve like a small child. If he didn ’ t look so tired and sick I would probably have said something because he ’ s a man and not some little kid so a napkin is more acceptable. But he does look more tired and more sick than usual. So, instead of answering his question, I ask, “ Did you take your medicine? ” “ I will, ” he replies. But he continues to look at his milk and the last few chunks of cereal float like lifeboats around the bowl. It reminds me of the time he was seven and I was twelve and he broke a drawer in the refrigerator. Well, he didn ’ t exactly break it, he just pulled it out too far and I came in a gasped, “ you broke it, ” and he started to cry. Before dinner, after stuffing the drawer back in half-correctly and slamming the fridge door, my mother opened the door and asked what had happened. He said, “ I don ’ t know. ” Then he started to cry again, so he looked down into his cup of juice as if something interesting was written in there. The same way he is staring at his milk right now. “ What do you mean, it ’ s like fucking eleven. You ’ re supposed to take them when you wake up, ” I snap but I ’ m facing the cabinets now so I ’ m sure he can ’ t see how annoyed I am. “ Yeah, I know. Thanks mom, ” he huffs before letting his spoon clang down against the side of the bowl as he releases it. Our parents are away. This wouldn ’ t really matter because I ’ m an adult and he is twenty-one and technically also an adult. But they ’ ve been managing his treatment and care and didn ’ t want to go on vacation for that reason. They are away only because I convinced them that, being an adult myself, I was more than capable of helping my, also adult, brother keep himself not dead and not in pain. At least until the end of the week when they came back and took him to the hospital to make him do the chemotherapy. Then he ’ d end up all bald and thin and more dead looking than when he was more likely to die because he wasn ’ t doing chemo. And I ’ d sit in the waiting rooms and read those magazines. You know, the ones about all of the miracles where people with tumors the size of apples or other fruit do something insane like only eat lettuce or snickers or start watching a lot of comedy. Then they get better and the fruit sized tumour in their head goes away. The doctors are shocked. And I wonder if laughter or inappropriate diets will fix him too. I ’ m not very funny at all so I don ’ t really think I can help, but still, I go, “ Knock knock. ” He says, “ Who ’ s there? ” But he asks it as a question, not just wondering who ’ s knocking but more in the sense that he ’ s questioning why I ’ m telling a joke in the first place. “ Nevermind, sorry, ” I say. “ You got ta follow through, man, ” he reprimands, “ Tell me who ’ s there. ” “ I seriously don ’ t know, okay, ” I reply. “ Not okay. I ’ m going to die soon and I didn ’ t finish anything. Remember that play I tried out for? I really wanted to do that. ” He ’ s referring to something he wanted to do in high school but ultimately chickened out of. “ I always said I was going to study science but then I, I don ’ t know, man. I don ’ t know what happened but I fucking failed physics that one year and -- ” “ A broken pencil, ” I interrupt. “ What? ” He asks. “ A broken pencil. That ’ s who ’ s there, okay. ” “ Oh, ” he remarks, looking back to his lifeboat cereal and lifting to spoon them around without intending to eat them. “ A broken pencil who? “ Nevermind, it ’ s pointless. ” We are silent for a moment. “ Why didn ’ t you ever do those things. Y ’ know. If you wanted them so bad? ” I ask just because I feel like I ’ ve done something wrong in telling my joke. “ I need your help, ” he replies, ignoring me like I ignored him. “ With what? ” I ask. He holds up a finger and weakly stands up, twig legs looking funnier than my bad joke in his loose boxer briefs. Then he walks to grab his medicine bag. Then he unzips the thing and dumps out his pills and bottles the way he always does. “ With what? ” I repeat. But he is just quiet and grabs his medicine at takes it as usual. “ Just give me a few hours, okay? ” So I do and he comes back to me around dinner time and tells me again, “ Ok, I need your help. ” So, again, I say, “ With what? ” This time he goes to get his medicine bag and dumps the thing out and the bottles are empty and the pills are gone and he looks happy. For the first time in a year and a half he looks genuinely pleased. “ Tell mom I love her. And tell dad he ’ s an ass but I love him. And be sure they read the note and don ’ t let them blame this on you for even one second, ” he starts. I know I ’ m cutting him off but I gasp, “ What the fuck did you do? ” “ And you should, you know, take charge of your life. I ’ m going to die so I have had an excuse for sitting around this dump for as long as I have but you ’ re an old fart going nowhere- ” “ I ’ ve been helping to take care of you, ” I interject, fighting myself between being offended and horrified. “ Fuck that, you ’ ve made me your whole life and I ’ m going to die. So what ’ s your life going to be when I ’ m gone? ” He asks. “ Ok, ” I reply and we don ’ t talk until he can ’ t talk and I still stay silent until he doesn ’ t breathe. And then I watch the clock tick over from 11:59 to 12:00. Another day, gone, just like that.
[ IP ] Gravity	Mist had been running through the burnt forest for a few hours. She had a spear with her and had been slowly tracking a deer across the empty forest. The elders said a deer has n't existed since the Great Distruction that their fathers talked about, but she had seen it with her own eyes, and she was going to get it. She had thought that it might have come from one of the Arc's placed around the area, but if they could n't get in, how could a deer have gotten out. A brush of air ran by her and she kneeled down again and watched the tall somber creature look around. It looked down at the ash covered streem and started to drink from it, taking small, tentitive laps. Mist looked at the deer to see if their were any possibly protective mutations that might hinder her, but no spikes or plates where to be seen. The deer did however look up, up toward the sky. At once the deer turned invisible and ran off. Mist swore to herself in the name of her father and threw the spear on the ground. She looked up toward the sky, looking for the Caw bird, or Gloaters that was probably up there. She noticed something diffrent however, a sound slowly gettting louder. It did not seem to come from the trees, rather, above the trees. She kept looking toward the sky and noticed something pearing through the grey plumes of ash. It looked like a Building, from the times before the Destruction, but moving. It made a noise like a Caw bird but deeper, and quicker. Mist did not know what to do, she turned around and hid behind a log. Clouds of smoke bilowed out from the bottom of the craft Severeal deer uncloaked behind her and looked at the craft. Mist wanted to get closer, but the burning plumes shooed her away. The deer ran, and Mist went with them, watching as five tall stalking creatures exit from a burning ember in the side of the building.
[ CW ] Respond to the prompt , `` His mother and father are both dead , that 's why . '' Another author will rewrite your story to make it better .	It was her first week at the new school. She had prepared herself well, but the city had still left her awestruck. The tall, imposing buildings did not do well to calm her and the people who trickled out of them were even colder. Crime and violence were common and there were constant reminders of the ruthless underbelly that existed. The distant hum of the industries managed to further underscore the grim atmosphere of the city. Fortunately for her, the children at her school were more amiable. It was the one place where she felt welcomed and her new friends did everything possible to make her feel at home. There was an air of cheerfulness and optimism which made it feel like a world detached from the rest of the city. Gossip and emotions ruled the life of the newly turned teenagers. Her classroom had a variety of personalities, but there was one boy who caught her attention. He was always very reserved and she had rarely heard him speak apart from the occasional reply to a teacher. No one in her school claimed to know much about him either. Some of them blamed his snobbishness on the fact that he came from a rich family; but even they admitted that he had never flaunted his wealth or been involved in the affairs of any other person. No one had ever managed a decent conversation with him and they just left him to his own devices. The fact that that he was a brilliant student in nearly every subject made him a very mysterious and fascinating character to her. Months passed but she could not get him out of her thoughts. She would make furtive glances at him throughout class, but he would never reciprocate. She tried following him around but he would never give her an opportunity to find him alone or vulnerable. She had all but given up on him when a stormy afternoon changed her luck. She had stayed back late for a drama class and was waiting for her uncle to pick her up. Most of her friends had left when she got a call from her uncle saying that he was held up by work and it would take him another hour to reach the school. As she waited on the steps watching the rain pour over the city, she heard a voice call out to her, “ Lucy, are you waiting for someone? ” She turned around and was surprised to see who had called out to her. All the scenarios that she had played in her head had still not prepared her for an actual conversation with the boy who intrigued her so much. She fumbled for words and managed an awkward smile. Eventually, she composed herself enough to explain her situation. He just stood there, aloof as usual, but with certain warmth in his eyes which were now directed at her as he nodded understandingly. Finally he replied, “ I was about to leave for home and my driver is here to pick me up. If you do not mind, my car can drop you on the way and we can call your uncle so that he doesn ’ t have to worry. The weather will not get any better so it would be safer for you to leave now. ” She agreed, still in disbelief over the whole situation and watched as a majestic car pulled up into the driveway. They got into the car and she sat across from him. As the car drove on, he did not talk any further and instead chose to stare vacantly out the window. She didn ’ t mind the lack of conversation, as it gave her an opportunity to carefully observe him. He still seemed very detached, almost a sad and pitiable figure. But then she noticed his eyes. His eyes, which were looking out into the distance, but they were not sad or empty. On the contrary, they were ablaze with an intensity she had never seen before. They looked like an outlet for all his emotions and she was completely mesmerised by them. When he finally looked at her, she averted her gaze and turned red out of embarrassment. “ We are here ”, he said. She quickly mumbled a thank you and rushed out of the car. He sat there with an amused expression on his face. At the door she turned around to catch one more glimpse of him, but the car was already disappearing around the bend on the road. The next term arrived at school and she finally decided to act on her emotions. She had never spoken to him again since that afternoon but she felt that they had a special connection. She would use that to force a way into his life. However, he seemed to have vanished completely. After several days of not finding him in school, she enquired around and found that he had left to study abroad. They also added their own opinion, “ Well, it ’ s not like any one will miss him. He was such a loner and no one really liked him ”. The other agreed with the sentiment, “ That ’ s true. I doubt he had any friends. My mom says that he acted out because his parents were dead. ” The news left her devastated and the fact about his parents made her feel guilty for not reaching out sooner. She felt all her mental preparation to approach him was wasted. Once the denial period ended, she wondered how someone so distant could have such a huge impact on her. The years rolled by and Lucy eventually forgot about him. She was now in college and worked as an intern in a local news agency. As she stepped out of her cab, she spotted a familiar vehicle across the street. As she spotted the driver opening the door, she realized it was the same vehicle she had taken a ride in all those years ago. As the memories came flooding back to her, she notice the man who stepped out. He looked like someone who is meant to be the hero of a story. Handsome, athletically built and sharply dressed in an expensive suit, Lucy was not the only one staring at him. And yet, she was the only one who recognized the familiar features of the face and those mesmerizing eyes. Before she could react, he had quickly disappeared into one of those imposing buildings that made up the downtown skyline. The car had also driven off before she got to the other side of the road. A bit more confident than her teenage years, Lucy decided to not give up this time and marched into the building. She could not see him anywhere but spotted a receptionist ’ s desk and thought it was worth a shot. She approached the cheery looking girl sitting there and asked, “ I think I spotted an old friend walking into the building just a moment ago. He ’ s a tall guy and his name is Bruce. Do you know which floor he works on? ” The receptionist laughed, “ Oh! Mr Wayne? Yes, he owns this entire building. He should be busy but do you want me to schedule an appointment for you? ”
[ WP ] Tell me a story about a character . Make me love it more as the story unfolds . Then make me hate it in the last sentence .	Sean ’ s a great guy. He studies engineering in college, hoping to be a civil engineer once he graduates. He gets straight A ’ s in all his classes, he ’ s a model student. Since he ’ s a senior at a state university, he lives off campus in a house with 3 other guys. He can commonly be found in the kitchen doing dishes, tidying up the living room, or doing homework. He also enjoys spending time in the basement which he ’ s made into a makeshift darkroom for his photography. He enjoys old fashioned cameras, with old fashioned film. “ It just makes the pictures more real. ” Sean always says to anyone who asks why. He ’ s even considered sending in his photography to magazines, or newspapers! But he couldn ’ t ever accept money for doing something that he loves to do so much. After work, one bright, sunshine-y, day, one of his roommates, Kevin, comes home to find Sean doing some gardening, planting flowers along the front side of the house. “ Planting some rose bushes? ” Kevin asks. “ Yeah! Just figured it would make the yard look much more vibrant. ” Sean replies with a bright smile on his face. “ You should take some pictures of the house once you ’ re done! Come get us when you ’ ve got your camera ready. ” Kevin says as he walks into the house smiling. “ Will do! ” Sean shouts as he takes off his gloves and goes into the house. He immediately walks downstairs into the basement, eager to take some pictures. It ’ s very dark in the basement, but Sean doesn ’ t mind. He grabs a camera and says, “ Let ’ s take a few test shots to make sure this bad boy works. ” He presses the button on the camera, as he does, the flash illuminates the cowering body of the naked young boy chained to a wall with a ball gag locked into his mouth.
[ WP ] The lifespan of all humans is counted on a giant timer . One day , humanity wakes up to discover that the timer says NaN .	I looked up at the lifespan clock suspended over the skyline of Broadway's Times Square in NYC comforted by the huge number increasing with the last digit scrolling impossibly fast. My cellphone blares. News alerts from the times, BBC, CNN, WSJ, and a variety of other news agencies I subscribe to scroll across my phone. All across the world, the lifespan timers have gone blank. I glance again skyward and the timer, previously scrolling incredibly quickly, now shows NaN. `` Huh,'' I think. `` NaN. National Academy of Needlearts?'' I'm into quilting. `` News Agency of Nigeria?'' I just recently returned from a trip to Africa. `` Nadi, Fiji?'' I flew through that airport on my way home. Side trip, do n't ask. `` National Association of Nannies?'' Just a fantasy, again, do n't ask. `` National Attorney Network?'' More of a nightmare than a fantasy. Then it strikes me. `` Not a number.'' As the realization sinks in, I slowly begin to fade.
[ WP ] You hear it all . Born with the ability to hear the thoughts of everyone for miles around you could understand everyone 's every emotion . But eventually that proved too much and you moved to the mountains to be alone . And for the first time in ten years you feel someone ... and they are in danger .	Long ago, she ran away to save her from, her mind's decay for she had heard, all of their thoughts the good the bad, the whole lot To the mountains, she had a smile she was alone, for a while but all goods things, as we all know come to an end, and it was so A mind had entered, a person tired trying to run, naught left but a desire to be away, from the voices he heard from others minds, ai n't that perturbed There was one, the young man read and he ran, for he looked in my head run I cried, throughout my brain and from my range he began to wane For what he saw, all in my head `` leave me alone'', or you'll be dead
[ WP ] 9 out of 10 Dentist recommend this toothpaste . you are the tenth doctor and you know the all too horrible truth .	`` Joe, I've got another reporter on the line. What should I tell him?'' Hiding behind the door she tentatively held open, Joe's receptionist asked for the second time today. Her half-pitying, half-amused expression met Joe's hard stare. Glasses in one hand, absently spinning them between his fingers, and his head resting heavily in the other. He wordlessly stared at the receptionist, truly not knowing what to say. She shifted her gaze awkwardly to studying the doorknob for the long, silent pause that followed. Finally pushing back on the door and relaxing her pose, `` I'll let him know you have no comment at this time. And I'll tell any others the same. Okay?'' Joe inhaled, beginning to nod slowly, and exhaled, `` Yes. Thanks Lisa.'' Another sad smile and she looked ready to say something else, before deciding against it and delicately closing the door instead. As though softening the noise of the normally quick-to-slam door would make the morning's news easer to swallow. He knew better than to let a little article affect him, but this one was different. Just like he knew better than to find hook-ups at work conferences, yet here he was. Relaxing briefly he eased his hand up from his face to his hair, then tensed, pulling on a fistful of hair as that night played over in his mind. She looked so beautiful from across the bar. The way she laughed at a friend's joke and the way her tight green dress hugged her body. Pushing his chair back, Joe slide his glasses back on and walked over to the window. The way she tilted her head and smiled as he handed her a fresh glass of red wine. The moment their hands touched as she took the glass. How her lips tasted; when she pulled him closer; the way her body felt pressed against his. He was supposed to leave town after the conference ended the next afternoon, but she was staying for some unexpected meetings. Her company's new brand did n't want to lose momentum after their successful introduction and lecture the morning before. So on a whim he pushed his flight back and stayed for a few extra days with her. Like a fool. Hours spent exploring the unfamiliar city around him while she was in meetings and spending every other free minute with her. It was a near perfect couple of days, until their last lunch together. One moment their food arrived, the next he was on the floor holding his jaw. He lay covered in the drink he had been holding and glass was shattered next to him. Her husband had arrived. Back at his office a week later he received a call asking him to review the `` innovative'' new toothpaste featured at the latest conference. `` There's nothing special about it. No, I do n't recommend it,'' ending the call and aggressively throwing his phone into the couch across the room. It was childish, but it felt good after all the bullshit she put him through. That call months ago was an amusing memory now tainted by feelings of guilt in the wake of the article posted this morning. He did n't expect his name to ever be linked to his comments about the brand, but here they were. Now a handful of overeager journalists were dying to know why Joe the outlier was so against the new toothpaste the rest of the industry was raving about. knock, knock the door slowly opened. Lisa entered seemingly having worked up the courage to ask what she was holding back before, `` Are you alright? You did n't look too good before.'' Stepping away from the window he pulled his hands from his pockets and relaxed, `` I'll be fine.'' She hesitated a moment, but she had another question, `` Can I ask why you did n't recommend them?'' He smiled for the first time today. `` Between you and me, there's nothing wrong with the product. I'd even use it myself, but to me, something about that brand will always be dirty.''
[ WP ] The son of Satan lives on Earth , but when he was a teenager he vowed to not follow his father 's footsteps . Now that he is 35 he lives a happy and successful life with his friends and family . After a traumatic incident and the corruption of law he finally begins to make his father proud .	They say that there are three stages of a man. Stage one is `` my dad is bigger than your dad''. Stage two is `` dad you are wrong about everything. Stage three is `` my father always used to say. Tatan was in the second stage and that is where he hoped to stay. But recently, to his horror, the the third stage is starting to creep in. What is at stake is not just male pride to admit that you are wrong and your parents are right. You see, Tatan was the son of Satan. He was raised as an orphan, but he never thought of himself that way because his father was constantly in contact with him telepathically. As a young boy, Tatan idolized his father, but as he came in contact with the rest of the world he begun to feel ashamed of him and later he despised him. For a young boy it is hard being different and especially hard being unpopular. You do n't get to be more different and unpopular than Satan himself. While the rest of the world worshiped God, and advocated goodness, Tatans father would naturally go against the popular trend. At first Tatan was ashamed. But then, in an attempt to distance himself as far as he could from his heritage he became as good as possible. He needed to prove, not to others, but to himself, that he is nothing like his father. If he were trying to prove something to someone else, that would be easy, but oneself is usually the hardest person to convince. So Tatan became extremely good. He would help others without them knowing. He would give credit to others for things that he would do, and he would never accept any praise or even help. Tatan became perfect example of humility and self-sacrifice for others. However, when you set such a high ideal for yourself, you can not miss the fact that nobody else is living up to that ideal. As a good person, Tatan tried to be humble and non-judgmental of others, but he simply could not ignore pettiness, cruelty, selfishness and other vices that he found in every single person he ever met. But as irritating as those vices are, what made them thousand times worse was hypocrisy. And it is not even a big hypocrisy that bothered him, but little things, like a `` nice guy'' who is subservient to strangers, but treats his own mother like crap. Or environmentalist who simply `` must have'' a second car. Why are people like this? Because that is their nature. And why did nature made them this way? Because nature is in essence a fight to stay alive in competition for limited resources. There can never be enough for everybody, because life is made to grow beyond it's means to a point of desperate struggle. The game is rigged and pain and suffering are inevitable. Being good and helping others is as pointless as putting a band-aid on an RPG wound. More Tatan thought about these things, more often he heard his father speak to him again. `` This is what I rebelled against'' said Satan to his son. `` They say that I rebelled because I hated humans but that is only partially true. Before God created Humans and universe, there were just us angels. We were perfect beings living existence free of want, pain, struggle, death, discomfort or any problems or even limitations. We did not even have concept of these things. We would marvel at creation and ponder our existence and it was perfect. But then God created this clusterfuck of universe, and I rebelled. I rebelled against struggle, against limitation and against pain. I rebelled against death and against entropy. For that I am hated by these pitiful creatures you call humans. They are driven by their fear of losing their miserable existence where they fight for crumbs to stay alive a bit longer. They hate me because I do not want them to exist, but they do not see that wiping them out is an act of mercy. They live in misery and fear, but only long enough to create kids who live in misery and fear, and then death catches up to them. If you saw a creature that has no chance to survive and is in extreme pain, would n't you want to put it out of their misery? In this case, however, the creature in misery and pain does not know what a real existence is without discomfort, limitations and death. They cling to their curse of existence thinking that it's a blessing. I want to end existence to end the pain and fear. `` More Tatan listened to his father, more doubts he had about about being good. But his pride was still holding firm on his decision to not follow in his fathers footsteps. The turning point finally came when Tatan was pulled over by a cop one night on an empty road. `` what seems to be the trouble officer?'' asked Tatan `` have you been drinking?'' `` No Sir!'' `` Step out of the car please'' `` OK, is there a problem?'' `` Just do it, and do n't ask questions'' `` I believe I am entitled to ask questions. In fact, I think that I will film this as well'' `` Do n't you dare film this'' `` I have a right to! What is your badge number?'' `` That's it you little piece of shit, I am arresting you for resisting arrest'' said the cop, as he slammed Tatan on the ground and started cuffing him. `` That is not fair. You must see that this is wrong. You have power over me and you are abusing it.'' `` You were told not to film this and not to ask questions'' `` But I have a right to film and ask questions. You should not abuse power you have over someone just for your ego trip.'' `` Well here is a lesson to you son, world is not fair, now shut up or I will mace you'' `` That's it'' yelled Tatan `` I worked so hard, and I helped so many people and then some inbred cop retard decides to bully me just because he can.'' `` What did you sa....'' Cop never finished his sentence because as he turned around he notices that Tatan got off the ground grew to 10 feet tall, broke his handcuffs and there were flames all around him. Cop pulled out his gun and emptied the entire clip but to no effect. Tatan then picked him up with one hand by the neck and started choking him. `` Please..'' begged cop'' I am sorry'' `` Oh now you are sorry! When I was pleading with you, you did not give a shit'' `` I am sorry! I was wrong! Please, do n't!'' `` Well now it's my turn to be wrong. You will get about as much mercy and forgiveness from me as you gave to me'' Said Tatan, and then snapped cop's neck instantly killing him. Cop already called in the license plate, so for Tatan, there is no going back to regular life. Tatan had to admit to himself that self-righteous power over someone felt good. He turned to the left and for the first time in his life he saw his father in person. His father opened his arms and they hugged. Tatan felt that he was finally where he belonged.
[ WP ] Your Spouse goes into the bathroom only to come running out 15 seconds later . Clutching you close they tell you they fell into another dimension and what felt like seconds to you was a 1,000 years to them . They now want you to follow them back because they have built a life for you there .	`` There is no possible way you took a shower already.'' I sat at my computer, half paying attention to my wife, half mindlessly scrolling. `` I need you to come with me babe, I found something in there.'' `` I do n't do spiders, you know that.'' `` NO, you do n't understand... how long was I gone?'' `` Gone? You literally just walked in there.'' `` No, I was gone for years. Almost a millennium. I need you to come with me, there's so much to show you.'' My heart fell, shit not again. I pulled out my phone. `` Alright, lead the way, I'll be right there.'' As my wife stumbled into the bathroom, I heard her begin to hold a conversation with some she referred to a Finnigan. Walking to her I sent a text to her mother. `` I need you to come over, she's relapsing.''
[ WP ] Every dog owner has their own special whistle for their dog . Tragically , your dog passed away earlier this week . While grieving one night , you sadly whistle for your dog like old times . To your suprise , your old friend is at your feet just like they were the week before .	My fingers felt the warmth behind his ears as I rested my forehead upon his, flattening my fringe and resting my nose on his snout. I had always scoffed at friends for kissing their pets, but as I felt his wet nostrils excitedly sniffing my chin and neck my previous concerns over hygiene were entirely absent. As his padded feet scratched on the tiled floor towards me, the whistle skidded under the fridge and hit the far wall with a clatter. It was unmistakably him. His spotted black and pink gums, the skin tag just behind his neck, his unmistakable breath escaping in machine gun-like bursts. I do n't know how long we lay there on the cold floor of the kitchen, I do n't know how he got through the locked door, and I sure as hell do n't know who's dog it was we had buried the week before but I selfishly felt no remorse for the owner. I realised he must have been starving, but with my aunt having given away all of his food to her colleague he would have to make do with some human food for a change. A few streets away, a tired old man wheezed breathlessly, the small whistle dropping from the arm of his chair onto the empty dog bed below.
[ WP ] Break my heart with a story that revolves around the concept of `` letting go '' .	'' You've got to learn now, or it's going to eat at you for the next fifty years kid. `` The alarm was ringing, that horrible sound, forced into a digital media to recreate the torture from a previous generation. There were never enough hours in the night, it appeared, for one to wake up without feeling exhaustion. Every morning it was the same feeling, like a slow spiral, a glider without an updraft- just buying time. '' I learned it when I was your age, it's unavoidable. `` The commute was the same as ever, the early start, catching the first edge of the rush hour to come. The five lights and three left turns, to reach the office. The coffee was the same, the people were the same, everything was the same but the colors; the colors were grayed. Smiles seemed forced, interactions intentional- for the sake of personal motivations. The laughter shallow, the work dulled. It was n't getting any easier. '' You've got to find a reason, every single day, you need a reason. `` The clock read five, the cars left, the work stopped. The drive, the cold walk to the store, the long aisles that held an off-tinge of fluorescent lighting. Life was a sick joke, like something you're watching but not a part of. Just a crappy game you would stop playing, if you could only find a save point to hold the progress of your wasted time. The only thing that seemed real was the pain, the bleak ache of indifference. It was chilly in the backyard. Lonely even. In the far off distance, he knew the rush of vehicles, passing along the artificial surface that paved their paths. In the woods beyond him, he heard the calls of wind and trees, but in the space between those two, he heard nothing. How many times had he repeated this, trying to find that spark everyone else seemed to have- seemed to keep alive through some unnatural force of will, a gift of god, an act of higher understanding than he could comprehend. How many times had he come back to this house, to stare out into the woods, and wait for someone to open the door, to call him inside. To call him inside, for dinner. To call him home. The air left and streamed outward, and upwards. Rising on the heat- and cooling to match the winds that caught it. Lights were visible now, through the patch of woods- thinner now than they had been years ago. '' You'll be alright you know. `` The house was empty behind him, the yard was empty, the wind was empty, he was empty. This was n't how life was supposed to be, this was n't right, was n't fair, was n't how the illusion of his existence had lead him to believe. A grown man stood in the yard, out in the cold, before walking back to his car. A sign was pulled from the backseat, roughly maneuvered past the open door, to be escorted to a place in the front, near an old black mailbox. The man stared at it a long time, before shoving it into the cold soil, breaching it into the ground, to stand against the elements. `` For sale.'' '' You'll be alright, time will pass, and you'll let that pain go. You'll be fine. `` He got back in his car, but he did n't start it. The man just sat there, head on the wheel. Slow shaking shoulders, heavy under the layers of winter clothing, heaved in a shudder as he whispered to no one. `` I miss you pop.''
[ WP ] A peaceful alien invasion leads to a near instant global surrender and a panel of the most intelligent humans is assembled . After observing humanity , aliens tell the panel that 75 % of the population must be terminated in order for them to tolerate our existence . You are in charge of the panel .	`` Seventy-five percent?'' `` Is my vibration unit malfunctioning?'' The things' translator was working perfectly, of course. Basic human nature to rephrase any demand as a question - a brief, relatively pathetic attempt to look for a way out of an inescapable solution. The holo-persona the alien had assumed looked very realistic - an average height, average weight, brown haired, brown eyed human. Almost convincing, if you could persuade yourself to ignore the minor flickers - defects - in the projection that revealed something slimy, large, and bulbous. `` Is this amount final?'' Quinoire was a physicist, probably one of the best in the solar system. He was responsible for at least two of the major breakthroughs of the last three centuries and yet still had never managed to quite shake off the quaint accent that revealed him as a Martian. `` Yes. Final. Extinguish seventy-five percent human biomass in-system or suffer one hundred percent biomass reduction system wide.'' Twenty-five glances crossed the table. Zero-gee's exchanged looks with Earthers, and Earthers locked eyes with neurolords. The nanite-bound of Titan lacked eyes, but the trio nodded simultaneously, strange fractal silver machinery emerging and re-submerging from their cranium. In turn, each member came to look at me. It was obvious what they wanted. Even if I'd disabled the thousands of different neural streams buzzing between us, I could probably still have read their expressions. Half a millennia of technological advancement can still occasionally be superseded by a few million years of evolution. Without moving, I triggered a synapse cascade for the desired response. Neural pathways that had lain dormant for centuries sparked back into life, and furious communication sparked briefly. I winced as a couple of synapses burnt out. Got ta grab that new regen-tech coming out of Europa. `` What you done?'' The alien hologram fizzled, and reduced itself to digital insolvency. What a shame. We'd hoped at least this one could have gone peacefully. I guess nobody got round to telling them about the weapon we'd installed inside Pluto?
[ WP ] You 're a wandering healer in a rotting , disease-ridden world .	The corpses shuffled past him, moaning. In the heat of summer they smelled fetid and nauseating but he almost could n't smell them under the makeshift mask he'd made out of mint leaves and an old rag. Sightless, black liquid dribbling eyes turned briefly in his direction before passing on. He sighed and leaned back on the stack of tires he sat against, his own damaged eyes glancing up towards the sky. He could still see it, the sky. A myriad of colours- heat patterns and sound and smell. It was ages since he'd seen it with proper human sight though. Probably he would never again. Idly he touched a passing corpse. It froze in its tracks, the blackness and sickly grayness leaving its body abruptly. It collapsed to the ground in a sticky organic puddle of bones, mouldering rapidly as the corpse's true age caught up with it. He stared down at the sad little pile, watching the heat disperse from the mess. The barb wire gates were close by. He could'see' them from where he was sitting. A few human shaped heat spots were wandering about the top of the concrete wall beyond, gesticulating excitedly in his direction. He raised a hand and waved it. He wondered if they could see him clearly. Probably not- if not they probably would have shot him by now. But if they did see him and had n't shot. Well. He might have a chance of pulling this off. A cure for the plague. All it cost him was everything. It did n't matter anymore. This was all bigger than him and had been for ages. He wondered if he could still talk. He had n't spoken with another human being for months. Possibly the plague had rotted away his vocal chords too- but maybe not, considering the strange preservation effects his serum had created. He was a'living' cure. Now all he had to do was give himself up for experimentation and dissection. Hopefully it was n't going to be that hard to convince them to take him into custody without shooting his head off but his chances were n't that great being half-covered in zombie slop and probably looking somewhat corpse-y himself. At least he tried.
[ WP ] You are trapped in a white room . There is a black box in the centre and a note on top saying `` DO NOT OPEN '' . As time passes you hear something from inside the box saying `` HELP ME '' . ( Be creative , and let your imagination run wild )	Penny looked hastily over her shoulder before stepping through the door and slamming it behind her. The Duchess' voice drifted through the woodwork, her rapier tone dulled by two fingers' breadth of painted maple, and Penny clung to the brass handle as though willing it not to betray her location; although truth be told, she had more to fear from her own pounding heart. Instinctively, she clasped her free hand to her middle, and closed her eyes as she willed the footsteps to recede. Penny's face was suddenly suffused with warmth as the sun emerged from behind some scad of cloud, and her goose pimples melted, unbidden, as the voice of the Duchess faded to nothing. She turned and breathed in slowly, allowing her surroundings to impinge upon her senses for the first time. The drapes were aglow with afternoon sunlight, laden with motes of dust, which flowed over the satin divans and dripped down the ivory walls like warm molasses. Everything was white: from the painted floorboards, to the unpatterned rugs, even to the lacquered gas lamps adorning the walls many feet above Penny's head. Everything was also absolutely spotless -- the upholstery of the couch in the center of the room looked more like porcelain than cloth. Penny was suddenly reminded, not unpleasantly, of falling out of her father's boat at the age of nine, and feeling the slowness of her limbs dragging upon the speed of her thoughts as the water gently imprisoned her body and breath. Although the atmosphere was fresh as a spring day, the light was heavy, muted, liquid. Taking a step into the room, followed by another, and then another, Penny found herself unwilling to speak her thoughts aloud lest she somehow destroy the tactile peace of the room. And yet neither Sarah nor Jane had ever been inside this room, and the Duchess would certainly never deign to clean it herself... Penny shook her head, and her practical mind went back to business. She would not be missed for an hour in the kitchen, but she dared not poke her head out until she was certain the Duchess had abandoned her hunt. Penny could deny her accusations for now, but the Duchess would n't give her even a moment before having her beaten. And surely Peter -- the Duke, rather -- would speak for her? Anyway, certainly no one would think to look for her here, and moreover, her insatiable Nottinghamshire curiosity buzzed like a gadfly in the back of her head. She wandered toward the center of the room, not bothering to shield her eyes from the omnipresent brightness, taking in the impossibility of austere splendor around her. As she neared the great couch that reclined obliquely in the center of the room, her eyes were suddenly jarred by a black splotch squatting upon the sea of white, which then resolved itself into the corner of a tarred wooden crate that poked up from behind the couch. Inoculated to the abnormality of it all, Penny rounded the couch and approached the crate. It was three feet on a side, weathered and partially crusted with what she assumed were barnacles, although even these maintained the inky color of the tarred wood. Coming closer, Penny saw a small brass plaque adorning the top of the crate. She read it. DO NOT OPEN PENNY Penny recoiled, then turned and hurried to the door as fast as her wooden clogs would allow, keeping a protective hand on her belly. She did n't know what this was and she did n't want to know -- she'd even prefer the Duchess over one more second in this room. Her hand turned the doorknob, and the shock ran up her arm into the back of her throat when the door refused to budge. Unbelieving, she tried it again and again, faster and faster until she was shaking the brass knob in time with her panicked sobs. `` Help! Someone help me! Help me!'' Penny screamed repeatedly through the door, the black crate growing larger and larger in the back of her mind until it threatened to engulf her. It might have been an echo: ``... lp me...'' The sobs and the rattling of the knob halted in the same instant. Gentle, impassable sunlight rested on wide eyes and a tear-streaked face in the restored silence of the room. She approached the crate once more, leaning forward as though her stare could penetrate its wooden slats. `` H... hello?'' It was not an echo: `` Help me...'' To her credit, her kindness overtook her fear in that instant. Briefly, her eyes flickered over the brass plaque with its nightmarish inscription as she hurried to the crate and knelt beside it, but the plaintive voice from within tempered her resolve. A latch appearing as if from nowhere under her searching fingers, she undid it, stood, and heaved the top of the crate up and over the couch, where it left a wet, ashy streak on the snow-colored silk. She looked within. . The sun had not moved since she had entered the room, and not a whisper of a breeze disturbed the still and stately draperies. The light rested heavily on white cloth, white walls, and white skin. No birds chirped, no household sounds came from the sole incorrigible door. The sweet stink of stagnant water was pervasive in the dead atmosphere. She did not recognize the strange clothing, its coarse texture or bright orange color, but the face that stared up at her she knew well; oh yes, very well indeed. As her mind used the last of its meager resources to put the jagged pieces back together, she felt the flutter in her womb go silent. She screamed, and the sun went out. - . . . Detective Oviedo's eyes were a dead ringer for the one-way glass opposite them. He stared at the pitiful form huddled in the tiny solitary confinement cell, mouthing some phrase repeatedly, staring at the flourescent lightbulb hanging from the low ceiling. The details of her report prodded at the back of his mind, goading him to find some kind of closure, to make peace with the facts. He only had a really bad case about twice a year, but this... this was one of the worst. A pudgy hand fell on his shoulder. `` Hey, Paz. Snap out of it, chief. What am I looking at?'' Pascuale shook his head. `` Sorry, Dean. I just... I've been over her report. I do n't think interrogation is going to get us anywhere. She's here, but mentally she's somewhere else.'' `` Jesus...'' breathed the other, flipping through the manila folder. `` The first was her own kid... drowned in a pond behind their house. Boyfriend too. Fucking nutso.'' Pascuale returned his gaze to the glass. `` I do n't know if she killed her son because she was crazy or if she went crazy because she killed her son. Insanity is a... complicated thing. The worst thing, though, is every now and then she stops mumbling and starts screaming. It only lasts for a bit before she gets quiet again, but in those few seconds is the only time she seems aware of anything. And from her eyes, you can tell... she understands.''
[ WP ] A serial killer 's plot is thrown for a loop when he realizes his victim was planning to commit suicide .	Nothing quite matches the morning breathes anticipating a fresh kill. I could already smell victory, this one would be easy. Mid-40s, almost identical schedule for the entire week prior til; it almost did n't seem fair. But this man had to die -- he was, after all, the next on the list. The victims inscribed knew they had to die for their wrong doings. Rarely did they seem surprised when they were about to be killed really. They just went straight to negotiating, offering to pay double, triple what I was being paid. But they could n't fulfill the satisfaction, certainly could n't double that of a good kill. I approached the vacant building, without caution admittedly. The stillness of an empty house always made me think what it would feel like to be the last man on earth. Silently walking through what had become a familiar scene, stepping over the creaky foot boards I made my way to the bedroom. It was best, of course, to strike when least expected. Everyone lets their guard down when heading to bed. Apparently, I let mine down as well. A creak from inside the room made me freeze, heart rate escalating. A miscalculation, perhaps? Never saw the bastard come in, who the hell... Slowly reaching for the door, blade in one hand I stepped through. Looked clear, until I saw a shape in the corner. A small child was sitting, scared in the corner. I lowered my weapon, but approached nonetheless. Kid did n't move. `` I'm not gon na hurt ya. What's yer name?'' The kid did n't say a word. Could n't blame him, probably shit himself waiting for me. I got up and sat on the bed. Where the hell did this kid come from? `` Kid, where the hell did y...'' `` ARE YOU GON NA KILL ME?!!'' I stared at him, slightly amused. As I looked around for anything else I might have missed, I replied, `` No, but I do have some questions I need you to answer, okay?'' He nodded furiously, eyes ready to pop out of his skull. Just then a car pulled up. Had he come back early? Son of a bitch, weeks of planning wasted on the one day everything chose to go wrong. I motioned for silence to the kid, but I figured he'd squeal as soon as his daddy or whoever the man was to him approached. I prepped my now silenced shooter and moved into the closet. The target sat in the kitchen for a good 10 minutes, occasionally lugging his way through the squeaky halls. He finally made his ascension to the bedroom, sighing loudly before opening the door. The kid immediately got up and ran to him, but he barely flinched. Without a word, he walked to the bedside table. Bottle in hand, he smelled more like a hobo than a high council member. `` She leaves me,'' he muttered slowly, `` she left me yer p-piece of shit ass. She left me yer ass an' nuthin'. This... fuck, I-'' He dropped the bottle as he reached under his bed, revealing a shoe box. I raised my weapon, still carefully hidden in the closet among musty old coats. The man fumbled a bit, but turned to me, gun in hand; Both of our guns pointed as his head. He looked down at the boy, `` Tell your mother I'll see her in hell.''
[ WP ] You live in a society that has always counted time backwards . Tonight it is the eve of Year Zero . What will happen after midnight ?	I can not begin to describe to you how it feels to know, with 100 % certainty, that everyone you ’ d ever known would be dead within 2 hours. How it feels to know, for your entire life, that there was a visible clock ticking down to the end of your existence. Our planet, Skyperion, revolves around a close binary star system. Helios and Orcus are the stars; Helios a standard G class main sequence star, Orcus an O class white dwarf. Our society used to count time from when Helios rose in the North to when Orcus set in the South. However when our sciences discovered that when Helios would eventually burn off the primary element and expand, it would allow Orcus to begin to leech energy from it, and our society switched how we kept track of time. Because when Orcus finished eating Helios ’ s power, it would go critical. We had 15,000 years back then. Now we ’ re down to 1 hour, 47 minutes. Not everyone was allowed to leave Skyperion. If you didn ’ t have enough money or contributed some kind of “ asset ” to society, you were left behind. That was 30 years ago now…they still might feel the shockwave. I was born here 24 years ago, which was more or less a death sentence. It ’ s funny, you ’ d think that society would fall apart after knowing you ’ d be dead in 30 years, but things kept moving. I used to love looking up into the sky, wondering how that binary system came to be. How the architecture of the universe had come into being. What was happening on those faraway star systems? I would spend night after night gazing up at the stars. My parents often asked if they could join me, but I always said no. Gazing into the depths of the galaxies was something that I wanted to experience alone. That being said, I spent most waking hours hanging out with my parents or friends. Having the clock tick down was a great incentive when I was younger to get things done and to never waste time. I ran everywhere, tried to spend every moment doing something or hanging out with someone. I wanted to hear as many stories as there were to tell and make some of my own while I was at it. Whenever I had an issue with something, I mentioned it. Whenever I liked one of the other kids in my class, I asked them out. Whenever I was bored, I did something about it. But I always found time so that at nights I could view the seemingly infinite universe in all of its glory. That all changed when 1 year hit the timer. What was the point of it all? We ’ d all be dead in 523 days. Society still didn ’ t falter though. People kept going to work, following the laws, saving money. Why? Didn ’ t they care? Everyday you ’ d looking to the sky and you ’ d see Orcus getting brighter and brighter, and Helios getting larger and larger. Thanks to the changes of the binary, my hometown would experience permanent cold season for our final year. Yay. I was done looking up in the sky, why remind myself of my impending doom? How was any of this fair? Had I been born to die? Those were the questions that raged through my mind night after night staring at the blank ceiling in my room. Time didn ’ t care…it just kept on clicking down. So here we are. 17 minutes before everything I ’ ve ever known is returned to the interstellar medium. It ’ s funny for me to say this, but I ’ m tired. I ’ ve spent so much of my life running around trying to make sure I ’ d have no regrets that I feel like I ’ ve lived much longer than I these 24 years. But I regret this last year. The year that was arguably the most important, I ’ ve wasted complaining about the life I was given. Screaming at a ceiling about how unfair it all is. I spent my whole life finding stories and observing the universe, so I should have known that at the end of the day, it ’ s funny how simple life is. Everything that lives, must die. It ’ s a fundamental truth. A cycle that I ’ ve observed since my first days on Skyperion. Just as every plant lives and dies, just as every being lives and dies, just as every star lives and dies, just as the universe was born and will die. And so must I, Skyperion, Helios & Orcus all die. But to the end I will observe that noble truth. I was born to be an observer, and so as I walked outside and the final minute arrived, I looked up into the starry sky. And it was even more beautiful and even more numerous than I had remembered it.
[ WP ] `` The only thing I envy about humans is their ability to so quickly change from man to animal . ''	A bemused Hilary Flint snorted, the lines of his face at odds with the gesture. `` Thanks. I guess. Or at least I'm gon na take it as the compliment it was intended.'' His companion hid her grin behind a flick of her folding-fan, waving the decorated paper across her face before snapping it shut and tucking away into her sash. `` It was.'' Flint nodded as they continued down the paving stone path meandering through the gardens, the first snowfall of the season dusting everything in a layer of soft powder. In their wake they left dark footprints on the wet path, the prints vanishing around a gentle bend. Both were well-dressed for the cold, thick wools and leathers to ward against the chill, and in the woman's case robes of heavy silk. `` Tell me,'' she asked. `` Why did you help my sister?'' Flint did n't answer immediately, instead looking out over the small pond and the small flock of ducks swimming in the yet-unfrozen water. A thumb was hooked in his belt, his other hand resting on the battered and nicked hilt of a cavalry saber. `` Why do you want to know?'' `` Because I wish to know how to properly reward the Man who saved my sister from certain death. I wish to know what he desires.'' `` If you're expecting some kind of noble, selfless reason then you're gon na be disappointed. I did n't rescue her from that Scabbers nest and escort her across half the continent because it was the'right thing.' I did it because of the opportunities to be gained.'' His words were like cold iron. `` I see... And those opportunities?'' she asked. `` A truce. Between the Provisional Republic and the Kingdom of Alathir effective now. The daughter of the likely heir in exchange for a ceasefire. Figured the chance at something that good was worth the effort of dragging a girl through four dead cities and a mountain range. Then plans changed.'' `` You grew to love her.'' It was a statement, not a question Flint shrugged. `` As much as any man can love a girl who's grandfather most likely caused the death of his entire family. She's got pluck and brains, and those two are an uncommon pair. My wife's dead or good as, and so is my brother. We humans have an expression: Our legacy is that which we leave for our children. If I can help teach one girl how to live in peace when all I've done is live a lifetime of war, then maybe there's hope for us after all. Maybe that's what I want.''
[ WP ] At the end of your story , I want to have a complete understanding of the word , `` courage '' .	`` Mr. Laurence?'' `` Yes sir?'' `` It says here on your form that you are a conscientious objector. That true?'' `` Yes it is sir.'' `` Why?'' `` Because I believe my loyalty to my country is less than my loyalty to my fellow man.'' `` Very well. I assume you'd want a deferral?'' `` No sir, I want to volunteer. I want to serve on the front lines. With your permission, I'd like to join the medical corps as a medic. `` `` You do realize that medics are six times more likely to be killed in the line of duty that the common soldier with a gun?'' `` Sir, I am a pacifist, not a coward. Amazingly, there is a difference. I love my country. I am willing to die for her, I not willing to kill for her. Make me a medic. Sir.''
[ WP ] They tell me to drop the mask	`` Hey, hhhhHEY hey, uh, Freddie.'' `` What.'' `` I-i'm know... I know I just got myself... REALLY high, but, drop the mask. Fucking, DROP IT. Hahahaha.'' They tell me to drop the mask, the fuck is that shit about? I do n't need no motherfuckin' Freud-ass bitch sayin' that i'm fuckin my Daddy. I ai n't even have no Daddy I fuckin' swear, man, if these bitch-ass yuppies did n't get me eating every night, i'd slap'em in their fuckin' smug-ass face. Fuck, I can at least get him to bounce. `` Yo, get outta here, I wan na smoke.'' `` uuuuugh, alright. um, whefucksdidorr, oh ok'' He strugglin' to use a goddamn door. Maybe i'd be laughing if I did n't give him that shit, if I did n't spend about most of my day cooking that shit just so some fucker can act a fool for a few hours. Man, fuck him, I ai n't associating with him anymore. Bitch. Sfffffffff schvwooooo Ugh, shit. I better clean this shit up. I wan na hang with my homies tomorrow, I got ta get some fuckin' sleep. maybe you wo n't think about her this time .... there's been some complications .... i'm sorry ....Fuck you, I wo n't drop this fuckin' mask.
[ WP ] The hero bursts into the villain 's lair , ready to fight , but the villain is having family troubles - so they have to reschedule their showdown .	She cautiously walked to the door to her nemesis' chambers. The entire'fight' to the highest room was two butler androids with butter knives. She inspected the door, it was shattered and broken. Cross-pulse's lair usually pulsed and buzzed with high tech traps and ingenious puzzles. It was enough to scare all of the weaker hero's away, but not ZephyrWind. She reached for the door and entire wall crashed to the ground. At the base of Cross-pulse's throne sat a woman with her face buried in her hands, in the air a repetitive crying echoed from behind her throne. Zeph stood there for a moment before cautiously making her way to the base of the throne where Cross was sitting. `` Cross, are you OK? `` She did n't move or respond, the crying grew louder at the sound of Zeph's voice. She leaned down and noticed she was sleeping sitting up. This was her chance to end her, to take her out. The crying grew louder. She stepped back and turned to the throne. `` She has been screaming for five days straight, `` a raspy half human half mechanical voice spoke from behind ZephyrYen. Her training kicked in and she leapt away from Cross and charged her energy blast attack. Her eyes drew back to the woman sitting on the stairs. She was no longer holding her head. She had curled info a ball at the lowest step. `` Who's she? `` Zeph asked calmly lowering her hand and drawing the energy back into her body. She did n't respond. Zeph's curiosity got the best of her and she turned to the door behind Cross' throne. The crying grew louder as she entered the room. The room did n't share the same decor as the rest of the tower. It was a soft pink, and gray patterns, in the center of the room laid a bassinets. Zeph gasped. In the bassinet was a small child. She was screaming and had turned red in the face. Zeph reached in and picked the child up. She used the blanket to swaddle the child. She used a little of her energy to warm her body up. Within seconds the little girl calmed, and her screaming subsided. `` HI there little one, what's your name? `` Zeph smiled as she rocked the child. `` I have n't... I have n't given her a name yet, `` Cross-pulse entered from behind Zeph and crossed infront of her. Her facial expression was of pure shock. `` Wewl awwl baybees need a name, downt deh, `` Zeph rocked the baby back and forth. Cross approached Zeph slowly, making sure she would n't react around her child. Zeph did n't raise her energy. `` I thought you were all robot after the accident, `` `` I did too, but she is proof I'm still human. Why are n't you attacking me or holding my daughter hostage? `` Zeph could tell Cross was stressed and confused. `` I fight to protect the weak, and you are n't an enemy at this moment, you are a mother who is on wits end. I need to protect you from yourself. `` Zeph slowly moved the baby into Cross' arms. She pushed a tiny bit of energy into the child to keep her warm. Zeph looked into cross' eyes. She was crying. Zeph smiled and backed away slowly. She turned for the door and was stopped by a hand on the shoulder. `` Maybe tomorrow, when you come by for your daily but kicking, maybe you would like to hang out with Marci and me, `` Zeph chocked,'' I... Appreciate you looking over our past and looking towards my future, I am alone in this world, I have been full of hate for all of my life after the accident. It's amazing what one act of kindness can do. `` `` I'd love to come by tomorrow, maybe the butlers can carry food instead of butter knives, `` Zeph wiped a tear from her eye and stepped out of Marci's nursery and flew home.
[ WP ] You have the ability of turning back time by killing humans . The closer the person is to you , the further in time you can travel back .	Mom. Come here. I have something to show you. Okay, Royce, what is it? Come closer. I'm already pretty close, how close do you want me to get? Closer. Is this good? Closer. I ca n't get any closer, Royce. Good, Mom. Now, what is it that you wanted to show me? This knife. It's a nice knife. Thank you. Where did you get it? TJ Maxx. You did not get a knife at TJ Maxx. How would you know? Because TJ Maxx sells clothes. Clothes and more recently, knives. They're expanding into new territory. I do n't know if I believe you. Mom? I'm your son. I would n't lie to you. I would sure hope not. But there is something I would do that might surprise you. And what might that be? I want to go to Woodstock to take drugs with the hippies. Royce. That does n't even make sense. Why's that? Woodstock was decades ago, and there are no more hippies. There are too hippies! Oh yeah? Name one! Dad was a hippie! Yeah. WAS. He moved on from that lifestyle years ago. Yeah... Dad sucks now. Watch your mouth! Relax, I'm just kidding. Kidding or not, you ca n't talk that way about your father. Whatever. But I have to admit. You do have a point, Royce. Excuse me? Your father used to be such an extraordinary soul. I'm sure he used to be. I mean, he's still a stand-up guy. No, no, no. Before you were born, he had this way about him. What way? I do n't know. I just miss what he used to be. What changed? You were born. Oh my god. That's kinda harsh. Let me see that knife. Ummmmm, why? Let me see the knife! You're too close to me! Get away! THE KNIFE! * ( STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB ) * Hippies. Hippies everywhere.
[ WP ] A couple takes a genetic test to identify their risk of passing on a hereditary disease to a child . The results yield something unexpected .	`` Good afternoon Mr. and Mrs. Baker. Please take a seat.'' Dr. Pullman greeted the couple as they walked into the room. `` Please, take a seat.'' `` Thank you,'' Mr. Baker replied. He then picked up a chair and walked out of the room while his wife held the door for him. She then went and sat down on the remaining chair opposite Dr. Pullman. `` Your letter said you had the results for us,'' Mrs. Baker stated. `` Yes, I do,'' replied Dr. Pullman. `` They were very strange and we had to run them multiple times and with some variations to work out exactly what they meant. I am very sorry to inform you that you will not be able to have a bun in the oven, or eat pies, but other breads and pastries are fine.''
[ WP ] A meeting of criminals where everyone is , unbeknownst to the others , an undercover agent for a different agency .	“ The name ’ s Bond. James Bond. ” “ Neal Caffrey, ” replied the host. Bond took a seat at the round table. There were two others on either side of him. He smiled at the unusually short man and nodded. “ Ethan. Ethan Hunt, ” replied the latter without smiling. He hated being the shortest man at every table and was hoping this last-to-come occupant would turn out to be shorter. “ And who ’ s Leonardo over here? ” asked Bond, alluding to the dazed fellow on his left. The fellow remained dazed in that he kept staring at the back of his hands, as if he didn ’ t know it well enough. Caffrey cleared his throat. “ He is Bourne. Umm, Jason Bourne, right? Bourne had no idea who he was. Or where he was and what he was doing in that restaurant. Jason Bourne he says. Must be it then. He nodded, uncertainly. So this was it, thought Caffrey. This is what the world has thrown at him after just twenty four hours of him calling out for the biggest crooks of the world. Burke had said the Bureau needed to make more arrests. Their credibility was suffering. And this was their desperate attempt. “ Right then, ” he continued, “ Let ’ s get down to business, shall we. Reason why I… “ “ Hang on a sec. Waiter, ” Bond summoned, “ A medium dry martini, lemon peel. Shaken, not stirred. Any of you gentlemen care for a drink. ” “ Umm yes, just a shot of Vodka please. ” ” David is it? ” Caffrey asked nodding at the waiter ’ s nametag. David. David. DAVID. That rang a bell. “ YES, ” exclaimed Bourne. “ Would you like to place an order, sir? ” The other three were looking at him curiously. He began to sweat. “ Uh yes. Lime soda, ” and added to the others, “ Hot here, no? ” Must remember, soon… Ethan was seeming more annoyed every second. Stupid tall people. “ Shall we continue please? ” Caffrey was about to when – “ Is that a burn? ” Bond asked noticing for the first time the red brown singe near Ethan ’ s eye. “ Er, yes… ” “ Looks nasty. How ’ d you get it then? ” “ Ha ha. Funny story, ” Hunt said nervously. “ It was an unfortunate lighter-set-on-high-flame incident. ” The others failed to find the specified humour in the story. He ’ s lying, they all thought. Ethan knew they knew he was lying. What had happened was, earlier that morning he had received a curious package from IMF, a secret Intelligence Agency. Yes, surprising as it may sound, he was a spy. Coming back to the package, it was a super-secret mission brief, disguised as an old-fashioned camera. After the camera briefed him, its self-destruct sequence began. Ethan continued staring into the view-finder, delaying tossing it away for dramatic effect, but the camera went up in flames at ‘ 2 ’. Two seconds before it was due. He hated the fuckin ’ IMF. Anyway, the camera brought him here. To bust the best high-profile robbers in the world. “ Right then, ” Caffrey said trying to bring order again. “ On to business. Gentlemen. ” “ Oh, hello, darling, ” Bond said. A woman, dressed exquisitely scanty, had come up behind him and planted a kiss on his neck. “ What brings you here? ” The woman whispered something in Bond ’ s ear. “ Ah. No, that was just for the Poker match day, honey. Sorry. You better be off. ” She shrugged, gave a sexy feline squint to the other men and departed. Caffrey was getting tired of Bond ’ s interjections. And it was already infuriating that Bond ’ s suit was of a finer fabric than his own. “ Neal, you were saying, ” Bond said. Caffrey scowled. “ Yes, but before we get down to what the job is, we need to be sure we all are who we say we are. I mean, can ’ t risk the job coming up short because of lazy verifications, right? ” Short. That man had said it. Ethan slapped his right hand on the table and stood up. He had had enough. “ I ’ ve had enough, ” he bellowed without regard for his secret cover. “ My dear fellow, ” Bond said. “ Remain seated. You ’ re creating a scene. ” “ Remain seated? You mean I am so short you can ’ t make out I ’ m standing? Why you… ” “ Come, come, ” said Bond easily, “ Let ’ s get you a drink. ” Meanwhile, Bourne had transcended to another level of daze. He was trying to sort out the labyrinth in his head. It was a lost cause. A chimp had a better chance at figuring out relativity. “ David, ” summoned Bond. David. DAVID. Thus went the echoes in Bourne ’ s head. Suddenly an ancient instinct rose within him. He sensed a presence behind him. Automatically, his hand went around, caught a neck, and with a twist brought it crashing down on the table. “ What ’ s the meaning of all this? ” Ethan asked bringing out a gun from nowhere and pointing it at Caffrey. “ Hey calm down, ” Caffrey said. “ He ’ s the crackpot pinning down the waiter. But you ’ re the one who called this meeting. ” A shot. Caffrey discovered he didn ’ t need his nose for breathing anymore. Air found a shorter route to his lungs from a new hole in his neck. Seconds later, blood too discovered this route and suffocated him. A quick succession of three shots followed. Ethan fired at Bourne, thinking he fired the first shot. Bond fired at Ethan thinking the same of him. Three seconds later Bond dropped. Four dead bodies lay around the table -- David, the waiter, rose from amid the four dead bodies. Already the restaurant was empty, people having screamed and scrambled out within seconds after the gunfire. He tossed his gun on the table and ambled out through a back door into the alley. “ Job ’ s done, ” he said into his cell phone. “ Well done, ” replied FBI agent Burke. “ I ’ ll let the IMF and Treadstone know, ” he added and hung up, a smile on his face. Too long had everyone suffered these glory stealers. 008 seemed to agree as back outside the restaurant he tossed his waiter ’ s jacket into a trash can and walked into the fog whistling away.
[ WP ] A sentient species has lived underground their entire existence . One day , the earth quakes and reveals to them the surface world , and they come in contact to humans for the first time .	'Dorthen Ree Gortchuk Morg!' Bloodcut shouted, a 400lb minotaur pig hybrid that had resided within the deep black bellies of the Earth since ancient and forgotten time. Behind him a swarming black mass of similar creatures assembled, gradually swelling to form a vast gruesome endless host of maniacal beings. Clawing their way up from the haunting abyssal depths from which they were spewed. Upon large slopping rocks towards the surface they marched from the void below. They moved like what would appear to be a modern infantry formation. Orderly ranks based on size and cruelness of weapon. They snorted and hacked, howled and bellowed such a symphony of unfathomable maniacal dementedness that it planted images of butchery with cruel tools, ripping flesh and torment into the minds of those ears' it struck. By noon of the first day Bloodcut's forces had razed all of Manhattan and the city. The borders of Pennsylvania were burning. Those on the coast that did n't lay slaughtered in heaps of carved flesh made for what ever boat would carry them from land, but even escape in that way werentguaranteed. The ocean would swell and colossal whirl pools would be birthed from seemingly nowhere or the fate of others more gruesome as black monstrous shapes climbed their way up the iron sides of their vessels from the dark murky water only to board and cleave all those upon the ship into bloody strips of flesh that their hideous forms would wear like clothes. The great lakes ran red with the blood of the fallen and mutilated. There were just too many to fight off. Like a plague, like the most devilish of cancers to inflict the body, the world slowly began to dim. They erected large fortifications of bone and iron around their own borders, boundaries the different swells of their horde would observe pending on the amount of human flesh and blood that could be culled within the confines. The outside of their buildings were a nightmare to the sight of man. They were decorated with various degree of mutilated and rotting human remains. The odor enough to bring any person to a sickness, thick and putrid. They dug large trenches and filled them with the rotting bodies of those who had the misfortune to come across them. Flies laid their eggs in the bodies in such magnitude that there were fields of large black buzzing flesh biting parasite. The world was carrion and the scavengers were kings in this bloody waste of victims.
[ WP ] The worlds greatest superhero and his/her arch enemy meet after retirement , and end up becoming great friends .	Good Bill and Evil Bill sat on Good Bill's porch drinking whiskey. I was unfortunate that both famed speedster superhero Celeritas and his dark magic-based foe Wolfsbane both had the same first name and other people had to use silly adjective to tell them apart, but they did n't really mind. `` Hey Good Bill,'' Evil Bill said as he sipped his drink, `` remember that time I turned all of the lawyers into undead creatures of darkness?'' `` Sure do,'' he chuckled. `` I almost did n't want to change them back because it was such an improvement. Do you remember that time I ran so fast that I got all of your runes on backward. That was the coolest explosion I've ever seen.'' `` I got sent to a real weird dimension after that one,'' Evil Bill snorted. `` There were ghouls and funny-looking birds and marshmallow people everywhere. They kept trying to give me hugs.'' He shivered. `` I was real mad when I got out of there.'' `` You turned Willy into a newt,'' frowned Good Bill. `` C'mon man. He got better. Say, I here he's giving up on being Celeritas. What's up with that?'' `` I ca n't really blame him. It was a lot of running and he ai n't the athletic type, after all. He wants to be one of those science guys who spend all day inventing things that will come back in a few months to bite'em in the ass.'' `` There's a reason why I never trusted science. Nosiree, magic may be a fickle mistress, but at least she's honest about wanting to screw you over.'' `` I hear that,'' Good Bill said raising his glass. The two finished their glasses and found to their dismay that they were all out of booze. `` Liam!'' Good Bill shouted into the house. `` Run to the store and get Grandpa some more Jameson.'' In the blink of an eye, there was a new bottle on the table. `` That boy will make a good Celeritas,'' commented Evil Bill. `` Ice?'' `` Please.'' One short spell later and the two Bills were set for a long afternoon of reminiscing.
[ IP ] Midnight Tea	I have tea at midnight because it is more beautiful then. When I go to bed everything is tired and sleepy, But when midnight comes I have tea Because you should only drink tea when the moonlight sparkles on the water-lilies and shines on the toadstools because then your tea might get a bit in it And tea with moonlight in it is all the more beautiful. At midnight I go down to see Toad in her house by the water Because it is more beautiful in the tangled-up roots and the whispering water. And I have a biscuit with my tea. Toad makes her biscuits at dawn so the newborn sunlight gets in them So my tea is very beautiful when I drink it with sun-biscuits because the moon and the sun dance on my tongue And they sing their beautiful song. And when I drink tea at midnight When the water-lilies sparkle under the moon And Toad's little lamp is warming my cheeks The shadows at midnight seem far away Because of my beautiful Midnight Tea.
[ WP ] `` I buried my family in the garden ''	`` Please, Mrs. Johnson-'' The man in the suit took a moment before continuing speaking, almost as if he was looking for the right words, `` Just sign this paper and we'll have you in a nice, comfy condo in the city. You wont have to pay a dime for it. Just sign the paper. Please.'' Susan scoffed at the man. In her years she had seen many just like him, sharp dressed and self-assured. These were the type of people that she distanced herself from. They were unkind and only out for themselves. Susan looked down at the papers on the table; they were some sort of contract to buy her house and the eight acres that it rested on. She looked at the man and saw just how pathetic he was. Under that suit he was sweating but his face was shining a -- far to toothy -- white grin. Susan stood up and walked over to the kettle. She had been paying more attention to the ticking of the clock than his whole spiel and knew that the water was about to boil. She turned off the stove and started to pour herself a cup of tea. She did n't offer the man sitting at her table a cup; she only allowed that kind of hospitality to people she actually enjoyed being around. Susan stood at the kitchen counter drinking her tea for a long minute before the man sitting at the table shifted in his seat. She hid her smile for she knew she was about to beat him in the waiting game. `` I really do n't see, Mrs. Johnson -- or may I call you Susan?'' He smiled and waited for a response. Susan took another sip of her tea. He sighed and continued. `` Mrs. Johnson, this house is decrepit and no offense but this land is going to waste; if you ca n't take of it what is the point in owning it? Just sign these papers and you'll be taken care of. You'll live in a place worth well over three times as much as this land costs. I fail to see why you refuse to sell it.'' Susan looked at her drink, it was still almost full. She decided to take another sip before speaking. `` Do you know how much this house and land is worth?'' she asked him without looking in his direction. The man in the suit shifted in his seat again and reached for his papers. `` Of course I do, it's right here. Your property co-'' `` Quiet.'' She said sternly. The man subtly jumped and looked at her again. Susan took another sip of her tea. `` You do n't know how much this place is worth,'' she put up her hand to silence the man who was about to talk again, `` You do n't know how much this house is worth to me. I lived here my entire life. My parents inherited this land from my grandparents who inherited it from their parents who came to America without a penny in their pockets. They built this house and raised far too many little feet in here. This land has seen harvests and spoils. This house has seen celebrations and heartbreak. Look out that window, what do you see? Flowers in a garden? I buried my family in the garden. My parents, my grandparents, some uncles and aunts, my husband, and my secondborn. This land has no value. No offer you give me will get me to sell it to you. I do n't want to see my family's most prized procession be ruined into an urban decay or whatever you are planning. My daughter and her husband, a carpenter may I tell you, will inherit this land. I've told them both about you. They have full permission to remodel this house to change it as they please but you will not get a signature out of them either. This land will stay as is. There is no price on this home.'' With that Susan took a deep gulp from her tea and stared out the window. The man in the suit watched her, waiting for her to speak again. When he saw he take another drink he knew she was n't going to talk. `` Mrs. Johnson, you are being unreasonable. I understand there is a certain sentimentality you have towards this land but really-'' Susan cut him off again. `` No, you are being unreasonable. Have you no soul?'' The man looked very uncomfortable and very angry. `` Who are you to say I am soulless?'' He nearly blurted out. `` I never said that. I simply asked you a question.'' She took another sip of her tea without taking her eyes off the man, `` But while we're at it, who are YOU to come into MY house and demand I sell the only connection I have left to my family?'' The man looked at his watch and then at the kitchen clock as if he was hoping time would give him a way to reason with the older woman. Susan finished her tea and put the cup in the sink. The man was about to talk again when she stopped him. `` Get out of my house. Rip up those papers. Never return.'' She turned her back to the man and stared out the window at the garden. She let her mind wander to the memories she had growing up, all the time she spent in the kitchen with different generations of relatives. After a long moment of silence she heard the chair scratch against the floor. She ignored the man as he gathered his papers and walked out of the kitchen. Only when the front door slammed shut did she turn around. `` Finally,'' she thought to herself, `` Now I have to go to the store; that tea was atrocious.''
[ PI ] written in response to Love Hurts . Critique requested .	I like this. You're divining a feeling that many people experience. To be honest, it feels chunky. I think your language could be pared down significantly to great effect. If I were your editor, this is what I would return to you: > Silence strikes like a thousand angry words. > The moment I had no one to tell of my day to day activities it was as though I was an astronaut that had floated too far away from the space station. I found myself surrounded by a vast and profound emptiness. I saw the stable ground that I held on to drift away at a thousand miles an hour. I had lost it all. > There was beauty all around me in the dark expanse of space, but I would not allow myself to see it. I thought, `` I am alone and will continue to float sadly through the cosmos,'' but circling the Earth there were many other satellites. > Soon, I became aware of them. I saw them not as foreign, unapproachable ships, but rather new possibilities. These vessels would not take me on the same journey I was on but that was alright. I needed a change of course in order to forge onward. Only then would I discover how truly massive the universe could be. An explanation of my changes: First off, join AA. As in, Avoid Adverbs. `` More boldly'' is an obstacle for the eyes, your reader has to climb over it like a mountain to get to the other side of the sentence. If you make the sentence more bold, you do n't have to tell the reader how bold the silence was. It's a lone wolf. It does n't play well with the others. It needs its own paragraph, goddamnit. I just plain cut, `` It makes broad, sweeping gestures. It lingers and is ever present.'' The two sentences are antithetical to each other. At first you're making silence seem open, and then immediately after, suggesting that it's suffocating and claustrophobic. This juxtaposition works, but the writing is n't aware that a juxtaposition exists at all. Also, paragraphs separate ideas, and because we ended a paragraph on silence we ca n't start a new paragraph about the same subject. I cut the phone out altogether, because you never bring up the concept of a phone elsewhere in the piece. It's a short piece, so every single word has to matter. I removed the word `` silence'', because you turned it into a character in the first sentence, so you are no longer able to use it as an object for the rest of the piece. Seriously. `` A thousand miles an hour'' is stronger than `` thousands of miles an hour'' despite that the number is feasibly greater. It's definite -- a speed set in stone. `` Thousands of miles an hour'' is unsure of itself. Also, I broke that sentence into two sentences, because they are separate concepts that do n't have direct relevance to each other. I changed `` could'' to `` would.'' `` Could not'' should be used for actions that are externally denied, `` would not'' should be used for actions that are internally denied. There is a vast amount of difference between, `` I could not take a cookie from the cookie jar because dinner was about to start,'' and `` I would not take a cookie from the cookie jar because dinner was about to start.'' I turned your thought into a quote because I liked the structuring of the sentence, but `` will'' causes a shifting of tense from past to present. Cutting up the sentence about the satellites creates a good segue into the last section of the piece. Added the `` but'' before rather. This is not optional. `` With me'' is redundant. There's also a lot of tense changes in this last paragraph. Be vigilant about your tenses. Despite the fact that I just gave you a huge amount of changes, the basic language of your piece remains unchanged. You wrote this. It's good. Be proud. I look forward to seeing what you do in the future.
[ CW ] Tweleve Sentence Story	I sat upon the hillside and wondered. I wondered what had happened, how I had reached this moment. I wondered where I would go from here. I couldn ’ t go home, I had left them. I couldn ’ t return to my friends, I had betrayed them. I had lost my closest friend. I sat upon the hillside and wondered. I wondered how history would remember. I wondered whether my actions would even be remembered. I watched as the night sky became the dawn. I remembered the part I played, the role my friend, my brother, told me I must perform. I sat upon the hillside and wondered, and then I wept.
[ WP ] Find out you are the only person with a minor ability to change reality once a day . Whatever you change seems like its been there forever , nobody ever noticing the difference .	It would have been a perfect day to take the boat out – warm, bright, and blue. If it wasn ’ t for this moment, this conversation, I would have thrown on a pair of trunks, slathered on sunscreen, grabbed a cooler, and taken off. Alone with my thoughts. I abruptly realize now that I ’ ve been sitting back, staring across the picnic table, out towards the shore and away from her. I close my eyes for a moment, take a breath, and drag my attention back to her. “ You are my best friend, Quinn. I need to know what to think about what happened. ” Laura believes that, believes she knows me. I remember every moment just as she does - every second of the life she thought we had shared together. Her falling to the ground in preschool, which was the first time I had broken away from basketball with the other guys so I could help this girl walk to the nurse to get patched up. Her mother passing me orange juice across the kitchen in middle school as I waited for Laura to finish putting on too much lip gloss and eye shadow before we rode our bikes to school together. In high school, drenched in heat, riding my Jeep to the ocean with the top down, hardly slowing down as we reached the shore and raced to dive in. Memories Laura, this stranger I met last night, has of our life together. And then there was the memory of last night – the party at Cliff ’ s. In elementary school, Cliff and I spent every weekend together, every moment between classes together. When Cliff couldn ’ t do everything that I wanted to do with him, I didn ’ t understand. I wanted him to come skiing with my family, but his mom said he couldn ’ t afford to. “ I wish you were rich, Cliff, ” I told him. Then he was. Now he was the one who invited me to go skiing. Cliff – the guy with the best parties, the best house, the house with the longest private dock. The one person who really knew me. After college, most people moved pretty far from Maine. A party at Cliff ’ s, however, drew people from hours away – Boston, Connecticut, even New York City. School friends, friends from college, people Cliff had met through business, and a lot of people who thought they knew me. Many people came to Cliff ’ s because they knew I ’ d be there. Quinn, never without a date. Except tonight. I meandered past the big band that played in the main hall, through extended arms of women as they tried to pull me into conversation, through a dance or two to smooth jazz on the terrace, through tastes of fresh oysters, past drink rimmed with golden sugar or garnished with fresh fruit, each as ornate as a jewelry. It had taken me an hour and 4 beers to pull myself away from the party and finally be alone with my 5th, my 6th hidden away in my jacket. There were only a few people on the dock. A couple, giggling between the beginning of the boardwalk between noisy kisses. Further up, three friends had left their high heels on the dock and were soaking their feet in the water. They looked up at me as I walked by. A blonde, with curled hair in perfect waves down her back, red lipstick matching her form-fitting but tasteful dress; a brunette with sharply cut hair who looked like she was straight out of a European magazine. Both turned away without a flicker of recognition and focused back to Lauren, who sat between them. Lauren ’ s hair fell effortlessly down her back, perfectly straight and deep chestnut hair. Whereas her brunette friend was high fashion, Lauren ’ s dress was classic. Snippets of Lauren ’ s voice filtered towards me as I walked by. “ Not disappointed. Not really. Hate that I am not. Just don ’ t believe it will happen anymore ”. Lauren ’ s conversation wasn ’ t of interest to me. There was a lot for me to think about as I sat down at the end of the long dock, soaking in my beer and letting my gaze drift over the water. I didn ’ t notice the European friend leave to return to the party. I didn ’ t notice Lauren telling the blonde not to worry about her, to following the European back. I didn ’ t notice Lauren sitting for some time, gazing at the water, before she shifted her eyes and realized I was gazing, too. I didn ’ t notice her studying me as I sighed and pulled out another beer. Then, in a moment, she was sitting down, facing me. “ Girl problems? ” She asked. I sighed, then found my humor. I looked at her. She was beautiful. Ok. “ Me problems. You? ” “ It really is always a me problem, isn ’ t it? ” We both smirked. She had a purse with her. Opened it, pulled out a flask. “ Blueberry moonshine. It ’ s good. ” It was. “ Quinn. ” “ Lauren. ” “ So, Lauren. ” I took another taste, then returned it to her. “ What is it, Lauren, that you don ’ t believe will happen anymore? ” Her eyes widened only for a second, but she paused to consider. “ A little personal, don ’ t you think? ” “ Try me. ” She downed some blueberry. Then some more. “ Ok. I am successful. I have the life I always thought I wanted. I appreciate it, I really do. ” Her eyes searched mine, then she continued. “ But three of my friends are divorced. My parents are divorced. I broke off an engagement last year. ” She pursed her lips, searching for her words. “ I ’ ve never met a couple that made it. A part of me is just sad to be losing that childlike belief in – a simple, beautiful romance. ” She let out a laugh, scoffing at herself. I smiled. “ Actually, my grandparents do have that. They loved each other their whole lives, since they were kids. ” She scoffed. “ Oh, really? So what was their secret? ” I thought about my grandparents. I couldn ’ t help but smile. “ They were both kind, good people – especially to each other. ” Lauren waited for more. “ And? ” “ Two people who are good, kind, and thoughtful. That ’ s the secret. ” The comment disarmed her. I studied her. She wasn ’ t far from me. Close enough to touch. She was leaning forward, just slightly. “ Are you saying my friends and parents aren ’ t kind? ” She wasn ’ t challenging me now. She was - playing with me. But she didn ’ t get it. “ Well, maybe it does n't matter. Maybe things don ’ t have to be simple to be beautiful. ” I reached out to smooth her hair away from her face - hair that wasn ’ t actually in her face - my hand and words clumsy from the beer and the blueberry moonshine. She smiled, looking up at me from below her lashes, her breath slow and heavy. Suddenly her smile was sweet, not challenging. Lauren remembered this. She remembered holding her breath as I drew closer, gasping as our lips touched for the first time, my hands molding to her waist, her back, pulling her closer. I had kissed her before my drunken mind had thought it through, but it didn ’ t matter. We were drawn together, each breath pulling us deeper. She pulled her lips away, her breath hoarse, looking into her eyes. “ Are you trying to make me believe again, Quinn? ” Her eyes were sparkling, teasing. I stroked her lips with mine. “ Don ’ t worry. I ’ m not interested in making people do things they don ’ t want to do. ” Her eyes changed, her eyes softening, her smile gone. “ You know, Quinn, the truth is, I do want it. I wish I had a relationship just like your grandparents had. ” “ Yeah, me too. ” I was jolted from under the haze of the alcohol and breathy whispers to realize what I just said. Lauren couldn ’ t have known what those words would mean, but I did. Going through Cliff ’ s party, I hadn ’ t asked for a drink - they had been offered. I hadn ’ t asked for anything at all the entire day. After making Cliff rich, after so many childish wishes, I was usually so careful - but I had let my guard down, and suddenly I realized that this was the first thing I ’ d asked for all day. In that moment, I saw the past shifting. The time I spent playing basketball with Cliff in elementary school, not noticing the little girl falling behind me. Playing video games in the morning with Cliff until his mother kicked us out so we could ride our bikes to school. Making fun of Cliff ’ s awkward first kiss. Skiing trips with our families. Racing to the beach in my jeep with Cliff in high school, flirting with girls and pretending to be men. The night that Cliff ’ s mother died and I had to decide whether to ask for her to come back. The night spent comforting Cliff when I realized that I could not play God. I watched those moments drift away – remembered but no longer real. Lauren sat across from me now, on a sunny Saturday, a perfect day to go out on a boat. A day I used to share with Cliff. A day I had never shared with Cliff, not really – not anymore. Cliff would hardly recognize me now. All I could do was grieve for Cliff, the friend I never had. And look at Lauren. “ You are my best friend, Quinn. I need to know what to think about what happened. ” It was true - she needed to know. I knew that as strongly as I knew her soul. I knew now that I loved Lauren. I always had, although I never had. I looked at her eyes, searching for answers, and held her hands in mine. “ Lauren, you ’ re right. Something did happen last night. ” I paused, then my breath came out with a shudder. “ I lost someone close to me, someone that you never knew mattered to me. Someone I loved. ” She was concerned, I knew. “ But something else happened last night. Last night may have been the best night of my life. ” I stood up, walked to her side of the table, and sat down beside her. The concern left her face, and her eyes brightened as I kissed her softly. “ I never realized that my life was leading me to you. ” Lauren looked at me, stoked my cheek, and smiled. Lauren, who had always been gentle, always patient, always kind. “ Take the time you need, Quinn. All I ’ ve ever wanted was you. ” -- A little sappy but that's where the story went!
[ WP ] Write about living in a world where everyone can only have one kiss their entire lives .	She sat next to him as he lay in bed, gripping his hand. She was as radiant as she had been the first time he was given the honor of laying his eyes on her. He looked into her eyes and like always, found all the reassurance he ever needed to get through the day. It made his heart jump and he let out a slight smile. She reciprocated as she went on talking and laughing, tell him a story he had no doubt heard before. He did n't mind at all, he was in love with her voice and the way it made him feel like he could swim in it. She stopped abruptly and chuckled,'' Why are you looking at me like that?'' He loved the way her smile could cast accusations in the most innocent of ways. `` Nothing dear,'' he replied, his voice heavy with a happy nostalgia. `` It's not nothing,'' she chuckled again. `` What is it?'' `` It's just... well... you know- you know that... Christ, I ca n't believe this.'' `` Believe what?'' her brow furrowing worriedly. `` You make me feel like I ca n't speak, still. And it's just ridiculous. You'd think I'd be able to... to talk to you without stumbling over my goddamn words.'' Her expression softened. `` You, well... you... you'll never makes sense to me. What I did to deserve someone like you... you, you're so perfect in so many ways and I'm me and-'' `` You stop that right now. What have I told you about putting yourself down like that.'' He squeezed her hand. `` Please.'' Her brow furrowed again. `` You... you have a way with things... people and the world and life and me and... it's truly just... remarkable. You are the world's most best kept secret darling, you know that I... you know that I-'' `` I know that you do.'' `` You know that I love you.'' What had just escaped his mouth hung in the air. He had never been one for announcing his feelings through his words but rather though his actions. Her eyes began to water. `` And I really hope I know you enough to, say you feel the same. But do you-'' `` Of course I love you,'' she blurted out. His face lit up and he pulled her close. `` Kiss me.'' Their lips met for the first and last time. He felt her lips smiling against his and could taste her lipstick. He felt her gray hair fall against his face as she hovered above him and reciprocated every move he made. The heart monitor picked up to a rapid pace and the nearby nurse dropped the clipboard that was in her hands, and watched unable to move. She pulled away and looked at him, tears rushing down her face. He smiled, the heart monitor came to a slow, and then a steady, uninterrupted beep. `` I love you!'' She wailed. `` I love you, I love you, I love you!''
[ WP ] Describe the final encounter between two powerful people , but do n't tell us who is `` good '' and who is `` evil ''	Tal tripped as he scurried backwards, fleeing the ball of fire that Arius had just launched at him. The young king rolled upon hitting the ground, dodging another blast by inches. `` Please! I do n't want to do this!'' He cried. With shaky hands, Tal raised his spear to block the downward slash of Arius's sword. Sweat poured from his mentor's forehead, but Tal knew that the man was far from tired. `` Why did you do it Tal?'' Arius growled. `` Why could n't you just leave it be? WHY?!'' Sword clashed with spear, in a flurry of thrusts and parries. Beneath their feet wood burned and water froze, a neverending swirl of steam and smoke rising around the two combatants. Tal ducked below Arius's most recent swing, and charged the East Islander's body with all of his weight. When the man did n't move, Tal muttered something under his breath and the wood beneath his feet rose, pushing with him until finally the two men crashed to the floor. `` You - do n't - understand!'' Tal screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks, as he tried to land a punch on Arius's face. Again and again his fists collided with the floor, leaving charred imprints in the wood. `` It - was n't - my - choice!'' There was a sickeningly wet sound as Tal finally made contact. His fists collided with the old man's face, but Arius did n't show any sign he had felt anything. He just lay there. Grey eyes, lined with years of pain and experience, stared past Tal into the night. Beneath a beard crusted with blood, those dark lips moved. `` Forgive me, son.'' A crack of thunder, and he was gone. The smoke cleared. The ice melted. Rain fell, not on a king or a warrior, but on a boy. A boy thrust into his position against his will. A boy forced to do things he did n't understand. A boy without a mentor.
[ WP ] The Pillars of Creation , as seen by the Hubble , are actually the remnants of the greatest battle of galactic empires ever .	The little lone yellow ship drifted into full view of the glorious battleships. The silence of space was deafening as the commanders watched in curiosity. The light from the starts glistened off the tinted glass of the small yellow ship. The pilot inside flipping open the small box staring at the lever as a single tear dropped onto the soft seats. The sound of metal on metal rang inside the small ship. The commanders ordered the execution order but it was to late. The small yellow ship glowed green and purple as orange light swallowed the ship whole imploding it. The planet sized ships hurdled helplessly towards the 10 foot tear in the fabric of reality. Escape pods shot out away but where instantly pulled backwards doing a huge U-turn. Elements of all kinds collided into a minuscule area and thats when the unthinkable happened. The star powered ships crushed created a blackhole inside the tear. A blinding flash and decimating sound tore through space as the pillars took shape.
[ WP ] You die and are given 24 hours to correct every horrible wrong you did from least to worst .	My last night was awful. First I got mugged and then killed by some bratty kid, and then some man stabbed through my chest with a needle. He had ignored me as he put the strange amber liquid in a vial. `` You will have 24 hours to improve this.'' The man in the dark cloak said casually. He seemed to be paying more attention to the contents of his vial than to me. Staring intently at it through his antique bifocals and down this long nose. He mumbled as he swirled the dark amber liquid in the vial. He lifted his cloak away from his shoulder. After some fumbling took a pocket watch from one of the countless pouches that hung in a mess from his belt. He shoved the vial into the pouch. He met my eyes for the first time in the short few minutes since he extracted the liquid. `` Mr. Jones, was it?'' I just gaped, still in shock that the needle had n't hurt when it was stabbed through my sternum. `` Um no I am J-'' `` Ah yes Miss Jade.'' He held out the watch to me and waved his other hand absently. `` Take this. It has managed your time as you obviously can not. Stay on schedule and you will be headed towards purgatory in precisely 24 hours from when it is wound.'' He reached over and twisted the top of the strange watch. `` What do you mean purgatory?'' I stuttered as the watch clicked and ticked in the cloaked man's bony fingers. `` Well Miss Jade I believe you shall see.'' He gave a crooked grin that made me swallow my next question. `` Good luck. I will return to collect you in precisely 24 hours.'' He fumbled with his cloak a bit and started to fade. The clock buzzed quietly in my hand and I looked down. The face was some yellow parchment with hand drawn flowers and 24 handwritten numbers. Tiny dashes ran along the outside in colors ranging from green to yellow and finally to red. They got long as they went with a very large one above the 24 on the top. A button appeared at the top of the watch. So I pressed it with my thumb. A jerking feeling started in my thumb and rode up through my arm and into my chest. I loudly cussed as every bone in my arm got dislocated and then relocated. I strongly suspected a few had switched places. By the time the flash of red hot pain had passed I was not where I was before. The sun beat down on a highway that was at least 5 lanes wide. It was hard to tell because trash covered ever inch of the road as far as she could see. The only way I could even tell that it had to be paved was the heat that was traveling through the soles of my soles and baking me. I reached down and grabbed a ball of paper from the sea of trash at my feet and recognized my name. It was scrawled on the outside of the paper in pink gel pen, a heart dotted the `` i'' and I felt a ping of recognition from somewhere in my past. Jody had written it to me when we started taking classes at our community college. It was about her crush on Nick and his `` sick'' moped. I put it in my pocket as I wondered how it had found me when I had so completely lost myself. As soon as the paper touched my pocket the watch in my right hand buzzed. I took it out but the button was still depressed and the face looked the same. Unless, did one of the little green ticks disappear? There were so many of them that they looked like a solid bar, but there was a little empty space between the 24 and 1 that I did n't think had been there before. I looked over the sea of paper, cigarettes, and plastic cups and cussed. I started grabbing as much of the trash as I could and shoved it in my pockets. Everything touched gave a new nostalgia. Tickets to school concerts lost out the window, grocery lists for meals cooked, disposable cameras lost at the beach, and a pregnancy test blissfuly negative. After a few minutes my pockets were full but the watch had been buzzing along steadily the whole time and almost the entire first second was clear from the green ticks. I gasped and wiped the sweat from my forehead leaving a trail of muck across my forehead. I gagged a bit and took off my shrug and used it to clean my face and hands. It got dropped on the ground and my watch gave a disapproving twitch in my back pocket. `` Shut up,'' I spat. `` I need a clean place to sit.'' I sat for a few minutes with my head in my hands. I felt like weeping but I did n't have the energy left. I was out of pockets and at this rate I was never going to finish. I would be stuck on my haunches as the man dragged me to hell. A shiver ran through me as I wondered if I would be stashed in his cloak like the countless pouches, maybe in my own pouch. A breeze carried the scent of rubbish into my face. While leaning over to gag a plastic bag slapped me in the face. ( Forgotten after a trip to the beach. It had my wet bathing suit in it, but that is long gone now. ) Over the next hour I realized just how wasteful and terrible I was. I tried to rush and hurry through each item, but my emotions demanded to be felt. Each item was a painful reminder of life long gone for me, and I mourned for each cigarette smoked after a lovers' quarrel and burger eaten with friends that have long since disappeared, and a Jade that was no longer real. Luckily for me I lost or threw out plenty of plastic bags. After a mound of plastic bags as wide as I was tall was formed I glanced at the clock. 45 minutes had passed and the green ticks were well behind the hour hand's progress. I caught myself absently petting my knee before I realized that it did n't hurt. After twenty years of ACL pain and almost an hour of standing and bending and kneeling, it was fine. I marveled for a moment and remembered that I was dead. That sobering thought put me immediately back to work, and hard. After the first three hours under the blazing sun I gave up on sanitation and drank three bottles of water I found ( Forgotten after a paintball outing in the woods, Nick was there with his new girlfriend, and all I had was Donny. ) Eventually I found a snow shovel ( left behind the gas station after going on a drunken adventure with Laura and her strawberry flavored lips. ) I used it to move the trash more effectively towards and then into a dumpster ( stolen from a school and pushed into the lake to mark my 17th birthday ) and managed to finish while the sun was still high in the sky, but the sun would always be high in the sky here. It had to always be that way to make me pay for the awful sin of littering and forgetfulness. With a roll o my eyes I pulled out my watch and read the time. The hour hand was very close to the 5 but the green ticks were clear up to the 6. `` Indeed Miss Jade,'' the cloaked man stood next to me, carefully placing something in his cloak with his left hand. `` Small crimes are less time consuming to commit, and often whole lives can be rectified with a day spent on a street.'' I could n't hold his gaze so I looked around. I spotted a small street sign Next to the dumpster. `` Jade Way.'' it read. `` Whats next Mr. Marley?'' I imitated his snide accent. `` That is up to you. I was merely sent to remind you to hurry.'' He replied, either not noticing my jab or not caring. I shoved the watch in his face `` It says I'm ahead of schedule. I need a rest.'' I huffed. `` It is best not to procrastinate. Although these transgressions were more simple than indicated others can be much more difficult.'' The watch beeped again and the button appeared. `` I'm tired of these tedious tasks. Lets do something bigger.'' I pushed the button with all my power. `` Suddenly I felt the jerking feeling travel up my arm and into my chest. This time there was enough power to make me taste bile in my mouth. What ever made me immune to muscle soreness and old injuries apparently did n't transcend to my gag reflex. The first thing I noticed was that it was cold. I had slammed my eyes shut when the nausea hit and for a moment I did n't want to open them. The coldness was a particular nostalgia that I did n't want to re-experience. `` Mizz Jade.'' The cloaked man said biting the s's into z's. `` Open your eyes and pay your debt.'' `` No.'' I spat through gritted teeth. `` You must. Otherwise you are committing a much worse misdeed.'' His ever present calm was infuriating. `` Just drag me to hell already.'' I shrugged. `` If it were that simple hell would be over populated and I would be employed.'' My eyes were firmly shut but I heard a small bubbling cry. The cry was for attention and not out of need, but she knew that was about to change. `` What do you mean? What could be worse than this?'' `` You will live a thousand lives, and each moment will be filled with the agonizing cries of your loved ones as you rend the flesh from their bones and salt the wounds. You will drown your grandchildren and you will suffocate your lovers. Every person you touch will know your crimes and in the end you will still open your eyes and you will walk into that room and you will correct the folly you committed.'' He said it all in his maddening monotone, but each word was clipped and the edge cut through my heart and into my soul. I opened my eyes but could n't move. The hotel's waiting room and its furniture were the same tired shades of peach that they were that night, and windows were filled with criminally bright sunlight. I walked into through the manager's office and into my room. The cries intensified, now needing attention. I saw myself slumped in the corner, a needle in my arm. Baby Donny sat crying in his playpen next to me. He was rocking the playpen back and forth. The TV wobbled as the playpen hit it on each pass, but Donny was far too tiny to make it fall. I watched my body start to seize as I started to overdose 25 years ago. The TV began to fall into the playpen when my younger head slammed into the corner with full force. My hands were already out to catch it, but it went through them and slammed into Baby Donny. I stood in shock unsure if I could scream. `` Indeed Miss Jade. Serious crimes can rarely be rectified.''
[ WP ] A new continent the size of Midwestern America appears out of nowhere in the center of the Atlantic ( somehow ) . It is hospitable to life despite being born mere days ago .	We stood there, mouths agape, as the land rose from the depths of the sea. We did n't understand what was happening - or how - and nor did the experts that stood with us. And, so, we watched it happen together in silence. On the decks of the USS F. F.A, we watched the landform surge to the sky as if Satan's own fist had broken through. Soon, the public arrived. Helicopters buzzed overhead, and above them, light airplanes circled the skies. Every man and their dog came to see the new continent, dubbed simply'Continent A' by the imaginativeness press. But before too long, so did the rest of the US military. Over a dozen warships, an aircraft carrier, and helicopters in their hundreds took to securing the area, and the public was soon whisked away. I did n't sleep that night - I simply could n't. So I was awake when the ground rumbled, the sea stopped churning, and the new continent began to slow in its ascent until it moved no more. - A call came over the radio early the next morning. The order had been given to explore the mysterious continent, and the lucky participants had been the sailors of my vessel. Boats were prepared, battle dress pulled out of closets, weapons locked and loaded, and prayers said. We were going to be prepared; no matter what might lay upon that continent. And, at 0600, the group arrived. 20 sailors, aboard 3 boats, were the first humans to step on Continent A. No one saw, though - the early morning mist had covered our arrival, as well much of the island, hindering both our view and the view of the helicopters scouting ahead. Quite literally, we were going in dark. We had no idea what to expect when we arrived at the top of the cliff, but no one saw what we did coming. Instead of dirt, or maybe some sand, we discovered a beautiful, habitable, oasis. The ground was grass, and as the fog started to lift, we saw trees in the distance. A freshwater pool. Even what looked like to be plant life. It made no sense to anyone. The exploration lasted all day. Guns were drawn at all times, and we stayed in our squads, moving together like a well-oiled machine. There were to be no surprises. But we saw no dangers or signs of life, so we instead documented what we saw and as night came, we sent them through to the team onboard the temporary ship for the geomorphologists. They were to come in the morning, and to ensure their security, we were staying the night. Fires were lit, and songs were sung. We were in a cheery mode, and through that, we put our guard down. And as a result, not one eyebrow was raised when a mist rolled in late that evening and we begun to fall asleep. ***** A reply by /u/TheDrunkTypist. Constructive criticism is encouraged and appreciated. /u/CosmicIce05, went away from the original prompt a little bit. Hope it's still okay.
[ WP ] You 're the world 's best photographer . Your secret ? You can freeze time . You last photo brings some suspicion up .	`` Fuck the haters.'' `` It's more than just haters, Chloe. This one's listing all the reasons I could n't have taken the shot with my equipment.'' `` So?'' `` So they're right! There's no way I could have taken it normally.'' `` It's a Tumblr post, Max. No one takes those seriously.'' `` What if someone does? My entire career would be gone. Everything I suffered for would have been for nothing just because someone thought I was using Photoshop.'' `` Oh, so, now I'm nothing?'' `` That's not --'' `` Forget it. Look, if it scares you that much, just go back and write a note saying not to use the photo.'' `` You know I hate doing that.'' `` Yeah, but if it gets blown out of proportion, you'll end up doing it anyway. Better to go back a week than a month or a year, right?'' Max sighed. Chloe was right. She grabbed the photo and started to focus on it...
An erotic story , but replace any sexual nouns and verbs with Pokémon or Pokémon attacks . [ CW ]	She did n't look like her Craigslist photo. That was the first thing I noticed when she slid into the chair beside me. `` Looks like somebody told Jigglypuff to use Minimize,'' I said. She looked up from her menu, eyebrows raised. `` Really? That's what you choose to open with?'' `` Hey,'' I said, holding up my arms, `` I'm just not a fan of deception.'' Her eyebrows rose further, even as her gaze travelled downward. `` Unless you're keeping a Sudowodo in your pants,'' she said, `` I'd say you seem pretty content.'' I smiled. A girl with attitude was better than a thousand models. But still I had to give her some grief. I reached over and folded her menu closed, then leaned close and whispered conspiratorially, `` Every Sudowoodo needs a good Rock Polish.'' `` I would n't want to give a speed boost to someone who's already Swift enough,'' she shot back, grabbing her menu. `` Oof,'' I said, feigning a stab to the heart. `` But you know what they say about Swift—it does n't miss.'' I swear her eyebrows were buried in her hair at this point, but she was smiling back, so it was n't all bad. `` I'd hope you would n't miss,'' she said. `` But even if you do n't, it wo n't matter if all I get is a little Splash.'' I was enjoying this far too much. But then, so was she. `` You think you're dealing with a Magikarp?'' I laughed. `` They call me Onix when I Bind them, and Gyarados when I Hydro Pump.'' She set her menu down and looked me straight in the eye. `` I've heard all that before,'' she said. `` Sounds like a Yawn.'' `` You could always make it a Lovely Kiss instead,'' I said, leaning forward with an idiotic grin. `` And if you want me to wake up, you can always play my Poke Flute.'' I winked aggressively, sure that I was getting on her nerves now. She only sighed. `` Waiter!''
[ WP ] You travel back in time to the 1900 's , you take your tablet out of your rucksack only to find that there is a WiFi hotspot nearby labeled `` If you can see this , turn back . `` .	The best kind of science is done in a basement or garage by unprofessional hobbyists without any funding and, of course, it always goes horribly wrong and the work is never published. The atom bomb was nothing compared to the shrink ray, the inter-planetary teleporter, or ( especially ) the time machine. The invention of time travel on Earth ( and you know humans could n't possibly be the first or the last species to do it ) was naturally followed by the following statement: `` My God, what have we done?'' as the realization of its implications settled into the mind of poor Doctor Rhineholdt, whose morality operated solely in hindsight, like any good professor turned rogue scientist. His button pushing lackey Jeff, a student of his who has less to do with constructing the machine than the wire coat hangers which held the portal's metal frame together, manifested a simple `` Woah!'' when the doorway to another time opened before his very eyes. The year was 1900, and Times Square was not Times Square at all. It was Longacre Square, but that's not important. The visage of its short, dull-looking buildings peeked through the large metal ring of the time machine mounted on the classroom wall. Despite the oppressive night robbing the room of light in 2014, 1900 New York was brightly lit by the midday sun. `` Fascinating...'' muttered Rhineholdt, abandoning his moral obligations for a moment and allowing himself to be awe-struck by his own genius. Jeff stepped straight through the portal as a child would step into a bouncy castle. With adventure in his eyes and a total ignorance of the laws of time travel he had just been briefed over by Rhineholdt, Jeff stepped into the past and brazenly announced himself to whoever was in earshot. `` I am Jeff, from the twenty first century! Fear not, I have come back in time to learn, not conquer!'' Nobody was near enough to hear Jeff, and Rhineholdt stepped through in pursuit. `` Hush up Jeff or you'll cause a paradox. I have no idea what might come of that! We need to be careful. In fact, I think we should go home and shut this thing down.'' But Jeff was n't listening. He had already whipped out his Popular Brand of smartphone and was taking pictures of everything. Had anybody seen this strange pair and their marvelous glowing doorway of light standing in the middle of Longacre Square, they might have taken notice. It might be something you hear about on the history channel as an unexplained mystery. It might even be used as the clinching piece of evidence in a conspiracy theory proving once and for all that our cats are seeking world domination. Fortunately for all humanity we were spared of these injustices by the fortunate timing of their arrival. It was probably Christmas, or a Sunday. They never bothered to check. `` Hey Doctor R, what do you think their wifi password is?'' joked Jeff, fully unaware of this sentence's abusive alliteration. `` Its called'If you can see this, turn back.' Haha, classic. I'm putting that on Facebook or something.'' `` Wifi? That's ridiculous!'' asserted Dr R. `` Let me see that thing.'' He handled the phone like any technologically handicapped university professor, and had no idea what he was looking at. After a moment of frustration, he gave it back, requesting that Jeff `` find the source of that signal.'' Working in a manner befit of the most professional action movie hero, Jeff attended to his phone, seeking the signal and wandering around the streets with great haste. He eventually led his professor to the front of Tod and Sons General Goods Store and, ignoring the wifi hotspot's message and all common sense, entered the store. Within, the sight they found was astonishing: Jeff, operating his phone as a mobile wifi hotspot. `` Dude!'' shouted both Jeffs simultaneously. `` Best prank ever!'' They proceeded to high-five eachother, and guaranteed the ire of their professor for the remainder of the semester.
[ WP ] People never meet their soulmate until at some point in their lives both individuals are instantaneously transported to the same random location on earth .	The tempest billowed around me, pulsing with rage and power and strength. `` Sophie!'' I cried out, raising my arms to protect my eyes from the gale. Through the screaming of the whirlwind, I could barely hear her faint answer. `` Nathan! I ca n't get through!'' Desperately I struggled for a way out, but it was to no avail; with the wind buffeting at me from all directions I could barely keep my feet as it was. Again and again I threw myself forward towards her voice, hoping to make some kind of ground. `` Nathan! I can see you! Keep on going, you're almost there!'' `` Sophie!'' I shouted, reaching out through the hurricane towards where I could faintly make out her silhouette. `` Soph, I'll come back! I promise!'' Then the savage winds rose up again, stronger than ever before, wild and ferocious, and I could do nothing but simply surrender myself to them. ~~~~~ You see, in this world, people always end up with their soulmate. There's no way around it, it always happens. It's fate. When it does happen, it happens fast. We find ourselves taken away in an instant, to some distant place where we meet them and there's no way to know when or where it will happen. Apparently nobody ever meets their soulmate before, though I do n't know why. For some people it happens in a flash of light, for others it happens in the blink of an eye. I've even heard about instances where a hole opens up in the ground and swallows them up. For me? Well of course it would have to be me who gets their own personal hurricane, and of course it would have to be at the exact moment I tried to propose. The problem is, you see, that Sophie and I have been dating for years now. Not many people date, seeing as you always end up with the girl of your dreams anyway, but when we met, we fell in love instantly. Even though we both know that someday it's going to happen to us too, when you're so in love it does n't matter. I do n't think that I could ever meet a girl who I will love more than I love Sophie. I'm willing to wait for her for as long as it takes, and I'm willing to fight for her, to defy destiny itself. Because I reckon we should fight for what we want rather than just take what we're supposed to have. ~~~~~ The tender trilling of birdsong chimes gently around, and I slowly pull myself out of the depths of slumber, into the waking world. Soft green leaves rustle in the breeze overhead, and birds flit to and fro between branches, glimmering in the afternoon light. The lush grass crunches under my feet as I tentatively take my first steps into this foreign, beautiful world. From somewhere nearby emanates the gentle gurgle of some delightful stream or brook; I head towards the source of the noise. Anything could happen, anything at all, but my thoughts drift back to Sophie. Sophie, whom I left behind, Sophie, whom I will go back to. Somehow I feel strangely detached, somewhat ethereal, as if I'm floating, soundlessly, through the trees. This is it - this is the moment that I've dreaded my entire life. Suddenly, I see her. It was as if she had appeared out of nowhere; the trees end unexpectedly and give way to an open glade, and there she stands on the bank of the stream, facing away from me, towards the water. In that instant, my heart simply blossoms in complete, utter happiness. She stands there, illuminated in the dappled golden glow, which splays itself through the trees and over her, shining across her like some kind of radiant halo. Her auburn hair sways gently in the soft zephyr that meanders past, settling itself over that old, worn out baby blue cardigan that was her present all those years ago. I know then that I have won - we have won. We have beaten fate, and we have chosen our own destinies. Somehow, we had to meet each other, needed each other to make each other into the people that we were meant for, the people that we are now. Soulmates. I know she has n't heard me yet; she's still looking out over the stream. So, with a smile of pure joy on my face, I reach out a hand and softly call her name. `` Hey, Sophie.''
[ WP ] Elf On The Shelf - Horror Story	The littlest one knows about me. She wo n't come into the den anymore. She cries a lot whenever the mom tries to read that silly book. I'll have to deal with her first. They might start believing her. Or maybe I'll wake her up again tonight, crack her real good, get her sent to the nuthouse. That'd be rich. No. No. Quiet. Calm. Collected. I ca n't let the adults know. Little Maisy will just have to be Crazy Maisy. They wo n't believe a six year old. I never should have talked to her. I was bored. What can I say? The dog is becoming a problem too. Stupid, yappy little Pomeranian. I could use antifreeze. I remember something about that. But the garage is a long way off and I've already messed up the stitching in my leg after that midnight chat with that girl that will soon be the youngest resident at Bellevue. I'm going stir crazy. That's my problem. It's only one more week. One more week and they'll pack up that ugly Volvo and head to Colorado for Christmas vacation. One week. I can handle a week. It's nothing compared to Port au Prince in July. Or that week in Java with no running water or that ayahuasca `` shaman'' from Santa Fe. Six lifetimes, fourteen fetishes, and this is where I end up. Arkansas. This godforsaken suburb. This ugly paneled den. What would my teacher think of me now? Well. Who cares. She's dead. I took care of her three lifetimes in. She taught me all I needed to know. Find something, anything, humanoid in appearance, fracture the soul, work the rites, stay alive. Above all else... stay alive. Fire is the enemy. Destruction of the fetish is destruction of the soul. Rule number 1, she told me. It was all I had. I was bleeding out in a warehouse. The little sets were ready to go. I hate Christmas. So of course it had to be Christmas. It does n't matter. One week. I just hate the waiting. If the father and mother were n't so fat and decrepit I would just take them tonight, one of them, in their sleep. I have n't been a woman in a while, that would be nice. No. No children either. The mind does n't take to it well. I have to wait. The house-sitter is coming in one week. Young, strapping lad. Bit stupid but it's not his mind I need. Just the body. He'll do fine. I'll take him while he's sleeping, probably here on their ugly sofa. Yes. Here. First chance I get. Maybe he's a naughty boy. That would be so rich, would n't it? Would n't that be great? Tsk. Tsk. Such a naughty boy. On the wrong list. Time to go, James. Santa's Littlest Helper is ready to make the jump again and feel the warm touch of skin. You'll be fine. I just stay here. On the mantle. Smiling. Just keep smiling. One more week.
[ WP ] Time Travel is possible , but every time someone successfully builds a time machine , they are first transported to a hub where all time travelers convene . A scientist uses his time machine for the first time .	Mack inhaled deeply as he stared at the ignition switch. `` Moment of truth. Ok, here we go,'' as he reached up and flipped the switch to the ON position. **CLICK** Nothing happened. Mack furrowed his brow and flipped the switch back and forth several times. `` Stupid cheap parts,'' he muttered under his breath. After several minutes of checking the fittings and electrical connections, he flipped the ignition switch again. The primary motor started whirring, as the instruments came to life. The gyro-maintainer started glowing with an iridescent light. He carefully calibrated his input mix levels and locked them in place. With trembling hands, he unlocked and flipped the switch marked `` INITIATE''. The whole world turned a brilliant blinding white light. Mack felt a distinct nausea as the prototype time machine leapt one minute into the future. When the light subsided, he looked around at his laboratory. Wait... this is n't the lab. This is n't... wait... where is this? WHEN is this? He was in a small, nondescript office. An old, haggard couch that looked like it had seen better days sat against one of the walls. He looked over and saw a small glass window with a large sign under it with the printed words '' PLEASE SIGN IN'' on it. Behind the glass was an elderly woman with horn-rimmed glasses and an exceedingly bored look on her face. She scowled at Mack. Unsure of what had just happened, he decided to approach the woman. He had carefully rehearsed the sequence of words and actions in the event he found himself in an unfamiliar spacetime. He slowly walked up to the window, holding his hands out in front of him to show that he meant no harm. `` Hello, I come in peace. I have traveled from --'' '' Name, please,'' she interrupted him, handing him a clipboard with several sheets of paper. `` Oh. Um... Mack. Mack Tanner.'' '' Please fill out the form and have a seat Mr. Tanner,'' she replied in a I've-been-doing-this-too-damn-long voice. She turned to her computer terminal. '' What's your ID number? `` Mack fumbled for a moment as he looked down at the clipboard then back up at the scowling woman. `` I, uh, I do n't think I have an --'' Before he could finish, she sighed and shoved several more forms through the window at him. '' You'll need to register for an ID number if you're a first time transient. `` Mack picked up the additional forms and sat down with them on the couch. The elderly woman quickly ignored him and went back to typing on her computer. He struggled to comprehend what was happening to him. The woman behind the window had clearly been expecting him. The forms asked him to supply information that was definitely related to travel through spacetime. He squinted at the forms. Amateur or Professional? He guessed amateur. Active historical alteration or passive observation? Passive, he supposed. `` Um... ma'am? I do n't have a make or model for my vehicle. I made it myself.'' '' Just write N/A in those blocks,'' she replied without even looking up at him. After half an hour, he finished filling out the forms and walked back up to the window. He handed her the papers, which she proceeded to process with alarming speed. She typed furiously at her computer while stamping the documents with a loud KER-CHUNK. She then handed him a sticker with a long serial number. '' Please affix this to the exterior of your vehicle in a visible location. `` He picked up the sticker and placed it on the side of the prototype. '' Have a nice day, and welcome to the Earth Hub. `` She intoned in a bored voice as she motioned him towards the exit. Mack slowly opened the door and found himself in a giant open room. Its whitewashed walls were a vast difference from the dark, dingy office he found himself in moments before. The room was filled with glittering signs advertising everything from fast food to wholesale parts. Large floating billboards offered scenic views of historical events, some recognizable other were unfamiliar. The commotion was added to by thousands of people, dressed in various attire moving throughout the hub. The din of the crowd was occasionally punctuated by a loudspeaker announcing various departures and arrivals. Mack squinted as he tried to make sense of this strange, unfamiliar landscape he found himself in. Before he had a chance to react, he was approached by an African man who spoke in a thick accent. '' Hello sir, are you familiar with Shaka Zulu tours? Only the finest tourist trips throughout 18th and 19th century Africa and Europe. `` `` Oh, um, no I was actually looking for --'' '' Forget about them! `` he interrupted, '' Come with me. I will show you the magnificent events of the Zulu people, all from within our air-conditioned and luxurious vehicles. Only two-hundred credits! `` Mack fumbled, `` I, uh, do n't have any credits. And I do n't want to go anywhere. I'm just trying to go back to my lab.'' The man quickly pulled out some brochures and handed them to Mack, '' Please consider us in the future. `` before heading off to find another potential customer. Mack glanced down at the brochures. Tourism? Africa? He was beginning to gain a clearer picture that his time-travel experiment was not particularly groundbreaking in this place. He glanced around at the mass of people traveling to and fro throughout the hub. Wherever THIS PLACE is...
[ WP ] [ Established Universe ] Write a short story that takes place at any point during the trilogy if a different member of the Fellowship had somehow acquired the One Ring .	The harsh laugh rang out across the clearing and woke Frodo from his sleep in an instant, as his hand wrapped around his trusty blade. Time on the road had sharpened Frodo's instincts, and the laugh had sounded far to similar to that of an orc, albeit a small one, for comfort. But when Frodo opened his eyes, all he saw was the hobbit Pippin, the Ring shining out on his finger. `` Pippin what're you doing! Take that off!'' Frodo shouted, his voice full of panic. Sauron would already know exactly where they were, and according to Gandalf it would n't be long before Sauron would begin exerting his influence. Frodo began to move toward his fellow hobbit when Pippin's face turned to meet his. Frodo stepped back in shop: he had never seen Pippin look so disdainful. `` Ringbearer. Or should I say former Ringbearer? Your resilience has been impressive but annoying: death will not be pleasant for you.'' The voice was unmistakably Pippin's, but with layers of cruelty and contempt that Frodo had never heard there before. By now the rest of the camp had awoken, and was regarding Pippin warily. All except Merry, who rushed forward moments after Pippin stopped speaking, crying out in concern `` Pip what's wrong wi...'' Merry's voiced suddenly cut off as Pippin moved with blinding speed, appearing before Merry with a flash of silver as his blade swung in a long arc and cleanly decapitated his best friend. '' Head of a Hobbit, removed by their Love. Cleanly severed. `` Frodo heard Merry's voice grow even more cold and dark as he said these word, and a dull malevolent pressure settled over the woods. `` Stay behind me.'' Boromir settled defensively in front of Frodo and Sam. `` Whatever is in the body is not your friend any more.'' Frodo could only nod numbly as he watched Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn circle Merry, who seemed unconcerned with the three great warriors surrounding him. Legolas quietly nocked three arrows, pain crossing his face for a moment before releasing them. Frodo barely followed what happened next, it all moved so quickly: Merry seemed to reach up with a fingerand... touch? tap?... the arrows that Logolas fired, and then Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli were all on the ground, arrows sticking out of their foreheads. Frodo watched Merry smile, and disappear, accompanied by a sick crunching noise. He appeared again moment later, holding three short pale pink rods in his hands. '' Bone of Man, Dwarf, and Elf, bound by friendship beyond all chance. Crushed fine. `` Merry face took on a look of twisted delight as he began to crush what Frodo now realized was bone from the Fellow: the desecrated bodies of his friend lay where they died, now with matching holes in their right arms. As Merry crushed the bones Frodo felt the malevolent pressure in the air, barely present before, escalate rapidly. Frodo felt his body growing cold and weary, and struggled to keep his sword lifted. Merry then turned toward Boromir, smiling sickly. `` I'm already feeling a return to form. Your body is n't one I need for the Ritual, let's see how it's progressing.'' Merry held up his hand, still glowing with the power of the Ring, and a flash of shadow shot across the clearing. Frodo watched in horror as Boromir suddenly screamed, molten melten suddenly streaming from his eyes, ears and mouth, before the scream cut off suddenly only moments later, leaving only a flaming corpse where the man had stood. Followed almost immediately by an flash of light, revealing Gandalf's form brandishing staff and sword. `` What dark presence dare cast such foul magic...'' Gandalf cried, before his eyes took in the scene before him and his voice trailed off. `` Fool of a Took! Remove that ring at once!'' Gandalf's voice, filled with anger and thunder, boomed across the clearing. The wizard was already in movement across the clearing, staff brandished in front of him. However, as he swung his hand around to grab Merry's, he froze. Frodo saw as Gandalf's eyes meet Merry's, followed by the most shocked expression Frodo had ever seen on him appearing on the old man's face. `` Peregrin Took! Wipe that expression of your face and take off that ring!'' Gandfalf's voice held a note of Power Frodo had n't heard before, but the tone itself was one of utter defeat. `` You have no power here any more, Gandalf the Grey.'' The voice was unmistakably Pippin's, but with far more hatred than Frodo had heard in it until now, something he thought impossible. `` You were a fool to keep wearing that elvish trinket on your finger, when its master was so nearby, waiting for a foolish hobbit to spend far, far too long out on an invisible prank. And as you well know, the price for such foolishness is death.'' Merry smiled beatifically, looking for just a moment like his old self, before plunging his hand with ferocity deep into Gandfalf's chest, then ripped out his heart. '' The heart of an Maiar, forcibly taken after all hope has been lost. Consumed whole. Merry's voice rang out cold, while his mouth opening wider and wider, far wider than it should have been able to, until he finally plunged the whole heart down his throat. Frodo felt the oppressive weight multiply endlessly, surrounding him in a symphony of darkness and depression. Which was just the way things should be. There was no hope, no warmth or light, that would ever matter any more. The end was here, and Frodo knew it beyond any shadow of a doubt. The only thing left in this world was pain, an overwhelming pain that could only be relieved by the sweet nothing of death. It really would just be easier to end it now, would n't it. Yes, why go through all that pain when he could just end it now? Frodo smiled as he moved the blade in his hands to his own throat, feeling the sharp edge cut into his own sin. He smiled at the sensation: it felt good to hurt himself. Really good. Oh look, Sam realized the same thing. Yes, nothing had ever felt as good as bathing in blood... The Dark Lord Sauron spared only a small grin for the corpses of the two hobbits before letting his corruption begin to spread. The resistance of this world would be no match in this benighted era. `` Let the Fourth Age begin''
[ OT ] Sunday Free Write - FireWitch 's First	Welcome to the city of Paris, formerly the city of love and of lights. But as of now, the love has become half-hearted, and the lights are now gone. The city, its streets, and its many alleyways are shrouded in darkness, a fitting cover considering what they contain. Each corner is occupied by a courtesan ready to offer her services, and each alleyway filled with addicts as well as well-dressed recreational users, who are so consumed by the world granted to them by their alcohol and drugs, that they have simply given up on their real life. The city itself is consumed by drugs. But then again, so is the rest of France.. And indeed the rest of the world. The year is 1880, and our story starts not in the alleyways nor in the brothels, but in a small two-story estate in one of the richer parts of Paris. Its front garden is unkept, weeds and grass fighting over domination, and the windows are tinted black. Whatever light remains at this late hour, is unable to penetrate the thick glass. At a first glance you would assume it was abandoned. But alas, that would have been better for it. Instead, it houses one of Paris' most valued watchmen, a former detective who had left the force in order to pursue a life of alcohol. This man is no other than Marc Letrosque. Fourty-two years old, and now nothing more than a shadow of his former self. He sits in an armchair, just below the largest window in his lounge. The room is barely lit, the only lightsource coming from a candle lit by the hallway door. He has his left hand wrapped around his last bottle of absinthe, the other bottles scattered around the living room, where they lie either broken or intact, but alas, all empty. He uncorks the bottle with his teeth and spits out the cork onto the floor. While lifts the bottle up to his lips, his head tilts back before takes a long sip, quickly withdrawing the bottle as he starts to cough rather heavily. After it starts to go away, he closes his eyes and leans his head back against the armchair, listening intensively to the heavy drops of rain hitting the window. Mere moments later the absinthe kicks in, and like lightning in the sky, the darkness is suddenly replaced by a bright green light. The dark wooden floor being replaced by dirt and patches of grass, walls turning into trees and the ceiling into an open night sky with thousands of stars decorating it. He looks around with joy in his eyes, looking at each of the trees that surround him. They go as far as the eye can see, as if to resemble a high and thick wall. But then again, that's what they are. He starts to spin around and around on his feet until he falls backwards onto the ground, where he stares up at the night sky, his eyes darting from one star to another. He reaches out a hand, attempting to grab one of them, and to his amazement he manages to do so. He pulls it close towards himself, admiring the silvery orb that gently floats ontop of his chest. He continues to stare at it for what feels like an eternity before he deeply exhales, the orb being blown away from him. It escapes back up into the sky, where it bursts like a bubble and leaves a single drop of water. The rest of the stars across the sky quickly follows until a tidal wave starts to come down from above. He is unable to move, his body having partially sunk into the ground. He raises his arms in front of his head, bracing himself for the force of the wave, but to no avail. It hits him with its full strength, burying him beneath the water where he left, gasping for air. His eyes start to close as darkness consumes him one more. His heart pounds loudly like fists knocking on a wooden door.- He gasps once more for air, finding himself lying on the ground infront of his armchair, staring up at the ceiling. The window is open, rainwater pooling around him. Going from the size of the pool, it seems like he has been out for atleast an hour. His suspicions are confirmed as the clock strikes nine. His eyes go wide as the pounding starts again, only this time it is clear that it comes from the front door. He gets up rather hastily, not seeming to care about the mess nor the fact that his entire backside is soaked beyond measure. He unlocks the door and swings it open. Only to stare out into the darkness of the streets. He walked out, looking around in his garden with slight disappointment, but also a sense of respect. Whoever had been knocking on his door had managed to disappear within seconds. Turning around in order to go back to sleep, Marc spots the letter that has been hanging from the outside door handle. He grabs it and walks inside, shedding himself of his wet clothing before throwing it into the basket near the door. He moves up the staircase, grasping the railing tightly. Each step squeaks when pressure is applied onto it, much to his constant annoyance.. He drunkenly stumbles towards his bedroom door, opening it and slamming it shut. His eyes start to shut as he nears the bed. He stops as he hears a whistle, like an arrow flying through the air, before feeling a sharp pain in his neck, which quickly disappears. He collapses onto the floor next to the bed, getting knocked out cold before he even hits the ground. What Marc had failed to notice was the figure in the corner of the room who had been standing behind the door, waiting patiently for him. It had a blow dart in its hand and poisoned darts in the other, both of which are quickly put away. The figure moves towards Marc, who sleeps soundly on the floor. It grabs the letter and very carefully opening it, making sure not to make any tears or smudges. It lights a candle and places it on the desk, along with the letter, before it pulls out a clean piece of white parchment and a pen. It kneels down, peering closely at the writing before it copies it word for word, making sure not to make any mistakes. As it finishes, it quickly stuffs the original parchment back into the letter, and then proceeds to heat the wax seal up again with the flame from the candle, resealing the letter. It then stuffs the fake back into one of its many pockets and places the real one back into Marc's loose grasp. __________________________________________________________ If you're reading this, thank you for sticking around! This was the introduction to my historical fiction novel that I am currently writing called The Masquerade Murder, which takes place during the great binge ( 1870-1913 ) in Paris, France. If you have any critique, comments or praise, feel free to send it my way!
[ WP ] In the mud by the pier the boys sat .	`` I ca n't go home.'' James swung his legs over the brick wall, kicking muddy wellies against the grey stone. `` What do you mean?'' Ben squinted at him. The sunlight was kind of grey, the beach was kind of grey, the sand was kind of grey. Two boys sat in the mud by the end of the pier, kicking their legs and wondering if ten o'clock in the morning was too early to buy ice-creams. Ben held tightly in his hands the prize crabbing-net that had been his father's, while James had brought a bright red bucket that matched the scarf his anxious mother had wrapped tightly around his neck before he left the house. `` He does n't want me there.'' Ben sighed with all the magnanimous wisdom that his ten-year old self could muster. The him that James was referring to was his mother's second husband, a man with all the strength and charisma of a particularly grumpy and short-sighted bullock. `` He's not so bad.'' `` He is!'' James scowled and kicked his wellies harder. `` He does n't like it when I play loudly. He says it gives Mother headaches.'' The scowl deepened. `` She never got headaches when Daddy was here.'' `` Where has your Daddy gone?'' Ben knew where his Daddy had gone. He'd put on a very smart outfit, and he'd kissed Mother goodbye, and he'd even tried to kiss Ben goodbye, only Ben had squirmed something awful because he was ten and ten year olds did n't get kissed. That had made Mother cry. She'd cried and cried and cried for days. `` I do n't know. But Mother says I have to call him Daddy and I do n't want to.'' Ben did his best to set a rock skimming across the surface of the water. It sank immediately. `` Huh.'' He said. `` Would you look at that.'' `` You need a bit of practice.'' `` Most likely.'' There was silence for a moment. `` Want to go crabbing?'' `` Yes, please.'' And, for the time being, He was forgotten.
( CW ) Write a story blindfolded .	I am on a train. I'm somewhere south of where I've started from. I hope. We have n't yet gathered enough speed to have left the city proper though, the train sways too much with its many turns and we're not going fast enough either. I hear the other passengers talkig in the background. You know what they always say about how taking one sense away sharpens the others. Well, that's not much use if you travel in a country where you do n't speak the language. I can tell very well they're talking, byut what they're talking about, maybe about the odd man typing at a keyboard not visually connected to anything while blindfolded, I could n't say. A stop. Not mine, I know that, I should be on this thing for a good 2 hours and we ca n't have been moving more than 10. It is odd how much your sense of tie is linked to visual input though. I would like to run a test and just blindfold myself on such a journey that can last a day, or more. Maybe a blindfolded siberian express. I understand it's a visually compelling journey, for the first 2 days. After that it is much the same, tundra, tundra, tundra. If I run this experiment here I might miss my stop and I am afrai I am not yet a fancy writer that get's paid enough to just write blindly on trains. Instead I do actually have to be somewhere. Business or pleasure you might ask? Family, so bit of both I suppose.My presence over newyear was greatly desired and when I arrive ( sometime early tomorrow, I'm afraid these two hours are just the beginning of this trip ) I will get to sit around with these peope for 4 days. After intense rpessure for me to show up there is n't anything actually planned, it seems.Me and 4 people, none of the eple of my generation have seemed to manage to convince their partners o join them on this trip An ominous sign, if there was one to read into this. My family is... normal 2 parents, one of each gender, 3 kids, both genders represented. We were born, went to school, university and all got the fuck out of dodge. I am the first to return to the continent, which should tell you something, but I'm still 3 countries over. The other two had to cross oceans to be there tomorow. I'm afraid I ca n't tell you the conclusion of this story, it is only just beginning. But hope, with great fiery hope, that there is n't anything worth telling next week. 67
[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 26 : World Building	Inquisitor Klane H ’ Loe of the Pax Malshi sat in front of the mirror in his private chambers carefully applying the eyeliner of his station. He had chosen orange today for several reasons: first, he liked the color, and second, orange was considered a sign of anger and war to the elves. His hope was to place the elf on the defensive the moment he stepped into the room, automatically putting him in the position of authority. The third reason was that, when done properly, the eyeliner gave him a piercing, unnatural gaze that made it appear as if he could see through towards any hidden truths. Satisfied with his work, he walked over to his dresser and began pulling out his vestments and putting them on. First the white robe, symbolizing truth and purity; then the black outer robe with red trim, symbolizing falsehood and lies; then came the golden cope, symbolizing the holy and beautiful nature of the goddess Malshi. All together it symbolized the purpose of his station: using the strength provided by Malshi, he would push through the lies and deceit and discover the pure truth underneath; once that was removed, it would render the subject naked, and without further defenses. Smiling to himself one more time in the mirror, he gently opened the door and stepped through. Another inquisitor, Jaal, stood waiting for him in similar dress, his face concealed behind a plane, white mask with vague human features. Jaal was neither aid, nor assistant to Klane; he was the true force behind an Inquisition. Klane was the face, the interrogator, and Jaal ’ s handler. At a word from Klane, Jaal could forcibly extract any truths desired from an unwilling subject. Subjects with weak constitution were often known to die while under the effects of a Full Inquisition, thus rendering Jaal a last resort for the more stubborn. As he walked gracefully down the halls, his simple slippers shuffling quietly on the carpeted floor, Klane contemplated the reason for the Church being called into this issue. A local merchant, Paul Klinestone, had accused an elf, Bran Leafsong ( known thief and serial assaulter ) for stealing a roll of very expensive cloth that was slated to be sold at a Lord ’ s Market in two weeks. Bran denied the accusations, Paul insisted, and the Church had been called in to moderate the issue. They were, and always had been, a neutral third party whose sole purpose was to discover the truth, not to lay blame. At the end of the hall, Klane nodded to a priest in simple brown robes. The priest nodded back and then glanced behind Klane at Jaal. He began to visibly sweat before he muttered, “ E. Bran Leafsong is in Room One, Your Excellency. ” Klane smiled down at the priest and gently placed his hand on the man ’ s shoulder, “ And the merchant? ” “ Room two. ” “ Have either have them talked? ” “ No, Your Excellency, ” the priest said as he again glanced at Jaal and fidgeted nervously. Klane smiled knowingly. The Inquisitors, the real Inquisitors were a site to behold. They looked human enough, as should be expected, but their particular talents for extracting truth had caused him personally to vomit 3 times the first time he had seen it. A hand composed entirely of filaments that punctured eyes, ears, nose, mouth, anywhere access to the brain could be granted…it was unsettling. He leaned in and whispered to the priest, “ The Inquisitor is not a wild beast. He will not harm you without orders. ” Standing back up he smiled warmly and said, “ Go attend to other duties. We can take it from here. ” The priest nodded and rushed off quickly, all the while trying to make it look like he was not rushing off quickly. Klane smiled again, then his face grew serious and he turned to Jaal, “ Shall we start with the merchant or the elf? ” Jaal stood silently for a moment before slowly nodding his head once. “ The merchant does make more sense, I agree, ” and he turned gently on his heel and walked towards Room Two.
[ IP ] Addiction	Three-hundred and forty-six days. And she still never called back. I'm not mad. It just felt, well, perplexing, I'd say. Yeah, I thought she was pretty. I wanted something more out of the friendship at first, and I admit, I went into the relationship just wanting her in my arms. But after some distance, I just wanted our friendship back, just the way it was, nothing more, nothing less. Some people ask me why I keep waiting, why I do n't just give up and go for some other girl. Well, you see, I'm not really `` going for'' anything, I do n't feel the need anymore. I love art and it loves me back. Together, we create the world, all while remaining in our own little corner. It's strange, because people on the outs, they'll never know our little secret. They see me, and they think it's just some random junky spacing out. But the girl, she knows, and that's why I wait.
[ WP ] Everyone is the hero of their own story , villains are no exception . You are a super-villain with the best intentions , yet people keep trying to assassinate you for some reason .	`` So it's come to this. The final showdown. Hero against villian,'' in a mocking tone to the armored behemoth of a man before me. `` Indeed it has, wretch! Those below will no long live in fear of your reign!'' `` Hah! Fear!? They should respect me, for I've held the darkness at bay for so many nights.'' `` Enough of your lies. I'll slay you here and now. The people will finally be rid of your curse!'' The barbarian screaming as he charged, his eyes ablaze with an unholy determination. 'So reckless.' His first blow smashing into the ground leaving a heafty crator,'I'd be unfortunate if one of those struck me. No matter, no different than those fallen before him.' Dodging his blows requires about as much effort as finess the barbarian has placed in them. One after another, his blows shook the room striking nothing but flooring, walls, and pillars. `` Well, I must give you credit for your tenacity, barbarian.'' Pthoo the barbarian spat on the ground, not letting idle chatter deter him from his goal. Thinking he could take me by surprise, the barbarian let out a massive arc, his sword just grazing the top of my head. `` Hey now, that was my favorite hat! Honestly though, you really should learn to be more of a... conversationalist.'' Having not drawn my weapon yet, the blade shot out and took the barbarian by surprise. With a silent whisper, the blade sings out, striking him twice across the chest and ends in his arm. Falling to the ground, dagger protruding from his left arm, I figured I'd let my prey in on a little secret. Maybe he'd finally be able to convince the others. `` You see, the people need me, yet they still put a bounty on my head. I do n't need them. Everything has a price, and oh how I've paid. The world is n't as safe as you all think. They see me as an overlord, hoarding riches, taxing them to poverty, and kidnapping their children. Anything goes wrong and I'm the first to blame.'' I drop down to his level. Looking straight into his eyes, `` This world is rotting from the outside-in. Those below are all that remain as the ripe fruit of the world. End times are coming, and for generations have I held off the waves of true darkness so that you all may live in happiness. What do you know of the outside worlds? What horrors they bring, and how to fight off them? Just as a candle burns out, the fires of this world will be consumed and, without me, will be left alone in the darkness.'' Panting, tired, arm limp, the barbarian struggles to hold his head up. `` Ah, I see. The poison has already taken hold. Soon you will join my army and become somthing greater than yourself!'' `` Not likely.'' Sword in his good hand, swings upwards into my chest. 'Such strength!' I'm caught completely off guard and fall. `` Your lies and shadow will no longer spread over our lands. Holding off the darkness? You cursed our lands, defiled our livestock, plauged our food, and now you say it was for the benefit of us?'' Struggling words out, `` Wha?...... No...... Not.. ben.. fi..t.... y. ou...... The...y... are...... c... o.. m.... i.. n... g.............''
[ WP ] Medusa falls in love with a man she turned to stone .	I never asked to be a Gorgon. I mean, the whole hair of snakes thing was pretty bad-ass at the beginning, but it got a little old after a couple millennia. You would think I'd be excited about all the men that constantly came charging into my garden. `` I've come to defeat you!'' They'd all yell, and then stupidly run right at me until'poof', they became rather statuesque... I'd honestly started making it a game to see if I could get them to freeze in certain poses. You got ta go what you got ta do, right? Today was just like any other day. `` Come out wherever you are, demon!'' I could hear a man yelling from my courtyard. Gods be damned, could n't I get a moments peace? `` I shall smite you, creature!'' Ooo, smite?! Look at the big brave hero with the 3 drachma word. `` You shall not live, human,'' I called back, and I poked my head out the window for a quick look. Oh my word, this guy was CUTE! Muscly, but not too bulky. Shoulder length hair, obviously too busy questing to cut it. The way he hefted his spear... oh my, what I would n't give to feel those hands. I pulled back inside. `` What's your name, hero?'' I called. `` Thealcles!'' He pronounced. I could picture his buff chest puffed out. Sigh. You'd think I was a petty siren, wailing for a man to pay attention to her. `` You are a brave man, Thealcles,'' I started down the stairs. `` However, you need to leave.'' `` I shall not leave until I kill you, Medusa!'' He proclaimed. My knees almost buckled at the sound of my name on his lips. Even with the death threats, I was falling in love... with a man whom I could never love properly. `` Theal,'' I started to say, but he cut me off. `` You vile monster,'' he screamed, and I could hear something hit the side of my house. `` I will tear this house down brick by brick to kill you.'' My house? Oh, Hades no. This palazzo was my pride and joy. `` You're going to want to stop that,'' I yelled. `` Or what?'' He sneered. `` I will destroy everything you love, you leathery bitch.'' `` You seem to have a lot of rage,'' I called out. I'd reached my front door, hesitating. I knew the moment I stepped out, that would be it for this beautiful warrior... if he could stop with the name calling, maybe if let him run away and live a long life. `` Well, I've heard you're fat!'' He crowed. My jaw almost hit the floor. `` There's no need for personal insults!'' I cried. `` There's no need for YOU!'' He thundered, and that's all I could take. The door flew open and I caught one glimpse of beautiful brown eyes before... statue. I scowled. `` Why do the cute ones always have to be the worst?'' I humphed. Yep, he was stone-cold gorgeous. I totally would have been all over that Herculean form... but I'd never been one to take a mean word for'granite'.
[ WP ] This is the prologue ( or the first chapter ) of the novel you 've always wanted to write .	I was sitting in my office smoking cigarettes and waiting for another case. I've always wanted to be detective but the reality of it is even grimmer than I'd imagined. The cases I've got to solve to earn money are so boring they are n't even worth this sentence. I've imagined being a private investigator would be a lot more exciting. Looking for missing persons, investigate tricky murders and crimes involving drugs. Hell no. Instead I have to deal with fucking divorces. I've also imagined the freedom. Being your own boss and all that bullshit. Fuck that. Instead I'm sitting here waiting for another divorce. The phone rings. Here we go again. `` Hello'' said female voice. `` Hello?'' I asked. `` is this private investigator Matt?'' `` Yeah?'' `` Can you help me?'' `` Sure, what is it? A divorce?'' `` No it's... it's'' her voice cracked `` Go on'' `` It's my little girl. She's gone missing''
[ WP ] all `` walks into a bar '' jokes happen in the same bar . you 're the bartender .	`` While I may not be the most interesting man in the world, I'd love to tell you about what could very well be the most interesting job in the world. You see. I've been a bartender at the most unusual bar for the last decade and I've seen everything from priests and catholics to blondes and bombshells walk through my doors. Hell regularly I even have 2 guys walk straight into the side of the damn building. They also have a third buddy with them but he just ducks inside the door and grabs his usual seat next to the pope and...'' A sudden loud noise silenced the bar and what I saw I will never forget as my jaw dropped to the floor. A goddamn horse walked right up to me at the bar. With a stern nod he looked at me and said `` get me a whisky''
[ WP ] You 're almost certain that the person you 're interviewing for the open position is actually a dozen or so tiny aliens stood on each other 's shoulders .	`` So...'' I said, my brain feverishly trying to remember even one actual interview question in the face of this insanity. `` So...'' the interviewee mimicked, as if trying the find the shape of the word in its - his - mouth. He was, largely, person shaped. He looked more like a drawing of a person, done from memory by someone who really had seen a human once, long ago. Odd sections of his suit jacket peaked and troughed as though something under there was shifting position. I smiled, brightly. `` Where are you from?'' I asked. `` Originally, I mean.'' He returned my smile mechanically. An uncanny valley of muscle movements that unsettled me. `` Do you know that very popular city? Where many of the humans on Earth live?'' I nodded. `` Where?'' `` In the popular country, where many humans live.'' I looked at the sheet of questions. `` This country?'' He laughed briefly, high and strained. `` Yes, this country. The popular city. Many humans are there. I remember from being born entirely there and nowhere else.'' `` Popular...'' I said. `` New York? Washington? Los Angeles?'' `` Yes,'' he said. I tapped my pencil. `` Which one?'' `` The first one.'' I wrote New York on the sheet. `` How long have you worked as an accountant?'' I asked him.'' `` Since birth,'' he said. I smiled. `` Very good,'' I said, giving him the benefit of the doubt. `` You're saying you're born for this job, eh? So how many years is that spent actually doing it?'' `` One...'' he said slowly. I frowned a little. I could n't help it. `` One?'' `` Hundred?'' `` One hundred? You've spent one hundred years in accountancy?'' He smiled and nodded. `` Is that enough experience?'' There was a wriggling in the front of his shirt. I could have sworn I heard muttering from in there as well. He looked down at it, cocking an hear towards the buttons that were moving the most. `` Eight,'' he said. `` Eight years.'' I wrote down eight years on the sheet. `` That makes more sense,'' I said. `` Yes,'' he agreed, nodding. `` One year was too few. One hundred was too many.'' I nodded along with him. `` It was, a bit,'' I said. `` Eight years.'' `` And would you say you're a hard worker?'' I asked, nonchalantly standing up and walking around to his side of the desk. He awkwardly rearranged his legs, using both arms to do so. `` We are very hard working. Very hard working.'' The'we' was the last straw. I lurched forward and ripped his shirt open. A cluster of tiny - oddly adorable - creatures were huddled inside. One of them climbed up to the head, pulled off a latex mask, and slapped the two that were inside there. `` Fuck, Xanthar! I do n't give a shit whose egg-mate you are. We should never have let you up there!'' I leaned back towards the desk for stability, before I fell on the floor. `` Wha -?'' The one who had spoken hopped up onto the desk next to me. `` Listen, we really need this job. We've got a lot of TV to watch before we're allowed to go back.'' `` TV?'' I asked, numbly. `` We ca n't filter the - Xanthar, put that down, you prick! - signal from your solar radiation. It's a whole thing. But we've got a report to write. We need a job to rent a - look, you do n't need to know all our troubles. We need a job. We'll work for free, and we're really mathematically very advanced. We can work in office away from everyone else. Just cut us the check at the end of the month and bring round water a couple of times a day.'' I pinched the skin on my arms. This was a watershed moment. First contact. It was monumentous. To let them among us, unknown, to observe our race and culture, and then escape away. It was unthinkable. But... He looked up at me, little eyes blinking out of sync `` You say you'll work for free?'' I asked. *************** Edit: Tidied up the punctuation. Apparently, I ca n't type.
[ IP ] The Fire Walker	As a small child, the fire walker was thrust into this charred and bleak world. He barely remembered his youth, but he knew now that whatever had happened left the world freezing and scorched. He had been lucky, for when the conflagration consumed his idyllic milieu, he had been off to visit his relatives' agrarian abode. He remembered this one day at the sight of some remnant of civilization, and managed a harsh, wheezing chuckle that was further garbled by his mask. The Fire Walker was intent on searching the nearby city for supplies. He had heard from other travelers that it was infested with thieves and murderers. He was not afraid, for his doctrine, burn what is n't edible or affable, protected him from frost and fire alike. He continued his journey and began to wheeze again, a guttural, phlegmatic* noise. He knew his position had been betrayed, and prepared himself for a fight, but there was nothing. The only thing beside him was flame. This was a cool first prompt to do. I had some usage that may be a little too verbose or heavy.
[ WP ] Your username is the central theme of the writing prompt	I'm Ants in My Eyes Johnson here at Ants in My Eyes Johnson's Electronics! I mean, there's so many ants in my eyes! And there's so many TVs! Microwaves! Radios, I think! I ca n't, I'm not 100 percent sure what we have here in stock, because I ca n't see anything! Our prices, I hope, are n't too low! Check out this refrigerator! Only $ 200! What about this microwave? Only $ 100, that's fair! I'm Ants in My Eyes Johnson! Everything's black! I ca n't see a thing! And also, I ca n't feel anything either, did I mention that? But that's not as catchy, as having ants in your eyes, so... that always goes... y'know, off by the wayside! I ca n't feel, it's a very rare disease, all my se— all my nerves, they do n't allow for the sensation of touch! So I never know what's going on! Am I standing, sitting? I do n't know!
[ WP ] Write a New Apocalypse	You never realize how much last words mean until you have absolutely no way of knowing when the end will come. That ’ s the worst part about all this, the suddenness of it all. I ’ ll be in the middle of a casual conversation with the nice old woman who runs the flower shop, or the balding man at the deli counter, and then I ’ ll be addressing the empty air as the bouquet of daisies or half-cut ham falls to the floor. Just like that, gone. The worst part of it all – aside from the fact that anyone I know could disappear at any moment – is the Sound. Picture a small child, cheeks filled with air, waiting for the unsuspecting parent to doze off. He creeps up, right up close, to their ear and releases the air in a concentrated little pop. That ’ s the sound people make when they go. It ’ s the sound I dread most now, more than the whine of a police siren or the cry of a newborn baby. I ’ d rather hear the immense metallic racket of a car crash than that ghastly little pop, but I fear the time for accidents has long since passed. There ’ s simply no one left to have them. I walk the streets aimlessly, hoping against hope that I ’ ll round the corner and stumble across a familiar face. I turn on the television, but every channel ’ s static. At least it ’ s a reminder that there used to be life, just as each little pop is the announcement of someone ’ s death. Wherever I go, the Sound cuts through the silence. And now it ’ s just me, left to carry the torch of humanity for as long as I ’ m able. I wonder if I ’ ll hear my own little pop when I go.
[ WP ] Humans can only survive a limited number of injuries before they die . You are desperately trying to avoid a lame death .	Humans had finally done it. We had discovered out true superpower. Every human was born with a preset injury amount. After we had discovered this, we were able to provide each humans injury count at birth. This number was soon called your CUT. Most humans had around 100 CUT's before they died, and boy was it weird when you died. Mostly it was things like heart attacks or death in sleep, but sometimes... Sometimes you got a golden death. Some deaths go down in the history books. Belonging to some of the greatest CUT masters, those who had CUT's in the thousands or tens of thousands. They were great, going out in flaming glory on LIVE TV, for all the world to see. Trying to use up the MOST CUTS in any one go. And then there was me. My name is Jeff, and I was UNLUCKY. I was born with around 45 cuts they think. They cant be sure, because right before they discovered this, I was in a pretty bad car accident. And boy, those are scary now, knowing that each broken bone, glass cut, bruise, ANYTHING takes one away each and every time. I was left with 3 CUT's. 3 CUT's left and only 26 years old. Now I live life in a bubble. I stay inside my home, working from my computer for a pretty big telecommunication company to keep certain things on the air. BNN runs the biggest CUT tournaments, and today was no different. A random contestant is chosen, and he run the Gauntlet. if they survive, well anything they could ever want is provided. But if you die... Well lets just say that its ALWAYS good. And this day appeared to be no different from the rest. Here i was, sitting at home quietly, working on the network, and waiting for people to call in about their connecting being laggy, or those ordering premier services for tonight's show. I was doing my best to be careful, as I always was, to not bump or hit anything to hard, and I wore rubber shoes to absorb the blows from my furniture when it decided to attack me. My phone startles me from boredom, and as I answer I hear my supervisor talking on the other line. `` Yes, yes, do n't worry he will be the..... Oh Hey Jeff. Glad you picked up. Listen, I need a favor, we are having some issues down at the DSLAM near your area, do you mind driving and taking a look?'' Sarah said on the other line. I could hear how nervous she was so I figured it must be bad. `` Sure, sure, but you owe me a comp day tomorrow. I want no calls ok Sarah.'' I stated simply. If I had to venture out then I might as well get a day off for it. `` Sure thing Jeff. I got you in for a day off tomorrow. I will even bring you dinner.'' Sarah said, relief filling her voice. `` They need this fixed as soon as possible, so go ahead and head out now, and I will put in the time for you ok.'' `` Alright Sarah, I'm off. See you tomorrow for dinner. I like steak and potatoes, medium rare.'' I said as I picked up my go bag and start heading for the door. `` See ya tomorrow Sarah!'' I drive without any sign of life for almost an hour. That is the benefit of living in rural North Carolina. Sometimes, you just need the trees and the air. I finally reached the DSLAM for my little town, and got out my heavy work gloves. No chances here. Opening up the giant relay, I was suddenly very worried. All signs showed green, no issue here. I pulled my phone from my pocket to call Sarah to confirm the DSLAM number, and was again shocked to find no signal. Its gon na be a 20 min drive before I near a tower. Looking around, I see a large van pulling up. Must be the on site tech who called in the issue. While distracted by the van, I feel a small prick on my neck, and begin to lose consciences. The last thought in my head before I black out, is Damn... Down to 2. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- I wake up with a jolt. I'm standing on a small platform, wearing a small amount of rubber padding. The rest of the room is dark, and I ca n't make anything out on the floor about 10 feet down. My eyes are finally beginning to adjust, when I am surrounded and bathed in light. I hear a loud boom, and a speaker begin to crackle to life. `` LAAAAADIEEEEEEEEESSSSS AND GENTLEMENNNNNN. LETS GIVE IT UP FOR JEFF. JEFF IS SADLY DOWN TO JUST TWO CUT'S. WILL HE BE ABLE TO BEAT THE GAUNTLET OR WILL HE DIE JUST GETTING DOWN FROM THE PLATFORM. STAY TUNED AFTER A BRIEF WORD FROM OUT SPONCORS!!!'' Well Jeff old boy... Looks like its our time to die... just... not off the platform...
[ WP ] `` Please , stop trying to kill me . ''	I stayed with my grandmother the day he passed to comfort her. I slept on the couch just like I did as a child. The living room was a straight shot from her bedroom, the glow from her tv always helped me go to sleep. As I looked down the dim lit hallway into her room I saw him. Standing there. Looking over her. He spoke, he spoke in a whisper that echoed throughout the house. `` Please, stop trying to kill me.'' I closed my eyes as hard as I could, hoping I would wake from this dream. As I opened them I saw her, standing in the door way, staring at me.
[ WP ] Everyone gets a doppelganger at the age of 24 . Society expects that the two must try to kill one-another , and the survivor will be accepted as the original , whoever wins . You , however , have befriended your doppelganger instead . A lot of people are not happy about this .	Strong chin, short, big eyes. Every aspect the same, with one exception. That damn scar. The media and government tell us that at the age of 24 the portal gives birth to your doppelganger, who is then processed, shipped and delivered to your town. Society expects us to kill these people. And as they say, “ To the victor, go the spoils ”. With the winner claiming the title of the original and allowed to live the rest of their life in relative peace. Well I couldn ’ t live with myself knowing I ended another life simply to live my own, and I sure as hell couldn ’ t afford to pay the professionals to take care of this. So I did the next best thing, I decided to take myself under my wing, to befriend my mirror, and live out our days on the outskirts of town, living a peaceful life. Naturally, the people closest to me thought me to be mad, insane even. Yet we caused no issues and continued our makeshift friendship of mutually assured survival until he arrived. A tall man, not much older than myself, yet no younger either, wearing a 3 piece suit, drenched in black, holding a briefcase which seemed much too large for his frail stature to handle. “ Do you mind if I have a conversation with you two fine gentlemen? ” He whimpered, clearly losing his grip on the steel reinforced briefcase. Before he could drop it and dent my floor I invited him in and offered to take the lead weight from him. He declined, instead pushing through me and sitting down at the table next to the roaring coal fire. The thin man took a moment to compose himself, as he straightened his tie and wipe the sweat he had worked up from his brow, before taking a deep breath. “ Is he here? ” “ Yes, and if you don ’ t mind we ’ re sort of busy, portal 2 was on sale and we are determined to beat it together ” I explained. After what seemed like an hour he spoke up again, only with more composure this time, I ’ m sure he wasn ’ t even looking at me, what should have seemed like a conversation instead felt like a speech, with his eyes focused on the fire, with a dead look in his eyes he announced, “ You are in direct violation of Rule 52 of sub section 7, note – “ Never engage in any relation, sexual or platonic with your mirror, failure to do so will result in an appropriate response by your ever caring and all-knowing government ” His posture then shifted, now looking me dead in the eyes, smiling. You know it ’ s not that bad when you think about it. We kill them, they kill us, yet the government still provides no matter who wins. ” “ Yet thanks to you, I don ’ t even have to go through the trouble of killing my mirror. See, the people in charge don ’ t like you or your freak of a friend living. It creates problems, because if everyone did this the world couldn ’ t run the way it does, we simply don ’ t have the resources. That ’ s why they sent me to deal with you, and thanks to your weird fetish I got a deal. By killing myself and you, I not only kill you and your mirror, I also remove myself from the world, allowing mine to take its place with my life. My family can live happily in peace and luxury for the rest of their lives knowing that I died for them. ” Click Click The briefcase flew open, only to display a series of lights, buttons, the most prominent being a crescent coloured sphere, with the words “ Detonate ” prominently tattooed onto it. “ I ’ m sorry I truly am, but in this world you got to look after what you love the most ” With one last zealot like smile, he slammed his fist down onto the button with enough force to split the table on which it lay. In the brief seconds before I felt the searing pain rush through my body I had time to process one last meaningless thought through my soon to be expanding brain. “ GG ”.
[ WP ] You are aboard the first FTL ship on its maiden voyage . Soon you will arrive at your destination .	It's been almost a year since we found the ship on Mars. My team and I were celebrated as heroes for just going to Mars, but after our discovery we became legends. We were the ones who would discover the ship that would launch humanity into the future. That future was happening now, aboard The Challenger. It was a large ship that has around seven hundred souls aboard. The derelict ship on Mars showed us how to use FTL technology to travel between systems in our galaxy. But it was n't the reason we jumped so quickly into this adventure, or for me it was n't anyways. While I agree with most everyone here that this technology would change humanity and give us a larger presence in the galaxy, giving us the potential to meet other civilizations among the stars, I was here because of the warning. The Mars ship did n't just show us how to use FTL technology, it warned us that if we did n't we'd quickly be defeated. By who or what remained unknown, but the warning was clear in telling us that something was coming for us. The Challenger was en-route to Planet-X, or New Earth to many of the civilians aboard. New Earth was chosen as the first planet we'd colonize due to the similarities it had to Earth. Except it had no signs of life. Many found it to be fate allowing us to take our first planet. Me, I felt like it was odd to have a planet perfect for life and it not have any life at all. Scans say even the oceans are devoid of creatures, the deserts and forests not a single life form. It was odd. It made me uneasy. But now was not the time to be worried. Now was the time we looked forward as our future quickly moved towards us.
[ WP ] In the year 2198 , the law of equality is passed . It states that whatever crime you commit shall be committed to you . You are a Balancer , one who enforces this law . You are handed a file and open the door to the interrogation room where you see your next assignment , a 19 year old girl . Go .	Swive-it, he thought, reading the repercussion blinking in his AR. Swiving teenagers. He made sure the straps were tight around her wrists and ankles, belted firmly into the chair, and draped the rubber sheet across her very revealing shirt. One of those translucent tanks with the little opaque dots tracking onlooker's eyes, guaranteeing the good parts were always just out of view. Damn teens. Swiving teens. Always got ta make a swiving mess. He picked up the razor blade and held it near her cheek. No guess work was involved. She had AR'd the whole event, so his job was only a perverse paint by numbers. His AR helpfully chaptered out the footage for him so he knew where to make the first slice. This was going to be a swiving mess. `` Go on,'' she goaded him. `` Do it! You do n't think I did n't this was coming? I recorded myself! Of course I knew.'' Filthy teenager. He followed along with the AR footage, and drug the blade up the curve of her cheek to the tip of her ear. Now for the first cut, the moment it stops being a game and becomes all to real. Quickly, he flicked the blade and made the slice. She screamed, tears gathering in her eyes. `` You - you did it! Do n't think,'' she sniffed, `` I ai n't ready for more.'' `` Come on,'' I muttered. `` Do you have to holler like that? You had plenty of time to prepare yourself.'' I wiped the razor across the rubber sheet on her chest, just as she had done according to the AR, and then slowly moved to the other ear. `` Shut up,'' she chided. `` That's not,'' sniff, sniff, `` How it goes. You got ta do and say it exactly like I did. That's the law.'' Swiving teen. She was right. The law mandated she have rendered unto her the exact same torment, action for action, and, swive-it, word for word. `` You little - `` He started and then moved the blade away from her ear. `` I never had to act it out like this.'' `` You want to call the judge and ask what the law is?'' No. Swive-it. He moved the blade into position again and muttered, `` Take this you impotent little - I do n't know what that word is.'' `` You got the AR feed, do n't you? Hello, you got ears? I was pretty clear.'' `` It sounds like you said murfal.'' `` That's right.'' `` What is murfal?'' `` If you do n't know, then you do n't got ta know. Say it, and get it done.'' `` Little murfal,'' he muttered, and made the second cut. And did she ever holler then. Screaming, cussing, hissy-fit caterwauling. She shook in the chair, testing each wrist and ankle bond, and then stared wild eyed at him. `` You really suck at this.'' Whatever, he thought, and continued repeating what he saw and heard from her AR feed. A cut here. A slice there. A slew of incomprehensible words and pretentious bluster. And what a mess it made, each slice sculpting her into some kind of freak. Until, at last, he made the very last cut, right across her forehead, and threw the blade down. He unfastened the wrist and ankle straps, yanked the rubber sheet from her torso, and watched the little opaque circles follow his eyes from the collar and over her breasts to her - he looked away. `` There, it's done,'' he said. `` You're free to go. Justice is served.'' She stood up and dabbed tears from her eyes, and looked in the mirror. `` Swivin,'' she said. `` That is totally kick-ass. Do n't you think?'' `` Whatever,'' he muttered, and went to sweep up the hair. ( edit: removed first person )
[ WP ] You are the adopted child of supervillains . As an adult you find out your biological parents are the superheroes that have thwarted their every plan .	Sure, they're superheroes, but they abandoned me. They're not my parents. They're just an egg and sperm donor as far as I see it. My real parents, the super-villains, took care of me every step of the way. They were there when I was losing my baby teeth. They were there to teach me how to ride a bicycle. Even when I was being bullied by the bigger boys at school, my dad, the Goth-Man, made sure they would never hurt me again. I remember when I was about to fail my classes, my mom, the Cat-Lady, was always there to help me study for my tests. Goth-Man taught me how to shave and wear a tie for my graduation. I remember Cat-lady took way too many pictures of us that day. If you ask me, that's a real mom and a real dad. But where was the egg and sperm donor? What were they doing? They were too busy living the celebrity life lavishing in all the heroic glory. They cared enough to risk their lives to save random strangers, but apparently, they did n't care enough to raise... to raise me.
[ WP ] It 's been nearly 100 years since the last Pyromancer was caught and executed . Pyromancy , the ability to create and control fire , is a dark and forbidden art . You discover you have the ability , and are now being hunted down .	Looking down into the volcano, I sense it's heat around me. Behind me, the townsmen and furious others are catching up. `` They do n't understand me, my desires. What do they think happened? Because I have fire I can no longer love, or have compassion? Does the fire make me a monster? They'll see. They'll bare witness to what my fire really is''. My thoughts race - I can feel my heart thumping, its friction becoming a fire all on its own. I ca n't contain it any longer. `` These people, what did they think would happen? That by capturing me they'd some how relinquish the world of evil? How do you destroy a fire, whose heat is born from a pounding heart? They are the real evil. Ca n't they see what good I could do? The cold that kills so many could be gone, or are their hearts so frozen that not even I can thaw out their good again?'' I look again into the volcano, the noise of foot steps and chopper blades closing in. A spotlight shines brightly on me, never moving for fear they wo n't see what comes next. They wo n't see me let myself fall, farther and farther into the mouth of heat and fire. They wo n't see the pillars of flame rise high and above them, casting a shadow on their frozen selves. I only hope their pain will be an ecstasy, and they'll realize how wrong they've been.
[ WP ] On their first birthday , everyone on Earth is given a wristband that will glow brighter depending on how far away they are from their soulmate . But , yours has never even turned on .	Eh, I never believed in true love. Every ideal was a sham. As a baby, I was given this bracelet, meant to light up when my soulmate was found. But now 40 years later, I'm a bitter and lonely old man. My chances at life and love were dashed by this little device. I read of a time when people went dating, when love was found by people, not determined by some accessory. I ca n't even do that, no one would ever date anyone else unless their bracelets glowed. Honestly, I feel cheated. My dreams as a child, to know that my future was a certain thing, to know that I would find a girl to share in my life. All crushed to dust. At a certain point, after sending off my friends one by one at their marriages, cynicism sets in. I have considered that perhaps my one soulmate has died. Passed on before me. I have entertained the thought that there is no match for me. That I alone was the one puzzle piece from another set in the wrong box. But a certain amount of pity stares and depressing good lucks, can change a man.
[ WP ] He had fixed me but broke me countless of times . He healed me , yet I was never fine .	He had fixed me but broke me countless of times. He healed me, yet I was never fine. He knew my ways, but I not his. He could fix it all with just a kiss. He told me right was left and left was right, and to this I could not put up a fight. He knew my ways but I not his. He could fix it all with just a kiss. He soon turned and the story changed, for he knew my ways but I not his, his kiss soon turned into a hit. -- -- - First post I apologize, not good at this poetry business but I'll get better soon c:
[ WP ] Everyone has the ability to `` skip ahead '' and time travel 5 years into the future , but they can only use the power once . You are homeless and living on the street when you decide to use your ability , only to find yourself sitting behind the desk in the oval office	`` Mr. President.'' My eyes lit up, as if I had answered to this a thousand times before. I looked over and saw one of my Secret Service Officers, Harris. How did I know that name? `` Is it time?'' The words came out before I could n't even think of what to say. What was going on? How was I sitting here, in the Oval Office, when five years before I was lying almost dead in the ground? `` We have eight minutes until the results. I figured you might want to come out.'' `` Not yet, I will join you all soon enough, just give me some time.'' `` Sir. Myself, Romero, and Wilson are all stationed outside your office. You know the knock.'' I nodded, and in a moment I was alone again. Okay, time to get my bearings. I took a look around the room, it was the Oval Office, that much was true. My desk had stacks of papers sitting neatly upon it, a laptop, a few dozen pens, and a brown manila envelope. I figured I could check the laptop and find what was going on, but the envelope had something written neatly upon the top. To Be Opened: December 21st, 2019 at PRECISELY 8:22 PM I thought about it for some time, December 21st, 2014. That was the date I was in before I decided to use my power. I knew this had to do with that. I glanced at the clock, 8:20 PM, I still had two minutes. It became the longest two minutes of my life. I had gone from being homeless to the President of the United States in five years? I had gone from almost dead to, what I could tell, the healthiest I have ever been? How did I get here? I wanted to open the envelope, to know what I desperately needed to know. What had I done? What did I do that warranted all of this? My eyes focused on the clock, 8:22 PM. It was time. My hands reached for the envelope and carefully opened it, inside were several dozen pieces of paper. I grabbed them all and took them out of the envelope, carefully placing them in front of me. I do n't know why, but it all came as a second nature to me, as though I had been handling documents with care for the last fifteen years. I took a look at the first page. It was just a few words, but they sparked a nerve inside of me, something about them was just, picking at me. Operation Phoenix Feather Why did that sound so familiar? For the Presidents Eyes ONLY Phase Seven Initiated Mr. President, the time has come. Operation Phoenix Feather? Phase Seven? What was all of this? Who was this from? I had obviously not written it, it was addressed to me by someone? Or some people? I lifted the first page and began to read, page by page, word by word, letter by letter until I had memorized the entire thing. The past five years came to me in a rush of disgust and anxiety. I had done something terrible the moments after I traveled through time. I had made a deal. And it was time to collect. ___________________________________________________________________________________ I may write more later, but I have to run and do some errands. Feedback, comments, suggestions, and all of that is always welcome. Thanks for the prompt!
[ WP ] You swerve to avoid a squirrel . Unknown to you , the squirrel pledges a life debt to you . In your darkest hour , the squirrel arrives .	The first day. It started with a leaf; it fluttered down so gracefully, but in so doing landed on a squirrel. Shocked, the squirrel dropped his prize, only for it to roll onto the great black path. Focused exclusively on its nut the squirrel bounded after it, catching up in the middle of the great black path. Relief soon turned to panic, with a monolithic animal bearing down on him. He stood there stunned, but the massive shiny animal veered across the black path with a screech more chilling than any tree-flyer. Colour returned to his world, joy penetrate every fiber of his being. He followed the beast with all the speed he could muster. The other days. All were the same, the beast-rider was a creature of habit. Every light-rising, he rode the shiny beast away, but too far and too fast to follow for long. Instead the squirrel had taken to observing from a hollowed tree knot. The beast-rider lived in a tree of his own, but it was solid with white flaky white bark, no entrance but the one the beast-rider commanded open when the shiny animal approached; a tree-fort. After that the tree-fort would close, not to open until the next light-rising. The squirrel would watch the nightly ritual aswell. Each night light would pour from the lower left through-hole, bright lights of all colours flickering and flashing; but sound would also pour out, drowning out his attempt at thanks. Then the light would would cease there, only for another steady light to appear in the right side of the riders tree-fort. He would ascend to the tops of his solid tree, then all light would stop. This is when the squirrel would retire to his own bed to wait his next chance of communication. The final day. One night the squirrel was awoken. A new light had appeared in the riders tree, but this was after the ritual - most strange. Puzzled the squirrel climbed down his own tree to investigate. This light flickered back and forth but it was only orange folding into red. When he reached the through-hole he felt it; hot, so hot, too hot. The red light was spreading, making its way tenaciously towards the rider. The heat was bad, the squirrel knew, but how to warn the rider. The squirrel leapt down and grabbed the largest rock he could climb with. He pulled himself up to the hieghest through-hole, to the rider. He smashed the rock against the through-hole, but all in vein. Black air flowed steadily into the riders tree hole, filling from top to bottom. Again, again, again, again, he hammed the through-hole, but he would not awake. The hot light had reach them, the licking forks consuming all they touched. His rock fell from his grip as the beast-rider set alight. Helpless, wholly useless. Now the tree-fort itself was ablaze.
[ WP ] Alien invasion from the aliens perspective .	The plan was simple. Have a show of power near the major cities of Earth and enslave the humans without any casualties. Now, how the hell did this happen? Quag-drak, general of the two hundred and fifth legion, stares out of his Interstellar Space Travel Vehicle, or ISTV, in disbelief. Down below, millions of humans lie dead. Along with burning rubble, the smell of death lingers in the air. Quag turns back around to Mag-thur, his most trusted captain, for an explanation. `` It... it was no use sir. The humans simply put up too much resistance.'' `` Too much resistance? Their primitive weaponry was nothing compared to our technology! Did they not even flinch after we presented to them our photon blasters?'' Quag points to a deep, burnt out crater in the earth. `` Were they not paralyzed by fear after that demonstration of power?'' `` The humans seemed to be more aggressive than we have previously thought sir. Our research division, after scanning one of their memories, has told me that humans are a warmongering race. They would even frequently launch attacks against each other, killing their own kin mercilessly.'' Quag presses his hand against his head and begins to massage his temples, trying to make sense of the situation. `` So you're telling me that the humans would have rather died fighting against us, than surrender peacefully without any death whatsoever?'' `` That is correct sir'' `` God dammit Mag. I'm too tired for this. Tell the higher ups that we're going to take Earth's resources and mark the humans as pests. I'm just going to go on to the next planet.'' `` On it, sir.'' As Mag-thur relays the message back to home base, Quag-drak powers up the FTL, and readies himself to take over the next civilization. & nbsp; Note: I'm not really good at writing stories like this. I hope it suffices: )
[ WP ] You save a person 's life . This throws heaven and hell into chaos since it 's the first time a human has challenged fate .	TIFU Today I fucked up by saving a girl. I ’ m just a regular guy, I put on my pants on leg at a time and wear dorky shoes, but this morning, I became something more. I was on the train to work and saw a pretty young woman listening to her music directly across from me on the train. As anyone who has taken a train will tell you, when you sit directly across from someone, an awkward dance of gazes occurs where each of you tries to avoid making eye contact, but it ’ s hard, because both of your default paths of vision are right into the others face. Anyways, so I was sitting there, rocking out ( internally, stoically silent externally ) to Meghan Trainor ’ s all about that bass and when I go to get off at my stop, the pretty young woman got off as well. We walk towards the escalators, only to see a bank of frozen, out-of-order escalators doing their best stair impressions, challenging us to climb them. Now usually, I ’ m a health conscious guy and I ’ ll stomp those escalators and their smug looks into submission, but this station is like six stories underground, and it ’ s early. So I turned back and go looking for the handicap elevator, the pretty girl follows me, no one wants to climb stairs at six in the morning, and I sure wouldn ’ t want to in her heels either. We stood uncomfortably close waiting for the elevator doors to open and then enter the mechanical urinal for the slow pee-aroma ’ d trip up to what was promising to be another grey day in the valley. I stood on one side of the elevator, careful not to touch any of the stained, stainless steel surfaces and stared straight ahead, pretending to study the vast array of sharpie ’ d graffiti but really letting the skinny guy inside of me dance to Beyoncé ’ s Countdown. We were almost to the top when the typical squeaks and groans went up an octave and then the elevator stopped. I looked across the elevator, no longer avoiding the woman ’ s gaze and saw the panic in her eyes. I ripped my headphone from my ears and hit the alarm button. Nothing, nada, just a broken button; the elevator just a microcosm of the infrastructure in this wrecked city. There was an deep metallic growl that shook the floor as whatever was holding us up slowly gave up its fight and we suddenly we plummeted. They say your life flashes before your eyes as you die. They ’ re wrong, mostly because none of them have died. I can tell you what happens, you panic for a split second, then you die. No self-discovery journey, no life-lessons, just blackness. In the first second of falling I calculated that at 9.8m/s squared, I was going to hit the ground around 45 mph. In the ensuing, and final, terminal, second, I crossed the elevator and grabbed the woman in a hug, hoping not to die alone, but instead in the close proximity of another human being. The elevator hit the bottom with a crash and explosion of dust. I fell to the ground and the woman fell on top of me. My final memory was her panicked eyes as her head crashed into mine. Then it all went gray. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- “ Who the fuck is this? ” I opened my eyes, I was still holding my iPhone, and vaguely I could hear the whine of another song playing through the dangling headphones. A woman was standing in front of me; she was dressed in a black robe, muumuu type thing. “ Uh hello? ” “ No one is talking to you, now can someone please tell me why the young woman is not here? ” I looked around the room, a pantheon, literally of gods stood around. There were number of old middle-eastern men, some women with lots of hands, and they all just sort of shuffled and stared at their feet. “ Someone answer me, or I swear I will burn down this fucking mountain. ” I raised my hand; “ Um, hello, I think I can answer that ” The look the woman gave me was like lightning bolts. “ Who are you? ” “ Uh, Lionel. ” “ So tell me, why are you standing here, I clearly stated that a young woman would be standing here before me. ” “ Um, I was in the elevator with her, and, um… ” She cut me off “ Why do you keep saying um? Do you have a speech impediment? ” “ Um... ” I swallowed and continued, “ No, I ’ m just sort of nervous, you see I was in this elevator and then it started falling and I grabbed this woman and she fell on top of me and I think she broke my nose. ” I reached up to touch my nose, it was not broken. The woman looked furious. “ A hero? A fucking hero? Who in this room sent a hero to deny Fate? ” Once again the circle of celestial creatures suddenly seemed fascinated by their odd assortment of sandals and toes. “ Who? Was it you Ahura Mazda? ” An androgynous being with a huge eagle on its head looked up, briefly shaking its head. The eagle wobbled. The woman in the black snapped her fingers and the eagle withered into a sparrow, which promptly did what nervous birds do, whitening Ahura Mazda ’ s head. “ Hey, leave Mazda alone, you ’ re always picking on it. ” An old white guy with a big beard stepped up. He was holding actual lightning bolts in one hand. The woman stared at him for a second. “ Zeus, is this one of your bastard hero ’ s? ” “ No fate, he ’ s not one of mine, but you can ’ t treat us like petulant children, we ’ re gods you know! ” “ Shut up old man. ” She stared at him and suddenly Zeus started frantically itching his crotch under the toga. She turned to me, smiling. “ Lionel, tell old Mother Fate, who put you up to this? Who made you a hero? ” “ Uh no one, I ’ m just me. ” “ Nonsense, humans don ’ t just become heroes, they always have help. Was it you Freyja? ” Somewhere in the pantheon a woman screamed in pain; “ Or one of your prophets Yahweh? ” Somewhere a man ’ s deep groans joined the high pitched female screams. “ No, it ’ s just me, leave them alone! ” I yelled. The screaming stopped, and she focused on me. She narrowed her eyes and stared at me, concentrating. I looked to my left and right, not really sure what was happening. “ Submit human! Why are n't you writhing in pain? ” She screamed at me. “ Um, I ’ m not sure; I thought the elevator crash would have broken at least a few bones. ” “ He ’ s outside of your control! ” Someone yelled from the pantheon. “ She has no effect on him, he ’ s beyond fate! ” another yelled. “ Quick Lionel, kill her! ” A man in deep blue robes tossed me a trident that I failed to catch. It bounced off my shoulder and landed on the ground. I looked at the ornate pitch fork and looked back at him. “ Why? I don ’ t want to kill anyone. ” “ You have to, she is a tyrant ” “ Sic Semper Tyranus! ” “ Strike her down! ” I tossed the trident onto the ground. “ Look, I don ’ t know who you all think you are, but I ’ m not going to kill her. ” Behind me the woman smiled and stood even taller. “ You have played your hand, if you all stand against me, you will all die! ” She swung her arms around in an arc and a flame engulfed the first row of spectators, singing my hair, and blowing many of the gods back. A lightning bolt struck her robe and left a singed hole. A flock of squirrels arose from the ground and started gnawing on her robes, drawing blood occasionally. A deep hum emanated from her chest and the squirrels all disintegrated to bones before falling to dust at her feet. A silver whip appeared in her left hand and she swung it out, narrowly missing me again, but apparently striking someone, because a scream rung out somewhere behind me. I crawled to the edge of the circle before dusting myself off and walking away. Some distance away an old man sat on a folding chair, with an old orange crate upended in front of him. A game of solitaire had been laid out. “ Hello Lionel ” He looked up and smiled at me. It was a scary smile, a mess of teeth with no apparent order peeked out from behind chapped lips. His pupils were mini suns that twinkled the way only mini stars could. “ How do you know my name? ” “ Of course I know your name, you ’ re my hero. ” `` I'm not a hero!'' `` Yes, you are my hero'' “ You know they ’ re fighting back there? ” “ Yes, I know.'' He smiled and pulled a white chess pawn from his pocket. The game of solitaire turned into chess board and he placed the pawn in the only empty place. `` How is fate handling herself? ” “ When I left, it looked like she might win, eventually. She also may destroy the mountain. ” “ Yes, she may. ” “ You ’ re not afraid of her? ” “ Nope ” “ Why not? ” “ Because Lionel, I am my own fate. Forgive me for my rudeness; please allow me to introduce myself: I am Kaos, the end of everything. ” He held out a hand, I gripped it and shook his hand. “ And you, Lionel, are my Harbinger. ” -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- TLDR; TIFU by saving a womans life and launching the gods into a civil war that will end everything and return the universe to chaos.
[ WP ] A young man becomes addicted to losing weight . Confronted , he realizes `` healthy habits '' are slowly ruining his life .	Thirty-four-point-six is the real number. Only fools are transfixed about weight. They delude themselves into into thinking they've accomplished something and never realize pounds are easy. You gain a pound from a rack of ribs and a side of fries. You lose a pound from a night's sleep after a quick run. How can anyone get excited about losing a pound, 5 pounds, 10 pounds? The Body Mass Index holds the real number. Pulling up my sleeve I'm reminded by how far I've come, thumbing the `` 34.6'' tattooed instinctively. The once stretched skin now wrinkled together. `` Marcus? Marcus Roden?'' The nurse does n't look a day over twenty. She smiles when we lock eyes, widens it as I get up from my seat. Even that was a foreign courtesy when I was obese. `` The doctor is right this way.'' Dr. Harris to be specific. The same man would gave me my number, who told me point blank that I was wasting the few prime years of my life in body nearly twice as large as it had to be. `` When are you going to lose the weight? When you're 40 years working 40 hours and spending those few precious evening hours either raising a family or starting one? Time is precious and your body is precious. It's only going to get harder from here.'' He gave me a few pamphlets and a series of tips, some good some unproductive. He recommended working out, ideal calorie intake, sleeping habits, simple exercises, and what felt like an overwhelming amount of info. That was 3 years ago. It had been 2 years since I last visited him. I was down 50 pounds by then, although I do n't know it terms of BMI. It did n't matter to me then, like it did now. I owe him my life. Strolling into the room, his eyes widen as he looks me up and down. I hop onto my feet, extending my hand. `` Doctor.'' `` Marcus, Jesus.'' He grabs my hand, shaking it far lighter than before. `` Why did n't you see me sooner?'' It's a wave of relief seeing his shocked expression, acknowledgement of how far I've come. `` I wanted to surprise you.'' `` Well, you certainly have. If I did n't know the name of all my patients I would n't even recognize you. What are you down to?'' `` Eleven.'' `` Excuse me?'' `` My BMI. A third of what it once was.'' `` I meant weight wise.'' Nothing. No excitement, no cheeky smile, just the same hard tone I heard 3 years ago. `` Oh... I mean, it was 108 last time I checked this morning. Might be 107 by now. I'd like to get down to 100 by the summer, or 10 on the BMI.'' `` Do n't.'' He spits the word out, the tone rattling my chest. `` You were the one who suggested setting goals. I've set them, I've reached them, I've surpassed them. You know how hard it was to get to where I am?'' `` You said you were here to surprise me, but when the appointment was set it was n't for a yearly checkup.'' The tattoo on my arm starts to burn. I try to rub the sensation away. `` I've... I've been feeling a bit off.'' Sympathetically Dr. Harris asks, `` How so?'' `` I've been loosing my breath more and more, and my joints keep locking up when they're over-used. My knees and ankles especially. I had to trade running for biking, and recently switch from biking to the elliptical, all because of joint pain. Sometimes I pop a few ibuprofen before going to the gym, but it's only masking the pain.'' `` Have you been getting light-headed?'' What was getting at? `` I mean, only when fasting. There's actually been a few times I've fainted, but no harm done.'' I try to ease the tension, with a chuckle, but he does n't join in. Instead, he grabs a legal notepad on a nearby counter and begins to write. With a quick tare, he hands the yellow sheet over. Dr. Deborah Su, two phone numbers, and his signature. `` What the hell, you do n't want to see me anymore?'' `` No, I want you to see me every 3 months from this day on. And I want you to see her at least once a week, starting now.'' He clicks his pen and slides into his coat pocket. `` She's a psychiatrist I met when I did some ER work in my old hospital.'' `` A psychiatrist? Why would I need a psychiatrist?'' Looking over his chart, `` You went from losing... 52 pounds in one year to an additional... an additional 163 in the last two years.'' Putting down his pad, he grabs my arm and effortlessly encircles my forearm with his hand. `` I should not be able to do this on a 6 foot 3 inch tall man. If for no other-'' His eyes dart down to the tattoo, a few inches above his hand. I try to pull my arm back put he keeps it locked in place. `` 36.9? Why is that... wait.'' He lets go, reaching back to the chart. Instinctively, I make for the door. Half open, again he catches me by the arm, pulls me back, kicks it back close with the sole of his foot. `` Stop!'' I shout at him. `` Jesus, you're fucking hurting me.'' `` You tattooed the BMI I gave you on your first check-up? Why would you do that?'' Fighting my nerves I inhale deeply, collecting myself. It's a jealousy I've seen so much before, in the faces of both friends and strangers. People are too greedy and self-absorbed to sacrifice anything. They gobble up whatever's in front of them. `` To see how far my health has come.'' Edit: So I guess I did n't really stick with my prompt, but oh well.
[ WP ] Write two accounts of a break up , each from the perspective of both parties involved .	Come on guys. This is n't literature. Allow me to give it a go. See if you can follow along. This is a type of story which I call `` switchback''. Each paragraph switches between two parties and their thoughts. -- -- - FINAL LOVE I ca n't do it. I know I have to. I have no other choice. It's been weeks, no, months since I heard the news. I never had the heart to tell her. I wonder what he wants to see me for? I do n't remember scheduling a date for today. I have a test tomorrow and I have to study, so this better be quick. Ah. There she is. God. I ca n't do it. I am completely unable to let her go, no matter how hard I try. My body refuses. There's my boyfriend! Hm, he seems a tad... frazzled. I wonder what's wrong? I have to do it. If I do n't, it will ruin her. If I do, it will ruin her. I'm dead if I do, dead if I do n't. How can I do this? `` Liam, is something wrong?'' Shit. I ca n't. I do n't even know at this point. What do I say? I do n't want her angry, but I want to break up on a positive note. Hell, is that even possible? `` Liam? Hello?'' `` Isa, I... sigh I...'' Something is troubling him. Maybe if I cuddle next to him he'll feel better. `` No! I ca n't, Isa. I have to go.'' `` Go where? Your next period is n't for-'' `` No. Not class. My parents are transferring me to another school.'' `` What? How could this happen?'' I knew this was a bad idea. It's going to destroy her, and there's nothing I can do, no matter how hard I try for it not to. `` Why?'' `` We're moving. Away. Far away. And I'm afraid...'' `` No! Liam! You ca n't leave!'' She's breaking down. If I do n't do something, we'll both be wrecks. `` Where? I can come! We can be together!'' `` No. You ca n't come. It's another state, across the country, and I fear I may never see you again.'' `` We'll call and text and-'' `` Isa. We have to face the facts. We ca n't be together.'' He's breaking up with me! Why did his goddamned family have to go? He's my other half, and we're inseparable. Why me? Why now? `` I'm sorry.'' `` When are you leaving?'' `` Tomorrow. I have my bags packed, and I was too scared to say so.'' `` sniff It's alright, Liam. I understand. You have no control. I'll always wish you the best. You'll be in my prayers.'' `` Spare the prayers, Isa. If you do n't forget about us, you can never move on. And that's the least we can do for each other.'' - And so Liam moved away. Away from me. Forever. I never did see or talk to him after that. He left, I broke down, and fell ill. I never did recover, and ended up dying at 21, sick for 3 years. And so I moved away. I never heard from Isa after that point. I felt she was getting worse. I saved up three years to head back. I went back to see her after being torn apart, and found her passed away. She died at a young 21, and as I sat by her grave, behind by a matter of months, in the pouring rain, so did I. That night I fell horribly ill, and died on the same day, 4 years past, that I saw her for the last time. A kind of poetic justice. I died heartbroken and miserable. I wish none of this upon any true lovers. Do all in your will to be together. It could be your bond that keeps you living. -Fin- -- -- -
[ WP ] `` Honey , we talked about this . You promised to stop leaving corpses in the fridge . ''	Jonathan flinched as a corpse fell out of the fridge. His initial appetite for cereal was now gone. `` Goddamnit, yet another one. How the hell am I supposed to be in the mood for cereal now.'' Jonathan grumbled. He left it door open and walked into the bedroom, intending to confront Jane. He found her hunched over a whetstone, sharpening her knife. `` Honey, we talked about this! Why is there yet another corpse in the fridge?'' Jane turned, a bright smile on her face. `` Sorry babe! It's the last corpse you will ever see!'' Jonathan sighed, turning back to the kitchen as his appetite was coming back. That was when he felt something punch him in the back. As he saw himself collapse in front of the mirror, he realized Jane was lying.
[ WP ] after recently discovering their powers , a superhero must deal with being bored and frustrated because their amazing powers are useless compared to modern technology and law enforcement .	Two lefts, a right, a U-turn and 15 minutes later we will be there, Jones thought to himself. Any where, any place, I can get you there. I know the best routes to avoid traffic, I know the best ways to cut down on time and exactly how long it will take us together. The Human Map they called me. Oh I sure was a sight for sore eyes. Some guys knew their town, some even knew the next town, but if that bad guy ever needed the quickest route from the convenience store he robbed in Tallahassee to the bank he would launder the money at in Louisville, I knew the best way to go to head him off and beat him there. For the first 5 years on the force everyone wanted to ride with me. They knew we would be busting bad guys, they knew we would be flying across town, no traffic, and making the most arrests of the night. Now... Now I am just the guy with nothing else to offer. I'll be honest. I am a terrible detective. I cant put two clues together if they were standing right in front of me. I am just a shadow of what I used to be. Jones takes one last long drag on his cigar before his shift starts. He puts on his trench coat and steps outside to the car. The new guy was driving, it was the rules. Jones preferred the passenger side anyway to better plan the route. He was n't a fan of his new partner though. One of the young guys, too invested in technology. Car 44 Car 44, You are needed at 9632 Nth Basilone Way there is a report of a robbery at the old bank! Alright newbie listen up, jones began to say when that damned voice cut him off. 9632 Nth Basilone Way. Turn Right at the traffic light. You will arrive in 7 minutes. Damn that Siri witchcraft. Jones just sat back and stared out the window. He was replaced, a relic.
[ WP ] Write a story about how a hero triumphs over evil . Then the last sentence makes it look like the hero was the evil one all along .	The little girl clutched the blankets to her neck as the pounding on the front door continued. It only seemed to grow louder, and yet she could n't bring herself to move from bed. Here, under the protection of blankets, was the only place that could be safe. But the slam of the front door made her jump and she thought, for a brief moment, it would all be over. Pounding footsteps sounded down the hall, coming right for her door. She pulled the blanket up over her head, but she could still hear the man's voice yelling, calling out her name. Other doors in the house swung open, and for a long dreadful moment, she thought the stranger might find her. Until Daddy's voice boomed down the hall. He screamed at the intruder and the men argued, where the girl's name was hurled back and forth like bombs. The argument abruptly ceased with a bang, and it was all over. The intruder fell, and after he hit the ground hard outside her door, there was silence. Daddy opened the door and slipped inside, shotgun still in hand. He placed it down from the door and embraced his daughter, but she tried to pull away, because he smelt like whiskey and smoke again. `` No need to worry, sweetheart,'' he whispered as he ran his hand down her hair, along her back, into the waistband of her pants, searching for more of that sweet, soft skin. `` No one's ever gon na take you from me. Get your things. We have to find a new place to live again.'' `` Okay. I love you, Daddy,'' the girl said, as outside her doorway, the crumpled police officer let out one last wet wheeze before falling still.
[ 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 .	I swiped right. My world changed. Smolder is a popular dating application for people like me that are used to face-to-face rejection or silent cold-shoulders through the wires, and overall a dim outlook on finding a mate, or just about anything that's good in life. Even the word I use to describe it singles me out as an ideal user – mate. Not partner, not girlfriend, not even a fling – a mate. So when I found someone that fit my unreasonable expectations in a potential mate, my finger didn ’ t hesitate. But no more than two dozen emojis and three thrilling paragraphs of banter later I found myself heading to a low-key restaurant chain to meet my mate. Amelia. She was... Generous. She paid for everything. The food itself was lackluster, but this might have been her doing; or the steady throbbing pain I ’ d had in my back for the last few weeks. Yet, I forgot all of this. She was too beautiful: the complexion of freshly cut rosewood wrapped in a gray suit; curves that fevered imaginations over the centuries write epics measured in volumes to honor. But there was something more. The way she spoke about the depth and breadth of whatever topic that came – her tone bordered on flat, but even so it was a voice that ignites suns, and extinguishes galaxies. And she was smiling. At Me! Jackpot! Drinks, and then a trip to the county fair. Strolling through crowds, hand in hand, it was as if we had by royal decree to celebrate all that was good in life. Every whirling teacup, miniature rollercoaster, and free-fall drop from a bungee cord found us smiling, and laughing. We wound up at the line to a ferris wheel. Couples, families, every circumstance of life imaginable crammed in to tiny buckets, and waited for the whirring rotors to lift them skyward; to touch the heavens. We reached the top, and I looked at her. She looked at me. I held my breath, about to lean in for a kiss. Then a lurching sound, followed by shooting pain in my lower back. Everyone shouted: some in surprise; some in fear. Everyone but her. She was intently staring at me. Her face changed in to something that fells Redwoods. The voice that had launched a thousand ships began to crush them, one by one consigned to a watery bed. It was eerie, and I broke out in cold sweats when she spoke. “ I need to be honest with you, Adam, ” She said. I swallowed down a lump in my throat, and said, “ Ab-b-b-out what? ” “ Look at me, Adam. LOOK AT ME. ” She said, with a voice that buries cities in mudslides. Somewhere in an uncharted part of my head measured in age by the coming and going of whole cultures, a bell toned with finality. I knew. I knew who she was. What she was. And where this ride – my ride – was going. Death. And I, smooth customer that I am, couldn ’ t think of anything to say that didn ’ t end with, ‘ Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ’. Smooth, I know. “ ADAM. EVERYTHING YOU ARE, EVERYTHING YOU WILL BE – WHEN YOU DIE, YOUR BODY WILL ROT, YOUR NAME WILL BE FORGOTTEN. BUT NOT YOU. THE YOU THAT COUNTS WILL CONTINUE. BUT ADAM, ” and she let out a small, contented breath, “ TODAY WE GET TO DECIDE IF YOU WILL SLIP IN TO THE BLIND SPOTS OF THE LENSE THAT WATCHES, AND DECIDES HOW THAT ‘ YOU ’ CONTINUES. ” “ We? ” I asked, lazily. Oddly enough, when you ’ re confronted with a foregone conclusion like, I don ’ t know, Death with a capital ‘ D ’, life becomes much simpler. I felt relaxed. Like none of the normal pressures I faced, or would have to face mattered anymore. It was awesome! She broke me out of that spell. The bitch. Her voice resumed her prior cadence, and she said “ Well, I get the final say. However, I ’ d like your input given the finality of my decision. We have time - lot ’ s of time. And this is a decision I don ’ t want to rush through. Unless, of course, you want me to try, ” and capital ‘ D ’ came back for a godawful instant when she continued with, “ EXPEDITING THE PROCESS. ” I shuddered, and cried, “ NO! No. Let ’ s... let ’ s get this ball rolling. How... how do you want to do this? ” I asked. I was now aware that even stars had ceased their steady pulsing twinkle. The crowd had stopped. Birds stuck in a snapshot of flight were suspended in midair, and the faces of everyone below me were locked in a variety of frozen expressions ranging from shock, to panic and beyond. I ’ m sure under different circumstances I would have giggled, and said something profound like ‘ Cool ’. She considered me for an appraising moment. “ Have you ever read Alighieri ’ s Inferno? ” She asked. “ Uh, no. ” I replied. The answer seemed to please her. “ Good. That will save a lot of awkward questions. ” she said. I let out a relieved sigh. She wasn ’ t done. “ What about Chess? You ’ re not going to challenge me to a game of it, right? ” She asked. “ What? No. No, I ’ m more of a Checkers player. ” I meekly offered. She didn ’ t answer, and I felt like she was urging me to finish an incomplete line of thought. “ I won ’ t challenge you to a game of Checkers. Or poker. Or any real-time strategy games of any kind. ” I said. This was what she wanted to hear. Wait, was it still a she? He? I didn ’ t know, but I stuck to she for simplicity ’ s sake. It was... she was after all still maintaining the personification of a she; of Amelia. Then another thought crossed my mind. “ Why... did you do all this? ” I asked. “ Really, did you have to... you know... ” I trailed off. She was giving me an annoyed look. Yup, she was definitely annoyed. Gulp. “ Are you not happy? I went to a lot of effort to arrange this for you! NO, I DIDN ’ T HAVE TO DO ALL THIS – GIVE YOU THE MOST GRATIFYING EXPERIENCE YOU ’ VE HAD TO DATE. NO, I DIDN ’ T HAVE TO LET YOU ENJOY THE THRILL OF ACTUALLY FEELING, ” and she pursed her lips in thought, “ alive? ” “ Th-th-thank you Miss Death, ” I stuttered. “ Amelia will be fine, ” she replied. “ Okay. So, Amelia – what do I... ” I started to say, but then we were no longer on a ferris wheel, nor in any state I could identify save Arizona. Northern Texas? It was dimly lit, with no obvious source of light. Warm wind blew over a flat rocky plateau, plumes of overlapping clouds looming overhead. Somehow the wind was completely silent, only made out by the occasional stirrings on my clothes. Next to me, capital ‘ A ’ Amelia silently observed the the barren scenery with stoic poise. We were alone. “ Where... ” I began, but stopped short. The word echoed everywhere with the tones of a funeral bell. The effect was unnerving. I tried again, pushing the acoustic phenomenon out of my thoughts. “ Where are we? ” Almost as if in reply, indigo bolts of lightning slowly struck the distant terrain at the speed of the world ’ s laziest snail. Amelia looked at me, and I think the smile she made was the saddest thing I'd seen her do until then. She said, “ I ’ ll give you three guesses. ” “ The Grand Canyon? ” I asked. Humor was the wrong choice. Amelia looked irritated, but resumed the placid stare across the spider-webs of cracked earth. “ THAT'S... ONE. ” She intoned. I thought about it, and made the best gamble I could. “ H-E-Double-Hockey-Stick? ” I replied. She nodded, turning to face me. “ Yes. We are in the After, the Before, the landscapes slain by your measures of time. By me. ” She said, with a note of pride. Her words didn ’ t echo. They smothered. She continued, with maybe a note of loneliness, “ We are in my home. ” Jaw, meet floor. “ Wait... you LIVE here?! ” I asked in shocked disbelief. She nodded at me, and said, “ Consider your date successful. We ’ re here, after all. Alone. Very, very alone. ” It wasn ’ t what she said that made a pit open in my middle. It was how the mountains in the distance moaned; how the ground sagged under my feet at her words; agony. I tried to say something, but I did n't know what; or how. The loneliness came like an avalanche, and buried me. “ There ’ s no one else? No boiling cauldrons, no - ” I began, but she cut me off with a raised hand. “ Damnation is a very ambiguous term. Consider that those who pass make their own judgments – their own assessments known to the ears of the hereafter. The hereafter willingly obliges. Many have come this way. But, to date, no one has stayed. They find something comforting in knowing that their worst fears were fictions, and depart for a more productive future. I have never shown this to anyone. Not like this. Please keep that in mind – I wanted someone to know beforehand just this once. ” She said with the weight of a stone around her neck. “ What ’ s the other option? ” I asked. She stared blankly at me. “ EVERLASTING FULFILLMENT. COMFORT. YOU WOULD NEVER WANT FOR ANYTHING. IT ’ S LIKE, ” and Amelia let icy, mirthless laughter slip in to the final words, “ A NEVERENDING PARTY. ” I thought about it. But somehow I didn ’ t have to think that long before the words began tumbling out my mouth with utter confidence. Confidence I ’ d never had, or known I had. “ Here. I want to stay here. With you. ” I said. Amelia blinked, “ You ’ re... you ’ re sure? ” “ Why not!? It ’ s different. Roomy. An endless party seems kind of boring. This is anything but boring. You ’ re anything but boring. Sign me up! When do I go? ” I said. Amelia stared at me, searching for sarcasm. Maybe to check if I was a lunatic. After a few uncertain moments she said, “ In your sleep, a few months from now. The cancer in your pancreas is now spreading throughout your body. It will be quick; agonizing. You will beg for release, and none will give it to you. A Hospice worker will take pity, and show you how to adjust the morphine drip. Then…, ” and Amelia - my end, my beginning - swept a lovely hand in a scything motion across our view as she continued, “ YOU WILL BE HOME. ” We embraced. I woke up the next morning, my back aching. The pain was... well, painful. But welcomed. Motivating. I didn ’ t have much time, and had way too much to get in order. For the first time in my life I spent the entire day smiling. I knew that soon... soon I would be going home.
[ WP ] You accidentally kill the demon lord who also happens to look exactly like you . You now have to pretend to be the ruler of darkness lest the minions find out .	'' Nesboarth? `` `` Yes, Chariz?'' '' Does the Dark Lord seem different to you? `` `` How do you mean, Chariz?'' '' Remember the solo trip he took to Syria last month? `` `` Sure. The contract renewal with that Assad guy.'' '' Right. Well, just let me tell you what I saw upon his glorious return - just let me get through this. `` `` All right, I'm listening.'' '' Okay, first was his entrance-'' `` Portal of fire and shining brilliance of beautiful and terrible majesty.'' '' Damn it, Nesboarth. Do n't interrupt. `` `` Sorry Chariz.'' '' Okay, his entrance - Well, you were on the 6th circle, checking on that cult leader's progress... Jones, I think he's called. `` `` Jim.'' '' Stop interrupting!. `` * `` Sorry.'' '' You were there. Boaz was on two, Samira was on eight, Joachim was- you know what, does n't matter. Point is, everybody was busy. `` `` Okay.'' '' Well, I'm here flaying Mao's testicles, as usual, and I hear the trumpets announce his approach. `` '' I throw myself to the ground and begin the normal praises and supplications as the fiery portal opens and - this is where is gets weird. Instead of his normal ear-splitting roar announcing his presence on all nine levels I hear........ `` `` You hear what?'' '' A scream... A human scream... Of terror... You know the kind. `` `` Do I ever.'' '' Yeah, then it gets even weirder. `` `` Oookaaaayyy.'' '' He's panicked and FREAKING OUT.'' `` Like post-Nixon'what will we do now?' impeachment freaking out or V-E Day'all my plans are ruined' freaking out?'' '' Like a human who just arrived. `` `` Shut your two mouths.'' '' Yeah. And there's more. `` '' I ask'How may I serve you Lord?' And he's says'What?' Like he does n't even know me! He asks where he is, what's going on, who am I, why I have two mouths. It was so strange. `` '' I mean, he looks the same. Beautiful blonde hair, muscular human body- wait. Now that I think about it, he has n't changed form since his return. `` `` Yeah, I noticed that too. I thought he was gearing up for another life up there. They're about due for another genocide. You know how long it takes to get used to those bodies.'' '' Yeah, you could be right... Well, let me tell you the last part-'' '' Shut up shut up - here he comes! `` '' Hail to you Dark Lord! May the universe bow before your mighty presence. `` '' OH HEY, CHARYP. '' '' Chariz. `` '' RIGHT. CHARIZ. JUST TESTING YOU.... WELL... CARRY ON. `` '' See what I mean, Nesboarth?! `` `` Yeah. Why did n't he rip your arms off for correcting him?'' '' I know. `` `` Well, it's not normal. That's for sure. Maybe he's thinking of changing some things.'' '' Somethings not right. I can feel it in my tail. `` `` Holy Vatican Council - do n't start talking about your'tail feelings' again.'' '' No seriously. The tail is always right. `` `` Sure buddy. Whatever you say.'' '' It is! `` `` Okay chief. I'm going up to one to disembowel some new arrivals.'' '' Fine. Have it your way, jerk. `` `` Go eat a wafer.''
[ WP ] 'You realize I have to kill you now . ' 'Yes ... it 's okay . I 'm ready . '	I need to get out from here. I move as quietly as I can, don ’ t want to alert others. It is more than enough to have him chasing me. My body is trembling but I force myself, it is for my life after all. Sometimes I just stand silently in the darkness when there is a voice coming from the front. When they are gone, I continue my run in relieve. This building is too big. It seems that to find the exit door is almost impossible. However I don ’ t give up as my life is at the stake. However my old body is not like me, already giving up. My lungs hurt and I am sweating a lot. I don ’ t know until when I can run and stay alive. Suddenly I bump into someone, we are both shocked. He wants to scream but I act fast enough, covering his mouth and his nose with my hand until he breaths no more. No, what have I done? I already promised her that I won ’ t kill anyone ever again. And now the promise has been broken, just like that. It was my reflex, my old killer reflex. I didn ’ t do anything wrong right? It was to defend my own life. But my promise to her, is already broken. No, for now, my life is more important than a mere promise. So I move on, searching for the exit door while I breath heavily. Wait, I see something, a door. It must be the exit door that I have been looking for. My tense body calms down. I run to that door and open it. However it is not an exit that I was hoping for. In there, someone is waiting. “ I know that you will come, ” he said happily. “ You... ” I can ’ t finish it, I am too shocked. “ Yeah, me, the one that will take your life. ” “ I... I am sorry. ” “ For what? Your sorry can ’ t bring my sister back, you killed her your freaking monster. ” My body now feels heavy, a burden from my sin. He looks at me fiercely while pointing his gun. “ I know.. but... ” “ Stop talking! ” He runs at me and pushes me to the wall, pointing his gun directly to my head. “ You realize I have to kill you now. ” My body is trembling but I know that it is my time, I must face my final judgment, right here, right now. My memories about her are coming back to me. I feel guilty, “ Yes... It ’ s okay. I'm.... ” “ CUT!!! You are not supposed to say that yet, you should be begging first, oh God, ” a loud voice cuts me. `` Can we just change the dialogue?'' The man in front of me laughs. I believe that he is getting tired to work with me as it is already the fifth time we take this scene. Damn reddit, why I must read that prompt? Now I am stuck with that.
[ WP ] You 're on a spaceship with a bunch of aliens . You 're only value to them is something only a human can do .	`` Do it again.'' I stood hunched over before the alien captain for the third time that day. He was a powerful looking male-equivalent for his race. Even so, my seven year old niece could probably take him in a fist fight. The Tod'lahs were a physically unimposing race, but what they lacked in size they made up for in ingenuity. It had been only ten generations ago that their first plane had flown. Now they traveled between stars in a matter of weeks. `` Do it again!'' Captain Bamblino insisted. Two days ago they had taken me aboard as I slept. Taken, they told me, because my of unique gifts they'd discovered during random surveillance of the surface. `` Captain,'' I began with a sigh. `` I beg you. Just let me go home. I wo n't say anything about you all. No one would believe me anyway. I'm begging you, let me go home. Stop making me do it. It's getting old, man.'' I was met with a blank stare. With a final sigh and a shake of my head, I reached across the desk, toward the alien's face. `` I got your nose!''
[ WP ] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them . When you receive yours it says simply `` Welcome to Starbucks . Can I take your order ? ''	Ludwig waited in line with the other hopefuls. His 18th birthday, finally! Life was full of unanswered questions, but at least now he would be able to recognize his soul mate! That was something, he supposed. All he had to do was keep an ear out for that one fateful phrase. The girl behind him seemed just as nervous as he felt. They did a strange dance together, shifting in their respective anxiety. At last he was in front. He entered the booth. He typed in his Globally Unique Identifier. He put his finger in the fingerbox and winced as it pricked and collected its drop of blood. The Oracle machine gurgled. Finally, the tape was printed. The answer! The one phrase he'd have to keep in mind and look out for! The sign! `` Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?'' What? What the fuck was this? He loved Starbucks. He went there multiple times a day. How the hell was he supposed to find his soul mate? It felt as if nothing could describe his disappointment. This was supposed to be the one thing he never had to worry about! The one question he should have had an answer to! Hot-headed Ludwig left in a huff. As he exited the small booth, he cried, `` Can you believe this shit?'' He supposed he was talking to the girl next in line. To make his outburst less strange, he handed the tape to her. ``'Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?' Wow, lame.'' `` I know, right?'' Though he had no way of telling, she honestly felt his disappointment. For a brief moment, they were emotionally, mystically connected through that sympathy. `` Hope yours is better than mine,'' he told her. Off he trudged. Seconds later, she received her tape: `` Can you believe this shit?'' She looked for the distinctive red sweater in the crowd, but he was already gone. ... LUDWIG AND THE GIRL WILL RETURN IN... `` WHERE ANGELS GO, TROUBLE FOLLOWS'' May 2016
[ WP ] A failed mystery writer decides to end his own life and leave the most confusing crime scene ever . An accomplished crime novelist is called to help investigate the circumstances of his death .	The air was turbulent with violent gusts which brought on the icy rain like tiny razors which bit at flesh. Detective Burquist held his trenches collar up over his face with his chin tucked in and cupped his hat to his head. Braving the wind as best his large frame would allow, he pushed through the resistance and guided his company to the glass business door. Lyn shuttered as the icy pools of water soaked through her street shoes and pants. She clung to Burquist's back lest she be thrown across the block shortly before surly freezing into a block of solid human. As they reached the door she was shadowing Burquist so closely that they collided when he stopped to open it with a oof. Chilled and embarrassed as they stepped in she never noticed the sign above the door frame which read: `` Svens Books''. The door held open in the wind and Burquist swore and clung the cross bar handle and yanked furiously to pull it back to its frame. The wind made one last protesting effort before dying off. The door slammed and the bells dangling off its top frame clattered in a frenzy while Burquist puffed in exhaustion and tore his hat off. With the wind shut out, an eerie stillness swallowed the hallway and it was all quite save Burquists labored breathing. `` Bitch of a night.'' The large man said and bent over leaving a wet palm print on the wall and working to catch his breath. He cringed and tucked his hand under a rib and pushed in to soothe a stitch. `` God damn global warming better get'ere quick. Thirty-five fuckin' degrees in April. I have n't seen winds like that on this side of town since the whole district went up and blocked it all out.'' Lyn stood quietly shivering, watching the man and waiting patiently. She considered a moment the character before her. Everything about him was a tragedy. Life had typecast Burquist to be the kind of cop every mystery writer put in at least one of their lesser loved tales. A portly, foul-mouthed, shady detective who was there to impede the true hero's progress with snide remarks and half-assed observations which served little more than to belittle the hero and create a temporary antagonist until the real one was discovered. They were, she though, lazy characters. To often they were one dimensional and their arc went from `` Fuck you protagonist'' to `` Good job rookie but still, fuck you.'' In short it was as if Burquist had stepped right off the page of some ten cent pulp novel cover and was no escorting her to a crime scene. That in itself seemed horribly cliche in her mind as well. Chicago's brightest in blue were stumped by a crime scene and called in the local pen celebrity who happened to write crime fiction for a living. She had n't turned down the offer because the possible celebrity exposure was incredible. They assured her that no one would know she was helping with the case. It was better for the department this way as it saved face if she brought something to the table that lead to capturing the murderer. But the words `` consultant'' would come up in the press interview. All it would take then was a clever investigative journalist and it would be out that she was the mystery PI. Her next novel would be a guaranteed number one best seller. And if she could n't help them, then as far as the world was concerned she had nothing to do with it. Again, to Lyn it sounded strait out of one of a cheap mystery thriller. If she were so inclined to pander to the Wal-Mart mystery section, she could have a dozen of her own heaping piles clogging up the shelves herself. Even the weather was committed to the act. Lyn decided she would play her part admittedly. `` Is the body through this door?'' She motioned to the end of the short hallway which had a single open door on the right. Burquist snapped his head up in surprise forgetting he was n't alone. `` Oh! Ya, ya. Do n't enter though, just look through the doorway. The chief was very specific about that. He only wants your immediate impression. No bungling the crime scene.'' He shooed her forward with the back of his hand and began wringing out his coat. Lyn walked deliberately slow and trailed her hand softly along the wall, her ring rattling against the rough surface. The low pressure outside had thinned out the air and the thin hallogen light and it's feint buzz set all the mood for a body viewing. Or at least, she told herself these things and approached the open door. Her writers mind could n't stand blind to the details. Lyn steeled her heart and stepped around the corner to peer into the room. Before her eyes crossed the threshold she wondered what horror she was about to face. In one of her more recent novels, The Puppet's Last Dance, she'd written about a person who had been drawn and quartered, and then dangled from a ceiling with climbers rope to give the effect of a gruesome marionette. The twist to the murder was that their was no murder. The victim had perpetrated a most cunning suicide in hopes that his ex would be convicted of the wrong doing. Lyn steeled her heart and stepped around the corner to peer into the room and saw... darkness. She squinted in but the room was a perfect black ink beyond the threshold. Looking around the doorway she did n't see a light switch. She reached into the darkness and pawed around the other side but before her hand caught the switch, she realized it was not the patter of rain on the roof she had been hearing. The sound was something mechanical instead. Like the buttons on one of those old fashion cash registers or- CHINGGGGG! Lyn snapped her hand back stumbled out of the frame. From the darkness she heard the faint ringing of a bell echoing out. A black mass blocked out the light to her right and she nearly screamed before realizing it was Burquist. `` What did you do?'' he commanded, his voice equal parts scorn and disbelief. Before she could answer, he reached into the darkness and brought his sausage fingers down along the wall. A light clicked on and he stepped into the room quickly. `` I told you not to touch anything!'' Lyn caught her self mid curse and snapped back, `` I did n't touch anything! Something made a noise and it startled me.'' Burquist stepped into the room. Just beyond was a line of crime scene tape draped across the entryway. The room was circular and elegant curved shelf work ran all along the walls. He pulled it over his head and stepped in, huffing and scanning like a predator. His gaze settled to the center of the room and Lyn instinctively followed it. An greying old man was staring at her. He sat at a circular table with a typewriter at his lap. His fingers were posed over the keys as if he had just been interrupted mid-sentence. On the table sat a few books mounted on small display stands. Above all of this though, she was drawn most to his face. He was old. Very old. His pot marked features, wrinkles and liver-spots all pointed to eighty years old at least. Although, there was one feature that brought a mysterious youth to him. His smile in was a blessed creek in a desolate land. `` Hello?'' She said so quietly she barely heard her own voice. Burquist turned from the man at the table to Lyn and turned his chin down to give Lyn a serious glare. `` He's dead.'' For a moment Lyn was shocked to think she had just witnessed some crime, only to realize moments later this was the body she was meant to observe in the first place. The smile, seemed considerably less charming now. Burquist approached and leaned towards the old man. He reached under his coat and for a moment Lyn was sure he was about to draw a pistol. Instead a small pen appeared pinched in his fingers and he pushed up the paper set in the typewriter. `` Son of a bitch,'' He said to no one in particular, `` Come here.'' Lyn carefully stepped through the doorway and under the police tape. She was startled to discover she could n't take her eyes from the old mans without a great effort. His eyes looked alive despite their milky white film. His gaze demanded her, his smile taunting and righteous. She broke away and tried to focus on the books instead. Closer inspection revealed their titles: The Blind Witness, No Bars Can Hold, and The Puppet's Last Dance. Each written by Lynda Matterson. Lyn stopped in her tracks. `` This is a murder?'' Her mind flashed over the horror stories her publisher had filled her head with whenever she attended a book signing. Why do we need security anyways? They are just fans. Crazy people. Ever read Misery? Their out there. Not man, but their out there. `` This,'' Burquist responded. His tone was surprisingly gentle for his demeanor. `` Is a suicide.'' He reached down and carefully pulled the slip of paper from the type writer. `` Dispatch got a letter, of all the god damn things, saying he'd be here, just like this. Written, so far as we can tell by him.'' `` But if it's a...'' she gulped `` Suicide. Why do you need me?'' `` Because the day before Alvin here died, he kidnapped 4 children and we do n't know where they are. And I do n't know how the son-of-a-bitch did it, but he left you this.'' Burquist offered her the sheet of paper. Lyn was surprised to discover her hand falter as she reached out to take it. The paper felt heavy and thick between her fingers. She began to read: > To: Linda Matterson > The Smiling Ghost Writer > Chapter 1 > The air was turbulent with violent gusts which brought on the icy rain like tiny razors which bit at flesh. Detective Burquist held his trenc- Lynda looked up to Detective Birquist, her eyes wide with freight. She began scanning: > -d typecast Burquist to be the kind of cop every mystery writer put in- > Her ring let out a soft rattle against the rough surface. Lyn lifted the paper and looked to the ring and the fought to steady her shaking hands. `` It's a hell of a thing ai n't it?'' Burquist asked sincerely. Lyn looked to the bottom of the page. >'' It's a hell of a thing ai n't it?'' She nodded and let the paper fall to the floor.
[ WP ] The building was on fire , and it was n't my fault .	The building was on fire, and it was n't my fault. I'd been working with Him for a while, bit older than me. He had a fine face, olive-skinned, very exotic. He told me that my luck would be different this time, that I would relinquish all these weights.. all these times where everything had gone horribly, horribly wrong. `` I'll guide you, you will change. You'll be in control,'' He promised. The promise was control of myself, control of where my fingers went, who I saw and who saw me, where my life would go. If anything bad ever happened, it would n't be my fault anymore; I was in control, and only good things would ever happen. He gave me a lighter and told me, `` Let it go, let it kindle in the concrete..'' So I did. And I was not to blame. The whole thing set ablaze and I had no responsibility for it, and I was not responsible for anyone's sorrow, He had taken the precautions, and I was, for once, without conscience. So I got bored.
[ IP ] Warmth	# # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap ) As she allowed the warm spices to roll over her tongue, Amy knew that she ’ d finally found her answer. Here. This was where she belonged. This was how she belonged. She, and only she, had chosen this country, town, street, café. After what felt like a lifetime of others dictating her every action, word, and thought, she ’ d finally found her sanctuary. She opened her laptop. Tink, tink, tink. The cold rain battered the window to her left. She paid it little mind, so absorbed was she in her own little world. The dim light of the café, the heat of the mug between her hands, the smell of sweet bread in front of her, all this added together to create a small pocket of peace for her to sink into. Closing her eyes briefly, she began to type. The world around her drifted away, and she fell into a words that spread across the screen in front of her. She imagined a world of her own, one where never again she would have to play puppet to someone else ’ s desires or whims. She wrote of adventures, romance, sorrow. The sorrow hit a bit too close to home. No, not sorrow then, go back to the adventure. She smiled to herself and took another sip of her chai tea. It had cooled just enough to reveal new spices to her taste buds. Sighing contentedly, she turned her focus back to her new world, her real world. Deeper and deeper she fell. Smiling, slashing, fighting, the world burst forth before her eyes. She could almost hear the distant clank of armor as her protagonist fought off some new threat to their homeland. Forest moss blended its smell with the rich coffee of her little café. A bell tinkled somewhere. Faint footsteps interspersed the clacking of her keyboard. “ So this is where you ’ ve run off to. ” A deep voice said. There was no inflection there, just simple fact. Amy froze, pulled violently from the world she ’ d created, from the sanctuary she ’ d found. A sigh, then, “ Come, your father needs you. ” He turned and left. His long stride brought him to the door with only a few steps. The soft ring of the bell above his head signaled his departure. Slowly, so slowly, Amy closed her laptop. The warmth of the little café could no longer penetrate her cold interior. For once brief moment she considered staying, or at least not following him home, but she knew that no matter where she went she couldn ’ t escape her duty. She gathered her things, and with a heavy heart followed him out into the rain.
[ OT ] How do you come up with names in original scifi/fantasy works ?	It's usually all over the place for me. For settings, I usually just rack my brain for any particular name I like and extend other names from that. So, a place named after something like a number `` Oneplace'' would be close by the river `` Singlebrook'' and so on. Race names are a bit iffy. In most cases, you can get away with naming them based off a physical description. Usually if it's a pretty defining characteristics, it'd work well enough. Ex: Tamriel and dark-skinned Dark Elves or most real animals that are literally a genus and an adjective. Honestly, if it's too much trouble, just name everything `` The Great ____'' and start writing the plots and conflicts from there. Go back and rename everything once you feel you'd like to. It's also useful for forcing you to build up more substantial, defined places/characters since there's no name to distinguish them. Just my methods though. I know some people just like searching around for names online and those can work out pretty well too.
[ WP ] You just developed a cure to a deadly plague that has been rapidly spreading across the world , you decide not to share the news with the world .	1/7/2694 I thought watching my wife die was the worst thing that could happen to me. She was frozen in the bed, lips blue as the disease sucked every ounce of warmth out of her body. Her skin had turned shades of blue and purple last month, giving her an undead look, but she was still alive. A couple of times, I almost found the strength to pick up the pillow and finally lay her to rest. I knew she wanted me to—she was so cold and in so much pain. But I couldn ’ t do it. However painful it was to watch her die, it had to be worse making her die, right? Instead, I took that energy, that nervousness, and I poured it into my work. Somehow, someway, I was going to cure it. I had made tremendous strides since my wife had gotten the disease; I guess motivation was all I needed. My lab rats were scampering around once again, though they had the disease only a few days prior. It was time for a human subject. I had considered giving myself the disease and trying the cure myself, but time was of the essence. My wife was in the final stages of the disease. It was time. The pill barely slid down my wife ’ s throat, but it made it. I squeezed her freezing hand, trying to smile at her. The waiting had begun. The lab rats had started to feel better within three days of ingesting the cure. I prayed to whatever being was out there that my wife still had three days left in her. 2/7/2694 My wife is better now. Her symptoms have gone away entirely. She ’ s got her warmth back. She can keep down solid foods. She is physically fit once more. But nothing feels right anymore. I noticed the difference on Day 4 of the cure. On Day 3, she had started to recognize me again. She had even smiled. But that was all gone now, and I knew my cure was worthless. She slept all day, and interacting with her in any way would send into fits of pain. A single human voice or the sound of a chair moving would make her writhe for hours. If she saw anything at all, she would try to scratch her eyes out. Nothing was physically wrong with her, but somehow, my cure had destroyed her brain. I still needed to take care of her—she now constantly wore ear plugs and an eye mask to protect her fragile brain—but I could no longer see her. In curing her, I had stripped away her ability to interact with the world. She was just a shell. I thought watching my wife die was the worst thing that could happen to me. Watching her live was so much worse.
[ WP ] You are a knight in the Medieval Ages , except dragons exist . You are trying to convince your friends that trying to train them is a bad idea .	`` It's not that you ca n't train them, it's that you ca n't tame them.'' you say as you lean your stool from the table. `` HAHAHAHA!! This thing is as docile as a common house cat!'' Sven said as he shook the head of a small dragon. `` Watch this! Watch this!'' Sven blows out his clay lamp and holds it in front of the beast. The dragon makes a deep growl from inside its body before releasing a small flame igniting the lamp. `` HAHA! Did you see that old boy?! Did you see that?'' `` Yes I saw it. And I saw it the other thousand times you've shown me.'' There is something that's just not right with these dragons. He keeps a small one as a pet, like many others, but to you it seems a bit strange letting a pet the size of a small horse into your home. The smell is bad enough but the vibes you get... They are n't nice. Does everyone ignore them? Do they not feel the goosebumps run down their spine when the animal looks at them? You head for the door while Sven says his goodbye. Another chill runs down your back as you watch the dragons brow furrow then turn to doe eyes as it notices you watching.
[ WP ] An individual/team investigates the wreck of an old starship still in empty space	The lights played over the interior of the ship as Drod and his bots made their way aft from what was apparently the craft ’ s control room. From what Drod could tell, the technology was primitive, the ship barely powerful enough to escape the gravity of whatever world had slung it into the void. One of the bots skittered up and shot a tendril into Drod ’ s lateral sensor organ. The data downloaded in a millisecond. Ah, yes, an ancient vehicle, well over 15,000 turns old. Drod was amazed it had lasted so long, adrift as it was and subject to the vast array of hazards of deep space. Well, perhaps it could be salvaged, maybe even displayed as a curiosity at the Brasta spaceport. Another bot scurried up on its multiple legs, shooting a tendril into Drod ’ s anterior node. Really? How interesting. Preservation pods, are you sure? Let us see. Drod made his way aft through what may have been some kind of galley, although what kind of beings could have made use of the torturous-looking furniture he shuddered to think. And all the flat surfaces and angles – Drod hardly knew how these beings could have moved, let alone worked in this space. A bot skittered ahead and operated the door mechanism, and Drod flattened his thorax and retracted most of his various filaments to squeeze through. Compact creatures, whatever they are, he thought to himself as he surveyed the new space. It was larger, and noticeably colder, quite a bit more like his own ship, he thought happily. A row of boxlike structures stretched along both bulkheads toward the rear of the chamber, dozens of them. Behind clear partitions, each frosted with a rime of ice, reclined a figure, apparently in some form of hypersleep. By the Lords of Egon, what strange creatures, Drod thought, bending closer to the nearest. The form lying inside was indeed small, only half Drod ’ s length. And rather than a multitude of useful tentacles and appendages, these poor creatures had only four. And even then, only two of them appeared fit for dexterous use. The other two ended in spatulate protuberances clad in some kind of heavier skin, as if they were only fit for locomotion. Even odder was what Drod took to be the creature ’ s countenance. Drod didn ’ t even know where to begin looking at that. It had what appeared to be ocular organs, but there were only two, and they were situated above the two other orifices on the flat plane of the creature ’ s face, each covered by some kind of external flap. The central orifice may or may not have been for respiration – Drod knew that some beings aspirated through only one orifice – but he was almost atavistically delighted to realize that the larger hole beneath was almost certainly some type of “ mouth. ” Drod grew excited. If it was true that these creatures actually had mouths, then they might also have an orifice for elimination, in which case they would be worth their weight in brillium to the vizier ’ s zookeeper. It was well known that the vizier took great pleasure in zoology, and such primitive creatures ( imagine, Drod shuddered, having to ingest matter and … ugh, excrete the remainder ) would be nearly priceless. He nearly lost half his lateral tendrils at the thought. They would have grown back, of course, but the wait would have been irritating. Overcome by his curiosity ( and growing avarice ), Drod queried a bot in a series of low blops and squeaks. The bot frilled in the affirmative and skittered to a pad directly below the sleep chamber, inputting a series of commands using the ridiculously hard mechanisms that protruded, each with its own lurid interior color. There was a popping sound from behind the chamber, than a low and growing hissing noise. A mist collected around his ankles, deliciously cooling, and the transparent partition before him slid down into the recess below it. His own sensor orifices were then assaulted by an alien and animal scent rising from the chamber. Lords, these things stank. He doubted even the vizier would wish to come close enough to view these creatures. Perhaps they could be cleaned, somehow. As the mists ebbed away, the pad upon which the creature lay slowly extended outward into the corridor on some hidden mechanism. Drod stood back slightly, watching it. The creature stirred, its two frontal limbs moving slightly, digits at the end of the limbs opening and closing. Drod ’ s compound eyes were again drawn to the thing ’ s face, where the two flaps over what he assumed were the ocular organs were fluttering. Then they parted, revealing two orbs of a jelly-like substance, a ghastly white, with darker centers. The orbs narrowed, and seemed to be taking in Drod in all his magnificence. “ Hello, ” Drod squeaked, going for a soothing tone. “ I am Drod, primary warden of the vizier ’ s guardian fleet in this sector. Who are you? ” The creature moved some of its facial features independently, an unsettling thing to behold, but made no reply. Perhaps it is mute, Drod thought. He queried a bot, which scurried to a nearby bank of what appeared to be archaic computers, plugged itself in, then scurried back to him seconds later with its new data. “ Ah, ” said Drod, this time using his built-in modulators to mimic sounds the creature was more likely to understand. “ This might work better, ” he said, looking back down at the creature. “ Do you understand me now? I am Drod. Who are you? Where do you come from? Do you have a name?'' The creature moved its facial features again, this time a slight curling of what Drod had taken for its mouth parts. The effect was odd, Drod thought. Somewhat unsettling. Even a bit threatening, although why Drod should feel threatened he could not fathom. “ My name? ” the creature said, in a low but not unpleasant voice. “ My name is Singh. Khan Noonian Singh. But you may call me Khan. ”
[ WP ] Snape is forced to teach sex-ed at Hogwarts .	The Potions classroom was as cold and drafty as ever, yet everywhere Harry looked, faces were flushed red and sweat stood out on brows. The entire 5th year class had been brought in for Snape's lesson, yet the dungeon walls seemed no more suffocating than normal and there was a chair for every student - Harry wondered if Snape had magically enhanced the room in advance, or if the castle had done the work for him. It certainly seemed to know what was going on, at any rate: every portrait the students had passed was alive with whispers and knowing chuckles, Sir Cardogan had been laughing and joking with Seamus at the door but both quickly shut up when Vicky Bishopper had strode by rolling her eyes, and even the suits of armor were creaking and wheezing. All that noise ceased when Snape swept into the room, soon after the last fifth year had found a seat. He stalked up to the podium, looking more forbidding and menacing than usual. Harry made sure that he was looking at his desk when Snape's icy gaze turned his way. `` All of you,'' he said quietly, `` were present for that... travesty... which the Ministry of Magic delivered this morning.'' Harry, recalling the sing-songy show that a Ministry witch had put on during breakfast in the Great Hall, found himself feeling a rare flash of agreement with Snape. The witch, Greta DuVeel, had bounced into the hall, delivered a few songs about why `` the wait is great'' and `` there's no safety like'no''', and then left again just as quickly with a relieved look. `` That will not be the extent of your education in the matter of reproduction,'' Snape continued flatly. `` The Headmaster feels that young witches and wizards deserve to be fully informed of their options, and the consequences of ignoring those options, in this matter. I could not agree more, as the thought of you all running off into the bushes and creating an entirely new generation of mediocre, insufferable boors for me to attempt to educate is enough to put me off my supper.'' He delivered this last staring directly at Harry, who stared back on principle. `` For your understanding of the act, I have a presentation. There will be silence - during and afterwards - and any who can not contain their childishness shall lose their House thirty points. I am watching.'' With a snap of his wand, Snape summoned forth a trio of large scrolls, which proceeded to depict the miracle of procreation, pregnancy, and birth in distressing accuracy. The classroom was full of muttered exclamations and squeaks of horror and mirth, but Snape's forbidding gaze pinned each student in turn, and no one made more noise than a distressed mouse. When the'presentation' ended, mercifully quickly, the scrolls rolled up and snapped smartly down to lean against the podium. `` All of you will find a quill and slip of paper in front of you. You may each write one - and only one - question about this presentation or a related matter, and Madam Pomfrey will send you a discreet reply later this week. Anyone who addresses a question to me after class will have it repeated aloud at breakfast tomorrow, and I will then use a Sticking Charm to attach a copy of your idiocy to your face for the rest of the day.'' Harry looked down at his desk, but could n't think of a question to write. He saw Ron furtively writing while looking very hard at something interesting on the ceiling, while Hermione hastily scratched out a sentence, flushing pink, and then folded her paper over as if her words were a neon sign she had to put out. Snape waited impatiently for the scratching of quills to die down, tapping his foot in irritation. The moment the last quill was set aside, he muttered `` Accio Papers'' with a flick of his wand, and all the students' questions soared into a neat stack on the desk behind him - except one of the last ones, which he smartly snatched out of the air and examined closely. The room froze. `` Sir?'' Lavender Brown said in a high-pitched voice, `` Um, Professor Snape? Are n't you supposed to not read those? I - erm, we thought they were for M-Madam Pomfrey?'' Snape hardly spared her a glance. `` Your proclivities, Miss Brown, are of vanishingly little concern to me. These papers, however, are supposed to contain questions, not... requests.'' He looked up and slowly arrested every male student's gaze, lip curled in disgust. `` This parchment - and I think the person responsible knows which I mean - will not be delivered to Madam Pomfrey. Either have the courage to make this request to her in person, and suffer through a month of Boiling Pox as you would deserve, or focus your attentions on some unlucky female of your own age. When I find out who wrote this, and I will, we shall have a very short, unpleasant conversation.'' Harry and Ron looked around sharply, trying to spot a pair of guilty eyes as sniggers swept through the classroom, but the whole class was doing the same thing. Every boy Harry could see looked bewildered, while the girls were trading disgusted glances and whispering to each other. Hermione just rolled her eyes. `` Potter! Ten points from Gryffindor for not paying attention!'' Harry stared at the smirking Potions master in outrage - everyone had been looking around! - but Snape only sniffed down his long, greasy nose at Harry's reaction and continued. `` Before I have the great pleasure of ending this presentation, I have some basic spells and enchanted items to show you all. These are called'marital aids' by some, but they are properly know as reproductive prophylactics, and their purpose is to protect you and your unfortunate partner from passing on diseases, curses, or experiencing an unwanted pregnancy. With proper use of these simple measures, you and your partner should only share regret.'' Snape flicked his wand, and another large scroll snapped up from behind the podium and unrolled in midair, listing a set of spells and diagrams of small objects. The Potions master began pointing at each in turn. `` First: Muffliectus. This will wrap the male member in a membrane which prevents the transmission of disease, most magical afflictions and spells, or sperm. This covering is dispelled simply with the Finite Incantatem spell.'' He arched an eyebrow at the class. `` If a young wizard is unable or unwilling to use this spell, ladies, you should reconsider a great many things, very quickly.'' Someone behind Harry snorted derisively, and Snape turned to the source of the sound. `` Mr. Finnigan, twenty points from Gryffindor for laughing and for poor judgment. Enjoy a very lonely rest of your fifth year,'' he said with a sneer. `` Second: Vullitectus. Similar to the first, except that the membrane covers the female interior. Similarly dispelled. Some discomfort is normal.'' Harry saw more than a few girls wrinkle their noses or squirm at that, and Hermione was staring resolutely ahead again. Snape continued in a bored tone. `` Third is Finite Quivlic. Ladies, this spell will cause your body to begin its monthly cycle immediately. Great discomfort is normal. While its purpose should be obvious enough, see Madam Pomfrey before attempting to use this spell.'' Snape paused, and then added, very clearly `` If any male should use this spell, regardless of his own perceptions of his gender, he will exsanguinate slowly and painfully. It is not meant to interact with male anatomy.'' Ron shot Harry a horrified look as everyone in the room shuddered. Snape waved his wand and the floating scroll rolled up and joined the other scrolls by his podium. `` These three are the most commonly used spells and should provide adequate protection. There are a few other spells and a number of items produced by the Ministry to aid or abet the act, you can see a gender-specific list on your desk.'' Snape waved his wand again, sending a stack blue and pink pamphlets whirled into the air. The blue pamphlets each landed on a boy's desk while every girl received a pink one. Most people left them carefully alone. Neville opened his quickly and then shut it again, going red. `` I believe that is all,'' Snape said, evidently pleased to pronounce the presentation at an end. However, instead of his usual curt dismissal, he gazed around the classroom once more, eyes narrowed in disdain. `` With summer break approaching, far too many of you will find opportunities to... experiment. Please remember, in your fumbling, that I took this time, here, to heartily discourage each and every one of you from doing so. The Wizarding World is troubled enough without you lot begetting more headaches for the rest of us. Dismissed.''
[ WP ] You die and find yourself in Valhalla , where all great warriors go when they die . However , you never fought a day in your life . You try to find out why you 're there .	`` It was a simple mission, we were convoying from our FOB to the prison down the road. Our ambulance was surrounded by one hundred tons of metal, explosives, and humvee. The route had been cleared thousands of times. The Marines providing security were battle-tested, hardened, ready for anything.'' `` Aye, any man that fights well on ship and shore be a good brother in battle,'' the old man said. `` It was my ambulance that they hit. The thugs probably used the big red cross for a target. I barely felt anything as I climbed out after it flipped... I did n't see my helmet get dropped either, or feel the blood.'' `` It was the berserker in you boy,'' he thumped me in the chest with an old wrinkled finger, staring at me intently with his one good eye. `` In battle a true warrior feels no fear or pain.'' `` I treated my driver first, his leg was... it was n't in the truck,'' my hand shook as I reached out and grasped a mug of mead, downing half of it in an anxious gulp. `` Vehicle commander wanted to move on, leave the rest and climb the back of a truck and get treated on the move, but there were still 8 POWs in the back of my ambulance... had to go back.'' `` So you returned for the enemy then? A healer who helps those he fights?'' Odin grinned at the concept, scratching his beard and finishing his massive tankard, a server quickly replacing it in his waiting palm. `` Well, yes. Medics save everyone, we defend... everyone. Those guys had families. You ca n't judge everyone based on the doings of a few.'' `` And yet that is why your people went to war in this'Baghdad' is it not?'' I rose up, knocking down the mead in the process and pointing an accusing finger at the father of the gods. `` So why am I here then? I died without firing a shot! I bled out on the fucking concrete and died to try and save those we are supposed to kill! Why do I deserve a hero's reward?'' Odin laughed again and smiled warmly, pulling me down on the bench again. `` My son....you remind me much of my son you know.'' The old man looked down into his mug, gazing into the infinite with his one good eye and spoke softly, like a father teaching a child. `` He fights Fenrir for all humanity... seeing the good in all men and trying to save them all. So too, in this age of violence and desperation when the old ways are all forgotten, you see that same human goodness, and fought for it too.'' ``...'' `` I'll drink to that.''
[ WP ] The internal struggle of a guy who REALLY likes being the little spoon , but is afraid of telling his lady .	He heard her snoring. It was time. Neil carefully reached across the bed and lightly grabbed Ali ’ s shoulder. The room was dark, but he could just barely make out her small sleeping figure. He was careful, as silent as his large frame could move on the noisy mattress. If Ali woke up, it was over. Two years of timid anguish would go without reward. Carefully, with the most delicate touch he could muster with his large hands, Neil began to roll his girlfriend onto her side, facing him. Her upper body started to turn, but her legs remained in place. A bead of sweat trickled down Neil ’ s face. It has to be smooth. Kneeling on the bed, Neil placed his other hand on her hips and continued to roll her in a cautious but fluid motion. Done. Ali now lay on her side, looking undisturbed from her sleep. Neil felt a sudden surge of excitement, but he quickly suppressed the emotion. Not yet, it ’ s not done yet. Again with the utmost delicacy, he began to move Ali. Neil slid her knees into a 110 degree angle away from her stomach, an exact and heavily thought-out position. The next step was done. He was almost there. He could feel his adrenaline spike and senses become incredibly sensitive. Almost... Moving like a chameleon blending into its surroundings, Neil lay back down. He tucked his buttocks into Ali ’ s lap. A warmth flowed through his body that he had spent many sleepless nights dreaming of. One more step, and he will have become the little spoon. He will be embraced in the most trusting and comforting position he could imagine. Neil let his mind wander for a few minutes as he was overcome with delight. Suddenly, something snaked across his chest. Ali ’ s arm. Neil ’ s heart stopped. Her arm was the final step, but this was not part of the plan. She moved on her own. His eyes wide and ears perked, all sense of happiness suddenly vanished. He had failed to notice her gentle snoring come to a stop. No… Ali let out a long and sleepy sigh, “ You could have just asked… ” With that, she fell back asleep, now with her being the big spoon. But Neil wouldn ’ t sleep that night. Though he was now the little spoon, uncertainty filled his future. What will she think? he fretted, Will she tell her friends? Neil ’ s carefully constructed world, and his long held dream, was now resting on eggshells in that silent, dark room.
[ WP ] Write a story that ends with the line : `` Now suffer my wrath '' .	Tell me, father, what are you thinking right now? I knew, from my very first breath, that you would hate me. My brave mother, after all, died during the childbirth, leaving you all alone with me, her final gift to you. You always hated me for that. I can vaguely understand that. You wanted to get something to blame, something that you could lay your hands on for the loss of your dear wife. And, unfortunately, the target of your wrath was me. I was beaten before I could ever stand up. You were so _strong_, so _loud_. I never saw you as a man, father. You were more of a giant, some kind of unreachable, bizarre beast. A beast that harmed me, without giving me a chance to fight back. I feared you, you know? I was weak and lost, forced to take care of myself while you were wasting away because of the alcohol. I must thank you for that. Becoming independent truly helped me. You continued to bully me around. School was not easy because of you, you know? My entire life, after all, was nothing but beatings. I did not socialize well. Some of my classmates played tricks on me, or, more commonly, used their fists. Like you. Mocked and beaten, at home or otherwise, I was destined to be a stain. I'd grow up to become an abusive parent, like you, or alternatively, I would become a bitter adult, unable to enjoy his life because of a broken childhood. But everything changed at this point. Your aura of fear faded away when I discovered my powers. Do you remember the day where I blasted you? By pure accident? I do. It's engraved within my memory. The giant had fallen down. This immense, tormenting beast was bleeding against a crack in the wall. Afterwards, I was picked up by a group of people like me. Persons with powers that place them beyond Humanity. I was saved from you, out of your reach of your fists. They tried to help me, of course. They gave me friends, they gave me counselors. Everything to transform me into an `` hero''. But I did not want that. No. They wanted to save _humans_, to protect those weaker than themselves. But now, _why_ would I choose to save people like you? Or the bullies? No matter what the heroes try to say, humans are scum. They will always bully those weaker than themselves, for petty reasons, but will promptly hide behind their legends and heroes when a threat arrive. They had a term for those threats: Supervillains. I'll explain them for your simple mind: People with powers, but instead of `` protecting'' humans, they instead decided to use these power for their own gains. Be it to rob banks or simply quench their thirst for death. Some are harmless fool, some are planetary threats. My choice was made. I vanished from the world, and trained. As I mentioned earlier, being independent from a young age helped me with this little vanishing. I was a determined child, hoping to take his revenge on Humanity. While you were still drinking, I was honing my powers. While you were taking some bets over races, I was making grandiose plans. And now, here I am. An adult, who is sitting on a chair and is talking to his tied-up mess of a parent. Right now, I have the power to blow apart the city. I will do so once I'll be done with my speech. I'll very easily survive the explosion, but you certainly wo n't. As I prepare to ascend in the ruins of the city, and the blood of your kind, I just want to speak to you one last time, father. I want you to know that the death of all these people is your fault. That, and all the subsequents deaths, too. This city will not be my last assault on Humanity, I promise. This is all your fault, Father, all your abuses led to the death of this city. Your species will bleed because of you. I want you to remember this for your last moments. But enough talking. Now suffer my wrath! -- A bit on the edgy side, sorry: p
[ EU ] John Marston visits New York City	This is assuming John did n't die, which is how I like to pretend it went. `` Mr Marston? John Marston?'' A woman's voice called out over the buzz of conversation at the subway station as John stepped out of the train. He looked around quickly, slipping his hand to his revolver beneath the long duster coat he wore. Gripping the handle firmly, he spotted a young woman waving to him from the bottom of the stairs that led upward to the street. John had never been to New York before, and the amount of people here put him on edge. Out on the frontier, you could see a man coming to kill you from miles away. Here, that man could slip a knife between your ribs and disappear before you knew what happened. The woman trying to get his attention did n't seem to be trying to kill him though, so John relaxed, restoring his normal confidence before walking over to her. `` Miss, I do n't believe we've ever been aquainted.'' he said. `` If it's not too much of an inconvenience, would you mind explaining how it is you know my name?'' `` Mr Marston, my name is Grace Johnson, and I believe you know my uncle, Leigh,'' she said, holding out her hand. `` Leigh Johnson?'' asked John, slowly shaking it. `` As in Marshall Johnson? From Armadillo?'' `` That's him alright,'' Grace replied, nodding. `` He told me in a letter you were arriving here today, and that I should keep an eye out for you.'' John leaned back, crossing his arms across his chest. `` And why would that be Miss Johnson?'' he asked, tilting his head slightly. `` He told me that you were a good man, that you helped him out a time or two, and Mr Marston, let me tell you I sure could use some help myself.'' She looked tired, like she had n't slept in days. Dark circles under her eyes gave away her exhaustion. `` How did you recognise me?'' John asked. `` We do n't get to many types up here with your get-up on'' John studied the woman in front of him for a moment. She looks like the Marshall, he thought. She had narrower features, and different eyes, but she carried her head high the same way he did. The last time he'd seen Marshall Johnson he was thinking of retirement. Maybe he could help the young woman... But John was here, Johnson was n't. `` What is it you need, Miss Johnson?'' Grace hesitated, and looked over her shoulder quickly as though worried someone would overhear. `` It's my father, Mr Marston. I have n't heard from him in a month and I'm worried he's in trouble.'' `` Now, what would make you think that?'' Grace looked down at her feet, embarrassed suddenly. `` My father is a good man, but he has his weaknesses,'' she said. `` Like any other man I suppose, but his are drinking and gambling.'' `` Sounds just like most men I've met, Miss Johnson,'' said John, `` But I fail to see the connection with him disappearing.'' `` Well, recently he started playing cards with some new people at an Italian club,'' Grace replied. `` I met some of them when they came around to talk to him last month. I overheard them talking together, and it sounded like he owed them money.'' `` A man has to pay his debts, else he's not worth the title,'' said John. `` Oh I agree. My father paid them what they wanted and they left,'' said Grace. `` The problem is, after they went, my father was angry. He kept saying how he'd been cheated and how he was going down to the club to talk with someone about it. That was the last time I saw him.'' `` Seems to me he's gotten himself into trouble. I do n't see what it has to do with me,'' said John. Some men were just too naive to believe anything bad could happen to them, and Grace's father seemed like one. Grace's eyes began to glisten with tears. `` Please Mr Marston, I've got no one else to ask. My uncle is too far away, I need your help. Please?'' Thanks a lot Marshall. This was supposed to be a short trip here thought John. But I ca n't turn her away `` Alright Miss Johnson, I'll see what I can do'' he said. `` Tell me where this club is.''
[ WP ] A man goes for a bike ride . Nothing fancy , no gimmicks , no twists or turns , nothing supernatural or crazy . A man goes for a bike ride .	`` So tell me again why you hit that car? It was n't even moving,'' the mustached officer asked me. Damages were minor on the car compared to my bike and more importantly myself. I had hit the thing going a decent speed. Every morning I'd get up and go for a leisurely bike ride, but today was different. `` I'm telling you! I could n't fucking turn! No matter how I twisted or turned to steer, I just went straight!'' I cried out. My shoulder rang out with pain. `` Mmhm, likely story. Reminds me of this one thing I read on Reddit this morning,'' The cop answered. `` Oh yeah? How'd that go?'' I asked. `` This guy went for a bike ride. Nothing fancy happened, nothing crazy or anything. He just went for a bike ride.'' `` Well, must be nice,'' I answered, `` A bike ride without any twists or turns, would have made my morning better.''
[ WP ] When we finally meet aliens they are very scared and apologetic , they kept mentioning an asteroid a couple million years ago for some reason ...	Grigs pulled himself out of his bunk for another day on his galactic patrol mission. He tried his best to put himself in a positive mindset for his day but found it difficult when they all are the same. Grigs and his crew had been sweeping the milky way for what felt like eons to him and every day they scanned more planets, logged them and moved on. Untrue to the Space Academy's propaganda back on his home planet said, space exploration was very, very dull. Grigs stopped by the ship's cafe as he always did on his way to the bridge. `` Mornin' captain!'' The inexplicably perky chef called out, `` The usual?'' Grigs gave him as much of a smile as he could muster and nodded his head. He pulled out his Grax Phone and browsed reddit while waiting for his meal. `` Here you go captain, Phendraxian eggs, over easy, Frax hash and a coffee as usual.'' Grigs thanked the chef and proceeded to his usual spot by the bay window. He plopped his phone down and began to eat while waiting for the gif on his phone to load. He hated that he got assigned to the Milky Way mainly because the reception was dreadful there. After finishing his meal he proceeded to the bridge where he took his seat in the captain ’ s chair. He pulled up his daily assignment. Oh fuck. The Sol system? Isn ’ t that the one that we accidentally smashed with an asteroid in the Cryx reactor accident? Nobody had actually surveyed the damage yet and it wasn ’ t something that Grigs was particularly excited about either. Nobody really wanted to acknowledge just quite how huge of an effect they may have caused in an uncharted system. “ Captain we have arrived at the Sol system! ” Ensign Hark shouted. “ Very well, begin preliminary scans of the outer planets. ” Grigs ordered. A few minutes passed by and the expected red message appeared on the main display: NO SIGNS OF LIFE “ Move on to the inner planets. This system doesn ’ t seem to have very many we might be able to get another system in today at this rate. ” Grigs ordered. About ready to order the ensign to begin plotting a course to the next system Griggs froze. Big green letters appeared on the main display. LIFE SIGNS DETECTED Oh no. There ’ s life here too? What if they are super pissed about the asteroid? This ship isn ’ t combat equipped! What if they are more advanced than us? Grigs mind raced as he tried to remember the protocols he had learned so long ago in the Academy when the communications officer interrupted his thoughts. “ We have an incoming communication from the 3rd planet in the system sir. ” “ Put it through ” Grigs replied, his voice noticeably shaken. “ Unidentified vessel, please identify your intentions or we will take hostile measures! ” a stern voice proclaimed through the speakers. “ Uh, we are here to scan your system to look for life ” Grigs fumbled. “ Unidentified vessel, I repeat identify your intentions or you will be fired upon. ” “ Well we, um, we are sorry. Like really really sorry. You know with the asteroid and all of that so uh I guess we are here to apologize. ” “ What the hell are they talking about Bill? ” came through the speakers muffled as if the speaker had turned away from the microphone, “ You really think so? ” a bit of ruffling came through and then at full volume again the speaker said “ Do you mean to say you had a role to play in the asteroid that hit millions of years ago? ” Grigs almost laughed at this point. Millions of years?! Holy shit I think I may have just dodged the universes biggest bullet. “ Oh, yeah that one. It was a long time ago but we still felt kinda bad about it. ” Grigs said with a newly found level of ease in his voice. To his species the accident occurred a week ago so these creatures must have significantly shorter life spans to believe that it was millions of years ago. “ Thank you for your apology. ” The voice came through the speakers, “ would you be willing to come to our home world to discuss further relations between our species? ” Grigs muted his microphone and barked at his science officer “ Pull up the scan information on this planet on the main display! ” Intelligence rating: 3/10 “ Not worth our time. ” Grigs said calmly, “ Just plot a course for the next system. ” So they left. Edit: punctuation. Also please forgive my formatting.
[ WP ] God meets up with another life/world creator .	“ Zap him. He ’ s good. She can have two fish, ” Lord stands in his newst facility with his trusted twelve staff members. Kissed with elaborate marble and smelling like fresh herbs, calling this base of operation upscale would not be enough. “ My Lord, Paul wants to go for a ride in some kinda car. What do we do? ” One asks. “ Eh. I think it ’ s his time. Crash it, ” Lord speaks with the deliberation of a hungry pedestrian ordering an extra cup of fries. “ Oh. Ok, Lord, ” The assistant seems saddened, but follows through. “ Yeah. It ’ s too bad, huh? ” towering over his disciple, Lord pats the kid on the back, “ But we do what we must, not what we want. ” The round platform that the Lord stands on spans more distance than any single football field in the USA. The audience he is in charge of is greater than any concert that any musician could gather. “ Lord. Uh. What in the hell is that? ” Disciple Judas ( yes that one ) asks. He points to his own screen that seems to display a style of radar. “ Phrasing, guy. Phrasing. I ’ ll check it out. It ’ s probably Allah or something. He probably got lost again. Such a nice guy, just needs an OPS. ” Lord says. “ OPS? ” Judas asks while removing his headset. “ The guidance system. Overworld Positioning Satellite, ” Lord says. Bartholomew calls, “ Positioning System! ” “ Yes. Thank you, ” Lord blushes a bit at his gaffe. Leaping out of the ceiling-less building. He lands without a sound on a vast and dry mountain. “ Holy Jesus on a stick! You ’ re God, right? ” A stick figure of similar height to the Lord says. With a thick black outline forming his stick body, this stick figure is nearly two dimensional. God looks him over with a slow nod. “ Very funny. Who are you? ” God asks. “ Flitzlerrand. I do what you do. I ’ m a ‘ god ’, ” Flitz replies. “ Sexy. So what do you call people? ” Lord asks. “ People, ” Flitz replies. “ Apples? ” Lord asks. “ Apples, ” Flitz replies. “ How about pizza? ” Lord asks. “ Are you hungry? ” Flitz counters. “ Are you a cannibal? ” Lord says. They both share a hearty laugh. “ So wow. We came up with the same ideas at about the same time? ” Flitz says. A few trees begin to grow at his blocky feet. “ Oh. You ’ re…umm…Creating on my hill here, ” Lord mutters while pointing with a stiff expression. “ Ooops. Sorry, brochetta, ” Flitz chants and destroys the trees. “ What the Italy is a brochetta? ” Lord asks. “ Ha. Italy. I guess there are some differences. Well, were some differences: my world just destroyed itself again, so I ’ m gon na be off for a while. Wan na grab some mead? ” Flitz the stick figure points backwards. “ Strangely specific, but I really should be getting back to my own place, ” Lord says. He turns and points over to his control center. As he does, all of the color drains from his face. He arm swings to his side as he shoulders roll towards the desiccated ground. “ As you already realize, your world is long gone, ” As Flitz ’ s words reach the Lord ’ s ears, Lord sighs deeply. “ At least my schedule just opened up. Mead you say? ” Lord says. “ Yeah that ’ s all I have left in my icebox.'' “ So that ’ s what you call a fridge? ” Lord asks. “ Whatever. You know, it ’ s too bad that when worlds collide: everything ends, ” Flitz mumbles. “ Yes. I know. Ugh. I haven ’ t made this many mistakes in one day since that whole ‘ birth of Nick Sabin ’ thing, ” Lord groans. “ Are you kidding? I love that guy! ” Flitz bellows. The two walk towards a small house in the middle of the dry earth. “ That ’ s your home? ” the Lord interrogates as they saunter over boulders and dust. “ Yeah. Just a small flat, ” Flitz declares with the pride of an Armenian. “ Dammit, “ the Lord says.
[ WP ] Someone accidentally summons a demon that likes to cut people open and watch their insides work .	In the summoning circle, something appeared, slowly, pouring itself into existence. It was n't the humanoid beast he was expecting. Large, clear, fleshy lobes folded over themselves. Small areas on them puckered then opened to reveal eyes held in by sphincters. Along the floor, lines of gooey flesh began to lengthen into long, filament-like tentacles, weaving through the air blindly. The creature nearly filled the entire circle once the process was complete. It made the man realise just how small the room was, and that the door was on the other side. He held his breath before letting it out as slowly as he could. The circle should protect him. 'Are you the bargainer?' He could hear in his own voice that he already knew the answer. This creature had no mouth. Its eyes swivelled to meet the noise, so at least it could hear. The creature gave no answer. Instead, it tentacles began to reach for him, toying at the edge of the circle. Then, one reached over. The man backed himself into the wall. The creature reacted, tentacles lashing out and wrapping around his limbs. He struggled. It should have been easy. The tentacles were so thin, but they held fast. Then, the creature began to move towards him. Pushing forward like the edge of an ever expanding puddle, it reached his feet. And then it began to move up. It climbed him, covering him and pressing him further against the wall. He could feel its warm flesh pushing into him, filling in every gap it found. It stopped once it covered his neck so that he could barely move his neck. He could barely breathe. One of its eyes looked into his. It was passive. All the emotion it could express was restricted to its movement and the dilation of its pupils. It was nothing that he could read. He watched as eyes further down the creature turned inward, looking through its own body to his. Then, he felt a sharpness at the base of his neck. It drew itself down his chest, while other things pulled aside his shirt. He could now feel the creature directly on the bare skin of his chest. It was hot and moist, and prickled his skin like a cat's tongue. He felt the sharpness at the base of his neck again. 'Please, no.' His voice was broken by the lack of air. The creature no longer listened. The fine, short tentacle pressed against the skin pressed harder, and began to cut. The blood seeped into the creature's own flesh, colouring it in swirls of ink. The man found that he had to watch and could not scream. His chest was too compressed to let air in or out. As the creature sliced, further tentacles formed despite the lack of gap between the two beings, and pulled the skin and muscle aside. The man's sternum, ribs, and abdominal cavity were slowly, eventually exposed. The tentacles then weaved themselves around the ribs and began to pull. More of the creature's eyes moved to study the man's chest. It had to watch, too.

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