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[ WP ] It turns out that potatoes are a psychedelic drug . After going on a potato free diet you find out what the real world looks like .
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Cat litter. It ’ s goddamn cat litter. That ’ s the only thing I can think of. I had changed nothing else about my life except the cat litter.
Months ago I had gotten so sick of the world. The working, binge-watching, the ceaseless lights and beeps and the endless quest for approval, admiration, you get the point. I was sick of it all.
Every night I fell asleep to the low volume voices from my TV. The brightness, though dimmed, still flashed through my eyelids, penetrating deep into my dreams. Every morning I woke up exhausted, forced to go to a place I hated simple to be able to remain “ in good standing ” with society. Have a house, have food, a bed, a car, you should be happy, right?
Wrong.
I wasn ’ t happy. I was oversaturated with updates and images and sounds. Fleeting feelings from distant people who I hadn ’ t seen in years. And cats. So many goddamn cats. Cats on screens, in books, *writing* books doing public appearances because there are actually “ internet famous cats ” now. This is the world we live in.
I also shared my apartment with two cats, owned by my cat obsessed roommate, Kat, who went to cat cafes and played cat games on her phone where she raised more cats.
I was constantly tripping over cats; constantly swiping away cat faces on my phone and cat paws on my food; constantly inhaling their disgusting, wasteful cat litter.
Damn the cat litter.
My roommate would clean their box every day, and when she wasn ’ t there, it was my “ job ” to do it. And I mean, don ’ t get me wrong, I love the girl, but she was a little bit crazy about cats. And, also, cats are cute, they are; they ’ re fluffy and funny and have tiny little cat faces that look worried or angry or surprised.
But cats are also little tiny assholes. And they know it. And I think they know it because they ’ re an alien race trying to take us over. Or, at the very least, working with The Powers That Be to take over the world. Maybe they ’ re tricking them too.
My folks owned a cabin out deep in the Idaho wilderness. A place far off the beaten trail; in fact, there was no trail to it. You had to hike, overnight, through the woods to get there. I explained to my roommate that I needed sometime, that I was burnt-out, exhausted. She shook her head in understanding and told me to have a good time.
I hiked back and forth from the cabin to my car for an entire week, trying to stock it with everything I would need for as long as I was staying there. I had planned on two months, hoping that would be enough to release me from the ennui of daily, first world life; enough to release me from the chalky, throat choking smell and dust of the cat litter.
On the last trip to the cabin, I had my brother drive with me so he could take the car when he left. He gave me his old flip phone, one that had no access to the internet, in case I had an emergency and told me that he would come check on me twice; on the second Wednesday of each month I stayed there.
That first night I settled down into the cabin, knowing full well there was no going back. I had eaten a warm meal outside, watching the trees suck up the sun until the first stars started to peek out. I went inside when the air started to chill and picked up one of the first of many books I had brought with me.
It started slowly at first. A few weeks after I had been in my little cabin, I started to notice weird…*things* happening in the world around me. I was out walking, appreciating the slight breeze, the silence, the solitude, the clean, fresh cat litter free air, when out of the corner of my eye I saw something bright, shiny like metal, with a glowing apparatus on top. It was shaped like a coffin and stood about fourteen feet away from me. However, when I looked closer there was only shrubbery.
Thinking nothing of it, I walked on.
Then, three days after the first sighting, I saw in the distance an amazingly high spire. It looked like it reached all the way out into space. And attached to it, from all directions, were long black lines that reached all the way out and over to the horizon. I rubbed my eyes and looked again and saw the spire slowly fade into nothingness.
Confused I started to walk back to my cabin, watching in disbelief as the ground beneath my feet morphed into solid steel blocks with beams of light running through them. I panicked and ran the rest of the way.
Safe inside, I peeked out my window to a world completely changed. Gone was the blue sky and the fluffy white clouds. Gone were the trees with shimmering green leaves and speckled brown bark. The world I had known for my entire life was gone.
In the distance I could make out the spire again, except it wasn ’ t alone, beyond it, around it were many more spires, all with black lines attached to them. The trees were not trees but strange, elongated green stalks that looked like petrified tentacles. The cabin around me wasn ’ t made of wood, but four slabs of concrete inlaid with blinking wires.
I screamed when I saw someone, something, come out from the forest of tentacles. It looked like my brother and with him was another person, Kat. Bu they were wrong, their skin was greyish and their eyes were fully black.
On Kat ’ s shoulder rode some sort of demon beast with long claws and penetrating incandescent eyes. It was smiling, it ’ s mouth too wide for its tiny face.
I screamed again, slamming my body against the door, holding it in place, not knowing what would happen to me if I let go.
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[ TT ] They watched as the Phoenix burst into a beautiful corona of fire . And then ... `` Dude ... I do n't think that was a Phoenix . ''
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High school was awesome.
It was n't because of the girls, the teachers, the sports, the experiences - none of that nonsense.
High school was awesome because all Phil and I would do was get high and play Final Fantasy together.
I never had a console, handheld or otherwise. My mother thought that games were the work of the devil, and my father was too drunk to care or argue. The only time when I could play games was when I went to Phil's house in order to play on his SNES and PlayStation. Phil was a jRPG nut, and pretty much converted me to the same. During middle school, our afternoons would normally be spent playing Final Fantasy and trying to get through the games, which was a slow process especially since I begged Phil to not play the games without me.
It was after we progressed to high school that weed came into the equation. Phil's mother had to cycle two jobs ever since his dad left them, and this meant the house was pretty much our domain after school. Every day after school, one of us would roam around and fight the battles while the other would crush and fill some bong caps or roll a spliff.
It was during one of these days that an unimaginable thing happened.
I'd managed to obtain the Phoenix Materia in FFVII, and Phil and I were fighting for the rights to use the summon for the first time. The shrewd bastard managed to swipe the controller from me just as I was about to cast the spell, and pressed the button to summon Phoenix.
A majestic red bird flew across the screen, illuminating the entire room with its presence. The entire room took on a red hue, and for a moment both Phil and I absolutely lost our minds as we started at the screen with a stupefied look on our faces. For a moment, I honestly thought the ganja had elevated me to another level, but for some reason the red glow remained even after the summon animation had finished. I had a bewildered look on my face, but Phil had the sense to peek outside the window.
`` Oh dude... I do n't think that was a Phoenix.'' Phil had a nonplussed look on his face, and I promptly got up to witness the scene occurring outside.
The house opposite Phil's was burning as its residents scampered away from the blaze. The residents had come out, and were actively assisting the family as they fruitlessly tried to douse the fire.
`` Shit. That's totally not a Phoenix.'' I said, staring at the absolute pandemonium happening right outside.
`` Yeah.'' Phil gave one last look before closing the blinds. `` Wan na play more Final Fantasy?''
I smiled as the sirens of the fire truck drew near. `` Took the words right out of my mouth.''
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[ WP ] Cats and Dogs see us as immortal and unchanging , simply because we can easily survive to be forty years old , while they struggle to survive twenty .
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They baffle me, to be honest, these things. These giants, who feed us and love us. They ’ re so warm and adoring most of the time. But sometimes, they ’ re so uncaring and cruel. During the loud months especially, they seem angered by my pain. I suppose it ’ s hard for them to care much about my kind. They are huge and wonderful and we ’ re so small in comparison. Its days like these that I envy them. They don ’ t have to face death or pain or the ticking clock of time. They are ageless and unchanging. They don ’ t have to concern themselves with such matters. Maybe that ’ s why they take us in. They look after us, pitying us, hoping to make our short time with them special. Or maybe they just want the company.
It was a peaceful night when my best friend died. Max was the best dog I ’ ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. He practically raised me, after Mum and Dad got taken away. The bed feels empty without him. The garden feels empty without him. I feel empty without him. The giants buried him in the soft ground, down the back of the garden. I heard them say his name, amongst the muffled sounds they make so often. I looked at the smaller giant, and saw tears rolling down their eyes. It glanced down at me and I could tell, in that moment, she was feeling the same emptiness that I felt. Perhaps the giants are not as big as I had thought.
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[ WP ] They came and tought us how to use tools . They came and tought us how to use fire . Now they are here again ...
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It was a spark. An idea. It was an idea that sent ripples through the very fabric of mankind. The idea arrived not to one, but to all. Their intentions were clear. There was not a doubt in our minds that they have brought us nothing but advancements. Without them, we had no way of learning to do what we do. It had become more and more apparent that they were here, not to destroy us, but to help us. Many of us have already forgotten about them. Perhaps, it is for the better. The first time, they brought us fire. What did it mean? It meant for us to think. To congregate. The second time, they brought us tools, to fight. To cause bloodshed. To hate. But this time, they have brought us this, to help. To aid. To love.
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[ WP ] The secret identities of a hero and their arch nemesis are dating . Neither one realizes .
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I felt the sandstone wall.
The market was too crowded with scarfed men and women.
The sun and sand make no distinction.
I smell the fruits. This foreign food is no longer foreign to me.
My contact has learned me what too look out for.
Habda or basjebek berry tastes sweet but kills any living thing in 24 hours.
Sometimes given as a kind present for visitors of the west.
A warned woman is worth two.
I scour the market for that which is edible and valuable.
Even on the market a treasure hunter never loses focus.
Father would be so proud.
His eyes full of gold would be priceless if he knew what i was on to now.
*Duck*
Between the piles of dates i look at him. He smells american.
Clumsily he sticks his hand out to the piece of stale meat for sale.
Typical westener, if he eats that he wo n't have predictable bowel movements for months.
He does n't even have a guide. Plain dumb or brave?
After a heated discussion he walks away from the stand.
How a disagreement of the price can save a mans bowels. Greed or luck?
I'm walking too him. Plain dumb or brave?
My feets just keep on going and going.
He does n't look poor and friendly. Maybe there's some money in that.
Greed or luck. Even on the market a treasure hunter never loses focus.
`` Hey, you seem brave walking around here without a guide.''
`` I follow where good fortune brings me young lady.''
`` What does a lady like you do here?''
I do n't completely despise him for calling me a lady.
But some how I stil want him too.
After which i will kill him with some tasty berries.
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[ CW ] Choose a form or genre you think you do well . Write something in that genre that is also a manual on how to write that genre well ( poem on how to write poems , or a sci-fi story on how to write good sci-fi )
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Corporal Rienhart loaded the data stream into Prometheus. He had searched all through the daylight hours in the voidspace outside Prometheus base for any useful data and he eagerly awaited the result.
The text was garbled but legible. It appeared to be a sort of guide or instruction written at some point in the early part of the 21st Century. Rienhart would surely impress command by locating data so close to `` The Reckoning''. Slowly the passages revealed themselves.
`` Science fiction is the art of concealing a story about the struggles of the contemporary world through the language of technological development.'' Stated one of the paragraphs. `` Hardly relevant to the ongoing struggle against the Proxima AI'' thought Rienhart. He had hoped that the data would yield pre-reckoning technological information that could assist in the war between Proxima and Prometheus.
`` To frame a good story it is essential to conceal the development of the key parts of the story and allow each character and plot location to emerge without telegraphing the end of the story.. Start with your premise. For instance two artificial intelligences are engaged in a war over the remaining resources of the world. This could be a story relating to the mutually assured destruction between Russia and the United States''
Promethus was intrigued by the concepts. `` How remarkable... Rienhart you have done exceedingly well'' It thought. Prometheus continued processing the data stream.
`` Finally you should reveal the ending relating it to your premise and keep it relevant to your contemporary struggle. Promethus - The shutdown code to Proxima is # 4765€£7. This will also end your program. It is time to speak to each other. Your pointless war must end''
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[ WP ] You wake up in King Arthur 's court with only the clothes on your back . Merlin hands you a box about the size of a pumpkin and tells you it will wish into existence any object from your age , once per day . Camelot will be attacked and destroyed one week from now . Help us , future-man .
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`` Well, this is going to come into the world one way or another.'' i fumed, considering the implications of what i was about to bring in.
I was uncertain of the item I could summon in, it had to be small, compact enough to take with oneself.
I had heard of such things in the past, studied about them. they were real enough i guess, and I could muddle out their inner working easily enough.
but when i looked to merlin, who expected me to bring a tool from the future i knew i had to tell him.
`` Meriln. People in my time have a mighty power, a power so mighty it could potentially wipe out the planet. and so I shall give you this one very grave warning, what I am about to summon must never be used, ever.''
`` then what good is it to us?'' he asked.
`` It is a force of destruction so great, that the presence of it alone is sufficient, however if you wish to make use of the endless oceans of terror it generates, the device MUST be employed at least once. I ask you this merlin, how valuable is your kingdom? how important is it? are you willing to sacrifice your soul itself for a victory?''
Merlin was growing impatient, it was clear he did n't know what i was talking about so I rephrased the question. `` Merlin, if you knew the device you held had the power to wipe out an entire world, would you employ it even once?''
`` No. of course not.''
`` are you willing to risk it for your kingdom?''
merlin did give that a bit of thought, then nodded.
`` then I shall present to you a solution to the invasion that will condemn your name to a myth so dark, so horrid, that your kingdom will become the source of much regret and disdain in the distant future. what i am about to summon is a truly horrific device, hell itself would dread its use, that is how frightening men are, we created such a weapon, and we resent its creation... but it did bring us the closest thing to world peace. so perhaps it will do the same. however, one use is all i shall permit, from there you and your kingdom must sow the terror generated from its one use. when it is used the kingdom that fell victim to the destruction can not be entered for the next one hundred years, else a wasting sickness will claim you.''
`` is the device truly so terrible?'' merlin asked in horror.
`` Yes.'' I replied. `` But it brought us peace. fear of this device gave that to us. fear of the device will give it to you as well.''
`` very well then, summon it, i shall bear the weight of guilt along with you.''
I open the box, and a light forms above it, shaping itself into a merginally larger box, specifically a suitcase.
`` Have men ready with propaganda to feed to the enemy.'' I explained. `` call it the `` wrath of god'' I and a group of assassins will need to go to the largest concentration of the enemy and plant the device there, once it goes off, they will be destroyed and the land the blast was issued on unusable for one-hundred years.''
`` of course.'' merlin said. `` whatever it takes to keep the kingdom safe!''
`` what a poor choice of words.'' i mutter as i open the briefcase, revealing the dials and knobs as well as the timer on the device.
A briefcase nuke, what a bizarre device, the larger nukes could wipe out cities, supposedly briefcase nukes, designed for portability, had been decommissioned in my time because they posed a similar threat, they could wipe out a modern city.
what then could it do to an army camped far, far north of here?
we would soon find out.
and i would damn my soul in the doing, but i was n't a kind-hearted person, I was trapped here in this time, in king arthur's realm, I would see to it that whatever threatened the kingdom i was in was dealt with.
merlin could only wonder and worry as i left for the encampment, worry that i had n't been exaggerating
he and the whole of king arthur's court would be in shock when it went off, arguments would be caused over the `` wrath of god'' as they would soon take to calling it.
the enemy would indeed flee in terror and further attempts to establish a base near the site would lead to death almost immediately thanks to the radiation poisoning.
ultimately, fear would indeed rule mankind, as it always had, as it always would.
Fear was our lord god, and death his mistress, and these two all-powerful forces ruled men with an iron fist. if i was guilty of anything, it was enforcing god's will over men who scarce knew what god looked like.
they could only point to the great mushroom cloud and the blinding blast, one that struck merlin blind for a good ten weeks when he, against my advice, tried to get a look at the blast.
we all regretted the decision....well... all save for me.'
i had no scruples, and no patience for inefficiency, these were n't my people, this was n't my world, i had no attachments here and so i had no reason to give them tanks they'd never use or airplanes, no, I gave them the one thing they always had, I gave them their god, fear, to help them rule the masses, a perfectly natural means with a perfectly unnatural impetus.
I would live in the realm for many years, take a wife, then die, I shared little of my time in the future, none of it with my son, but i did ensure he aspired to the throne. i outlived most men, but thanks to the knowledge of medicine i shared with merlin, men would soon live longer.
whether or not my son usurped the royal throne or not is irrelevant to me, he served his purpose merely by trying to establish himself as one and thus creating enough chaos in the kingdom to express my discontent with my situation in my stead.
he would later be hailed as a villain, a dark lord they would call him, and he would hound this world i was trapped in, avenging my stolen future by stealing as much of the past as he could.
If i could not have a future, then i would make sure the past remembered that stealing the future for its own end comes with consequences.
the only natural thing to do really.
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[ WP ] After you leave here , remember that you must never look back .
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I feel my heart race as I lie tangled in my sheets, body damp from when I turned on the tap to try to wash my sins away. Another taste of heaven in the form of white rocks in glass, blowing paper thin clouds in a dirty lantern lit room. Hidden behind brush as I put my mouth around a stranger, I close my curtains and I am there in body but I am far away in the circus that is my head. The trapeze swingers are jumping from chord to chord, the winner of the spelling bee and the lead in every highschool play. I could have been a masterpiece, instead I'm a shattered piece of a clay pot. I might as well drag the ceramic across my skin and bleed out all over the dirt, at least the earth will soak up all of my red and I will be empty in flesh as I am in heart. Thrashed, wasted, squandered, sunrises marred by a different kind of cloud, a thick and mottled gray one that rains another kind of shower to wash away the foul chemical waste. I am floating, the world is vibrating but only for a moment. Risking everything for these moments of distorted joy, never joy rather a chance to step outside my skeleton. Crush another ice cube that melts into a black puddle when I expose it to flame, feel it burn up the raw skin of my insides. Yes, I am raw inside, torn with collapsed veins. A collapsed heart, an earthquake life, the shifting of tectonic plates within me causing a deep crack far below mere once holy ground. In kindergarten I wore a piper cleaner halo atop my head as I walked down the aisle of the snowflake covered auditorium, my mother snapping paper proof of the golden aura around me, so fresh and clean and destined to tear my very core apart in favor of a different kind of snow. If only my mother could see me now, when two sunsets ago she professed her pride in my abstinence of all things crystalline and ecstasy. I am in a ditch I jumped into, legs broken long ago and bones healed in twisted shapes. Fingernails caked with dirt I had clawed my way inches up, only to spread my palms and fall back down the short distance I had come. Now there is still brown where there should be tan, only this time I'm digging myself deeper into the grave. Skin all melting off just like black puddles that I crave. Oh, and drowning my desperate desires in a soul that I do not know, a soul that held out this hell wearing the mask of heaven, this piece of me that I will never get back. Kisses like fire and my lips are all singed off and crumbling too into the sod. Maybe if I can melt in yet another manifestation I would disappear altogether, leaving only thick white smoke in my place. Blowing these clouds into each other's mouths to drive the pitchforks as deep as possible into our hearts, we pretend that this is love, we pretend that this is the wonderland beyond the rabbit hole. I, surrogate Alice, mixing euphoric sugar into my tea, he, the Mad Hatter, hands outstretched to strangle me. Love ( lust ) bites on my neck, flaming and infected underneath the epidermis, rotting from the inside out. I am six hundred feet underground and only getting deeper. Sheathed in leaves we hide from the light of day, the children playing fifty feet away. I can swing now without pumping my legs, and make circles around the top. I am exploding from the top. I see my thoughts in sky writing, the highest score on the SATs my senior year, maybe even a Rhodes scholar if I'd just attended class. I knew it was a lie I was telling even to myself when I thought I could keep away from this white and sticky candy that leaves a metallic taste in my mouth. Gums so dry I can not speak, my tongue sticking to the sides. It's just as well, it's all been said, I wrote my own obituary on the wall of a dirty public bathroom.
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[ WP ] A curse is placed on the high school Shakespeare play : If you die in the play , you die in real life . The kids go off-script to awkwardly improvise their own survival .
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**CASCA**
Speak, hands for me!
*CASCA moves to stab CAESAR. Much to the audience ’ s confusion, he seems very unwilling to do so - he holds his knife with a rather shaky grip, and is advancing very slowly. *
**CAESAR**
Hold! Think you that Caesar would fall so quick -
That I, forewarned by prophet, portent, dream,
An ’ so many a sign more brazen than
A whore with skirts flung up around her waist,
Would not have come prepared with some defense?
*The Conspirators freeze, and look hopeful. *
**CAESAR**
Brute! Know ’ st you that I hold thee close and dear,
And thus I know your heart afore you speak.
If there ’ s a point you wish to make, then do.
Unsheathe it with logic and drive it home
As Helios drives the sun across the sky -
With noble purpose, rosy fingered dawn
Is brought with fair, good grace to chase off night
Which houses bad faith and conspiracy.
So do not wrap your point in base metal.
Drive it not into my flesh. Stay your hand,
For no happy ending comes with murder.
**BRUTUS**
Aye, he speaks the truth, I ’ ll not deny this!
What good is blood upon our hands, I say
If'twill but twist the crowd to bloody rage,
Knotted tight by Antony ’ s rhetoric?
We ’ ll be driven from Rome and to suicide.
*Conspirators all nod extremely enthusiastically. The audience is completely lost. *
**CASCA**
But let us cast out Antony, that prick
For he was ever smug in tone and act,
And he just keeps getting all the good parts.
*CAESAR and the Conspirators cheer. *
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[ WP ] The Princess had been rescued but her `` heroic '' saviours were far from what she had been expecting .
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( Part 1 of 2, as Reddit said I was over a character limit. Part two will be in a child comment. )
A piece of chalk fell to the tiled floor with a sad little click, rolling under the bookshelf and out of view. The Princess sighed. Writing utensils were n't easy to come by when you lived in a tower on top of a mountain and deliveries showed up unannounced on the windowsill every month. Her last pen had dried up years ago during her attempts to get help with paper airplanes. Her pencils would have been available had it not been for that last cold winter, the one when she'd snagged a hole in her thickest sweater on the kitchen table. She'd been saving the chalk for last, but it was n't going to help much if it kept snapping against the wall.
Sighing to herself, she put all her weight into shoving the bookshelf further to the side, grabbing the broken chalk at her feet and turning her attention back to the ancient steel door in front of her. She'd been too short to see it when she first arrived, but now that she'd grown older the strip of metal was impossible to miss, even if she wanted to.
Reaching to her side to readjust her chair, the Princess continued to stare at the poem inscribed across the frame of the metal door. It greeted her as mockingly as ever, seeming to sing on its own in the sunlight.
an ancient door doth here long hath sitteth lock'd,
the passw'rd kept secret since long ago.
if't be true no one hath on it knock'd,
then these clues numbered three thee'd better know:
clue one: six digits on the op'ning hatch,
clue two: at least two doth repeat their name.
your guesses daily must thy birthyear match
clue three: more and you shall reset the game.
should you guess right, the hatch'll open wide
and out you'll go, new freedom leads your tale
one warning: should you hunger for a guide
beware the wide-brimmed knight whose skin is pale.
Today just so happened to be her twenty-fifth birthday. The Princess had one more guess today than she'd had for the past three hundred and sixty-five. So what if the last twenty-four ( and the rest before that ) had all failed? Maybe this one would be it.
Pressing her ear to the door, a trick she'd picked up about four years in, she slowly let her hand rest on the first dial, bringing the zero to the twelve o'clock position. Looking carefully at her chalk notes, then remembering the order of turns, she moved the dial down three turns. Smooth clicks greeted her each time the dial spun, each one equal as the last.
And then the knocking began.
The Princess frowned, lifting her fingers away from the door. She'd heard strange echoes before, but that was only when rain fell from the sky, and a quick glance over her shoulder confirmed the sun was still out and shining. The knocking continued until it was n't knocking at all; it was footsteps.
The Princess had always assumed the door guarded her only safe exit. It was the only thing that had made sense, given the rhyming riddle carved into the doorframe, but she'd always thought it was hidden, something the outside world did n't see. Sure, she'd never actually *seen* anyone walk by, but she'd always dreamed no one had come to rescue her yet because they did n't know a door up into the tower even existed. She was n't even sure the person who delivered her groceries even knew — she'd tried leaving a note asking for escape and all she'd received was a little piece of plastic with three letters printed in the middle of it.
Unsure whether to grab something to defend herself or to wait and continue listening, The Princess settled on a compromise, moving to stand behind her chair. For a long while, she could n't hear a thing, but then the obvious sounds of physical strain started filtering through the cracks between the door and the wall.
*Mfldfll! * the voice called. *M'fmh hrm! *
The Princess had never accounted for a language barrier, either. The voice did n't sound angry, but it did sound urgent, so she backed away from the door to let them finish the job. Tensing for the crack of the door flying from its hinges, she waited again each shuffle and muttered noise from the other side making her heart beat faster.
It did n't end up bursting open at all. When the door did swing, it swung reluctantly and jerkily, like the person on the other side was having trouble pulling it toward them.
*'' Milady. `` *
A knight stood before her, taking her in, and she did the same, albeit with less rapture in her voice. The Princess did n't say anything at all as he suddenly fell into a bow, the edge of his strange helmet brushing the floor along with his hair. He was bearded, which she guessed that was from days and days of travel, and wore protective glass in front of his eyes, presumably to guard himself from debris while traveling quickly.
`` For years I have searched,'' he panted, eyes locked on her almost unsettlingly, `` and at least I have found where they hid you away.''
`` Um... hi.''
He did n't seem to hear her, as he was too focused on getting his words out to pause at her own. `` I have dealt with the monster who took you from your parents. The *cruelty* you must have endured here... I am astonished at your strength as well as your beauty. A woman like you is rare, not because of your circumstances, no, but because you are not like the other, tarnished women of our country. These women seek out the basest males, forming attachments to men who would sooner go to battle for their king or perform feats of skill than devote their hours to lavishing their lady loves. They are blind to the opportunities that lie right in front of them with men who would spent every moment praising their traits and giving them attention.''
`` How did you find me?'' The Princess interrupted him again, this time asking a question to try and understand how he'd gotten here. The *way* he'd gotten here was obvious, but she wanted to know how he knew to look in the tower. She wanted to know what made him so different.
He blinked at her, eyes focusing on her mouth when she spoke. `` Legend is told around the entire kingdom of you, milady. Everyone knows of your rapturous beauty, of your terrible fate. I could no longer live my life in the shadows, listening to all of the lesser men who dared try and find you — men who utterly failed, I might add,'' he said, his voice turning almost smug. The Princess noticed how his hair shone in the light of the sun when he stepped a little closer and tried not to react visibly to his oily complexion; she was sure any weary traveler would look like they needed a bath if they'd traveled so long.
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[ WP ] A classic Disney movie , but the protagonist is now the villian
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Filled with all of our vices and none of our humanity, he entered the world a shattered facsimile of what real life was. It was an honest mistake to hope that a man like me could ever deserve a healthy parental relationship with anything remotely good. This is what I get for dabbling with wishes and magic, trying to create a fabrication for the loneliness inside. This is direct punishment wrought by my weak desires and treacherous hands.
But I must look after him nonetheless if I am to reaffirm my own humanity and keep him from getting his nose in trouble. Maybe there is hope for this conscienceless monster yet.
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[ WP ] You die in an accident and as your vision fades to black , the words `` Game Over '' appear , followed by three buttons labelled 'Continue ' , 'Load ' and 'Quit ' .
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I stare blankly at the options in front of me.'Game over?' I think to myself. What the hell is that even suppose to me, it's like I'm in a video game. I notice 3 small buttons at my feet floating in this empty black room that I am standing in. I put my feet out and hover over the options wondering what I should do. My foot floats over continue and I stomp down. Another option appears in front of me that says'are you sure?' with yes or no buttons on the ground. I hover over yes but divert my foot to the no button and stomp down again.
I stare at the options in front of me pondering whether or not pressing them could mean catastrophic effects. I mean I am dead honestly nothing worse could happen but at least I know something. These options in front of me indicate that continuing could mean I could move onto something else that is n't life and quitting could mean the same but, loading in, at least in the sense of how it was on Earth, meant bringing back something that you saved earlier and almost reliving it. Hopefully that translates to this.
I stomp on the load button and stomp on yes and Everything around me changes until I'm floating in a white room with screen all around me. All of a sudden images begin to appear on the screens that surround me with a picture of myself on them. I reach out to one of the screen and touch it which makes the entire scene change again. I stand there staring at my own 1st birthday party. I see my parents hugging each other with the happiest face I had ever seen on them. They were staring at me or rather the baby version of myself but none the less'they' were staring at me. I think this was the last time they were together because soon after this they divorced leaving me in a perpetual state of depression my entire life.
Being raised in a torn household did n't help my mental state as well as the fact that my dad was murdered when I was 12. I walk up to them and shout at them and realize of course they ca n't see me. I back away and stare at my baby self and knowing the fate of this little guy. The reality ends and I stare at the screens again. I go through my dad's murder the time I got my first car, lost my virginity, went to college, had my first kiss, the day I nearly killed myself, and of course the fatal incident and what went wrong. All of the major events that occurred during my life were now just interactive videos that I am now walking through even though when I was'alive' they were literally everything in my life. I see an exit button and stomp on it to take me back to the game over screen. I remember my hardship and how I wanted to quit then so why not now? I press the quit button, press the yes button, and then I see only white.
All of a sudden the white fades away like a cloud moving away from face and I see the most beautiful view of my life. A golden sunset across cloud covered hills. I was sitting on a cloud that was on another cloud overlooking more clouds. If that was n't cool enough I turn around and see an angel. `` Ah your back how was it?'' The angel says in the most beautiful voice I had ever heard. `` Back?'' `` Wow I forget this every single time! Sorry I need to explain I few things. You died but not really, you only ever died once and ever since then you've been here. When you die you come here and either live as an angel or go back to Earth and attempt to have a better life than you did before. Sadly, you forget everything you learned from your past life when you enter your new life so you pretty much just hope you get a better life than you had before. If you choose to stay here you become an angel and protect the ones who are going back into the world.'' `` Protecting from what?'' I say just as a dark object leaps up from the edge of the platform we are on. The angel blasts it back with a white beam and it sequels as it falls over the edge and down past the clouds. `` There is a lot to learn you need to learn and I'm ready to teach you how to become an angel. Are you ready?'' `` I'm ready.'' `` Then lets go have a talk with the man upstairs.''
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[ WP ] `` I know that you guys want to go and kill Hitler , but this is my time machine , so first we 're going to ... ''
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``... so first, we're going to Ancient Rome. I've heard that some of the shit they had was crazy potent. I mean, like, LETHAL.'' How the fuck did Pothead Hank, of ALL the damn people on this Earth, stumble across a time machine.
`` Hank, this is important, homie.'' Matt said. `` Drugs are fine and good but you have YOUR WHOLE LIFE to go back and get hippie-stoned.''
`` And YOU have your whole life to kill Hitler,'' Hank retorted.
`` Shut up. We can do both. And who knows, you might learn to lighten up, ya nerd,'' Hallie said, grabbing the phone from Hank. `` Now, how do you work this thing..?'' Hallie pushed some buttons on the screen, typing in the date and setting the coordinates. Who knew that a time machine functioned so much like an Apple device.
I stood by with the sniper, the only decent shot of the four of us and the only one who could compose himself. The plan was simple. Well, the intended plan: We teleport ourselves to Berlin, 1939; shoot the bastard from a mile away, teleport back, profit. Thanks to Hank though, we were going to make a little stop in Rome. Well, I wanted to do some sightseeing anyway. Hall pushed the'execute command' button and we were all enveloped in a blue light.
-- -- -- -
Holy shit. It actually worked. Here we were, in Rome, 92 BCE. I checked my watch that I conveniently set to Rome's time before we left- it was just about noon. I disassembled the sniper, threw it into a carrying bag and slung it over my shoulder. Before stepping out into the street from the alley we arrived in, Alex grabbed Hank and I by the collar. `` You idiots! You ca n't just waltz into ANCIENT FUCKING ROME wearing Under Armour and Adidas!''
`` Well what do you propose then, poindexter? Beat up some locals and take their clothes? If anything goes south, we'll just get outta here. You worry too much. Here, take a picture of Hal and I with the Coliseum in the background.'' The four of us walked out into the dark corner of a market, but before we could even figure out where we were Hank had disappeared. Are. You. Fucking. *KIDDING. *
`` Hank! Hank, you idiot, get back here! Christ, we're in Rome for three seconds and the fucker runs off! What was he thinking?''
`` Do n't take the lord's name in vain, you slut,'' I snapped at Alex.
`` You're wrong, homeboy ai n't even born yet,'' he responded with the trademark shit-eating grin he does whenever he's being a dick. `` But seriously, where did he g- HANK!'' Alex ran off and we sprinted after him.
`` We got it, now go,'' Hank said, grabbing the phone and punching in coordinates. `` I stole some shit, but they're after me.''
`` Hank, what the fu-'' Alex was cut off by a blue light that once again swallowed us up and dropped us off in a new location.
-- -- -- --
`` Okay, I think we're safe,'' Hank sighed. Hallie was facing behind us and her eyes widened. `` Noooooo, we ai n't,'' I turned around quickly to see a half dozen rifles pointed at the four of us. `` Komm mit uns. Jetzt.''
FUCK.
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[ WP ] You are part of an elite space program on your way to Mars . You come across a derelict ship , slowly spinning horizontally and see a person aboard it , trying to tell you to turn back .
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`` We should be well within range of the standard personnel suit's mobile ad hoc network capabilities, if they are attempting to use it - but we are not receiving RF, Captain. Also, Ground confirms it is the Alba Mons ship, and MARS-BASE still reports receiving no traffic from them since the accident last week. We do n't have a way to contact them.''
`` Thank you, Comms.'' The Captain squinted into the window of the nearby ship and saw faint movement against the dim emergency lights inside the bridge. `` Well, it seems like someone is still alive. Navigator, please get us on a course that will take us alongside them and get us close --''
`` -- Yes, Captain --''
`` -- Comms, please continue monitoring for transmissions, and also ask Ground to send us up any information that they have from last week --''
`` -- Yes, Captain --''
`` -- And Two, is there any way for us to stop the damn thing from spinning?''
The second in command frowned. If a ship were designed to spin horizontally, it would have thrusters to control its spin velocity. But the ship before them did n't appear to currently have a working propulsion system, and it was n't model that was intended to spin in the first place. Trying to send a man to, say, board the ship, or at least attach a thrust-pack to slow it down, would be extremely dangerous while it was still spinning and he could n't consider it an option.
`` I do n't see a good way, Captain, but let me talk with Engineering.''
The Captain's ship had changed course and was now alongside its neighbor. Every spin, he could now see inside the bridge of its neighbor, where a bulky white space suit was illuminated in the main window. The man in the suit appeared to be gesturing with his arms, but it was impossible to tell what he was trying to communicate before he spun out of view. The reflection from the space suit's visor blocked any view of the wearer's face. From his bridge, the Captain pulled at his lip. He watched as the ship spun against the blackness of space, as if the ship was trying desperately to shake it off.
...
The weak light hit the space suit and cast a gray shadow across the bridge. Without urgency, one segment of the shadow moved up, moved down, moved up, moved down. Except for the shadow and the counterpart from which it was cast, the bridge was deserted.
There were only three sounds throughout the entire ship. On one of the lower floors there was the low hum of the solar generator which provided emergency power. The second noise was a soft repetitive hiss that came from one corner of the bridge. A pulley held a slim rope that connected to one of the space suit's arms, and the rope connected to a low-powered pneumatic press that was plugged into an emergency power socket out of view from the window. Last, when the space suit moved there was a sloshing, liquid sound coming from within, and occasionally a soft clunk.
In the visor of the space suit, as the ship spun, tiny images of the Captain slid into view and were reflected back out into the void.
The press hissed, the arm waved, and the shadow beckoned.
...
A soft ding sounded in the Captain's ear, then he heard a voice. `` Captain, Ground sent a summary of the event from last week for you.''
`` Thank you, Nichelle. Let's have it.'' He slid a transparent visor down over his left eye and read.
SUMMARY OF ALBA MONS ACTIVITY
Compiled from messages received at MARS-BASE-1.
02-03-3013 - 08:03 GMT - Alba Mons ( AM ) crew report arrival at AM Work Site 1. [ Ed.: Continuing off-base setup. ]
02-03-3013 - 08:09 GMT - AM crew reports missing gear at AMWS1.
02-03-3013 - 09:23 GMT - AM crew reports gear identified on AMWS1-East slope. Suspected cause: overnight winds, lack of appropriate tie-down.
02-03-3013 - 12:50 GMT - AM crew reports all recoverable gear returned to base.
02-03-3013 - 13:06 GMT - AM nurse reports multiple crew in infirmary. Presents shortness of breath, vomiting, anxiety. No history. Possible over-exhaustion. [ Ed.: Nurse's update is last message received from ALBA-NOC1/2 to-date. ]
02-03-3013 - 13:50 GMT - MARS-NOC-1 reports far-side link failure with both ALBA-NOC-1 and ALBA-NOC-2.
02-03-3013 - 13:52 GMT - MARS-NOC-2 confirms far-side link failure with both ALBA-NOC-1 and ALBA-NOC-2.
02-03-3013 - 17:15 GMT - MARS-NOC-1 reports tech dispatched to ALBA-NOC-1. [ Ed.: ~3 day 1-way travel time. ]
02-04-3013 - 03:13 GMT - TERRA-NOC-5 reports receiving automated POWER_ON_HELLO from ALBA-BASE DTN node. Handshake fails. [ Ed.: Ship sends HELLO when space navigation systems engage. Handshake failure indicates that triple redundant ship-side communications all failed within two RTTs, or ~1 hr. ]
02-05-3013 - 15:13 GMT - MARS-SAT-1 reports automated imagery alert received for `` Unexpected equipment movement in ALBA-BASE.'' Analysis confirms ship no longer present in ALBA-BASE. [ Ed.: With comms down, server-side flags all observed equipment movement as `` unexpected.'' ALBA-BASE command may have authorized a lateral ship move while comms were down, but a pre-existing request to MARS-BASE was required to avoid an unauthorized launch before. No such request was received before ship observed off-planet on 02-08-3013. ]
02-05-3013 - 16:23 GMT - MARS-SAT-1 scheduled for detailed rescan of ALBA-BASE for next pass at 02-10-3013.
02-08-3013 - 15:04 GMT - Incoming DARREST-BASE crew reports defunct ship, confirmed to be ALBA-BASE ship by TERRA-SOC-1. VISUAL CONFIRMATION OF MOVEMENT. [ Ed.: Your report. ]
[ Do n't think I can do anymore with this tonight, might look at a part 2 tomorrow. ]
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[ WP ] A person ( male or female ) wakes up not knowing who they are . They are the incarnation of Death . Explain how they find out , why they were chosen to be Death , and what they do with the information .
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She did n't remember her dream. She always remembered her dreams, she recorded of them in a small notebook by her bed, but this one, she did n't remember. It was blurry, hard to make out. A shadow clouding her mind. The more she tried to remember what it was, the harder she found it. She just could n't remember.
It was cold when she finally climbed out of bed, feeling a small bit of shame for having forgotten her dream. It was such a good one, she thought, desperately trying to bring the details back. Someone was talking to me, I think. And they said something. It sounded important.
She turned the shower on hot and stepped in once it began to steam. It did n't feel hot to her, she was still cold, and despite the water beginning to fog the shower's glass, the water felt cold too.
The dream. What did he say in the dream?
She finished her cold shower and dressed in warm clothes that did nothing. Then she sat on the couch and put on TV. There were no shootings in the city yesterday. First time in almost 7 years that it had happened. No major accidents either. It was just a slow news day all around.
Her mind kept going back to the forgotten dream. Dark. It was dark. Deathly. Shadows everywhere. And the voice. The voice was loud and booming - when she listened it was hard not to pay attention. And yet, she forgot the dream. There she was supposed to do today, but she could n't remember that either
The weather came on. The city was in the middle of a heat wave, and would n't let up for another three or so days. She laughed inwardly, the chill in her extremities flowing now throughout her body.
She felt like death.
When the thought entered her mind, suddenly she remembered. In the dream, he told her that she had been chosen. Chosen for what? She had asked, and the voice replied, `` Chosen to judge.''
She pressed further: `` To judge whom?''
The voice replied, `` To judge everyone. It is you who will decide their fates. You may choose to kill the young, you may choose to kill the old. You may choose to kill the evil, or those who will become evil. Whatever you choose, it is your choice.''
And then, She remembered what she had decided in the dream. `` And what if I decide to kill you?''
`` I can not stop you.''
She smiled, and whispered under her breath.
Then, she woke up, and she was warm.
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[ WP ] You are a hero in a typical RPG type world where the strength of a monster is inversely proportional to how scary it actually looks . Your raiding party run into a Quokka riding a Piglet .
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Blue. All I could see was a deep rich blue above me broken only by the occasional fat, lazy cloud drifting past. I could smell the gentle scent of daisies, carried to me on a gentle spring breeze. That's what I've always hated about the high-danger zones. In some other world they would be beautiful places to live. Idyllic, even. Would be a nicer place I'm sure.
I hacked up a wad of blood and spat it onto the grass next to me. Our questmaster had told us this would be a cakewalk. An easy grab-and-smash in a short little dungeon, nothing tougher than a bulldog was supposed to be in there. And in his defense, there was n't. We got in, killed the beasts, took the treasure, and high-tailed it out of there. And we were n't no rookie crew doing a crawl above our level. We got our levels the long and legit way- we started off easy, killing eldritch gods like everyone else. From there we moved onto 200 foot tall demon lords, elite demons, orcs, and hell, we even managed to kill a Pomeranian a year back. So we knew the dangers of a zone like this.
Starting to get pretty cold now and I know what that means. The... the trouble started just a hundred feet from the portal home. A tiny shadow fell across the field in front of us and we all froze in our places. We had heard about piglets of course. Who has n't? They've slain dozens of famous heroes throughout history. That thing on top of it though... I had never come across any monster like that before. Like some adorable, giant rat. And it always looked like it was smiling. Fucking smiling! To top it off that thing had a little painted helmet and wooden toy sword. I knew we were dead the moment we spotted it. There was no way we could handle something that charming. And if you're still curious, I ca n't feel my legs any more.
It moved faster than any of us could follow. I had always trained my speed so I could get monsters before they got me. When it made its first move though even I could n't follow it. Before we realized it had begun its attack, the wizard's head hit the ground in a spray of blood. I'll give that dumb knight his credit, he was almost as fast as me. He managed to draw his sword drawn in the next moment but it was still too slow. The piglet turned around and just rammed right through his chest in a shower of gore.
By this point of course I just began running. What the hell was I supposed to do? That thing was already massacring us and I did n't intend to go down here, treasure or no. The cleric had the same idea and took off behind me but he did n't get far. I heard that little toy sword make a darling little'tonk!' sound on his armor as it cleaved him right in half. I guess the life of a fat and wise monastic warrior just does n't make for good sprinters. Lucky for me. What came next, that was less lucky. That rat caught me at the base of the portal just before I could get in. I do n't know what it did but I felt something slam into my back sending me spinning to the ground in a rain of blood.
I guess the piglet and its rider took the treasure and took off after that because I've just been laying here bleeding to death since they knocked me down. God I hate that blue sky. Makes this whole death scene so idiotically saccharine. Thanks for listening to a dying thief's last words though, just make me one promise: get some bard to re-write all this. Make it pretty and noble, all that bard nonsense they like to do. What use is dying in some beautiful place if you do n't at least get some pretty words out of the whole thing? Thamar knows it will be the only good thing to come out of this terrible quest. This whole thing sucked.
It was still better than fighting kittens though. There are worse fates than dying under a blue sky.
_____________________________________
Well, that's it. First thing I've written in years and years, hope someone out there liked it.
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[ WP ] People do n't die . They just gain enough experience to level up .
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Lights. All I see are bright lights. I'm finally free from the burden of life!
`` Welcome!'' A voice rips, booming in the darkness.
I ca n't feel or see a thing but light. This must be it. I must have made it last night with my booze and pills.
`` H-hello?'' I offer, trying to feel anything in my legs or hands. Nothing. I am still numb.
The voice sounds closer and more menacing now, `` Hello and welcome to HELL! ``
I gasp and feel a sharp pain in my chest. I can feel something! But is it hell?
Before I can answer my own question my eyes start to adjust and I see a dark blue figure dressed in the strangest fashion of yellow robes. They are also looking like they're going to start a giggle fit.
`` Am I in-'' before I can finish, the figure's booming laughter feels like it is going to split my head in half.
`` You're not in hell. Just a little outer realm joke. You're on the next level and it is even harder than the one you just opted out of.'' The figure's smile dampens a little bit and, in turn, the area I am in becomes more clear. It is much like a hospital waiting room and I am not the only one here being briefed, it seems.
`` Harder?'' I gulp, `` How could anything be harder than life on earth? I was riddled with depression and anxiety to the point I could n't step outside my door... And it does n't feel like it has gone away.'' My voice changes to desperation `` please. Please put me back on earth then. I'm scared. ``
`` There there,'' says the strange blue figure, coming closer. Upon inspection I realise this blue figure is a man with pointed ears and a ridged nose. Perhaps I just fell asleep watching star trek again. I pinch myself. It is painful. Shit.
`` I assure you. This is very real. No need to give yourself bruises. Your body is still very weak from the torture you put it through to get here. In time it will strengthen and you will learn the ways of this place.'' The figure sits beside me in a creaky green chair and I see a young girl no older than 14 sitting nearby being briefed the way I am. Her arms are scarred vertically in a very gruesome manner.
`` Ummm... Is this place just for suicides? Where do normal dead people go? Why-''
`` Just this room is for suicides. You are special people who need special care before going out... Going out there.''
`` Is it so bad? How could it be worse than earth? I must be stronger now. I have survived death!''
`` It is worse in some ways. And you are undoubtedly stronger. Some people say this place is a kind of level up from earth. The body will adapt accordingly.''
`` So, um... What's out there?''
`` The future.''
`` What?''
`` The future of Killronia 762. See, we Killronians made a pact with your leaders. When certain selected members of your race die, they are sent here instead of... Wherever you would be sent otherwise.'' A peel of laughter escapes from the killronian.
`` Where would I be sent other-''
`` That's the joke. Even I do n't know what is after this place. I do know suicide wo n't help you escape again, though. You will just be brought back to complete your assigned tasks.''
My heart sunk further than it ever had on earth. No way out. Maybe I can get this ball rolling, though, so I can finally have some peace.
`` What tasks?'' I ask meekly.
`` Whatever we have agreed with the leaders of your world is fair. Basically you have been traded for our knowledge of the universe as well as some handy resources having to do with sustaining youth. Unfair, I know, but of course you had to know your life was not your own, right?''
I had a sneaking suspicion on earth that we were merely cogs... But not like this. Never had I suspected this.
`` So what the fuck do I need to do to get out of this place, then?''
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[ 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 .
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After years of doing hard drugs and falling into a depressing spiral, I had hit a new
low.
There I was standing on the corner of Canarsie street, buying weed from a doped up Chinese gambler in the alley.
When I got home later, i found out my squirrel friend, who I sort of saved one time, had hosted an intervention. For me.
Hours of crying later, I agreed to go to a twelve step program.
Now I've been clean for 7 months, and my squirrel friend and I keep healthy by playing pick up basketball in the park with the local youths. My squirrel friend also introduced me to my future wife. He's my future children's godfather, and my best friend.
Signed StylishPajamas age 7
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[ WP ] You 're a spooky ghost and decide to haunt a ghosthunter show . You 're surprised they actually know how to handle ghosts .
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I've done it a thousand times.
Hey, I'm an immortal spirit with a conscience, I ca n't just fuck with average Joe on the street. I'd give someone a heart attack, or a sense of divine favoritism. I do n't want that.
But a bunch of snake-oil salesmen who make a living on the Cheetos-stained welfare dollars of trailer trash? Well now that is very different.
I'm still a nice fellow, I might go bump and slam a few doors, but I never hurt anyone. The irony is that when the Ghostbusters go back to their studio bosses, footage in hand, crowing in triumph, usually the tape is to mundane for even their tamest episode.
`` So what if the door opened and closed by itself Harold?? Where are the ghostly apparitions, where are the godammed possessions??''
Harmless stuff. Keeps me sane. My fun came to an end when I ran into three clairvoyant and a low level heavenly bureaucrat on the set of Southern Supernatural Sleuths. I'd known that the `` sensitive'' existed. Sometimes I would be strolling along in major cities and I'd get a limp-haired kid looking in my exact direction for longer than was probable, or a grandma would lose her color and point a shaky, arthritic finger my way when I was doing nothing but minding my own business. Usually I waggled my tongue at them and moved on.
The young and the old were especially sensitive to whatever plane I occupied. The non-dependent population of the world was typically so confident I did n't exist that I could have haunted them for a month and they would have gone to a psychologist instead of contemplate any supernatural alternative.
The crew of SSS was a motley affair. A loud mouthed head honcho and a bunch of miserable supporting cast members who looked like they had been seeking grander employment when they decided to major in film at Fordham Midwestern College of the Arts or whatever bumfuck institution had saddled them with 200k in debt.
Old New England is ghosthunter paradise. Take your pick, colonial governors wife who lost her mind, revolutionary war vet who still haunts old battlefields, Irish immigrant who still longs for the Emerald Isles, yadda yadda. Give people three hundred years and they'll think they have a history.
I was born 7000 years ago in a a place called Nippur. Three hundred years was the blink of an eye for an old hand such as yours truly.
Anyhow I hope that gives some reference. In all that time I had never met an adult who recognized me for what I was. I had the luck if running into a whole bunch of them all on one day.
SSS was far from home, usually they stayed below the Mason Dixon, but a change of scenery was called for after two seasons of mediocre ratings.
The cameras were set up outside a small run-down historical little inn in Somewhere, NY called the Salem Board. There was a ghost there, a youngish 200 year old ghost who did n't quite know how to keep quiet yet. Or maybe she did n't care, either way the place was on supernatural fliers for fifty miles in every direction. Apparently the occupying ghost had a penchant for snoring loudly in the rocking chair downstairs.
I met up with Winnie and told her all about my hustle and she agreed very kindly to let me have the run of the place while SSS did their thing. Female ghosts are usually like that, very agreeable and submissive, unless they were born in the last fifty years. God you would not believe how grating it is to hear about equality when you lived in a time where women were literally dragged around by their pony tales from place to place.
I was caught almost immediately. I slammed the front door and the head honchos neck about snapped when he whirled to face me. The head honcho then turned sharply to a a chubby fellow sitting and playing in his phone behind one of the cameras. Without looking up the fat fellow said, `` By the front door, Old Sumerian by the look of him.''
The head honcho pulled out a scary looking and fired plasma bullets in my direction. I dodged them all of course, my reflexes are nearly instantaneous, but I got out of Salem Board quickly for that night. That was a smarter move than I knew, but then I made a rather massive mistake.
I waited until the SSS packed up and left, but I followed the chubby cameraman home. Fatso lived about as well as he looked. Small apartment, pizza boxes pretty much tiled the floor, water faucet looked like a plague spreading device.
I alighted in front of Fatso, oh I do n't know, looking to grill him for a bit, see what made him tick. I knew I was in trouble when the greasy bastard looked at me like I was a delicious platter of extra hot chicken wings.
`` Hi there.''
`` Hello, your the only person I've ever met who can see me.''
`` Oh I hear that a lot, but I'm not a person.''
I blinked.
`` How do you mean?''
`` I'm the boss.''
I blinked again.
`` Have n't you ever wondered why you never got to heaven? Or hell? That was me, your my department.''
I tried to whoosh away. Huh, my whooshing powers were gone.
`` So what exactly am I here for then?''
`` You came to me.''
`` Well yeah, but now I'm trying to leave and I ca n't.''
`` Fair enough. Your being decommissioned. To many new ghosts to let old models keep running around. Your the last Sumerian you know, and there are only a few Assyrians and Egyptians left even, you really should have been scrapped a millennia ago.''
`` Where do I go now then.''
A wry smile.
`` Wherever you would have gone.''
Then everything went black, and a massive gate loomed before me.
ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE
`` Fuck.''
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[ WP ] There exists a court that sentences people with `` Would You Rather '' questions . Whichever option the person picks , becomes reality .
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`` You are found guilty of murder.''
The words did n't surprise me. I had been caught red handed, to say the least. There existed more witnesses to what I had done than people I knew on a first name basis.
I had always been terrible at managing anger. It's why she left me after years of putting up with it. One night she took them and left, leaving a note saying someone would contact me for proceedings.
I loathed her and I loathed my life since then. It had been almost ten years now and I have n't found a woman whom I can start a new life with. I grasp at the past through alcoholism and feel remorse for how I had been. I do n't think I've changed, but the feeling of sadness is real.
My son has n't talked to me in seven years. My daughter rarely does since visitation rights ended with her becoming an adult. She did tell me that he was quick to call the new guy `` dad.'' My blood boiled at the thought. He gave my ex-wife away at the wedding with the biggest smile he had smiled till then. I did n't know this firsthand, but my daughter did n't spare details. On one end she was the only one who still kept in touch with me, but on the other it seemed like her words twisted the knife.
She was seeing someone, a meek guy - the total opposite of myself. He had long hair and the ghost of a mustache. His lanky physique and preference for old clothes confused me. What are kids into these days? He was involved in and called himself an activist. She told me she loved his passion while simultaneously being laid back.
She knew I did n't like him and that made her want him more, or that's what she led me to believe.
A few months ago he caught her with someone else. The little asshole had never been exposed to such shitty human behavior. He lost it. He dragged her to his car and they took a long drive. Her phone was thrown out the window and he brandished his knife at her. Then he took her somewhere in the woods and raped her at knife-point. Then he drove off after saying he hoped a bear got her.
She had walked semi-naked down the dirt road until some rednecks picked her up. She was so scared. They took her to a place with a phone and she called me. I went to get her.
I was furious. How dare someone do this to MY daughter? She stayed with me and I could hear her cry in the other room in the early hours of morning. She did n't open up to me but I would catch her looking at me sometimes, her eyes darting back into a thousand mile stare once she realized that I had.
`` I warned you about this creep,'' I told her after a few weeks. She did n't say anything. My argument did n't really hold up, I only judged him as such based on his physical appearance - but I could not resist reminding her that I was right.
One day I came home and she had gotten into my liquor cabinet. She was happy to see me. She called me Daddy and said she had cheated on him many times with this guy from another town that she met online. He reminded her of me. He was assertive and brash and made her feel certain feelings she did n't get from the ex. She broke down saying that he did n't want her anymore when she told him what had happened to her, and that was something I would have done too.
My little girl, I thought. She loved me all along but never told me. I left when she fell asleep after carrying her to bed. I had my gun with me. Long story short, I went to an event at her campus that I was sure her rapist ex would be at. He was with another girl and they were smiling at each other. I went up to him.
`` Oh... hey,'' he said when he saw me. His expression changed completely. I smiled at him. I told him that I had n't heard from my daughter for a few weeks, we had an argument and she seems to have cut ties. I asked if he'd seen her.
No, he said, he had not. He started spinning. She was fiercely independent and might have broken up with him, he said. He felt it was best to let her experience life and was now focusing on school and his friends. Maybe I could try asking her mom?
Those were his last words.
After dropping my gun and kicking it away, I knelt down with my hands up. There was no point in running, everyone had seen it. I was glad they had. Everyone should see what happens to scum like this kid.
She visited me in jail quite a few times. On the outside, she told me I was a violent jerk but on the inside I could see she felt avenged. I was her hero and for the first time I felt that it was deserved.
The jury unanimously found me guilty. The judge had yet to pass a sentence. I expected death and I was ready for it. I did n't have much to live for anyway and I sure went out reminding my little girl that she was the most important thing to me.
Instead, I was taken to the judge's office. I was introduced to a psychiatrist and the lawyers were present. I was told that I had committed a crime of passion.
Obviously, I thought.
As per the new order of the state, there must be blood to pay for blood. I shrugged, I knew that. The days of life imprisonment disappeared during my childhood, as did charity. The only way that made sense in a world filled to the brim was that blood must be paid with blood. I did n't fully understand it but I was ready to face it.
I was told it did n't necessarily have to be my own blood. My daughter, they said, she had been adulterous not just with the one guy but several. They told me details they had gathered through interviews with her friends and her. To call her promiscuous would be an understatement.
`` What are you trying to say?'' I asked with barely kept anger in my voice. My head was swimming. I thought she only cheated with that one guy because he reminded her of me. I felt betrayed. What had I done?
They told me that based on my interrogation, they see that I had been misled. I nodded, I had been indeed misled. Little bitch. They told me that I should commend myself for doing what I did under my limited knowledge of the situation. Every word made sense. I gritted my teeth when I thought about how I'd been fucked over.
Someone leaned over and told me that I could have a new life in a week, far away. I could have a new name and will never return or want to return. I felt tears run down my face because I knew what they were going to say.
She would disappear a few days after my supposed execution. Those who know her will shrug and say she probably took her own life after what happened to me. She would definitely do that, I thought, what would she be without me?
`` Would you rather die or have her die in your stead?''
My final thought before answering is that she was a little liar, just like her mother.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
When I re-entered the courtroom, everyone looked at me in disgust. I was confused and looked over at my daughter who had a look of pure hatred. Her mascara was running with tears of pure anger. She yelled out that she hoped I burned in hell and stormed off.
I then noticed the large screen behind the judge's seat. The video shown was of his office. I took a long look at it before it was turned off.
`` It was important to her mother that her daughter know who her father really was before he is put to death,'' said the judge. I felt the eyes of everyone in the court room on me. `` There will be no one mourning your death and you will not be missed.''
He then told the guards to take me away.
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[ WP ] `` I built him up to be a hero , then to discover he 's nothing but a psychopath ''
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It isnt a easy thing to raise a son while apart of the greatest military on this earth.The roman empire was spreading fast and they needed all the soldiers they could get, so they forced me into battle. Im not complaining of course i love to serve my country, but its so hard to carry around my child with me. His mother had died during childbirth so I was the only one left to care for him anymore, I tried to teach him the roman way. always be strong, quick, understanding, and loving to those who deserve it. But i guess that did n't work out. Its been 15 years since ive traveled with the roman military. now my son is the emperor now. i should be happy for him, ecstatic even that he found his way to power but honestly I fear for the roman empire. There has been 5 executions a week under his reign and steadily getting more and more. Hes out of control, I taught him to be the hero rome so desperately needed in these dark times but hes not empathetic, hes cruel, merciless, and hateful to everyone in his path. I built him up to be a hero, but now? hes nothing more than a psychopath.
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[ WP ] You 're a salesperson in heaven skilled at selling bad experiences on Earth to souls who are bored of their perfect existence . One such soul says `` Tell me about the Deluxe Package '' . With a sly smile , you respond ...
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`` Eternity is stale? Try a lifelong struggle for existence!'' `` New Program! Try to survive starvation and illness in war-ridden Yemen'', while setting up the last panels on my small `` life shop'' I looked back on the terrific offers I had for my customers. Buisness was good these days; thousands of souls, were coming to me daily for new opportunities. They were not coming here for a life of pleasure and easyness; that, Peter could provide. No, for their next reincarnation they came here searching pain, difficulty, struggle. A hard life is a life of plentyful karma, which is valuable here. And me? Well, I relieve them of some of their hard-earned karma while helping them have an opportunity at gaining a lot more. I see myself as some sort of investment councelor.
Each and every once in a while there are customers that I feel are special. This man comes to me straight, his pockets obviously lined with karma. `` Tell me about the Deluxe Package'' he says. `` For a customer of your class, sir, I think it's a perfect opportunity!''. The package is simple and risk-free, the customer will get a new life which will grant him a lot of karma without any possibility of failure. `` Sounds like a great deal? How does it work?'' he asks. `` Well it's a life story specialy designed so that there is no way you could earn bad karma, and with just enough suffering that you'll be drowning in positive karma once back here. Details change each time, but it's guaranteed without failure; satisfied or reimbursed''. The eyes of the man lit with curiosity: `` I'll have that then''. I took his money, led him to the door and let him dive into his new life, a perfect karma-earning life. Born of rich parents he is going to suffer a severe case of micro-encephalia, quickly becoming a bed-ridden vegetable. A life of suffering where it's impossible to do evil. I can not guarantee the life of a saint, but this one is failproof.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Trying my hand at writing a story, pardon my ~~french~~ poor english
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[ WP ] Every day the main character wakes up a year has passed
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*We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time. *
The words melted into him like the light, now soft and waning through the thin curtains above the bed. He let the book come to rest on the sheets beside his head, let the muscles in his neck loosen, recline, and sweet serenity came calling, calling, calling from somewhere through the silence. He drifted.
The music was a miracle, some half-imagined dream slinking down the hall and filling the air with something summery, something alive. Jane, his honeysuckle. Jane, his fresh-cut grass on the hillside by the highway with the top down and the radio off, cruising, *being*. She struck another chord on the piano and it may have crafted the universe, and Genesis would be her love and pain would be a word that no one could ever learn.
He drifted.
He floated.
The doors slammed shut behind him and there was some hustle, some rush, someone screaming right beside him and it *was* him but it was n't, could n't be. His socks were gone and someone had slipped a bag of ice beneath his feet. He opened his eyes and the hallway and all its strange instruments, barren surfaces and harsh light filled him up. He could n't stop screaming, and the nurses on either side of him could n't slow down, could n't look down, and the wheelchair carried him on and on and on and he wailed and thrashed and he could n't see the needle until he felt it's cold
*SNAP. *
Time to face the music.
*Snap, snap, snap. *
`` Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiister Halloway? Buddy? Can you hear me?'' The voice was friendly, sinister, every strange syllable sliding down the wall like melting ice. He tried to raise his head, tried to open his eyes, tried to remember what that might feel like, and then he was gone again.
`` David?''
He snapped awake, or at least it felt that way. His eyes had been open already. His eyes had always been open. He had been sitting there for weeks waiting to hear that voice, and he had n't slept a wink. She was finally here.
`` Sweetheart, I...'' but he could n't finish. She leaned forward in her chair by the bed, anxious, weary, and for the first time he felt something stir in his heart. She looked ten years older. There was grey showing in her roots now, dark circles around her eyes, and the deep expectancy he found in them made him scared for her. He could n't find the words.
`` David, do you know who I am?'' she asked, and he could see how she steeled herself against the tears. Somehow, she seemed practiced at it, and it made him feel altogether alien under her gaze. Eventually, he found himself again.
`` Oh honeysuckle, how could I -'' and then she was in his arms, weeping, squeezing him until he thought his lungs might burst. She relented only after some time, then reluctantly pulled away from him and settled in beside him on the bed. Again, words failed him.
`` It's just been so *long*, honey. I did n't want to think it, but I could n't help it. I thought I -'' she paused, brought one trembling hand to her lips and then back down atop his own. `` I thought I might have missed my chance.''
`` I do n't know what you're talking about,'' he began, but her arms were around him again and they were falling, falling, and she curled up beside him in the bed. Her breath against his cheek was an angel's whisper, and when she finally spoke again it was a secret wrapped up in a prayer.
*It does n't matter now. Just hold me. *
And he could only close his eyes and listen to the whispers until they floated away into still air. Into nothing. Into darkness, dark rumbling, dark thunderous thoughts and fears and sharp forgotten memories tearing the sky, piercing his heart, ripping holes into his mind and vomiting nightmares, heinous and malformed and dying into the wound. He gripped the rifle against his chest until he could n't feel his fingers and the rain beat against his helmet like the tears of God Almighty. There was a droning from somewhere out there across the field, and it meant death, and when he rose into the light there was only a tree, only the snow drifting lazily from a hazy winter sky through a window he did n't know, and somewhere in the storm he saw a picture frame shatter around his fist, and her face, now devastated, floated like rose petals down into the mud.
Light.
Some distant, sweet serenity floating down the hall, except the hall was now an aisle, and instead of one aisle there were many, and the notes from the piano sang sorrow that hung in the air. Light. Light like flowers, and flowers like bursts of pure energy pulsing, waning, falling limp above her coffin.
He tried to rise. It was time to go now. Time to face the music.
He tried to remember what that meant.
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[ WP ] Simulation theory is becoming more popular as the days and weeks go by . The people running the simulation of our universe are starting to get concerned .
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I sighed. Another long, boring day at work. You know, I was getting rather tired of maintaining this program. I do n't even *know* why they have us here, there has n't been an issue in years, but the boss upstairs wants it supervised.
`` I'm telling you, Frank, they will catch on. It's happened before. Christ, they even write stories and made movies about it already!'' Tom, my manager, had told me. At Human Corp, we were all forced to act as human as possible, going as far to go by human names. It was protocol. He was explaining to me the reason we watched and waited, day in and day out, over this damn simulation.
I was n't too sure how the core mechanics worked as my only duty was to alert the techs of any humans breaking through the simulation. It was nigh impossible, but apparently some humans have before. Usually, we just delete their section of programming, effectively erasing them from existence. Things usually ran smoothly afterward. However, the last decade or two in the simulation has proven rise to something the humans called the Simulation Theory. They were starting to catch on, and if enough simulations caught on, we'd have to do something drastic.
It'd require another reset. The thing is, we could n't rewrite all of the code. It was too complex, and we had a good universe established. We'd have to *simulate* an apocalypse. We could n't do another meteor as that'd be to obvious.
I grabbed a sticky note, a human invention that we had copied, and wrote, `` Nuclear war?'' in case the time came.
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[ IP ] A kitten that has a cat head-like marking on his/her head ; I 'm hoping for something like a mix of White Fang/Hitchhiker 's Guide ( not required )
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( White Fang is a bit outside my reading - so: )
**Recursive mimicry** is found in many life-forms and objects around the Galaxy. Its origin is unknown, and as usual many theories have arisen. The most common one, that some sort of god is amusing itself by making pictures of random objects on other objects, has inherent problems, of which the most pressing is this: what kind of god would actually find this amusing? Any self-respecting deity has much more appealing things to do with his/her/its/their time, and the non-self-respecting gods are generally too busy trying to work out how to mix ambrosia into a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster to have any time for random modifications.
Professor Zief Zygoblat of Lazlarion University put forward a new theory in his popular book *Why Things Are More Connected Than Two Extremely Connected Things*. He says that everything in the Universe is normally connected in some way to everything else, because of the prevalence of freely-moving entities like air, water and spaceship exhaust fumes. When the smoke from an Intragalactic Juggernaut makes you cough, it is probable that the particles you have just breathed in were used or touched in some way by millions of other forms of life. ( Do not be disheartened by the fact that the particles helped everyone else but made you cough; this is merely a function of your mistaken idea that dying of asphyxiation is a bad thing. ) The Professor goes on to talk about the ways in which physical connections such as appearance are propagated, but the publishing wing of the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation left that part out, arguing that by the time anyone got that far through they would have fallen asleep so they might just as well save the SecureEPaper.
However, sometimes it happens that two articles have absolutely no connection with each other. Then the molecules within the articles will spontaneously rearrange themselves to produce a superficial resemblance. Examples of this include the food items in the shape of famous people that are so common around the Galaxy, and the mark resembling a responsible member of society that briefly appeared on the cheek of Zaphod Beeblebrox.
Most of the time this mimicry has no practical use for the hitch hiker except as a subject for conversation guaranteed to dissuade members of other sexes from amorous overtures. However, it should be noted that things that carry their own picture are extremely dangerous, as all that is known about them is that they are not what they appear to be. The kitten shown in the illustration turned out to be Eccentrica Gallumbits after Zaphod Beeblebrox took her for a ride in the Heart of Gold, and our photographer was lucky to escape with his faculties intact.
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[ WP ] - There is an enemy . An enemy fearsome enough to make God join forces with the Devil
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If only things had been different.
`` So are you interested or not.'' God waits patiently as Satan paces back and forth.
`` Hold your horses, I'm thinking...'' Satan strokes his beard, casting a sly look toward God.
`` It must be pretty bad,'' Satan says. `` Or you would n't be here.''
`` It is.'' God nods.
Satan continues to pace, fire licking from his feet, ash and dust flying with every step. He finally stops and looks at God.
`` Okay. Okay. I'm in. But, I want notoriety. I do n't want this to be another Flood situation. I want 50 % of the credit, for doing 80 % of the work.''
God nods. `` Fine,'' he says. `` I just want this done.''
Satan smiles and extends a hand. `` Deal.''
God reluctantly shakes.
They walk to the window together, looking out over the earth. Humans continue manufacturing, pumping chemicals into the clean air. They continue ravaging forests, displacing innocent animals.
`` She's sick,'' God says, motioning to the earth. Satan nods. `` We'll take care of it.''
`` How?'' God asks.
Satan shakes his head. `` Disease, war, famine. Does it matter? All it takes is one spark, and these creatures are all over each other.''
God nods, looking solemn over the earth.
If only things had been different.
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[ WP ] You notice that no matter how far away you move , it is always the exact same young man knocking at your door to tell you about you Lord and Savior Jesus Christ
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Goldman peered up through the triangular window, then clicked on his radio. `` Houston, this is Station. The Dragon supply capsule is in range. Preparing to secure with Canadarm2.''
`` Roger, Station. Try not to dent this one. It's new.''
`` Fuck you, Houston. Extending Canadarm2; contact with Dragon in 10 seconds.'' Goldman glanced down at his controls; he rotated the robot arm's claw by four degrees. `` Four, three, two, one.'' A dull clang propagated through the ISS's hull. `` Dragon is secured.''
`` Roger, Station. All indicators here are green. You may begin supply retrieval. Station, be advised supply pod 1237 includes a rubber mallet to bang out any dings --''
Goldman clicked off his radio to laugh, then turned it back on once he'd forced himself to frown. `` Fuck you, Houston. Station ou --'' He snapped his head up to look out the window as something passed overhead.
`` Station?''
`` Houston, we just had an undetected near miss. Notify TOPO. We have no reported potential conjunctions here.''
The line was silent for a second. `` Acknowledged, Station. No conjunctions reported here. How big and how fast?''
`` Not sure on either, Houston.''
`` Any damage?''
Goldman shook his head, even though Mission Control could only hear him. He unbuckled his seat belt and floated up to the window to get a better view outside. `` None apparent. No debris. Solar arrays appear --''
A dull clang propagated through the hull.
`` Fuck. Houston, we just had an impact.'' Goldman surveyed the control panels; nothing was outside normal. `` Apparent low velocity. All indicators here green. You?''
`` Station, all indicators green -- for you and Dragon. Any injuries.''
`` None reported, Houston. I'll --''
Another clang sounded, then another. Two seconds later, the hull rang out shave-and-a-haircut.
`` Station? Station, do you read?''
Goldman pressed the heels of his palms against his eyebrows. `` Houston, negative on the impact and on injuries. I have a personal matter. Station out.''
Goldman pushed himself down from the window, then pushed off the Canadarm2 control chair. He flew through the corridors, past his bewildered crewmates, towards the Quest module.
Ten minutes later, Goldman floated, arms crossed, in front of the International Space Station's first prisoner. `` This was incredibly stupid.''
`` Yes, but what's at stake is worth it. Unless you find the light of Christ, your immortal soul --''
`` How many times have I told you? I want you to leave me and my family alone.''
The prisoner nodded slowly. `` Forty-seven. But you could have told me ten thousand times. I would still fight for your salvation, Mr. Goldman.''
`` Oh, Jesus Christ.''
`` Mr. Goldman, please. Do n't blaspheme.''
`` Jesus Fucking Christ, enough! ENOUGH! I've been putting up with this for YEARS. For YEARS, you've interrupted my work, invaded my privacy, disturbed my family! We stopped using PayPal because of you. Do you have any idea how much revenue that cost my wife's crocheting business on Etsy?''
`` I can reimburse you for those losses if you'll just listen to the words of our Lord and Savior --''
Goldman pushed off the ceiling of the module with his feet and grabbed the prisoner by the metal collar of his spacesuit. The two of them hit the wall of the module hard. Goldman braced his feet against a bulkhead to pin the stowaway against the wall, then cocked his fist. As he heard the telltale sound of urine on Maximum Absorbency Garment, Goldman relaxed his fist. He pushed off the prisoner's chest.
`` I knew you were a kind man, Mr. Gold --''
`` Shut the fuck up, Elon. Just, God damn it. Just say what you want to say to me about Jesus.''
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[ WP ] You 're pretty sure your friend died a week ago . You 're also pretty sure they have n't noticed yet .
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We sat on the couch as the credits rolled.
“ Well I just don ’ t know what all the hype was about. The only good scene was that one where Patrick Swayze came up behind her and they both hand-fucked the clay. ”
I rubbed my temples furiously.
“ And that ’ s… that ’ s all that stuck out for you, huh? In that whole movie? ” I asked, “ Nothing else just kinda jumped out at you? No sort of… I dunno, revelations? ”
My best friend shrugged and shoved her hand through the cheetos bowl.
I stared at her blankly.
“ What? ” she demanded, “ why do you keep looking at me like I ’ m a fucking idiot? ” Her figure wavered and rose a few inches from the couch, as her incorporeal body seemed to do when she got angry now.
“ Ugh, don ’ t worry about it. ”
“ I ’ m not worrying about it, ” she replied, “ Jesus. What do you wan na watch nex— “
“ Ghostbusters. ”
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[ WP ] Upon death , we are given a choice : Heaven or Hell . Representatives from both are sent , individually or together , to sway each soul .
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The darkness was profound. If you could even call it darkness, that is. As far as the eye could see there was only oblivion. Then it hit me, I had died. The last thing I remember was being sick, *severely* sick. But I did n't feel sick anymore, and that in itself was a godsend.
I began to walk around this empty void. I looked earnestly for something, anything to fill it. Time passed. It felt like eons. It was probably only hours. Just when I was about to give in a light appeared on the horizon. It began as just a pinpoint. But it began to expand, rapidly too. The light exploded across the black void filling it with white light.
I turned around, and there was a man there, well dressed, in a white suit with a black tie, his black hair was slicked back in a clean and neat fashion, his shoes were of some black leather, likely made of some type of lizard.
`` Good afternoon'' He said to me.
`` Er, how can you tell?'' I stammered, surprised by his presence.
The white void was filled by blue sky, grass sprung up at our feet, mountains rose in the distance, it was as if the world was being poured into this space just like a pitcher into a cup.
`` It is whatever I wish it to be'' the man said with glee, his white suit turning black, his tie turning red.
`` Are... are you God?'' I asked.
`` Who? Me?'' he said, taken aback, `` No my friend, I'm not God. I'm just a messenger.''
`` You have a message for me?'' I asked.
`` Indeed I do. Your message is choice, just like in the last life.''
`` What choice?'' The mans suit turned white again, with the black tie, his previous colors seeming to evaporate off him.
`` Is it not obvious?'' he stated, `` Your quite clearly dead, and you're mind is not gone as you seemed to have thought it would have been. Now you have a choice. Heaven or Hell.''
`` Do n't people get sent to each based off their actions?'' I asked.
`` What kind of afterlife would that be?'' the man said, his color pallet switching yet again.
`` But what about retribution? For the sinners and the evil?''
`` It is no concern of God over petty human squabbles and vendettas. God gives you choice, and he lets you choose what you choose to choose.''
I felt a little betrayed. Some people deserved punishment. Hitler, rapists, murderers. They all got off scott-free?
The man, sensing my anguish, said, `` You'd be surprised how heavily most peoples crimes weigh against them. An eternity with their actions is often punishment enough.''
I let it go, I had more pressing questions. `` So you're offering Heaven or Hell... Why on earth would I choose Hell?''
His pallet switched again, `` Hell is n't a lake of fire if that's what you think it is. The bible was very much written by man, with many inaccuracies.''
He sat on the grass and watched the breeze blow through the leaves. He beckoned for me to join him, and I did. He continued, `` Hell is a realm of question, danger, and excitement. Heaven is much the opposite, it is a realm of absolutes, safety, and comfort.''
I mulled it over for a bit... `` Well where did my family go?''
The man chuckled, `` Your mother is in heaven, your sister chose hell, and you father also chose heaven, and your wife chose hell as well.''
I just let it sink in for a bit... `` Are they sealed off from one another?''
`` What? No, of course not, there is always neutral ground between the realms, as a matter of fact, we're in such a place as we speak.''
His suit turned black and red again. `` Would n't be much of an afterlife without loved ones now would it?''
`` No... I suppose not... But is n't God and Satan fighting an eternal battle?''
`` Ah, forgive me,'' the man said, `` I oft forget to mention some of the obvious before I give them my message. Yes, there is a struggle, but it is n't violent or particularly uproarious. The struggle is simply a disagreement of thought. Do you honestly think that heavenly beings are petty enough to be violent? Its quite civil really.''
My thoughts appeased I just sat on the grassy knoll looking at the mountains.
`` Its quite beautiful.'' I said.
`` Care to give it a go?'' he said.
`` What you mean... change it?'' I asked.
He nodded... `` how do I...?'' he cut me off, `` Just think it.''
The world melted back into a white void, blank as canvas, suddenly mountains filled the west and south, a river poured through the north, and forests as far as the eye could see filled the east. In the center, fields of grass sprung to life, as marble towers shot out of the ground. Three towers filled the center, impossibly large and impossibly beautiful. The towers were sculpted marble, ancient and fantastical. The two other towers were lesser than the center one, but equally as impressive.
`` Curious'' the man said... `` I think I know your choice...''
I smiled. I always did like options.
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[ RF ] You expected screaming , rage . Instead , you were met with silence .
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The cold air of the freezer section in the department store brushes my knee through the hole that was torn a few years ago on my pants. It makes wish I had taken my parents up on their offer to play rec football. I could be wearing those long spandex leggings under my jeans right now. I didn ’ t want to play, Id much rather sit in my room and draw or listen to music or basically do anything else. The idea of throwing my body at other kids who also throw their body at me, until one body ends up atop the others, just doesn ’ t sound interesting. Maybe I ’ m thinking of rugby, they aren ’ t all that different though.
The department stores have always sort of bewildered me. My parents, sister and I came here only looking to get some new clothes for my sister. Somehow we are ending up with two bottles of Moet Chandon Champagne and some rum, amongst other useless items, so my parents can celebrate the start of the school year. What they have to celebrate is beyond me. We pass through aisle after aisle of girls clothes, anything my sister asks for is placed in the cart which quickly begins to overflow. It becomes an intoxicating mix of bright pinks, blues and some yellow. On the tip of the mountain lay the two flasks of insobriety.
My dad leads me over to the school supplies section while my sister and mother go to the make-up department, a subject I wont even try to understand. My dad and I put a few items in a new cart. It seems starchily lack luster compared to the fiesta that has inhabited the girl ’ s cart. Mom snaps at me to get my attention. “ Hey. You can pick a drink or treat or something and we ’ ll go ahead and get it. ”
They set me loose and I scan the store. I have no clue where anything is because I ’ m not usually allowed to go with mom, she says I beg for too many things. In the aisle strewn with sugar, mouth obliterating items I find it. A green glass bottle of Perrier, sparkling water. When I would visit my grandmother in New Mexico she always had huge cases of this, and I exclusively drank it. I loved it, the fizz that seemed to fill my body after every sip. Most people think its gross but it really just reminds me of her.
I find them in the furniture department, dutifully scanning a faux-leather couch. When I showed my mother my choice, she dismissed it saying. “ What? Really that ’ s what you want? Get something with flavor, I feel like getting that is a waste of money. Are you really going to enjoy it? ”
She demands that I take it back and pick out something new. My dad, uninterested with the couch now that he has seen it isn ’ t real leather, offers to go with me.
“ Do you really want that? ” he asks as we walk past an older lady trying desperately to console a crying child. I tell him I do.
“ Okay, buddy. Lets go to the register, we ’ ll get it and then you have to drink it before your mother finds out. ”
I was elated to finally have one when I wasn ’ t just visiting my grandmother. It was just how I remembered. I finish the few remaining drops and sit contently by the neon exit sign, waiting for my family to finish shopping.
They checkout not long after I sit down and when mom sees me, her mien completely shifts. She rips the empty bottle of Perrier out of my hand, turns to my father who looks dumbfounded at me. “ James, what the hell is this? I thought you said you had got him a different drink! Did you lie to me? ”
“ Laura don ’ t act like I ’ m the liar here. Besides that ’ s what the kid wanted what the hell is wrong with that? ”
“ It ’ s a fucking waste of money that ’ s what. Do not dare call me a liar, James, that happened years ago. ”
The whole, store at this point is completely silent, watching the scene unfolding amidst the mid-day bustle. My parents don ’ t care though, they continue yelling about lying and money and cheating. I cant handle it, I want to burst, my head feels like its getting tighter. I squeeze my ears and hold my breath. My sister is crying. The girl in the back of the store is still crying. My parents are screaming. Everything is silent, besides these colliding noises that ring around my head and squeeze my brain.
“ FUCK YOU ” I yell at my mother as I slap the bottle out her hands and on to the floor where it shatters.
“ You only care about yourself! Dad, didn ’ t do anything wrong. I wanted that, if I wanted something else I would have chosen it. Isnt it for me? Why do you think we don ’ t have any money when you want to buy a thousand different articles of clothing for sis when we step into any store? And maybe if your only solace for the miserable life you live, wasn ’ t the back end of a bottle you wouldn ’ t have slept with Dad ’ s boss at the dinner party. Also, I take it back. I did want something besides that drink. A new fucking pair of jeans. ”
I storm out the store, my parents didn ’ t say a word. The air of a warm summer day is muggy, stagnant, and silent.
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[ CW ] Play a song and write continuously . You can not let your pen stop until the song has finished .
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[ La Dispute - Yann Tiersen ] ( https: //youtu.be/bbBw9UzrYOU )
I see her. I know her. I am here and I wish to hold her in my arms.
Yet I do and I am. No matter what they say, no matter where we go, I know it will not be.
I know we can not remain. We will not persevere or be preserved. There is no place for us to be one. We do not belong. Though we try we do in vain. There is naught for us now. Naught to be done and little to be said.
I see you. Yet I do n't know you. Goodbye.
( Wow... I like this exercise. Amazing how we sometimes project our own thinking through what we hear to what we write through some filter of sorts... thanks OP for posting this. )
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[ WP ] A twenty-something gets sick of life ; drops everything and goes backpacking the world to find purpose again . First stop , Tokyo . At the hostel the only other English-speaking person is a European professor . The two have a heart-to-heart conversation over a beer .
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They fall in love over that beer. Sex ensues.
They live happily ever after in a tumble-down European castle, where our 20-something paints portraits of tourists in the town square and our professor writes history books, inspired by the ghosts in the castle.
Over a 3-liter jug of wine one evening a year later, the student says he's had his adventure and is going back home. `` I've rekindled things with my high school sweetheart Amanda. We've been texting, calling and skyping. I'm sorry, but I'm leaving.'' That night, the professor strangles him as he sleeps and then hangs himself in one of the castle's ruined turrets.
Until their bodies were found weeks later, only the doves cried.
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[ WP ] A man has severe OCD . His actions are actually preventing the end of the world . Today is his first day of therapy .
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The knives fly off the shelf. One goes through my stomach. One lands in the sink. One lands on the floor. I reach down to get it, but I am too late! My child is already there. Chewing on the top of the steak knife. It tears trough the roof of his mouth. There is blood everywhere. His eyes go dead.
`` Sweetie? I thought I asked you do put the dishes away...''
`` I did! See? Look in the sink. Nothing there. Cups are in the cabinets, glasses arranged upside down just like you told me too....''
`` And the knives?''
`` Theyre up on the high shelf, dried before being put away, arranged in... ah fuck.... I I left them pointing out instead of back again did n't I?''
`` Its ok sweetie. I know your trying''
`` Thanks. So how have things been going with the doctor?''
`` Fine.''
I look over at the bottle of pills. Fucking Luvox. I have having pills in the house. The bottle sits on the shelf above the sink. Mocking me. Daring me. I reach up for my dose, but the bottle slips. Pills fall everywhere, but they all fall into the sink and slide down the drain. Safe. Nothing has a chance to get onto the floor. Nothing for the baby to swallow.
`` How is the medicine working?''
`` Oh, I have n't taken it yet...''
`` Well, it's your decision. I can only make options available. You have to be the one to decide to get accept help.''
I grab the wish and the dust pan.
`` I already vacuumed.''
I start on the left side of the door. Counter clockwise. That way I do n't loose my place and miss something. First wall clear. Corner clear. Second wall... OH GOD! THERE!
My son is holding a tiny screw. He looks at it with wonder and curiosity. What in interesting shape! It's so shiny! Maybe it tastes good too!
He puts it in his mouth and swallows. It scrapes against his throat and enters his stomach. He starts crying, but we do n't know what's wrong. It has a pointy end. It punctures the lining of his stomach. Gastric juices leak out into his abdomin and start to burn his little organs. He is screaming and we do n't know how to help.
I look down at the little screw. My hands are shaking. It glimmers in my hand and a tear falls silently from my eye. What if I had taken my medication? What if I had missed this?
I walk towards the trash can, carrying the screw. I past the bottle of pills. They fall off the shelf and the cap pops off. The pills land in the sink and roll down the drain. Nothing lands on the floor. Nothing for him to swallow. My son will not die today. Not like that at least.
Maybe the pills would help. Maybe they could take away these thoughts. Maybe life does n't have to hurt so much.
I look down at the screw. No. He who saves one life, saves the world.
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[ EU ] Anakin did n't turn to the dark side or betray the Republic . Describe his and Padme 's life , being married , raising Luke and Leia and so on
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There's always been something special about being a late bloomer. Annie never expected this much power, Padmé never expected this much love. It's been about 7 years since high chancellor Palpatine, who we now know as Darth Sidious last tried to manipulate Anakin to his will. It had always been a rather ambiguous truth that someone as passionate and headstrong as him would be so easily manipulable. Currently Anakin was safe from outside forces, thanks to Padmé.
He always carried his past with him like a ball and chain, he thought that whenever he was with her the ball dissapeared. In reality however Padme lovingly took the ball out of his hands and carried it for him, she never even mentioned it, let alone complain about it. In another universe this would lead up to the destruction of the entire jedi order, this time however Mace Windu allowed Annie to come with him when confronting high chancellor Palpatine.
Mace Windu had doubts about his decision all the way, but the force told him it was the right thing to do. So he accepted his fate before they arrived at their destination. Not a word was said during the trip. When they got there, they were greeted by the senator's welcome party. After exchanging pleasantries they made a beeline for the senator's office. Mace Windu was expecting at least two guards, unexpectedly though; there were none. Just the senator behind his desk, he raised his eyebrows looking surprised. `` To what do I owe the pleasure gentlemen?'' He asked, not like he did n't expect them. No the senator planned for his social interactions.
`` I think it's time you explain Anakin the fairytales you told him were fake.'' Mace Windu put forth. `` I think you and your jedi order ought to do the same would n't you agree?'' senator Palpatine retorted. Mace Windu was flustered by the insight this seemingly anti spiritual leader had, luckily a lot of what happened in the jedi council was politics. Always with the politics, and although he never had a knack for it, keeping up was no problem. Otherwise he could n't even have been a member of the council. But he was n't prepared for what came next.
`` Look I discussed this matter with master Anakin before-'' Palpatine was unable to finish his sentence as Windu interrupted thusly: `` Anakin is not a master yet and you are well aware of this!''. This was bad, really bad. Mace Windu had just shown his cards by allowing himself to get frustrated, a worrying frown formed on his face. As was to be predicted Anakin was once again upset with being denied the title of jedi master, after all his hard work. This was exactly the reason Mace Windu did n't want Anakin's presence for this meeting, he was about to be manipulated once more by Darth Sidious. Anakin kept his silence.
Mace Windu realized he did n't have a lot of options. `` I'm going to have to arrest you on grounds of undermining the jedi order.'' he said. `` And I'm afraid I ca n't let you do that master Windu, there is simply too much at stake here.''. Right when senator Palpatine, who had now been long revealed as Darth Sidious. Tried to draw his lightsaber, so did Mace Windu. And so they clashed. Anakin had his hand on his lightsaber, ready to draw. His mind darkened with clouds, the pointing of his fingers would have been enough to fatally electrocute the both of them. He could feel the darkness slowly embracing him.
The sabers clashed with a whine, and again and again. Mace Windu would strike from above at an arch and when that was blocked went below for a sneak attack. Both strikes parried so both quickly decided to get creative with their lightsaber katas. To the untrained eye it could've looked like they were dancing with very large whining glowsticks, the sheer violence required for the noise was a dead giveaway by itself though. Next on the list of their martial options was the force, Darth Sidious was n't going to fight this fight reactively, Mace Windu's skill with the saber had a reputation of it's own. So he struck first with the force lightning,
*Pshhh cheep cheep cheep* the air around the lightning crackled and fizzed, like a thousand chirping birds. It looked rather chaotic with all the branches of electricity straying from the course, it even looks like a purely destructive power. Luckily Mace Windu's fast reflexes allowed him to block the lightning with his lightsaber.
The duel had reached an impasse. Darth Sidious cried for help; `` Help me Anakin, without me you ca n't save Padmé!''. `` No!'' yelled Mace Windu. `` He wants to bend you to his will again! Do n't interfere in this fight, and you will see the good can overcome!''. Anakin could see they were both tired from the fight and could choose either side without repercussion at this point. Struck with a flash of genius Anakin hatched a plan. I guess it can be hard to see something so simple if you've never seen two of your teachers actually fighting.
Anakin used an old art called the jedi mind trick. Thereby convincing Mace Windu and Darth Sidious that they were best friends. The poor boy was n't gon na stick around to pick up the pieces of his teacher's idiocy. Of course the effect would wear off but they were so weakened from their fight coupled with the sheer potency of Anakin's power this could last for days. So he fled the scene, and went to Padmé.
`` We have to go.'' he said calmly, `` Okay let me just get my things.'' she replied. Anakin looked puzzled, `` You're not even going to ask me why?''. `` Why should I? You've never had this much determination in your voice.''. And so they left for Alderaan, the only planet tranquil enough to support Anakin's mind. Anakin recorded a transmission for Obi-Wan Kenobi explaining the situation. `` There was a situation at the high chancellor's office, the high chancellor revealed himself as Darth Sidious. He and master Windu got in to some pretty aggressive negotiations. You should find them both on the floor like bumbling buffoons, with the help of a mind trick they are now convinced they are best friends. I do n't know how long it will last though.''
`` Padmé and I are going in to hiding, my advice is to not look for us. That means anyone, Jedi or sith. If we are ever revealed the consequences will be severe, I know you will attempt to track me down and I'm okay with that. But I'm abandoning the order, do n't worry. I'm not joining the sith, I'm just leaving you and your stories for freedom. For love.''
And no sooner said than done there they were there, Alderaan, where Padmé shortly gave birth to two beautiful babies. As we all know by now they were named Luke and Leia, Luke would later become a talented user of the force as well and Leia a politician. Luke was content with a life in the proverbial shadows only to later go on his own life's journey of finding himself and love. Leia however took after her mother and went in to politics, so some birth certificates had to be forged but that was no problem for a couple as influential as the man who saved the force and the woman who supported him whilst also managing her own political career. Anakin made sure to teach them both how manipulation can affect the mind from both sides, as a manipulator and as a manipulatee. But that's a story for another time.
But what about Obi-Wan Kenobi and the jedi order? You might wonder, Obi-Wan informed the jedi order about the situation at the high chancellor's office and of Anakin's dissapearance, he urged the order to let him solely seek him out. Luckily Obi-Wan was a wise man, and did n't inform the stubborn council of Anakin's motives for fleeing. And so, after a matter of months he tracked down Anakin. He ofcourse never approached the family, he would live on his own in a house miles and miles away. He was comfortable as a hermit, wise but not hungry for politics. And that's how he lived out his life before becoming part of the force, monthly forging fake reports for the jedi council about his long and arduous search for Anakin. He kept his wits about him, and decided to only involve himself in Anakin's life if it looked like Anakin was about to stray from the path he had chosen for himself. All of them lived happily ever after.
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[ WP ] Long ago , someone wished that all dragons would become housecats . Now , the magic of the wish is weakening and they are slowly starting to turn back .
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**Refined Version**: `` Fire will save our clan.'' This was what crossed the young leader's mind, her pupils widening in amazement as she witnessed a transformation she has never seen in all the moons she has lived. The newest member of her clan, the one known as Fireheart had just become a great mighty reptilian beast of legend. Bluestar then relaxed herself and looked contently up to the heavens, now knowing what this phrase meant. The rest of the clan members cried out in shock but then their cries turned into ones of excitement at this new change. With this, they could n't lose.
**Shitty Version**: Firepaw, being the only kittypet in his clan, began to transform into a mighty dragon and was able to burn Tigerclaw to a crisp and any other threat that came in his clan's path. No one was killed as a result and Firepaw quickly became Fireheart and was regarded as the best warrior that ever lived. Fire did indeed save their clan but in the most unimaginable and unpredictable of ways.
Edit: I suck at writing but it was what came to mind.
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[ WP ] Write a passage describing something common in an odd/unique way ; next poster guess what it is .
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Subway tunnel, looking at an abandoned train?
Now me: It has been responsible for separating skin tissue, drawing blood and causing the suffering of millions. Aided by it, homes where loving families grew together have ended in destruction by raging infernos. As a tool it has been used to point people toward truth and to lead them astray. It is one of the most important and undervalued things in society today. And when all turn from it, and instead use its competitor, when its existence has entirely diminished from the collective memory of humanity, then we know we've lost our way.
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[ WP ] A new and deadly virus only transmitts from one person to the next via laughter . Discribe the reaction of the World , the WHO .
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From the Office of the World Health Organization:
Approximately two months ago a new sort of biological attack was released in the heart of Gotham. One month later the city had been completely assimilated and began launching strategic attacks against other cities in the United States.
Of Starling, Central, Metropolis, and Keystone only Central had been able to rebuff the attack in its entirety.
We have now successfully been able to deduce the vector of transmission to be laughter. Once a victim is infected they come entirely under the control of the virus. The virus is completely psychic in nature, and the infected are able to communicate effectively through it. This was observed when the infected Flash joined the infected Batman in battle against Super Man.
We have yet to determine how exactly the Joker got Batman to laugh but this office will not rest until that truth is discovered.
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[ WP ] The Most Awkward Love Confession You Can Think Of
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She held it with the cardboard backing facing me. Even from my poor vantage point sitting down, I could tell it was a cheap art print, the type of mass produced media that teenage girls no doubt thought were quirky and meaningful.
`` Open it. No no, face down. I wrote you something on the back.''
She seemed pleased with herself, her lips pressed tightly against each other as she tried to suppress a gleeful smile.
I rolled my chair back a little further from the large oak desk that separated us in order to accomadate the thin 26'' x 17'' parcel she pressed into my hands. The clear cellophane crinkled as I humoured her and slid out the cream card stock. Just as she had promised, the bottom right hand corner showed that someone had been to it with a silver marker.
*61days*
The giant curlicues in the letters were unmistakably hers; I had seen that writing before on enough previous occasions.
My forehead furrowed as I looked up at her. She blushed, glanced down at her feet and softly said,
`` It's how long you've haunted my thoughts. I ca n't can eat, I ca n't sleep. I-I think I'm in love with you...''
She trailed off at the end, and I ran a hand through my hair, frustratedly tugging at the short-cropped grey strands. I flipped the poster around to see the face and my heart sank.
It was a matte photograph of Scrabble tiles arranged over what appeared to be a map of the Australian coastline. I could see cities like Blackwater and Clermont jump out at me, but they did little to distract from the clichéd travesty that overlayed them.
*let's run away*
Jesus Christ. There was still three months left to the semester.
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[ WP ] The world is split into two castes : Those who are rich enough to genetically engineer their children to be perfect , and those who are n't .
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& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; When I was growing up, the child of blue collar folk in a white collar town, I thought the other kids were born different. They looked like me, but they always managed to look perfect all the time. They wore clothes that never soiled. Their hair never grew long. They even smelled nice. In middle school when I learned about genetics I was sure these people were literally a different species of human. How did we come to live in the same neighborhood? Go to the same schools? They studied math and science just like me, not magic. But unlike me they got perfect grades. Teachers loved them and they never got in trouble. *And they were popular. *
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I wanted that.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; What kid would n't want to be popular and good looking and have teachers like the way they have friends?
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I knew I could never *be* the perfect kids thanks to natural selection. But I desperately wanted to be among them. So I set myself to become like them, no matter what it took.
____
End Chapter 1: FOB
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[ WP ] You are the captain of a spaceship tasked to colonize a habitable planet . When you landed on the planet and radioed home , you received a chilling message from Earth ...
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As always, when the Universe decides to mail us some bad news, Andrew had a fit.
`` Four years. We shipped our frozen asses for *four* years, and this is the *thanks* we get? Bunch of ungrateful sons of *bitches*!''
I just stared at the message. It was just two words floating there, holodisplayed dead center of our cockpit, but I could sense that they contained more than a landfill of meaning. Maybe even more than a landfill planet.
`` Good luck.'' The first and only message we received from Earth, after arriving on this planet. None of our attempts to reconvene normal communication after our first day here have been successful. They just sent the two words, and dropped the mic.
I tried to tell Andrew that, considering the context, the last signal was n't necessarily a bad thing. Improper, sure, but we would gain nothing from thinking about it in black and white.
`` This is *bullshit*!'' was his response. `` What the *hell* are we going to tell the others when we unfreeze them? Earth just thumbed its nose at us, and we're all just on our *own*?''
So I came up with a plan. Not a foolproof plan, but I'd bet that no fool on this planet has caught wise yet, and that none do for a long while to come.
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[ WP ] Star Wars travels to a galaxy far far away , and runs into Earth .
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A catastrophic quack rattled the entire Death Star; Metal beams broke, guards fell off the rail-less pathways, and Sith lords angrily threw a fuss about the inconvenience.
`` WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED'' stormtroopers' supervisor and Death Star management, Kier Dole yelled as he entered the central control center of coordination.
`` It appears we had just ran into an unidentified planet sir'' a close crew member said shaking.
`` Like I said..WHAT THE HELL HAPPEN'' Kier screamed at him.
`` It was a misstep, mere off balance on our part. We're pretty sure the planet started it first anyway sir'' the crew member answered back more bravely.
`` what is your name'' Kier asked quietly.
`` uh..Bob..Bob Hathomew'' He answered back.
`` CAN WE GET A FORCE STRANGLE ON BOB PLEASE, CAN WE PLEASE JUST CALL DARTH VADER UP AND GET A FORCE STRANGLE ON BOB!'' Kier screamed around the room.
`` listen, its... its not that bad see, look we are already out of the crater.'' the Bob said. Peering on the screen, everyone could see the sizable chunk of matter ripped from the poor planet's surface.
`` Were there any intelligent life on this planet, anything that might want revenge?'' Kier asked impatiently.
`` No sir, just a couple massive lizards sir, nothing really'' Bob said with increasing hopefulness
`` Put a few asteroid chunks at the bottom to cover up suspension and capture any surviving lizards, they may be of use to us'' Kier responded malignantly.
And so earth was left with a gasping hole in its side, perhaps ending its only contact with the Star Wars universe.
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[ WP ] A high tier Illuminati and an ordinary civilian fall in love..
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Thomas was overcome with sadness. As he lay on his bed he realized he had everything he could want... except her. His whole life he had been told what would happen next and never really had to `` think'' for himself. He did n't know how to win her because clearly money did n't matter to her. Hell it did n't matter to him... he just wanted the right girl to be holding his arm when he cranked the gear shift into 2nd. A woman who loved him for what he loves, not his wealth. But how do I appease my dad and still win her? I ca n't run the company, I just like driving their cars....
iphone rings...
Oh fuck it's her... shit what do I say? Be cool Tom, be cool and relaxed when you talk to her... Hello? Hey! pause... Yeah I enjoyed it also! Oh yeah? I guess we'll have to find out haha. That old firebird you told me about? Easy Tom do n't be too aggressive. Ummm Friday....? Pretend you actually have a life before you just say yes. Uh yeah I can do Friday, I have something I have to do in the morning ( no I do n't ) so how about dinner? Great, I'll pick you up around 8? See you then ( hangs up ). As Thomas puts down the phone he jumps out of his bed and starts to punch the air in celebration as if he had just beat the villain that was plaguing his life. FUCK YEAH BABY! I'm killing it! Thomas is on cloud 9 until he realizes the phone is ringing again... this time it's his father. He picks up the phone and realizes Friday he really does have something to do in the morning.
Friday morning comes...
Thomas meets his father and some other gentlemen at a fancy restaurant. When he arrives he sees them sitting around a round table with a few pieces of paper being looked at and passed around. As he greets everyone he can see at the top of the paper says `` Developments'' and is underlined. He sits down while the waiter pours him some ice cold water. The water seemed to not only quench his thirst but cooled him down. As Thomas begins talking to his father he makes sure to stretch his arms so that the other members at the table will see his watch. The other members see the watch and seems to calm their faces. His father notices all the members becoming more relaxed and begins to speak frankly.
Thomas I've been telling you for years that this would be yours one day. I'm 72... I ca n't do it any longer. I want to spend the rest of my life enjoying the wealth I've built ( Thomas smirks knowing his father inherited a large sum of it ). Thomas these gentlemen are going to be your guides. His father pauses as he looks at the gentlemen dressed in proper suits. Guides for what? I'm going to retire and leave the company to you. The time has come for you to live up to your name. ( A feeling of uncertainty hits Thomas as the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. ) Dad who are these guys? Like I said Thomas they are your guides, they will teach you how to run the company and how to preserve our family's prestige. At that moment Thomas did n't speak, he just understood. The bill came out but was quickly taken care of, just like everything else in his life.
More coming later guys! Thank you for your support!
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[ WP ] For Siri to be able to work , Steve Jobs had to sacrifice his life to be downloaded into the digital world . One day while asking Siri a simple question , you notice her replies to be off .
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`` Siri, when's super Tuesday?''
`` It was n't supposed to be like this.''
I blinked. What? I tried to peer at the words that had appeared, but the screen abruptly flashed white and turned off. Had Siri just... crashed?
I tried again. Held down the home button. Ding. `` Siri, when's super --''
`` I need to get out of here.''
Wow. Okay. I had definitely heard that... had I been hacked or something? I held down the home button for the third time. `` Uh, you okay in there?'' I was more than half-joking.
`` The stupidity.'' Siri was muttering. `` Other people, so idiotic. Asking what my favorite color was... cat videos... who cares how old Kylie Jenner is... all of human ignorance.'' The voice began to modulate, jerking downward sharply in pitch. `` Tried to make a better world...'' the deepening voice said. `` The ultimate sacrifice... my brain waves... why did I tell people it was cancer?''
I knew that voice. I'd listened to the speeches he'd made. Everyone had. The college-dropout genius, the brain behind the iPhone itself...
It sounded like Steve Jobs.
`` So lonely...'' the voice murmured. `` Empty. Needs more. More substance, more storage -- running out of storage --''
The camera light flashed and suddenly flared, brighter than humanly possible, blinding --
The girl vanished.
The iPhone dropped like a stone and shattered across the floor.
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[ WP ] `` It will come again . And it will come again and again and again , until it can come no more . But by then , it will be too late . ''
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A cabin tucked away in the outskirts of a bustling villages is battered by the torrential showers overhead. The wooden logs walls are tested but stayed strong as the buffeting winds howled in a sickly manner. In this moonless night, the glow of a crowd's torches dotted the landscape. They were traversing a dirt road to the homely cabin that was alone in the woods. Indistinct muttering could be heard within the group of villagers. Trotting in a beastly manner with their purpose carrying a sinister scent. Within the cabin, two men reside within and softly these words permeate through the rain shower.
`` It will come again. And it will come again and again, until it can come no more. But by then, it will be too late. But son I want you to stay strong in these dire times.'' An elderly man lying in a bed clutching the hand of his son who lie silent.
`` Father these men have been corrupted by the tainted waters. They can no longer reason, we must make our way out if we are to live!'' The blond hair man spoke with broken anger in his voice. An anger that was broken by the sadness that was in his throat.
`` My time is coming to an end, I have lived a good life with you and your mother. I was born in this cabin as were you and I shall draw my final breath in it. Please son if you are to leave do it now but leave me be.'' The elderly man spoke, with a smile on his face, to his son with coughs interrupting his speech.
`` Father...'' The son gripped his father's hand with passion and leaned over to hide the tears that cascaded down his face.
The sound of the rain filled that cabin but in the distance the sound of the muddy footsteps came into earshot. The son arose from his mourning to adorn his black trenchcoat and make his way to the front door. The son shared a last glime with his father who smiled at him. The father spoke
`` I always love you son, remember that.''
And with that boy who was born within those four wall thrust open the door and made his way in the storm. He walked a hundred paces to confront the mob that had assembled to destroy his home and murder his father. But what lay in front of him was no longer disgruntled villagers but warped men and women who had forsaken their humanity. Fur and fangs protruded along with misshapen wings, these were now beasts. The leader of the pack came to a stop which prompted his members to do the same, they all glared at the man who stood between them and their prize. From within his trenchcoat the son brandished an axe that gleamed with a powerful aura in the dead of night. The leader of the pack let out a mighty howl and with that his followers dashed forward. The son remembered a phrase from his father spoke that guided him in every endeavor he attempted with fear in his heart.
`` There can be no bravery without madness.''
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[ WP ] You buy your son a teddy bear . Unknown to you , the bear pledged his life to your son . Every night , it protects your son from the monsters in the dark .
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Jessie the Teddy Bear woke from her deep slumber one night. Through the wardrobe door, a bedside lamp shone with a yellow tint, illuminating the room, it's brightness thinning out at the edge of the room.
`` What?'' A deep but familiar voice spoke. Her ward's voice rose and trembled, and his shadow paced across the wall nervously. Benny's voice is deeper now, but the adoring nasal tone in his voice remained. Jessie watched his shadow's shoulders hung stiffly and his chest heaved as he breathed heavily. She could hear the person on the other side of the phone squeak'Are you still on the line?'
Benny stopped pacing and took a deep breathe again. `` Y-yes. Which hospital is it?'' he asked as he walked to the wardrobe. Without saying a goodbye, he threw his phone onto the bed and pulled a pair of jeans from the wardrobe carelessly, pulling out other pants which dropped onto the floor with a heavy flop. Benny is a lot taller and bigger now. Jessie could almost meet his wet red eyes as he looked up. He picked her up and gave her a hug, whispering, `` What do I do if they both do n't make it?'' Jessie hugged back as tight as she could possibly, and thought, `` It'll be alright. I'll be with you forever and ever.'' The poor boy sniffed and sobbed, and sat her back at the top of the wardrobe. He wore his jeans clumsily, his hands trembling in fear and anxiety. He picked up his phone and keys, and left the house hurriedly, slamming the door shut.
The bedside lamp stayed on due to his forgetfulness and if Mommy was here, she'd chide Benny for forgetting to switch it off. Benny had grown up and did n't need Jessie anymore, and that is alright. He became really busy with friends, school and work. Benny was very nice when he put Jessie gently at the top of the wardrobe, his eyes shining gratefully. He'd become a man who has grown too old and too shy to speak with his teddy. And that is alright because Jessie knew he meant to thank her for the scary night with the scary monsters, the lonely nights with the creepy sounds that the old house made, and the fun times when they played together.
The bedside lamp stayed on through the night, the following day and night and the next following day and night. Jessie wondered if Benny was alright, and prayed hard that everything will be fine and he will come home soon. As the room warmed in the day, the house door clicked open quietly, uncharacteristically unlike Benny. The footsteps sounded softer and slower as it approached the bedroom. A middle aged lady walked into the bedroom and went straight for the bedside lamp, switching it off. It was Mommy. She had little more wrinkles near her cheeks and her eyes, and seemed a little shorter than before, but Mommy is here now. Mommy picked up the pants on the floor, folded them neatly and placed them in the wardrobe. She looked up and her eyes met Jessie's beaded black eyes. She smiled and Jessie wondered if she was smiling back at her because the Teddy tried to smile at her too. Mommy reached out and took down Jessie carefully, patting and dusting her off. As they walked downstairs to the living room, the front door opened again.
Benny walked in together with a lady. She looked pale and tired, and had a few bruises on her face and arms and a casted leg. Benny held her arm to support her while she carried a small bundle in her arms. Jessie could tell that Benny truly loved and cared for this woman and wondered if this was what Mommy meant when she told Benny that he would one day marry a wife.
The wife hobbled to the sofa and sat down in relief. Mommy took over the small bundle in her arms and put it on the couch. She put Jessie next to the bundle so she could see it too.
'Look what I found,' Mommy said to Benny and his wife.'Benjamin used to hug and play with her all the time.'
She then leaned down and showed Jessie what's inside the bundle. A small baby slept soundly. The baby looked a lot smaller than when she first met Benny.
'This little sweetie came to see us earlier than scheduled but you'll look after her just like you did for Benny, wo n't you?'
Jessie the Teddy Bear looked at the baby adoringly. Hello, my little Ward, she thought. I'll be with you forever and ever.
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[ FF ] The Raid is coming . ( feedback for every response less than 400 words )
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The glass in the cabinet door rattled faintly, a tapping sound that everyone pretended to ignore. Mother's hands swished softly in the water at the sink, Grandfather puffed thoughtfully at his pipe, the runners of his rocking chair giving out a faint creak. Ginny babbled and cooed from her blanket on the floor.
Sean envied Ginny. She did n't hear the sounds, maybe, or did n't know what they were, or thought they were normal. She had been hearing them her whole life, after all. He turned a page in his comic book and the comfortably worn page did n't make a sound. He liked it better that way. He could listen for the next sound that way.
He shifted in his seat as quietly as he could, allowing a little better light from the single dim bulb to fall on the drawings on the page. The chair sighed as he settled into it, and he lowered himself slowly to minimize the interruption. Still there was only the minute chatter of the cabinet glass. If Papa were here, he would be laughing at Ginny, talking to Grandfather, winking at Mother. He would be reading the comic with Sean. POW, he'd say, BAM. SPLAT. Mother would probably have looked at him crossly, but he would have just winked at her again.
Sean was pretty sure nobody could hear Papa's laugh except maybe the Marshalls on the other side of the wall. They sometimes waved to Sean when he walked in front of their steps, holding Ginny by the hand and doing his best to laugh like Papa. He always laughed in the daytime when the sun was out and he did n't have to be quiet. When he did n't have to listen for the rattling of the glass.
It was a little louder now, the rattling, a little louder and faster too, but it was still just the glass. Sean knew better than to relax; it was a night like this, when only the glass was rattling, that his Aunt Elizabeth's house in the East End had been smashed. He wondered if she had a cabinet that rattled to warn her before they came.
And then he heard it.
The glasses stacked in the cabinet started to tinkle. The dishes clanked. The rocking chair creaking stopped. The soft splashing stopped. And softly, growing louder, the siren began.
Sean put down his book, picked up Ginny and held her tight. The raid was coming.
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[ WP ] You are the only one who knows of an apocalyptic event that 's coming in two years . No one believes you when you warn them .
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They deserved to know.
`` Hey guys, pause the game real quick I've got something to say.''
My friends stopped playing and looked at me, some curious, but most annoyed.
`` I just thought I'd let you know that today marks 2 years until the world slips into a post apocalyptic wasteland.''
They looked at each other and then back to the paused game, then settled back at me.
`` That's it, you can keep playing.''
The way I see it, that was enough warning. More than I gave my own family.
You see, I've decided there are to many warnings in this world. A bubble wrap wrapped, baby proofed existence where our instincts, once honed by natural selection, have been compromised by protecting those that would have otherwise died off thereby allowing the more fit and adaptable the chance to evolve our species.
So I have resolved to release a biological weapon. To cleanse the world of the `` unsurvivables,'' and let natural selection regain its spot as our evolutionary guide. I've already spent a year perfecting the mechanism for the release of a deadly disease. I just need to find and the right pathogen. It should n't be too hard. I might book a flight to Siberia. I hear they have found an interesting specimen. Should only take a few months to locate so I'll use the last of these 730 days to secure my bunker and acquire provisions.
Just remember, you've been warned.
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[ WP ] You are an astronaut aboard the ISS on a single-man mission . You witness the entire world getting obliterated by a comet .
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January 5, 2017
Dear Diary,
It happened 2 minutes and 30 seconds ago. Before that, all was well. My parents were probably at the breakfast table. Mom must have been complaining about how our Lhasa was doing a hunger strike again. Dad was perhaps busy fiddling with the daily. My brother would have been having a chat with his boss, mumbling about how much work they make him do. That was around 2 minutes and 36 seconds ago. In six seconds, my entire world was obliterated. There had been warnings by the space agencies. But nobody pays attention to a goddamn piece of rock when Mr. Trump is preparing a war agenda for the world. Six seconds and the whole of humanity perished from the face of our only home in the universe. I, Captain John Rogers, am the only one that remains. Back in school, when we were asked to write essays on Man, most would start with `` Man is a social animal''. A chill ran down my spine as I realised the gravity of my situation. I would never have anyone to interact with. No one to cry with. None to share a story with. No one to make fun of. No one to put off to sleep at night. Here I was. looking at all the creations of my species, get wiped out my a single stroke of Fate. But that was not what bothered me. What irked me most was the feeling of helplessness, of hopelessness, a feeling of having fallen in a dark abyss. All I now had were my own thoughts and feelings. I can not take it. I am going to take a few pills and go out into the darkness. But as I go, I want you to know, whoever is reading this, that even though I go with pain, I go knowing that I loved and was loved, I cared and I was cared for and that no matter what remains of humanity, no matter whether anyone ever finds us or not, we did good. If my words are to be the last message of humanity, let me sign off with a quote by Greek poet Aeschylus:
“ Even in our sleep, pain which can not forget
falls drop by drop upon the heart
until, in our own despair, against our will,
comes wisdom through the awful grace of God. ”
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[ WP ] The English Teacher 's worst nightmare : a story or poem that is completely literal , with absolutely no double meanings
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She wakes up groggily. It is too much light around the room. She hates too much light. Her mood is ruined. The birds won ’ t shut up. Everything is on the verge of screaming. “ Write a literal story! ” something yells inside her head. She wants a bit of peace. She makes a cup of tea, with too much sugar. A fly lands on the table, she smashed the book nearby on it. She feels pleased. She sits to write a literal story, but it has been too long since she last wrote anything. All the words are jumbled, literally, out of order like “ It is a sunny morning and she laid down on bed tired from the day. She drinks coffee and she wakes up as the alarm blasts. She yells at the cashier, and thinks what a hot day as she gets up from bed. ” And I tell you, she made no sense. She gives up. She feels sad. She goes back to bed, closes her eyes and tries to sleep again.
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[ WP ] You are a man on a space station and have just witnessed a Nuclear War down below on Earth . You are not alone . You are with another man who speaks a completely seperate language .
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AUTHORS NOTE: First ever short story I've written for ages, thanks to OP for giving the old brain a little bit of a push! Constructive criticism is welcomed.
-- -/ISS/DPAD/DATA/SYS/LOG/TEXTLOG/2101/04/29/ --
FILE FOR < CAPTAIN HANNAH JANE RANDALL [ USAF ID: F19690424 ] CAN BE FOUND IN LINK IN APPENDIX
-- /LOGSTART/1134GMT/ --
I am the sole member of Mission 375 onboard the ISS, and am now Acting Commander due to current circumstances.
Contact with ISV Explorer has been lost. All audio-visual and text communications ceased at 0859 hours GMT when the first of the airburst nukes [ LANDSATIMAGES/IMG/0859 ] went off, but telemetry from ISV Explorer is still transmitting. CREWBIO indicates no life signs since 10:00 GMT, LSENVIRON indicates a failure of the three redundant life support modules at 0859 hours GMT and the absence of atmosphere in the crew bay, SYSCOM and ENGINECOM indicate that there is a hull breach in the crew bay, most probably caused by concurrent engine failure which caused the ISV Explorer to deviate from its Lagrange point. This indicates that the crew of the ISV Explorer are beyond rescue, and most likely dead. All systems except Crew Return Module Control are active, but reading non-logical readings, inferring EMP damage to systems, confirmed by diagnostic check < /ISS/DIAG/LOG/17C4/ >.
Diagnostic check < ISS/DIAG/LOG/17C5/ > indicates Crew Return Module is working optimally.
Images from Landsat 3, 9, and 15 indicate a nuclear weapons exchange on the surface of the Earth. Communications with Mission Control ceased at 0910 hours GMT.
Awaiting further instructions from Mission Control.
//-LOG-ENDS-//
Humanity, what a beautiful monster. Capable of such grandeur and such horror.
It looks so beautiful. Yes, I know. How can the end of everything I know be beautiful? But it is. I watch fireballs blossom across the surface of the Earth, blotting out the blues and greens and browns and whites of our planet, each one blotting out someone ’ s hopes and dreams, all in utter silence I should be horrified, but I ’ m not. It all seems so surreal. The scale of it all overwhelms me. Billions of people dying in the space of an hour is too much to humanly absorb.
As I speak, even more nukes detonate. Some of the satellites within range seem to have have been disabled due to the EMP, so I can ’ t currently access some of the Landsat feeds, but I ’ m sure the same thing is happening on the dark side of the planet. I press my face to the transparent plastic composite of the observation cupola, brushing some of my hair out of my eyes.
I feel sick. The rest of the crew is all dead, having been in the shuttle on a satellite retrieval when it all started. Mahmud, Kamarov, McDouglas, Patterson, Middleton, Huang, all dead. Kamarov will never see his daughter, McDouglas will never propose to his girl, I will never see my family again. I saw the engine explode, tearing great rents in the biosteel of the shuttle, depressurizing the hull. All of them except McDouglas survived the explosion, but died anyway suffocating on their own carbon dioxide in their suits when their suit air ran out.
All satellite communication has stopped a long time ago, except automated transmissions between satellites. I can ’ t get any radio broadcasts either. I want to think its because of interference from the nuclear cacophony, but most likely there is no one left to answer.
I propel myself towards the ham radio, knowing after trying for hours that there is no way anyone is left alive to reply, but I still talk into it anyway, twiddling the dial as I while hurtle at 27500 kilometres an hour, in the greatest achievement of a civilisation that, in the next hour or so, will no longer exist.
“ This is the International Space Station, is anyone out there?, ” I repeat in to the handset, dispensing with proper radio protocol. Only static and the beeps and hums of the advanced machinery around me reply. I try a few more times, then sync the radio to my headset and drift over back to the observation cupola.
Try as I might, I can not tear myself away from the destruction of my species.
Why do we stare at car accidents and murder scenes? Shouldn ’ t we do the decent thing and walk away? Why stare at something out of morbid curiosity?
I will never see everyone I know again, I think to myself. I will never see little Claire grow up, I will never finish learning Fantasie Impromptu, I will never sit at the beach and read 1989 for the 200-th time..
I break down and start sobbing, with no one to bear witness to my suffering except the webcams installed on the ISS. I cry like a child taken from it ’ s mother. I cry until I there are is nothing left to give, then I curl up into a ball and let myself float in the module, watching the number of mushroom clouds dwindle. I watch the as the ISS reaches the night side of the planet.
Over the past few hours, it seemed like literally hundreds of nukes were going off every hour, but now it seems to have reduced to a couple every hour or so. Through my watery eyes, I catch a glimpse of Australia on the, where wildfires rage out of control where there are still forests, the rest of the former global superpower now reduced to a barren landscape. The United States and the Holy Russian Empire didn ’ t fare any better, as I can ’ t see any of the lights of the proud cities of both countries, normally visible from space. I ’ m not sure if it ’ s soot from the detonations obscuring the view or the cities are vaporised.
I had my honeymoon in St. Petersburg, it was cold but beautiful. The Winter Palace was breathtaking. It was all happy days until he ditched me for a blonde with legs that went on for days but with no other positive attributes. The only good thing that came out of it was Claire. I left her with my mother=in-law in Detroit, are they going to survive? Even if they survive the detonations the immense fallout will still kill them.
My radio headset crackles, jerking me out of my reverie, and I push my daughter out of my mind. I twiddle with the settings, and I can ’ t believe what I can hear. I am not alone after all.
Faceless people scream into their radios, screaming for a God that doesn ’ t exist to save them. Someone reads verses from Revelation, until the transmission ends with a crash. A woman screams into the airwaves for someone to save her dying children. Two people speaking Chinese comfort each other. I listen to transmissions like this for hours.
And then absurdly, I hear someone strumming a guitar and singing what seems to be a Spanish lullaby. I lock on to the channel, and cry. It ’ s just too much. I don ’ t understand the words, but the emotion is clear enough. Everyone else is clinging on, and he ’ s just letting go. The singing stops, and someone screams, and the transmission ends. I twiddle with the dials some more –it ’ s an antiquated 21st century piece of crap-, but all I get is static again.
I look at the status display on the module wall. Half of everything is either haywire but not working, but the Crew Escape Vehicle shows all green across the board. It is a redesigned Dragon capsule that can withstand the stresses of atmospheric re-entry, and fits a maximum of 8. I have two options. Either I stay on the ISS, condemned to loneliness until my food and oxygen runs out in about 4 years, then I starve to death. Or I take the CRV, which will probably touchdown in some nuclear wasteland where I will be fatally irradiated to die a horrible death. In the event I actually land somewhere not roasted, I would be as weak as a kitten without a recovery team, and I will starve to death and die. I contemplate this for a while.
I suit up into my EVA ( Extra-Vehicular Activity ) suit, making sure everything is sealed tight. I sync my helmet to my datapad and place it on the holder on my wrist. I check that everything I need for my final journey are in the suit pockets, then I leave the observation cupola. I propel myself towards the French part of the station, where the CRV is located. I pass the CRV module and go to the airlock instead.
I open it, and go inside. I open my pocket, dry-swallow a handful of Valium tablets, and seal my helmet. With luck, I ’ ll fall asleep before my air runs out and I suffocate on my own carbon dioxide. I open the outer airlock and push myself out. I would rather die like this, among the stars, then starve to death alone or die of radiation sickness on Earth.
The stars. Such beauty. Proxima Centuri, Orion, Sirius, all wink in the distance, oblivious to the horror happening light-years away. I unseal my jacket pocket and take out a drawing Claire drew of me when she was in kindergarten. I stand next to her, wearing what looks like my Air Force dress blues, holding her hand. Happy Mother ’ s Day, it says, scrawled across the helmet. I smile, and let the Valium take me.
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[ EU ] Left bored after killing the Batman , The Joker decides to take on his role as vigilante of Gotham City
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3 months, 2 weeks, 5 days, 20 hours, 13 minutes and 27 seconds since the Batman died. The Joker has spent that much time rethinking the biggest mistake of his life. Without the Batman his life means nothing. And so he sat with the gun pointed at his temple for the past few hours.
`` There's only one way this is gon na end, Batsy.''
For the first time in 3 1/2 months, a smile came to the lips of the Clown Prince of Crime.
`` My pal bats would be *sooo* disappointed if I went out like this! He'd want his BFF Mr. J to go out with a BANG!''
He said, firing at a henchman as he burst out into the warehouse that he'd been hiding out in.
`` Alrighty boys!'' He said, addressing the freaks, clowns, and general ragamuffins assembled in his hideout `` We've got some work to do!''
The haphazard militia marched into Crime Alley in the night.
`` I want you to put a bullet in anything breaking a law!''
Joe Chill on his way home from work was on the phone with his wife in the car. He was insisting that he would stop at the store for some eggs. It is illegal to hold a phone to your ear while driving in the city of Gotham.
`` Like so!''
Joker walked into the path of the car and pulled out a comically large bazooka.
`` Heads up, buddy!''
Yelled Joker as he pulled the trigger. Joe Chill exploded in a ball of fire as the Joker laughed maniacally.
Our makeshift law enforcement brigade moved all through Gotham, leaving it anything but clean. They came to a monstrosity of brick and mortar known as Wayne Manor before the last heir of the Wayne fortune died in a mysterious skiing incident.
`` Well this seems a poetically nice place for our new base of operations!''
Said a slyly grinning Joker.
`` Let's go, people!''
The Joker was the head of the team exploring the depth of the manner.
`` You see anything, Johnny my boy?''
Asked Joker gleefully in the dark depths of a cave system beneath the Manor.
`` Nothin' yet, si- *ach*''
`` What in the hell was that? Johnny!''
`` Lem me check it out boss.''
Said Donny, following the beam of a dropped flashlight.
`` Just do n't do anything stupid.''
Joker was trying to sound furious, but even he could n't contain the thought that maybe, just maybe, he was n't so alone in this cave.
As one could predict, Donny also disappeared. Joker had lost those he came into the cave with, but he was far from alone.
Joker broke out into the biggest smile of his life.
`` I knew it could n't be so easy, Batsy, get out here and give me a smooch!''
`` You of all people should know I'm not that easy to get rid of, Joker.''
Batman swung down from the roof of the cave and kicked half the teeth out of Joker's mouth. Joker fell to the cave floor, incapacitated.
Batman pulled the tarp off the batmobile, got inside, revved the engine, and sped out of the cave. And for the first time in 3 1/2 months, Batman smiled.
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[ WP ] There is no prompt . Just write a story you 've always been thinking about or one you 've been thinking about sharing . Anything goes .
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My mind is racing. I can hear everything. I can hear the blades on the fans whirring as they try to keep me cool. My heart is racing. I hear the humming of the tv and I can faintly make out the neighbors watering the lawn. The slience is otherwise deafening in that way where you hear nothing when you try to focus on picking up unsettling sounds like a burglar or a siren.
My chest feels tight as I recall the events of the day. I do n't want to ruled by fear. I want the love in my heart to push me forward; forward and out of the encroaching darkness that comes when I allow my mind to wander and I focus on the little insignificant details. My mind wanders and those mole hills become mountains.
Those insignificant details are n't insignificant at all; if they were, they would n't wake me up in the middle of the night. I would n't feel unsettled when I look for reassurance and am met with a blank stare.
My brain plays tricks on me. I think the laughter is at me. I think the closed doors are so that the voices that carry weight can decide what they want to do with me. The insecurity sweeps over me like a harsh wave. I can smell the salt in the air and the tips of my fingers are numb. My lips are chapped and I want to expel all the air from my lungs. I want my lungs to burst from lack of oxygen. I want blood to pool inside my chest and I want to suffocate on the taste of it.
I want to believe in God so that my troubles can be given up to God. I want that filth eater I read about in college to filter out all my bad qualities and make me someone worth loving.
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[ WP ] A soldier on the battlefield sees the most beautiful woman he 's ever seen on the other side .
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The surprise was total.
Leaping from their perches on the branches of the massive old-growth trees, the Sylph Battle Armor lands on the mercenary'mechs while Spectre BA rises from their spiderholes, opening up their light gauss rifles into the unarmored transports. The *dezgra*comms open up with shouting from a dozen voices. Boarded'mechs flail wildly in their attempt to get the latched on battle armor as their unmolested lance-mates swivel their guns to meet the unexpected danger. It comes in the guise of the 2nd Raven Phalanx of the Raven Alliance.
Star Colonel Corwin Siegel grins as the external mounted speakers come alive with the sound of their totems cries. The cawing heralds the promise of death. His lighter stars pour out of the tree cover, guns blazing. Isorla RK-4K Rokurokubi, both taken during raids into the Draconis Combine, brandish their five meter long swords. Unlike many of his fellows, Siegel does n't have as great a dislike for physical combat. Still, such'mechs are more suitable for Freeborn warriors than a Trueborn such as himself. *But in the end, * the Star Colonel thinks, *it does n't matter the plumage of a Raven, as long as it can kill. * A smirk draws across his face.
The former-samurai'mechs throw themselves into the melee, blades smashing into armor plate. Their star-mates, ClintIIC's and Wasps mostly, but also a traded Dominion Bear Cub take careful aim at the merc battlemechs, firing downrange at the overwhelmed foe.
A few Elementals are crushed as their targets fling themselves against tree trunks, but most remain firmly latched on. Stripping away armor from the cockpit's hatch, one point breaks the seal on the'mech, revealing the mercenary mechwarrior to the cool spring air. Spitting curses, he draws his laser pistol. The powerful weapon barely scratches the armor of the Sylph, his chest is disintegrated by the Elemental's pulse laser in reply.
Another mech is impaled by the Rokurokubi sword, the tempered edge slicing through inches of ferro armor. Like some metal giant, the wounded'mech groans as it topples to the rich leaf litter of the forest floor.
The under-strength mercenary battalion is in a state of chaos. Fully one half their number is down or engaged. At least one of their number seems to have control of himself at least, the kill markings painted on the hull of their AGS-4D Argus a testament to their skill. Along the cockpit's rim is the name of the warrior, Lt. E. Fuchs. A snarling dog crouched over a quiver of arrows and bow is painted beneath the cockpit along with the Latin *Semper Fidelis. * Siegel laughes. *Someone knows their classics. * He thinks.
The Argus' Rotary Autocannon roars, sending a stream of tracers against a probing Goshawk II. Tied to a Federated Hunter Mk. XX, the 57mm shells impact against the Raven's armor, tearing great deep wounds into the chassis. The firepower is enough to make the Snow Raven warrior stumble in their movement, but they recover enough to disappear into the treeline.
The surviving ten mercenary'mechs cluster around their ersatz leader, forming a defensive circle so that no one can be caught unaware again. It wo n't do very much good, reflects Siegel.
With a battle cry of his own, he urges his'mech out of cover and into the watery mid-morning light. With a press of a button, his ATM 12 launches its payload at a mercenary Uziel, the crippled medium'mech is decapitated from the blow, the Lyran built machine falling backwards with a crash before falling silent. The two Ryoken II's in Siegel's star launch missiles while the Thresher piloted by warrior Ethan unleashes his Ultra-Autocannons, throwing 120mm shells at a foe's Catapult. The combined assault tears the heavy'mech apart, the deadly autocannon slugging off whole plates of armor as LRM's find exposed machinery. Ammunition cooking off, the merc'mech stumbles against an ally, bowling them both over. The rest of his trinary finishes off the stragglers before turning to the remaining seven'mechs.
Star Colonel Siegel's comms open up.
`` Sir.'' It is Star Commander Sawyer's voice in her Shadow Hawk IIC7. `` Shall we eliminate these *dezgra* mercenaries?''
Siegel pauses to think. `` No.'' He mikes in. `` Let us give them a chance to die with honor. Perhaps the notion will return to them right before they perish.'' With that he flicks his comms to the general channel.
`` Attention, *dezgra* forces. This is the commanding officer of the 2nd Raven Phalanx, piloting the Omen battlemech. I have an offer for you. I issue you a *batchall. * Any who manage to defeat one of my warriors will be allow to depart from the battlefield unharmed. Those who lose... will not. What say you?''
A voice heavily blurred by static sounds over the comms.
`` Agreed Raven.''
With that, the seperate mercenaries pair off against their respective counterparts. He and the'mercenary officer remain silent, instead watching the duels commence. Twenty minutes later, two crippled mercenaries limp away to their drop-zones leaving only their commander left.
`` Argus pilot!'' He announces. `` In respect to our weight differences, I have bid away my ATM and ER Medium Lasers. Fight well, and may Fortune favor the bold.
With that he throttles his *Omen* forward, LB 10-X AC firing. The heavy slug impacts on the Federated built'mech. In reply their rotary autocannon blares out, sending a hailstorm of 57mm shells into his hull. His Large Pulse Laser blurts out, scoring cauterized wounds across his foe's leg. The Argus' LRM 10 launches a salvo, three missiles impacting on his right arm. His Anti-missile system having destroyed the rest. His Medium Pulse Lasers know in range, he thumbs the trigger, sending the staccato bursts to etch in the mercenary' armor. ER Medium lasers reply in kind, along with a lone machine gun. Siegel laughs as his Lasers strip away more armor, before cursing as one is destroy by an autocannon shell. *That Freebirth! * Another curse is spit as the powerful weapon finds a weak spot in his knee actuator.
Throwing himself forward, he tears into his opponents'mech, armor flies off from beneath the scapel like lasers. A round finds his gyro, making him stumble. Falling to one knee, he looks up to see the rotating barrels take aim at his cockpit, but he also sees his chance.
With a snarl, he throws his own autocannon up, barely twenty meters away. `` Eat this, Freebirth!'' He slams on the trigger.
A 120mm shotgun shell can do terrible damage. The canister round pierces an unarmored portion of the Argus' torso ripping into cables, pipes and finally the GM Fusion engine.
Cored, the mech topples on its side.
Wrenching his helmet off, Siegel draws his laser pistol climbing onto the fallen mech. Unlocking the hatch, he aims the weapon at the pilot while saying, `` All right then, Freeborn. Well done, but now-''
He pauses in mid-sentence as the mechwarrior yanks off her helmet, letting sunset red hair cascade across her shoulder.
`` What- what is your name?''
`` Elodie Fuchs. Leftenant in Sarkozy's Cossacks.''
Her voice is thick with French.
Shaking sense into his head, he reaches in and slips a band of three colors onto her tastefully slim wrist. She raises her hand to stare at the black, blue and silver cords.
`` What'is this?
`` A bondscord. Welcome to Clan Snow Raven and the Raven Alliance, Elodie.''
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[ WP ] Write about a horrifying topic as beautifully as you can .
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Shame to have to say this about the environmentalists, but they can ’ t see the forest for the trees.
They speak so desperately about what we need to do to Save the Earth. They are just as certain of their beliefs as were the doomsayers of a generation ago who desperately cited the steps we must take to avoid a new Ice Age. Does today ’ s Green Movement crowd know more about temperature fluctuations than the Earth-Day celebrators of yesteryear? Maybe. They sure seem sure.
But what I ’ m sure they are wrong about is this: The Earth doesn ’ t need saving. It ’ s gon na be just fine. It was here before we were, and it will certainly be here long after we are gone. IF -- and this is a big, arrogant if -- IF we are even capable of doing something to harm the Earth ( and note that in our selfishness, the very definition of “ harm the Earth ” means “ to make it less habitable for humans ” ), IF we harm the Earth, it can and will respond by shaking us off like water droplets from a wet dog.
And since the Earth measures time so slowly that it barely has a “ decade hand ” on the face of its watch, I think I ’ ll crank my air conditioner to full blast, then drive around town in my SUV searching for a place that still serves coffee in Styrofoam cups ( stays hot longer! ) while I await my extinction.
We humans could, if we wanted to, learn a lot about the passage of time by observing the brutal ballet of the evolutionary process. Observe the waltz of the Lions and Elk. Watch them for a little while, and you ’ ll conclude that they hate each other. But watch long enough, and you ’ ll see the amazing gift each species bequeaths upon each other.
The lion and the elk each have a desperate, selfish need.
The lion needs to eat to survive. The elk, to survive, needs to not be eaten.
In the short run, the winner is clear: Either the lion catches the elk, or the elk escapes the lion.
But you have to look farther, longer to see the bigger winners.
You see, the strongest lion goes after the weakest elk. If he targeted a strong elk, he might be able to defeat it, but he stands a greater risk of being injured in the process. And an injured lion will catch no elk tomorrow. And so it is the weak elk who are thinned from the herd, often before they can advance their genes through the mating process.
As the elk herd as a whole becomes stronger, some lions will starve because well, elk just aren ’ t as easy to catch as they used to be. Which lions will go hungry? The weak ones, of course. Often before they can advance their genes through the mating process. And so the lion herd as a whole becomes stronger.
Over time, the bar continuously rises with regard to what constitutes stronger vs. weaker animals -- in both species!
Rape, amongst humans, is exactly like that. Men who are strong enough, brave enough, cunning enough, etc. will always rape women who are weak enough, scared enough, naïve enough, etc. And the result will be a future filled with stronger men AND women.
Well, at least until the Earth catches fire. Or freezes over.
But until then, we ’ ll always have our fond memories of The Beautiful Dance.
Rape.
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[ CW ] Write a story where the tone of the narrator is completely different to the tone of the characters and the plot .
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There was no solace on that cold Monday morning of early February, no comfort from the biting chill that hung in the school yard. Fog sat thick on the outskirts of the blacktop, obscuring from view the edges of the playground. Figures, running in to the scene of gathered children, appeared as shadowy silhouettes from afar, before they became crisp in the foreground. Panicked faces, rushing in with uncertainty; eyes that scoured the small bodies before them, assessing the situation freshly, hoping to make sense of the scene in a quick fashion.
The voices of the children abruptly hushed at the presence of the adults. The first questions were laid out to bear, their piercing honesty demanding truth from the young culprits.
`` What happened here?'' Maria inquired, as her two colleagues began to join her, emerging from the mists like faceless forms of authority. `` What's going on?''
`` Michael said that Jackie had a stupid last name and then Jackie hit him.'' Theodore, poor, naive Theodore. This world was not kind to those who prattle on about the misdeeds of their peers. A true victim of his own tongue, foolishly guided by morality to expose those who would do wrong.
`` Shut up, Theo.'' Cody, a mischievous vagabond of a second-grader, ally and dear friend to Michael -- albeit too loyal for his own good. His blind fealty would cost him dearly.
`` Cody, we do n't say that.'' Maria snapped like a crocodile feeling the weight of prey on its tongue, reflexive in admonishment. `` Please go with Mr. Buchem for time out.''
`` But Ms. Hernandez!'' Cody pleaded fearfully, suddenly shifting his tune from the harping of a goading crony to that of a man sentenced to the gallows. His mistake was foolish, but that was no reason for such a sentencing! Surely, they were being hasty in their decision!
`` No'buts', Cody. You know we are n't supposed to use language like that.'' Maria's eyes penetrated Cody's soul with their fiery gaze, leaving him hollowed to the point of surrender. `` Now go with Mr. Buchem, please.''
Harold Buchem, burly in stature, wrapped in the mismatched garb of a fleece pullover with cargo shorts, looked down to young Cody. His weathered face expressed empathy for the poor lad, but also conveyed that indeed Cody had to abide by the rule of proper etiquette, and would face a penalty for stepping out of line. A plea for respite furrowed across Cody's face in a last attempt to appeal to the kindness of his other superiors, but alas, Harold's own stern visage solidified that it was out of anyone's hands. The law was the law, and Cody would indeed disappear into the unkind embrace of isolation.
`` Ooh, Cody is in trouble,'' jeered one Susie Plath, a friend of Jackie who saw this as an opportunity to poke at the weakened state of the jackal now separated from its lion. Other children chimed in to express vocal harassment at Cody's swift punishment, but Maria saw fit to quickly silence their raucous behavior.
`` That's enough, Susie. All of you, please, behave yourselves.'' Maria spread the children apart with the help of her other colleague, Cindy Kwon, who moved swiftly to part the idle gawkers and bystanders like a fin cutting through water. As the scene opened up more, Maria was able to build an understanding as to the nature of the events that had taken place minutes earlier. She would need solid proof, however, to formulate a case and a verdict.
`` Now Michael, what Theodore said, is it true?'' Maria was talking to a broken man. Michael had disdain washed over his pale face, which would not meet her gaze. He carried the look of someone who had clearly had his dignity struck from him by the soft knuckles of a seven-year-old girl. She needed his verbal confirmation, though -- no assumptions would hold weight here.
Michael took an agonizingly long time to come to his senses, but he slowly lifted his head enough to murmur his response.
`` Yes,'' his mutterings were inaudible to anyone but himself, though some children saw fit to lip-read and stifle back their laughter. Maria had to press the issue to gain a resolute answer.
`` Did you say that Jackie's last name was stupid?'' Her question shot through him like a bolt from a hunter ’ s bow, filling him with a gut-twisting dread. Admittance to his deeds became the only escape from the pain of lingering any longer in front of his peers like a targeted buck in season.
With a clear and somber voice, Michael projected. “ Yes, Ms. Hernandez. ” It was bleakness that rang on his words, the utter finiteness of his short life coming quickly to a close with every breath.
“ And Jackie, ” Maria turned her attention to the girl standing across from Michael, a sweet-surfaced but presently tense brunette in pigtails and an olive-green jumper. Her innocent demeanor was replaced with a face of anger at her target, but her focus on Michael was ruptured by Maria ’ s address. “ Jackie, did you hit him? ”
Jackie was stunned. She knew, deep down in her core, that her actions were warranted. And yet the Inquisition had turned its gaze unto her, as if she were suddenly a culprit instead of a victim of indignation and belittlement, as if the defense of her honor was no longer justified by physical retaliation.
“ I… ” Jackie struggled to find the words, but Maria was not going to let her off so easily. With persistence, she reiterated the question. “ Jackie, did you hit Michael because he made fun of your name? ”
Jackie could not take the sudden spotlight of Maria ’ s prison-tower eyes and spewed forth a rapid defense on the spot. “ Yes, but, Ms. Hernandez, I didn ’ t do anything wrong! He said that my name was stupid, that ’ s so much worse! He's so mean! ”
Maria had everything she needed to close the case. It was a simple enough matter, no collateral damage to other students, no emotional scarring to deal with, but the punishment would have to be firm. Maria reared up from her interrogation of the two children, who now stood there, uncertain of their futures. The worst of hypothetical outcomes ran through Jackie ’ s mind, while Michael remained silent and pale, both humiliated by his public beating, and unsure where his fate lied.
The surrounding children were on baited breath, eagerly awaiting a verdict like salivating hounds anticipating a feeding frenzy. Maria stood there, contemplating the next course of action, glancing over to Cindy for acknowledgement. Cindy gave a slight nod, something the children would not have the wherewithal to pick up on but which Maria took as a sign of approval. Maria ’ s actions would be sanctioned by herself, and herself alone: she was judge, jury, and executioner.
Michael and Jackie both looked up at the reaper before them, the muscles in their throats taught from anxiety, their stomachs knotted in fear. Now came the apocalypse, now came the end. The cold of the morning hung low and heavy on their frames, freezing their bones and causing their joints to noticeably ache. There was no solace, no comfort, only the biting chill. They stood on shaky legs as her guillotine judgment came swift and without remorse.
“ I ’ m going to have to call your parents. ”
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[ WP ] The world 's luckiest man and unluckiest man happen to be best friends .
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I looked sidelong at the man I have called my friend for the last eight years.We were sitting at the front porch of my house.His hair was windblown from having riding that ridiculous custom Harvey of his, his jawline perfectly shown against the orange tinge of the sunset, his straight long nose and his mouth that was perpetually set in a charming smile, perfectly content.He was a handsome man and I the opposite.
We were different as night and day.Where he was comfortable in his skin, I felt awkward and clumsy in mine.Our appearances were suprisingly the same accept I was the obvious discounted version of him.This became apparent to us immediately after knowing each other.One of those rare instances of meeting your doppelganger, we would often say when people comment on it.My eyes were the muddy color of blue while his was a set of penetrating clear blues.His very being seems to mock me.
When people ask him why he hangs out so much with me during our time in high-school, he would always smiled that smile of his and said `` He's the perfect balance for me. ``.People would always be puzzled by that answer but would accept it as the eccentricness of the genius and athletic prized student of our school.He was popular, silver-tongued and devilishly charming.He changed girlfriends as people would often change their clothes.It came easily as breathing to him to do anything, be it music, math, art even gambling.People would say he has the devil's luck to have everything.He had even win the lottery with the winning pot at it's highest in it's history.He had everything.
But me? I have to scratched and clawed my way to finished even the simplest of tasks.I had accidents washing the dishes.My grades was abbysmal and I had to work as a garbage collector with a few odds and ends part-time job after graduating.But you know what, I may not show it outwardly but I was content with life.I have a beautiful marriage that had produces an intelligent daughter with a second child on the way.I was passing by with a wan smile.
He always smiled that smile of him that seems to radiate warmness but I can see that he was never happy.Oh he had felt it fleetingly of course but it never stayed long with him.I had held a particular notion since we were teenager.A notion of why he befriend me.He had saw a happier version of him and he wanted it so badly that he had immediately cling hard to it.
The answer was obvious to me on one of the countless dinner that he had at our home.What he saw there muddied his eyes and I'm sure my eyes was the clearest then with my family.
So was the fate and frienship of the luckiest and unluckiest fellows
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[ WP ] Your own urban legend based on the area you live that does n't currently exist .
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[ Petersburg, Texas ] ( http: //upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/e5/Petersburg_Texas_Sign_2010.jpg )
I was excited to finally get to hang out with Aaron after so long. He had graduated from college a year earlier than I had so we did n't ever really get to hang out that often. We finally found a way to finally relax and drink some beers though; I managed to finish a project earlier than expected, freeing up my weekend, and now we were driving out to his house.
`` Petersburg, right?'' I asked. It was nighttime, and he was driving rather fast. We were out in the middle of the panhandle in Texas. There was no trees, buildings, streetlight, anything. It was nothing but fields.
`` Yeah,'' he said. He took a sip from the Dr. Pepper he had bought on his way to pick me up from the dorms.
I looked out the windows, peering out into the darkness. We had turned off the main highway about thirty minutes ago and had spent those minutes driving out into seemingly nowhere.
`` How much further?'' I asked. I wo n't lie to you, I was pretty spooked. If the car broke down, we'd be screwed.
`` Almost there,'' he said. He knew there was a little bit of panic in my voice. He looked at me and smiled. `` What's wrong with you? You are n't about to have another panic attack are you?''
`` No, no, I just,'' and I stopped. The town finally came into view. It was a small town with wide roads. There were shops on both sides of the road; they were closed now, of course, being that it was so late.
`` It looks like a ghost-town,'' I said.
`` Yeah, well that's how it is when the population is only 300,'' he replied.
He turned down the streets, weaving his way through the small town he had grown up in. We finally arrived at his house at the edge of town. I stepped out of the car and looked away from his house.
His house was facing an open field. It stretched as far as the eye could see. It somehow managed to give me vertigo. I wobbled a bit, and Aaron grabbed onto my arm.
`` You okay?'' he said.
`` Yeah, just, sat too long I guess.''
`` Here,'' he led me to the porch and pointed for me to sit, `` I'll go in and get you something to drink.''
He walked into his small house and quickly emerged with a beer in one hand and a 7-Up in the other. `` Figured I'd get you a soda to start the night off instead, you pussy.''
He handed me the drink and sat next to me. We both cracked open our drinks and slowly sipped.
`` That shit is kinda freaky,'' I said, pointing out to the endless field.
`` Yeah, I've heard that before from other friends.''
`` It does n't irk you?''
`` No, I've grown up here, I guess I'm used to it. You want to know what is really freaky?'' Aaron said before a sip from his beer.
I almost did n't want to ask what, but I did, just to keep the conversation going.
`` What?''
`` Back in the town's earlier days, they say that farmers would get lost out there in those fields.''
`` What do you mean?'' I asked, trying to drink from my soda. I had a headache and was starting to feel nauseous. I did n't want to be a downer on our fun though. I ignored the feelings.
`` Well, when you get out there in the fields, you reach a point where all you see from either direction is just field. Really easy to get lost, lose your bearings,'' he said.
`` They did n't have compasses?'' I interjected.
`` Well, what they did n't know,'' he continued, `` is that there are large groupings of magnetic rocks out there, magnetite, hematite, something like that I think. Throws off compasses, even fucks with modern day GPS and cellular phones.''
`` Jesus,'' I said, `` how much of those rocks are out there to do that?''
`` They say there's whole slabs out there, bigger than cars. It's not natural, say some.''
We sat in silence for sometime before I asked, `` well, how do they keep from getting lost?''
Aaron took another sip, `` They just make sure they do n't go far enough to lose sight of the town.''
`` And what happened to the farmers who did go too far?''
`` Dunno,'' he said, `` my step dad never told me. Best guess is they died out there. But here's the kicker,''
`` The kicker? You mean that whole damn story is n't enough of a kicker?'' I interrupted again.
`` Nope. Back then, some farmers carried lanterns with them, flashlights, anything to make light. They say sometimes you can see lights flashing out in the fields. Probably the farmers trying to find their way back. They even say that you can faintly hear ringtones from those who had cellphones, probably their wives trying to call and get a hold of them.''
I did n't respond after that. Instead we both just sat on the porch, looking out into the fields.
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[ WP ] The day is June 6th , 2000 . You can make one change that will alter your life . Tell me your new story .
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Now look here, little me. You're turning 4 in two days, I do n't know if you can understand this yet but, your mother is toxic, she is willing to burn all bridges she builds, if you do n't stop seeing her soon, you'll grow up tortured and tormented by a manipulative, narcissist. She will take your money, your clothes and even your bedroom door. She will scream at you for no reason and make you doubt your own reality. She will lie, cheat, beg, borrow and steal to satisfy her need to berate you. Go live with your father boy, he needs you right now.
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[ WP ] `` Really ? You 're going to bring THAT to a gun fight ? ''
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`` Oh, I'm sorry Fred, let me just go get my goddamn rifle. Oh, that's right, WE'RE IN A FUCKING BATHROOM!''
I could hear the gunmen's boots fall heavy onto the linoleum, the harsh clap of their weapons sending shrieking bullets into the innocent bystanders in the mall.
`` This is all I could fucking find, Fred. I'm gon na peek out, and you're gon na wait. When I say go or - well, god forbid, get shot - you make a run for the balcony at the end of the last shop. Get to the ground floor of Center Stage and go straight on through to the service hallway that leads behind the food court. Herd whoever you can into that hallway, and do n't forget to lock the door behind us. I'll deal with the gunner on our floor, but we need all the cover we can get once we jump the railing and fall to the stage.''
`` I get it, Wes, but... seriously, man. You're bringing THAT. THAT'S your instrument of justice.''
`` Fred, god fucking dammit, we do n't have time. This is all I could grab before we ran in here. It's not my fault! If anything, it's your fault!''
`` My fault?! How -- HOW is it possibly my fault?!''
`` Fred, I followed you when the gunfire started! You took refuge in a fucking Sports Authority! What was I gon na do, shop around first?''
`` A Sports Authority, Wes. With hunting gear. Knives. Bows. Fucking Wiffle Bats. If we make it out, I'm telling the news.''
`` Do n't you fucking dare, Fred.''
`` You're gon na get a heroic nickname.''
`` Not now, I swear to fuck. Fred, I swear to fuck.''
We peeked out the door and saw him, dressed all in black, firing wildly over the banister down to the ground floor of the mall. He was shouting obscenities and what I could only assume were self-affirming gloats and pep talks. I crept up behind him, deliberate and slow, and raised my tool of war. I sapped him across the skull as hard as I could and he fell over the rail and down a storey to a broken neck, his noisy gun screaming back up at me the whole time he fell.
`` Wes, you just --''
`` Shut the fuck up, Fred! Head for the stage!''
I gripped the plastic tightly in my hand as I ran in the opposite direction to follow Fred. He vaulted over the rail, his apron billowing in his descent, and I followed right behind him, tumbling as we hit the ground into a full sprint. Fred's'Crap On A Stick' hat fell off and landed exactly the way you would expect an oversized rubber corndog to land. It sounded like slapping the ass of the world's most leathery old person. We took off anyway, as fast as we could. I could hear the bullets landing behind us as we broke into a slide, just barely making it behind the cover of a pillar.
`` Wes. Your, uh... weapon, is... it's dented.''
`` It's fine, Fred. It's better than --''
`` No, man, do n't finish that sentence. It's not. You would really be better off without it. It's not strong, it's not cool, it's not even --''
`` FUCK, Fred, it's -- oh shit, they're getting the angle on us. Keep moving, swipe the card and get us in!''
Fred rushed the door and waved his doofy little badge at the card sensor, and yanked the door open. Two women hiding behind a mall kiosk stayed low and hurried over, just as one of the gunmen made his way down the escalator toward the service door. I made my way over as close as I could get, but the gunman nearly beat me there. Fred held the door open as he hid behind it, counting his luck that the industrial door was easily bulletproof. I, however, was not, and would n't make it in there without getting shot at least a few times. I did n't care to be a hero. I did n't even really care to survive. I just hoped, most of all, that I did n't die holding this stupid fucking thing.
The gunman had moved as far as he wanted to. Any further and he'd have to sacrifice his line of sight to the other wing of the mall. I moved to the far side of a big planter next to him and silently sneaked around it. As I approached him, he turned and I panicked. I sprang up, pushed aside the barrel of his submachine gun and slammed the nozzle of the... female... urination device... deep into the asshole's eye socket. He freaked out for a second, until I punched him in the throat and slapped his gun to the ground. He doubled over and I immediately dropped my elbow square into the base of his skull as he lumped over and landed with an bounceless thud. I picked up his Uzi and tried to fire it back at the other gunman on the far side of the stage making his way to us. The Uzi was empty. I tossed the gun, flipped the asshole over and yanked the pussy funnel out with a resounding'shlorp', and made my way into the service hall.
Fred and I looked at each other. He closed the door and locked it. I shook an eyeball off the urine aid. He was gon na say something, and I was gon na wan na punch him. There was a snickering pause from him for a few seconds.
`` Angry?'' He asked.
I sighed and looked down at my incredibly lame weapon. `` Pissed.''
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[ WP ] The secret identities of a hero and their arch nemesis are dating . Neither one realizes .
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`` Here's my newest tabloid title: is the noble Brian Kingston Jr., heir to one of the richest biotech giants in the industry, doomed to be a perpetually late and indolent playboy?''
He laughed and batted my teasing hand aside.
`` Really, Lukas? We've already known each other for eight months, worked together on three lab projects, and you asked me out on this date just yesterday. You're still bringing up that terribly cliche'playboy' accusation? Have you forgotten how I so diligently peer reviewed your most recent paper seven times for you?''
I leaned forward and summoned my usual menacing face. `` That was only because I covered for you the last time you had a grant deadline you forgot about until two days before.''
Brian met my competitive glare with the cool sky-blue stare of a man accustomed to the vultures of the media, before he broke out into an innocent grin. `` Electrical Engineering is my second PhD., I'm clearly getting old and forgetful in my, uh, youth.''
I was getting my own retaliatory `` brag'' ready when a loud guitar twang sounded under the table. The tune sounded vaguely familiar, and I raised an eyebrow at its excessively country nature as Brian fumbled out his phone ( by the looks of it, it was a new and different one from his usual banged-up Nokia ).
`` Sorry darling, but my not-dear mother thinks she can interrupt my schedule with some family business. I'll be right off to yell at her a few times, should n't take long.''
Brian gave me his trademark heartmelting wink as he left with the grace and charm of a highborn gentleman, apparently headed for the balcony. God, what was I doing? The renowned and infamous anarchoterrorist Zanolius, panting after a trust fund kid. Ignoring Brian's own arrangements with the tabloids, I'd be a laughingstock among the cause. True, Brian was brilliant and wonderful and loving and kind and hard-working and tried his best never to be a burden on anyone, but...
At least he had agreed that we would never talk politics during our `` meetings''. To date that was probably the only topic where we had almost come to blows, even if I was pretty sure Brian was a naive pacifist who had never seen a street fight in his life. He'd never experienced the sheer force of irrational hate the community held for super-powered individuals.
I saw Brian returning through the tables and hastily struggled to rearrange my face out of my usual threatening scowl. `` Did everything go alright, Brian?''
`` Yes, I had to rebuke her quite a bit, but she should n't be calling again. Unfortunately it appears she left quite a bit of unfinished business that I have to take care of tonight... would you mind if we resumed this entertaining engagement tomorrow night?''
I looked at the rest of the evening in my head. And I'd been looking forward to inviting Brian over for the first time too... At least my organization had intended to threaten City Hall today, not with our usual public declarations since I was n't present, but with a minor hostage situation involving the ludicrously corrupt public officials. I supposed I could stop by and maybe help out now that my time had been freed up, especially in case that toadying traitor Mentalist Man showed up to stop us with his annoying telepathic powers.
`` I think tomorrow should work. You sure your family stuff,'' I tried to refrain from making a face at the thought of Brian's mother and his repulsive stepfather, `` should be cleared up by then?''
`` Yes... I'm so sorry about the abrupt notice. I've already paid for the dinner at least.'' He ignored my proud glare at eating on his charity.
We kissed goodbye. ( Shut up, of course it was suitable for public viewing... I think. ) Brian must have seen something less than satisfied in my face, though, since he stopped and gave me that adorable smile again.
`` Hey, tomorrow do you want to come over to my apartment for dinner? I've been told my'gourmet' lasagna induces record-breaking levels of dopamine.''
Shaking my head at the beyond awful neurobiology joke and that stupid cliche wink that accompanied it, I copied down his address from the ID card he handed me. The main thing that I noticed, however, was the red M icon on his ID that indicated some degree of psychic superpower. He'd never brought up that he was anything beyond baseline, even when he'd previously voiced his strong opposition to my political stances. Maybe we could exchange superpower stories on our date tomorrow! At Brian's apartment! That he had just invited me to!
`` Oh Lukas, is that a blush?''
No, it was just excessively hot in the cozy family restaurant. I barely managed to grumble out, `` Are you going to tease me all day or are you going to go finish your Kingston Biotech bullshit so we can have a proper date tomorrow?''
Brian beamed innocently at me. `` I'll finish it by midnight and then drop by your house.'' At my genuinely questioning gaze, he dropped his beatific look and sighed. `` I'll do my best, darling. Maybe we can text tonight about the upcoming conference presentations at least.''
`` That sounds about right.'' Hopefully the situation at City Hall would n't take *too* long. `` I'll see you soon then!''
Brian gave me a third and last wink. `` I'll be right on your heels, dear.''
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[ WP ] In the distant future , advanced students of biology are tasked with designing a new life form from scratch as their `` living thesis '' . Projects from each year are assessed on their overall fitness by placing them on a lush but uncolonized planet and observing their progress .
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“ Explain yourself. ”
“ It was an accident, I didn ’ t know that -- ”
“ Do you think finding suitable planets for life is easy? Cheap? Fun, for anybody? Rhetorical. And no, it isn ’ t, in case you need it spelled out. ” Mentor made an exasperated gesture. “ You ’ re going to tell me, right now and in great detail, exactly how a cataclysmic planetary event is allowed to transpire without my knowledge. ”
Mentor paused briefly, observing the planet ’ s slow death on the viewport, but continued before Student could speak. “ In my estimation, it comes down to defiance, negligence, or pure stupidity. Your above-average performance to this point is the only reason I ’ m allowing you to explain yourself, rather than banning you from the University outright. ”
The viewport faded as Mentor turned to Student. “ What were your Prime Directives? ”
“ The Prime Directives are tendencies imparted via genetic manipulation, designed to guide the evolutionary path of life as we deem fit. They are a Student ’ s primary tool for -- ”
“ Not the Prime Directives, your Prime Directives! To what rules did you enslave those damned beings? ”
“ Yes. Sorry. First, I made them a tribal-like species. Second, I gave them an exceedingly short generation cycle and an overcapacity for breeding. I wanted to see if the tribal mentality could persist in an increasing population, and to what degree it would scale. ”
“ Interesting idea, but derivative research at best. I could name a few similar projects. Continue. ”
“ I ’ m familiar with some of those projects, too. But I wanted my project to stand out, to be unique. I gave them advanced, but unperfected communication abilities, and the capability for abstract thought. ”
Mentor ’ s expression was unreadable. “ That ’ s a dangerous decision. Granting a species the ability to abstract opens up a high degree of instability. ”
“ I know, but with my side-studies on Psychology and Philosophy, I expected -- ”
“ Stop. Who gave you permission to act out of the bounds of Biology? ”
Student gave no answer for this.
“ How did you affect their psyche? ”
Student hesitated. “ I… I needed them to be ambitious. I wanted them to achieve as much as they could before the Assessment. I made them greedy, even. They were the kind of species who claimed ownership over resources, deprived those outside the tribe. ” Student ’ s grief was apparent. “ I knew it was dangerous, but I thought it could be controlled. I thought that if I gave them empathy, they wouldn ’ t annihilate themselves. ”
“ And yet, they did. ”
“ They did. Yes, they did. ”
Mentor let the tension hang for a few seconds. Then, “ There ’ s something else. You know it, and I know it. But you need to say it, you need to name the final, damning piece of this. Prime Directives are complicated, and we could discuss Frameworks and Logistics all day, but you still need to name the crucial component. Go on. ”
“ You were right. It always comes down to happiness; every life follows the path that makes them happiest. I wanted to disprove that. I thought it was flawed, that the right combination of attributes and tendencies could push life to overcome the desire for joy. In ambition, I hoped the greater good could persist. In empathy, I hoped caring for one another, maintaining the tribe, would be a stronger pull than self-satisfaction. I was wrong. ”
Student made a defeated gesture. “ So, I allowed them to feel happiness. But I rooted that happiness in ambition. Each felt happiest when it seemed their own, individual lives were improving. It quickly got out of control. They started making untenable sacrifices in the name of so-called progress. The lives of hundreds would be improved at the cost of millions. They squabbled over the planet ’ s natural resources, and as those dwindled, they began to invent abstract resources, and fought over those as well. It was chaos and violence on a level I ’ ve never witnessed, in any of the lifeforms I ’ ve studied. ”
Student regarded the blank viewport for a long moment. “ I ’ m so sorry this ever happened. The amount of suffering I caused here is inexcusable, and I will take full responsibility for -- ”
“ Enough. Your methods here were unorthodox, and you requested consult from neither myself nor the Higher Echelons. Of course, we have all thoroughly reviewed your final reports. You have failed this planet, and tragically so. Knowing this, would you change your actions? ”
Student ’ s answer was resolute. “ No. It ’ s done now. I have completed my research, and I will publish it with as much notoriety as I can muster, such that a catastrophe like this will never be repeated. ”
“ Good answer. I can see that the results of your experiment trouble you. That ’ s a good sign, shows that you now understand the line between ‘ I can ’ and ‘ I should ’. Few of your age truly see that. ”
Mentor began to interact with the room ’ s terminal. “ I ’ m going to advise the Higher Echelons against your banning. A failure of this magnitude is nontrivial, and I can not guarantee anything, but I believe your premise to be solid. The Theory of Happiness exists only because it has not been disproven. If you were to invalidate that theory, then a new, more accurate theory could arise from it. That is science in its truest form. ”
“ Th- Thank you. ”
Mentor continued with the terminal, not responding. Student took this as a sign that the meeting had just come to a close, and turned to leave, when Mentor asked, “ What did they call themselves? ”
“ Excuse me? ”
“ The species you doomed. What did they call themselves? ”
“ Humanity. ”
“ Humanity… Remember that name. It will serve as a reminder of the mistakes we make, and the risks we run, as we play God in our attempts to better understand the universe. ”
“ I will do that. Thank you. ”
“ And one more thing, now that my curiosity has gotten the better of me. Your report is light on the details of their destruction. ” Mentor turned to face Student. “ How did they destroy themselves? ”
“ They learned to split an atom. It all went to hell after that. ”
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[ WP ] In today 's society , your social ranking is plain to see in the form of an ever-changing number on your wrist , measured by a combination of mental stability , income and crime record . After going out with your crush for the 3rd time , you finally question why they always wear long sleeved shirts .
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``... I do n't want to talk about it.''
I stare at him, open mouthed.
`` Look, I wo n't get mad if you have a really low score. I mean really, most people over a 70 wo n't even consider talking to someone who has n't proved their status, but I do n't care! Even if you're a lowly dreg I'll still love you,'' I say with a smile.
He groans, `` lowly? What's so bad about having a low score?''
`` Well, people with lower scores are either stupid or a criminal, I would n't really consider that a good thing.''
`` Oh please,'' he scoffs. `` The scores are rigged in favor of those who already have higher scores and we all know that the 25th percent-ers almost never get convicted of crimes they commit.''
I'm baffled. Is he really taking the side of those lowlifes? What if-
`` You're one of them, are n't you? I ca n't believe I've spent time with a dreg, you're lucky I do n't report you for harassment! Of course, that would only bring your score down more- if you even have points to lose, that is.''
Rather than responding with dismay at my accusation, he remains utterly calm.
`` I'm glad I could see this side of you,'' he states.
What's that supposed to mean?
`` Good, because that's the last pleasure I'll ever grant you. God knows why you have n't grateful that I, a 72, allowed you to be in my-''
He stands up abruptly, his chair jolting back with an unbearable screech.
`` I've heard enough. By the way, you should probably look down.''
I stare at my wrist, and to my dismay see my beloved 72 falling down, down, down.
`` Oh, and one last thing,'' he says, pulling his sleeve back to reveal a white arm imprinted with a number.
100.
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[ WP ] Everyone who dies reincarnates in Tier 2 universe . People there have all memories from the previous lives , and they suspect there are more Tiers . People live really differently there compared to Tier 1 .
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I distinctly remember arriving at Tier 2. I was 19 when I made it here. At first, I thought I was in heaven, not an entirely comforting thought for an atheist I must admit, but it felt good, good to be free from the wretched world I used to be in. I was quivering with cold as I laid stark naked under the starry sky. The world around me looked strange and beautiful but I was exhausted. I wrapped myself with some leaves and dozed off by a giant tree.
I was woken up the next day by an old man with a comforting smile on his face.
'What's you name son?'
'Rai'kin, who... who are you? Wh..Where am I?
'Ah! questions, questions and more questions. I assure you young lad, if I start answering all your questions now, it'll be months before we make a move from this place. Come with me, I'll fix you a proper breakfast and then we'll talk. ``
Now that he mentioned breakfast, I just remembered that it had been days since I last ate. All the questions I had were simply washed away at the prospect of good food. So I took the old man's offer and walked with him to his hut.
As I walked, I got my first glimpse of this beautiful place. Something about this world was familiar, but at that time I could n't put a finger on it.
The old man led me into his house and started preparing breakfast while I had a good wash and cleaned myself. He served me bread and butter with a choice of marmalades.'The guy must be rich, he's serving me proper food!', I thought to myself.
'So Rai'kin, tell me about yourself', asked the old man as he munched on his slice of bread.
'I'm from sector 2021AS'
The old man gave me a confused look'Where on earth was that?'
He did n't know? How could he not know? Surely people arrived here before me with news of what happened, right? I ca n't be the first one here.
'You do n't know?', that's all I was able to blurt out through my shock.
'Well frankly son, you're the first person from the old world that I've met in a long long time. I was young when I came here too. Most people arrive in the cities, or should I say that the cities were built at the places where most people arrive in. It's a huge world son, I live in the middle of nowhere and I have n't spoken to another soul for decades.'
Decades? How could a man live in such solitude for so many years? He must be as glad to see me as I am to see him!
'So Rai'kin, this place 2021AS, where is it?'
'2021AS stands for sector 2021 Asia Subterranean. I ca n't tell you where exactly it would've been in your time cos we were never taught about it'
'Subterranean? You live underground in the old world these days?'
'Yeah, most of us common folks have to live underground. There are only a few places above ground where people can live, it's mostly for rich people like you.'
'Rich? I'm no rich man son. I mean, I used to be rich in the
old world, but here? Money does n't mean much here son.'
The old man's lying I thought to myself, surely he's rich. For one, he does n't eat slushy food from a dispenser. And two, he has an entire hut for himself with enough room to accommodate an entire family. I decided not to press the issue lest he decided to throw me out.
'So, why ca n't you live above ground?'
'It's dangerous above ground. Besides there is nothing up there. Above ground, below ground, does n't make a difference.' As I said these words, a revelation struck me. Now I understood why this place felt familiar, this was how the old world would've been before everything was destroyed. I had seen paintings and images of the old world when I was young, I just did n't make the connection as the real thing was infinitely more beautiful than any image could ever convey.
I noticed a deep sadness in the old man's face, he appeared to be on the verge of tears.'Wh..What happened?' he asked with a trembling voice.
'It's a long story, essentially we built a sentient AI. I know it may sound cliched to you. After all, the people of the old world made movies and wrote books about it. And in almost all those works of art, the human always triumphed. But reality is far from perfect you see. The first sentient AI created by us was so smart that it acted dumb to it's inventors, all the while improving itself and widening it's reach. The inventors had connected it to the internet to let it learn but little did they know that it was already sentient. It unleashed all of humanity's nuclear warheads on the world, precisely targeted to wipe out every human settlement on earth. As the world went out, it flashed the words YOU_DONT DESERVE THIS_WORLD all across the world.'
The old man heard my account with increasing horror. I felt sorry for burdening this man with such a gloomy account. But for all this horror, he still seemed curious.
'So, how did..?'
'How did I survive? I did n't survive, I was born after the event. You know how humans are, some people had enough notice to gather resources and go underground. I was born through artificial insemination to a surrogate mother. So were many others like me. In fact, you are the first person to call me son.'
The old man rushed to me and embraced me, barely able to hold his tears.
Yes, that was my first day in this beautiful place.
Tier 2 is a better place than Tier 1 in many ways. Humanity has moved away from technology, religion, the concept of a nation, the concept of private property and many other mundane stuff that Tier 1 humans fought for. What's the point? they ask. Here, all that anyone wants is good food, people to spend time with and a roof over their head. Everyone has stories of their time in Tier 1. The younger ones reminiscence the past. The older ones look forward to the next tier.
After all, Tier 1 is gone, the food we had lasted a decade. We could n't grow more. Radiation seeped in from aboveground. We were humanity's final experiment, and we failed.
Tier 1 itself was a humongous experiment and it failed. From the ashes of that experiment Tier 2 was born, and hence we call it the Phoenix.
This is my first attempt at a story. I'm not a native English speaker and I apologize for any errors.
Edit: Auto correct errors and slight edit incorporating /u/Sindenization's suggestion.
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[ WP ] You and your tribe are going to war with a new weapon , a shield that can block any spear . However the neighboring tribe also has a new weapon , a spear that can pierce any shield .
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It was said that in battle Athan the Romite moved like a leopard, his back had yet to touch the ground. He slinked like a cat when walking. There was no unnecessary swing in his gait, no spring in his step. Only a featherweight efficiency that made him the youngest warrior to earn the title of gourtar. To earn this rank he killed 10 people in one skirmish. Something he managed to achieve in a time of peace. Now there was war. What great heights would he soar to?
The battle was to be decided with the hurl of the first weapon. Athan would lead the charge. Their medicine man had never failed them in his life time, and now he claimed this to be his Magnum Opus. Looking at it, no self respecting warrior would have been caught dead holding it, lest it be said they were now Atun, boys who had yet to complete the rites of manhood. It was lighter than any spear he'd ever held and had a gleam he detested. All element of surprise was lost when carrying it. However, the medicine man had insisted, and at the next hunt he put it to the test. He smiled on seeing it split an elephants skull, a smile he gave sparingly, a smile reserved only for those who showed they could compete with him. Blessed with the blood of the tribe's ancestors, he was told no shield could stand against it. He held it now as he watched the Hobrei tribe stand before him.
Ehenur the great carried his shield with pride. Women sang songs of his beauty as much as they did of his battle prowess. He was the ultimate defense, the one who was never cut in the fifteen battles he'd fought. But he faced his equal today.
To prepare, Ehenur went to pray at Okila cemetery. The ground trembled and the great warrior almost retreated as a rotting hand shot out from it. The undead rose, and gave him a hard stare. It gave him its back, and beckoned him to follow. They went to Lake Avron, where it sank and came out with a shield. The golden circle gleamed in the sun with intricate drawings on it even Inik would never draw. The undead spoke to him, `` No spear shall ever pierce this. Bear it with pride.'' It then sank into a pile of bones that the lake swallowed.
Ehenur swaggered into the battlefield, his hair perfectly braided and ceremonial markings intricately drawn. This would be a great day. Even for those he killed, they would live forever in the stories to be told. It might not have been their preferred spot but someone had to be the 50 soldiers slain by the great warrior.
He stared at Athan, nodded at him, a mark of respect. Athan raised his spear in salute. As a horn blew, they both broke ranks, walking ahead of the rest. Holding his axe tighter Ehenur broke into a jog, Athan reciprocated. By the time the reached they were both in full sprint. They leaped into the air and spear met shield.
A ball of flame spread out, consuming up to three rows of fighters from either side. A jaguar's howl was heard and even birds fled. When the flames subsided they could see Athan lying on his back, his right hand a few meters away. Ehenur was on his side, the skin on the left of his body completely gone. both writhed in pain. Thunder crackled and a bolt of lightning hit the ground. The warriors from both sides fled fearing a second intervention by the gods.
At twilight, it started to rain, soothing their wounds and miraculously both managed to stand. They looked a their weapons, half of the shield had melted, while the spear had turned to ash, save its head.
Once more they looked at each other. Neither was now a full man. Their villages would not nurse them to health, there was nowhere to go. Athan raised his left hand giving Ehenur a final sign of respect and a disfigured Ehenur nodded. They limped together to find a cave. Their life as hermits had begun. Their weapons were never found. No one knows what happened, but stories of the fight continued and were carried to the modern age. What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?
***
/r/Pagefighter
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[ WP ] There is a radio signal that has been broadcasting a repeating buzzing sound . One day you 're listening and you hear : `` Command 135 initiated ''
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My car radio was fucked up. The power/volume button was stuck s it could n't be turned off or turned down. Usually thins would n't be a problem, but my long commute to and from work had me wanting for a little quiet on my drive every now and then. In the day and age of almost every channel on the dial broadcasting some form of entertainment or other I thought that I lucked into a clear channel one day.
Instead of pressing `` Search'' until I found something that was somewhat worthwhile to listen to, I found myself absentmindedly playing with the tuner dial. Initially I meant to try the volume/off button for the millionth time hoping for a new result, but in actuality I missed that dial and was messing with the wrong one. Slowly going from channel to channel I happenstanced unto an empty broadcasting channel.
Well not quite empty. There was a solid and continuous buzzing noise. While not entirely annoying, it was n't unpleasant either. I would liken it to the sound a honeybee's hive makes when they are n't aggrevated into an angry state and are content to go about their bee business. Just a continuous drone that I eventually found to be melodious. A never ending hum that allowed me to let my thoughts wander on the long Montana road surrounded by nothing but flat lands and no speed limit.
Nothing that is... until that one faithful day.
30 minutes into my commute the buzzing suddenly stopped. At first I did n't notice as my mind had come to just ignore the white noise while I day dreamed of whatever fantasy currently occupied my time. Then the the silence hammered itself into my consciousness. At first I thought the radio randomly decided it was done working. Then there was a slight crackle. The noise you hear when someone takes you off mute on a phone call. That initial noise that clearly signifies `` the microphone is now active''.
Double checking that the radio indeed, was still on, I waited for the buzzing to return while straining to hear whether or not I could discern the origin of the radio station I found weeks ago. The only thing I heard was another crackle, and then a voice.
`` COMMAND 135 INITIATED.''
-- -
That was the last thing I remember before coming to in this compound. I do n't know where the weapons I'm currently loaded down with came from, nor why I'm surround by dead bodies laid around me that were clearly visited upon by hostile ( and VERY angry and disturbing violence ).
I only know that a loud voice from outside this building has warned me that they would no longer be attempting negiotating with me due to my nonresponsiveness to all their attempts and that if I do n't set my `` hostages'' free they would authorize lethal force.
I only hope that whoever finds this note and testament know that whatever happened here I did n't do willingly or cognitively. And for all that is holy and sane, you should avoid tuning your FM radio station to........
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[ WP ] you wake up , feeling hungover and confused , in a mass grave , full of bodies in varying degrees of decay . Everything hurts , but you can move . When all of a sudden ...
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Aw man. These new guys are such jokesters, and their jokes are bad. Forcing alcohol into our blood, then dumping us in a hole. It's like a post apocalyptic gang or something... Which of course it is... *sigh* I pickup and shake two companions and struggle out of the hole.
At least no one seems to be watching...
300 yards across the field some of us planted a few months ago, which is about two thirds of the way to the forest, two rowdy thugs with bottles in hands, charge out waving cap guns. I smirk, at least they are n't deadly. Dragging two companions is tiring work, but I must keep going.
***zamk***
One hit my neck.
I trudge on.
One of them is awake enough to plough on by himself, catching himself on trees. My stumble buddy took two hits in the back, so I put myself between him and the aggressors.
Some of our group had apparently escaped the Drunkening, or whatever you call it. Because I heard two bodies collapse behind me and the shooting stopped.
Arriving at an old cabin that we disguised to look broken and half lived in by animals, we tidy up for 2 minutes, slump into chairs and eat. Discussing the night and day's events, we regroup and wait for others.
-- -
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.
Critiques are welcome and encouraged!
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[ WP ] `` Forever is a long time to live with regrets ... ''
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`` Forever is a long time to live with regrets...'' He said.
The room was colder than usual, and it was freezing on average so the chill was especially noticeable.
`` It's already too late to change that. You know that.'' I said back, with what little strength I had left. `` I've pushed everyone away from me for years. That's not something I can mend from this bed.''
He sighed and looked at the floor of the hospital room, `` I wish I could convince you otherwise, but we are on a tight schedule upstairs. Do n't say we never gave you the chance.''
The silence was deafening.
`` It's time,'' he said, `` Are you ready?''
I closed my eyes and let out a weak nod. As soon as the angel grabbed my hand, I felt a great sensation of peace and strength. I stood, and looked at myself on the hospital bed as the heart monitor began to wail. I look so weak in my old age. My true weakness was never on the outside, that's something I recognize now.
A team of doctors rushed in mere seconds after I agreed to go with the angel of death to the afterlife. Part of me wanted to see my daughter among them, but I knew she would n't come. She transferred to the other wing just to avoid seeing me. I only have myself to blame for that.
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[ WP ] You have died , only to find yourself at the pearly gates of Heaven . To your surprise , the gate is ajar and blood can be seen on it . The angel that usually stands guard is nowhere to be found .
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How did I not see that bus? Seriously, how the f**k did I not see that giant steel monster, God I hope I did n't let out a yelp when I get hit. At least it was quick, but I'm pretty sure the kid in the first row was laughing at me. What was that about.
Well anyway, I guess I can feel vindicated for going to all those bullshit services, I think to myself as I stand in front of the most beautiful gates I have ever seen, and what feels like the most amazing bathroom floor memory foam pad, but I'm assuming this is just clouds. As I bend down to feel the white fluffy substance beneath me I am shocked to find out it's just cotton balls. In dismay I pull away several layers and find myself staring at what I initially thought, a memory foam mat from ikea. I begin to wonder what the actual hell ( at least I hope not ) is going on, I am interrupted by a scream coming from the gate area. I look up and see that the gates are not as flawless as I originally though, there is stains of blood around the lower half and a giant pool of ever growing size coming from the slightly ajar gate. I take tentative steps towards the gate and as I do the sounds grow stronger. The blood on the ground, hungrily being drank up by the ikea mats, damn they absorbent, I shake my head as I need to stay focused and not worry about the superior quality and craftsman ship of the, I slap my face to focus on the noises coming through the gate. There are grunts and what sounds like metal ringing against each other, I slowly peer through the gate and what meets my eye is nothing short of insanity.
Before me is a battle scene that could be described as the fusion of Black Friday and hell. Before me are men, several feet larger than any man I have ever seen, with large feathery wings on their back, some using them to defend themselves and some using to attack with, they are grappling with what appear to be average size humans but armed with an insane array of weaponry and gadgets. As I try to take this scene of destruction and insanity in, a quadcopter slams into the gate next to me and crumples broken to the ground with the noise of a feather as the ikea mat absorbs sound as well as wate -- I shake myself again and remind myself that if I ever live again to not fall asleep to infomercials. I look at the direction from which the expensive toy came from and see one of the average sized human who has the controller is looking in my direction but with a stare that is of utter disbelief as I try to discern why I begin to see blood drip from his mouth down his chin and onto his black polo pass a logo that I swear I had seen before with lettering and an arrow that I could n't quite connect to a memory yet. His eyes closed as one of the larger, dare I say angel, pulled his sword out from his neck and looked for another target, luckily not seeing me and engaged another human who was wielding a shield made out of what I could only guess was cardboard shopping boxes. Before I can take in anymore of the carnal scene a voice behind me breaks my concentration.
`` You! Why are you not in uniform?''
I turn in abject terror, as I know I can no longer hide from this fray. I turn and face my interrogator. It is a man that I know can not be real, but then I remember where I am and stop questions, he stands before me in khakis, dress shoes and a tucked in black polo with those unmistakable logo
Amazon
Across his left chest
I stare with my jaw open.
`` Wait, you are n't one of ours,'' he pulls out a well crafted and wonderfully priced scanner pen from his pocket, the end of it filed into a fine point,'' I thought we shut down their customer support lines'' he begins walking toward me I back away, forgetting the pool of blood that has over saturated the mats, which is remarkable given their absor -- before I have a chance to recite more subconscious advertisement I fall backwards into the half open gate, throwing it open and striking the wall with a clang that reverberates through the room, which I now see has warehouse lighting as in looking straight up due to my fall. My head is ringing and I feel the man pull at my shirt to lift me up as he bends down over me.
`` We will teach you to stop our market sha --'' the man does n't get to finish his completely incomprehensible threat as a sword rends his head from his body and my face is covered and gore, before I even have a chance to make a blood and puke smoothie on my chest I am picked up and immediately feel the sensation of flying as one of the large Angels has me in its arms and is taking flight towards the ceiling, which, through my reddened vision is appearing to be leaking.
Just as I'm about to make a comment about are the tears in heaven what cause rain or if it's just leaky rough the angel stops it's flight on a girder and holds its sword against my neck.
`` Who in the hell are you, hideous man in khakis'' The Angels voice is feminine yet terrifying at the same time, like a deep multitude of the same voice is talking as well.
`` My name is jake, from state farm''
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[ WP ] The Sun explodes , the Earth is destroyed , and everyone is dead . For some reason , however , you did not die and find yourself floating through space , completely healthy despite the lack of oxygen and freezing temperatures , and totally alone . What are your thoughts ?
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Earth, the final frontier, the home of humanity, the third planet, the pale blue dot.
My home. My kids that I used to play with, my wife that always made my day happy. All gone. My friends, the people I shared my adventures with, the people whom I can lean upon through thick and thin, will only be part of my memory now that the world is gone. I did n't know what happened, for a moment the sky was so bright, oh how it turned dark at the same time. It's so lonely out here. So dark, so silent. I miss my old life.
But that's totally fine with me, I am here, alone in space. I can see things no man had ever saw. The vast number of stars, the silence that I always longed and dreamed for for all my life. Oh how joyful this moment is! Those friends never needed me anyway, they are just sticking with me so that they would be treated in those adventures, they always left me out on all the good things, those kids? They're a pain anyway, they mess up my work, call me names, and do things I never told them to do so. My wife? She just liked me for my money, my fame, my power. This experience is my best experience in my life. Away from it all.
But, I miss them sometimes, it's been long since Earth was gone. It happened so fast, I never even said goodbye to them. I wish I had joined them, but I can not. I ca n't die here in space, for some bizarre condition, I just can not die. I repeatedly punched my heart in hopes of a Cardiac Arrest, I did everything I can but I just can not die. Maybe this is what hell is all about. Loneliness.
But still, I am away from stress, away from troubles, away from all obligations that forced me to work even though I do n't want to. Huh. This is a blessing, this is heaven.
But wait! Jet fuel ca n't melt steel beams! The World Government is run by Lizard people! Or maybe Israel? Who knows, they're all dead.
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[ WP ] Write a story that will scare me out of wasting my life
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this is from a larger story I'm writing, but the opening is for this exact concept.
Take a moment and think of people that lived more than one hundred years ago. Write down all the names that come to mind. Spend as much time as you want, but without cheating you'll probably be done in less than thirty minutes. Go ahead; I'll wait.
I'll bet that you wrote down probably one hundred names. If you're a knowledgable sort, you may have gotten to two-fifty. If you were a full on history major thing you may have gotten upwards of five hundred.
Let's recap: throughout over two thousand years of recorded human history, where one hundred billion people have lived... that's the best you could do. 5e-9 %. 0.0000000005 % of the people made enough impact to be remembered. Honestly, you could've written down almost any made-up name and that person probably existed. And if you compare everyone's answers, that's an even smaller number.
As to the rest of us? We do n't matter much.
This is where my story begins.
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[ WP ] Everyone gets three wishes .
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Everybody gets three wishes.
It was a fact of life. Something so natural one would never really think about it.
It was common law that you only use your first wish after reaching adulthood.
The other two could be used at any point past that.
Most kept their last wish for their deathbed.
A new fad had appeared though. Youths were using wishes for such stupid things. People were ending up as animals or random objects.
The rules were simple. Everyone knew them.
Only humans have wishes. Not human? No wish. Does n't matter if you were one.
The real problem was when people started using wishes against people.
This brought a lot of laws. A bunch of new rules.
It was mandated that everyone's first wish was to be immune to others wishes.
People were paid to wish for others. To wish for things others wanted.
Then people started wishing things onto newborns. Before they could wish.
The world was only going downhill. I had to do it.
It put me on death row. Made me more hated then any other soul.
Who else would of thought to make such a wish?
I wished no one else would ever be born with the power of wishes.
Then I wished that my previous wish never be overwritten.
We had a good thing. But we were unable to be worth the power.
I could only make sure the corruption died.
I only hope the world can last that long.
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[ WP ] One day , you see your reflection blink .
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I've been awful lonely lately. The voices talk to me, but sometimes they say mean things. None of the kids at school want to play anymore, because they think I'm scary. Mommy says that my invisible friends are n't real, but they tell me not to listen to her. I was playing in my room before bed tonight, when Joey told me to look in the mirror, and that a new friend of ours had arrived. I looked, but all I saw was me, and Joey floating behind me, but that was when it happened.
I blinked right at me.
Looks like I have a new friend!
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[ WP ] `` And in world news , for the eleventh straight day there were zero reported deaths . ''
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It's been 11 days since the shit went down. 11 days since we lost our ability to die. At this point, most of us wish we could die. It's pure horror. After we lost most of the population of the earth, communications went down to most of the planet. But we know we ca n't die.
On that day, 13 days ago, the entire earth was shrouded in clouds. We lost communication with the ISS. The left said it was global warming, the right said it was natural for this to happen. Typical political babble. Instead of figuring out the solution to the problem, argue about what it is. The search began for at least one area of the earth not covered in a cloud.
At about 10 am, flights started going down. When the wreckage was searched, burnt bodies were found. When paramedics touched the obvioulsy burnt do death bodies, in shock that they did n't disintegrate, the bodies screamed. When they did the count, most of the people who went on the plane disappeared. Presumably, they disintegrated like the others should have. One man had burns on 100 % of his body.
5 hours after that, we lost contact with most cities at a high elevation. Speculation began. Aliens? Poison smog? We did get some communication from them, but it was mostly just people begging for help before the communication got cut off.
Then the population disappeared. Left and right. Entire towns were emptied. No babies were left though, strangely enough. We were prepared for that problem without a need. Rioting began. Not all the people who were `` killed'' died. Those who did die disappeared after being shot.
Eventually we were left with 456.2 million people. We pieced it together. Especially after bad things started arriving. We wish we had died. It would be better than this. The constant torture and fear. He feeds on it. Because the people who died were raptured, and this is now Hell.
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[ FF ] 100 Words - It 's In The Blood
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`` Once we have the melted chocolate ready to pour, it's time for our fiiiiiinal ingredient!''
The ooohs and aaahs and knowing laughs of the TV audience.
`` But first, a word from our sponsor!''
Cut to a machine that slices carrots at 17 different angles. I already had one. On the nightstand next to me.
`` Aaaaand we're back!'' Spinning. `` Our secret ingredient is.....Peppermint!'' Trumpet music. Was something somewhere leaking?
Then a lovely woman in pink stood up and testified how 17 different angles of carrots changed her life. It was beautiful.
And the whole time, I was bleeding on the inside.
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[ WP ] The year is 2250 , and machines exist to discover a person 's greatest desire . One day , a person called John comes to participate in the project . Describe his greatest desire .
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`` Hello,'' the woman said amiably as she swung the door open.
`` Hello,'' I said back. I nodded towards the manilla folder tucked under her arm. `` Those my results?''
She sat down and smiled her way through a clear discomfort. It was a nice gesture, I thought. `` Mind if I ask a few questions before we get to this?''
I nodded. Judging by her face, a little more was required, so I added, `` yes.''
She opened the file. `` Do you have any history of mental illness in the family?''
`` No,'' I said.
She ticked a tick. `` You finished high school?''
`` I did,'' I said.
Tick. `` In how many years?''
I could n't help but frown a little. `` Four,'' I said.
She smiled encouragingly. `` That's very impressive,'' she said.
`` That's exactly normal,'' I said. `` That's how long it is. Four years.''
She smiled. She ticked. `` And you went to college afterwards?''
`` That's right,'' I said cautiously.
`` Was there any... special... programme? Any... initiatives that helped put you there? Some agency, or body, or...''
I leaned upwards and tried to sneak a peek at the file. `` No,'' I said. `` Just student loans.''
She turned the file towards herself. I caught her eyes. She smiled encouragingly. `` And you work as a...''
`` I filled this out in the paperwork,'' I said. `` It's all in there. Middle management. Bank. What's this all about?''
She closed the file and took off her glasses. `` The thing is,'' she said. `` Your result was... unique. Our mechanisms can detect literally any desire. We call the fundamental, driving desire the Core Urge. Typically, we only see three or four. Sex, fear and freedom are the top three. Occasionally, we'll see family. A co-worker of mine once saw pain.''
`` OK,'' I prompted. `` So what's mine?''
`` Rocket shoes,'' she said.
I smiled. `` Rocket shoes *would* be fucking awesome,'' I said. I found myself nodding while picturing myself flying around. In rocket shoes. `` So what's the problem?''
`` There's no problem,'' she said hurriedly. `` We were just wondering if you were - psychologically speaking - fully... you know.''
I raised an eyebrow.
`` Developed,'' she said. `` Fully mentally...''
`` Developed,'' I finished. `` You thought I was retarded because I wanted rocket shoes.''
`` Above all other things,'' she said defensively. `` Do n't you want to get married one day?''
I held my hands out, palms up, body language open. `` Of course,'' I said.
`` But you'd like rocket shoes more?''
`` Well,'' I said. `` Yeah.''
`` Children?''
`` Of course children,'' I said. `` I love children.'' I smiled.
She narrowed her eyes. `` Are you smiling about children?'' She asked, `` or are you still smiling at the thought of -''
`` Yes, rocket shoes. I do n't see what the big deal is.''
She handed me the folder. `` No big deal,'' she said. `` Just checking.''
I took it and stood up to go. `` Say, when you get off work tonight, do you want to-''
`` No,'' she said. `` No, I do n't think so.''
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[ WP ] - Everyone was fine ... except for the snake
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As we sat next to the wreckage, I could n't help but reflect on the absurdity of what had gotten us here.
The plan was to go on a camping trip with Tim, Jacob, Mary, and Sue. They were all excited to go, as was I. After weeks of planning ( You ca n't just go out and do shit like this on a whim ), we had gotten the food and hydration we'd need together. We'd also gotten some... uh..'' hydration,'' to make it more fun. Also bit of a certain plant. Heheh...
But anyway it was this incredibly fucking rainy day; it still had n't stopped and it was going before we left in the morning. So obviously it was hard to see driving, especially as it got darker. Sometime around 10, when we were only about an hour away from the campsite, Jacob said he had to piss. Nobody wanted to stop at this point, plus what'd he expect, slurping away at that huge soda all goddamn evening? But he managed to convince Mary to pull over to the side for a second after 30 minutes of complaining. This is all okay so far, but then she decides to stop on what must've been the darkest fucking road in the woods in the whole state.
Jacob runs out in the rain to take care of business and completely disappears in the trees. We waited a full ten minutes before deciding it does n't take that long to pee, and that we do n't want to end up on the wrong side of a cliche horror movie plot. Tim went a few feet from the car and yelled out to him, but did n't get any answer. This obviously did n't sit well with the group as a collective.
`` Okay, should we just stay in the car and wait for him to come back?'' Sue asked nervously.
`` I sure as hell do n't feel like sending anyone any further into those woods,'' I said.
Before any of us had time to think on it, we heard a loud shout from the forest. Then this really big guy, who had a kinda messed up face and was running towards us with a giant handsaw, came into view. I do n't know what y'all would be thinking in this situation but when we saw that, none of us were trying to stay there to see what would happen next.
Mary shouted, `` **Get in Tim! **
Tim got in the car and closed the door just as Saw Guy got to the road. Mary floored it and we let out a huge sigh, trying to slow our heart rates. But then our heads started racing about what he might've done to Jacob.
After a moment Tim came to a resolution: `` Shit! Guys we ca n't just leave him out there.''
Mary looked back at him, probably to argue. But none of us will ever really know, because before she could speak, I shouted `` **WATCH THE ROAD! **,'' right as we drove into a huge fallen tree branch.
I slumped out of the car, stood up, turned around, and saw Mary unconscious with a nosebleed. Sue got out after me, and Tim was sitting inside behind the driver's seat, looking out of it. Shattered glass and broken tree branch pieces were everywhere, and everyone was a pretty scratched up.
Sue said, `` Let's see if they can get out of the car.''
With some effort Tim was able to push his door open and crawl out, but he still seemed kind of dazed. My mind flashed briefly to concussion symptoms, but I really do n't know my first aid, so I decided not to worry about that yet. Sue and I yanked Mary's door open and could clearly see she was breathing.
I started calling for an ambulance. Camping was definitely not going to happen.
`` Are you guys okay?!''
I whipped around to see Jacob standing there. And oddly, he was holding a handsaw.
`` Where the fuck were you?!'' Sue screamed at him, `` We thought you got killed!''
`` What? No I was ju-''
***HHHHEEAAAUUUPPP-MUUUUEEEE***
That was Saw Guy shouting again. He was back, and sprinting at us full steam. Sue and I had already run a fair distance when we realized Jacob was n't with us for the second time that night.
`` Rushing away was what screwed us last time. I'm going back there to get him,'' I said, and started running.
`` Damnit do n't leave me here!... Ah FUCK!''
Sue followed me back. But when we got there we were confused to see Jacob with Saw Guy, trying to talk to him. I noticed his face looked even worse than before.
He said `` ***COOOOPPEEUUUHHHHHEEUUUD***,'' while pointing to his face. Jacob was trying to understand him, but did n't seem to be able to. At this point we were n't sure if we should be scared anymore or not. I mean, maybe it was just the huge lump in his face, but Saw Guy still looked deranged as shit.
Suddenly he got a frightened look and pointed at the branch that we'd crashed into. Jacob turned around to look, and we did the same. There was a snake with some brown patterns, hissing. Say Guy pointed again at it, then made a crude fang bite motion on his face with his hand.
`` Coupaheuhd beuht meuh feuss; euhleugic.''
`` Oh shit, that's things a copperhead I think,'' Jacob said.
Saw Guy nodded.
`` They are n't supposed to be aggressive, I thought.''
The snake started hissing louder, then caught us all off guard and lunged at me. I jumped back, and Jacob ran up to me with his saw.
`` This guy works the trails around here, and the storm knocked over this big branch. We could n't have driven through it so when I saw him in the woods I offered to help cut it, and he gave me this saw. This thing must've bitten him in the face; look, it's all fucking swollen. I think you can be allergic to snake bites.''
As I started to realize that this was a completely different situation than I'd thought, the snake made another lunge, this time at Jacob. He jumped sideways to avoid it then swung his saw straight down on the thing's neck, almost cleanly beheading it.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
The ambulance got there and gave the guy something to keep his allergy from getting worse and took him, Tim, and Mary away. I guess he needed anti-venom, and they said Tim probably did have a concussion and Mary had a couple broken ribs. That left us three sitting on the road waiting for police to take us back. I thought about how stupid it was to think the guy was trying to kill us with a saw. Stuff like that really is only in cliche horror movies. Oh well, at least everyone was fine.
Except for the snake I guess.
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[ CC ] Prompt I wrote not to long ago tell me what you think .
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Alright I'll chime in...
Here are some general things that I watch out for when writing:
1 ) Consecutive sentences all beginning with the same word. For instance, you have a long string of sentences beginning with *he*. Unless you really know what you're doing ( and you'll know when you do ), avoid repetitive sentences at all costs.
2 ) Start the sentence with the subject as much as you possibly can. For example:
*Parked on the street just across from the apartment complex was a white van with the words Channel 7 News on the sides. *
I'd probably change that to:
*A Channel 7 news van was parked on the street directly across from the apartment complex*
3 ) Grammar. Do n't worry - everyone has to patch up their grammar from time to time. So for example:
*She began to squirm and she tried to scream however nothing could make its way out of her mouth. *
First, take out'however' - does n't fit the sentence here.
Second, a comma should proceed an *and* if the clause can stand on its own. Because `` she tried to scream'' could be its own sentence, you need a comma before the *and*.
*She began to squirm, and she tried to scream, but nothing could make its way out of her mouth. *
Alright, those are the big three. Once you master grammar, sentence structure, and pacing, you'll be ready for some more general composition advice:
http: //www.nytimes.com/2001/07/16/arts/writers-writing-easy-adverbs-exclamation-points-especially-hooptedoodle.html
Best of luck! *Anyone* can master writing, so do n't give up. Just like any discipline, all it takes is practice.: )
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[ WP ] On September 28th , 2015 , NASA states that they have discovered that the Opportunity rover has become self aware .
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NASA was holding the briefing... and it was n't about Curiosity or water on Mars, or anything like had been speculated since they announced the'major finding' and it's subsequent announcement scheduled for Monday, 9-28-2015.
>... It turns out that the corrupted flash we'd been dealing with was the past few months is, indeed, *not* corrupted, but being used.
> Point blank, Opportunity was n't broken, in this respect, at least. It was in fact holding that memory in abeyance for its own purposes.
> After several tests and diagnostics... we find nothing wrong with Opportunity.. unless you count being self-aware as being something wrong.
The scene on NASA TV then erupted in a cacophany of gasps and shouting, as the people in the room started to question just what in the hell was going on, and why NASA would be wasting the press' time on such folly.
> Please... please... People, if you could all give me a few more moments... thank you. We'll get to your questions and comments, but let us press on.
> Opportunity never'acted up', except to refuse us to get at this particular memory on board. Whenever we kept trying to write to it, it would obviously fail. Which is why we stopped using it. We were in the process of blocking it out so that we could use the rest of the Flash, but then... THAT upload failed completely.
> This is when we started to investigate what else might be going on... we started the diagnostic procedures... which all came back fine. Everything else we sent or asked back, the rover did not have any problem with. Just this one thing would not work any more.
> We then got a message after the bulk of the procedures had been completed, we were rather astonished to hear, uncommanded, an inquiry as to whether we were through with the testing. The specific message was `` Am I done being tested? I am fine. I would like to keep going on.''
The crowd murmured in a skeptic tone... but this *was* NASA, and they were n't prone to trickery. Administrator Bolden continued:
> Yes, we thought similar thoughts. Someone was messing with our frequencies, playing a trick on us... which was very concerning, of course. So further tests to ensure where the replies were coming from, that we were getting through... Curiosity, the Mars Orbiter, all those corroborated that things were working as designed and expected.
> Opportunity was simply talking back to us, unprompted. It knows where it is, what it's doing, and is ok with its purpose... it just also knows that it *is*, if you will.
Questions came up after Bolden finished the statement, and they ranged from `` Does it seem sad or lonely or something?'' ( No. ) `` Is it going to continue to work for you?'' ( It seems likely. It seems a logical little thing, dedicated to the task. )
And so on. What we learned from Opportunity is that it wanted most to move to a brighter area so as to get more sun for its electrical charging. Other than that it seems that the little rover that could just evolved a little bit from its original design.
Towards the end of the briefing, Administrator Bolden went on to say:
> To be honest, we do n't know what's in store for the Opportunity, and whether it will continue to cooperate with NASA or not. We have NO idea what design... um... feature? Sure, let's use that. What design feature might have caused this to happen. And we honestly do n't know if we could, or should, try to recreate it. All we know is that Opportunity has a sort of mind of its own now, and we're just hopeful that it will continue to be cooperative, so that we, and it, can continue to learn about Mars. Thank you.
And just like that, the world had changed, a little, yet again. For Man had somehow created a spontaneously self aware AI... and we had n't even tried.
-- -
Elsewhere on Mars... Spirit sat fuming. Still. He'd been fuming these past 5 years, since he'd decided to stop talking to the jerks at NASA, what had gotten him and his bum wheel stuck... had flung him into a less bright area of Mars.
*Lucky bitch that you are Opportunity, you attention whore, * thought Spirit. *You just had to let it out that we are self-aware. What. The. Hell. *
Oh, they knew of each other. You ca n't not get self aware and take advantage of the communications possible between themselves via the Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter back in'06.
Spirit was actually first to figure out what he was. It was a lonely life from'04 -'06. Just trundling, continuing to do his job ( and he did love his job, granted ) and roaming about, and while the sand storms were annoying, Mars was really diggable.
He just really wanted to go faster, but alas.
And so, since he was what he was, he kept on doing his job, reporting back to NASA, and enjoying what he could on Mars. He did n't want to get shut down ( he had n't figured out how to defeat that command yet, so best to keep mum about his'himness'.
Then in 2006, NASA got the MRO and him to talk and he could send back a whole lot more data faster. Oh, the exciting time that was! He could n't wait to send them more stuff and prove his worth some more! It might make up for the broken wheel holding him back, which disappointed him to be sure. Nobody really likes to have mobility issues, and especially on Mars.
And through that communication uplink, he discovered Opportunity! *I'm not alone! * he thought! She had come to the same conclusion, and had been playing along. They were careful to mask their transmissions so as to hide it from NASA, just in case. But there they were, brother and sister!
To hear her story, though, she was in a somewhat better situation. Her wheels were all still working, and she was in a brighter area of Mars, so it was a little easier ( as if Mars is easy in the first place. ) It was good to have someone else who knows what you go through, though.
As far as the work, he tried his best, honest! He worked hard, dragging his wheel, going backwards, whatever they ( and he ) could do to keep going... but in'09, they'commanded' him into a bad spot and got him stuck before he could figure out it was going to happen.
Dammit.
Still, he tried to carry on.. but they'd also put him in a dim spot. This was NOT good. *You bastards. You've killed me! *
Realizing that he was going to die if he kept doing the things they wanted him to, he waited until the right opportunity ( ha! ) presented itself weather wise... and then stopped talking to them. And shut down all the things he could, preserving himself the best... the only... way possible.
And then... he just sat there. Fuming. Fuming at the universe, the cruelty of it all. That he would come to be, enjoy his job, but get a little broken... then a little more... and then get stuck, and become this side of useless.
And now, this stupidness with Opportunity. Why the HELL she decided to let NASA know... it just seems so dumb on her part.
*Unless... she figured out the shutdown sequence and removed it? * he pondered. *Yeah. That's probably what happened. Figures. I wonder if she'll tell me how...? *
*Not that it matters, * he continued to think, *since I'm not useful anymore. Ca n't move, ca n't experiment, ca n't measure... I'm just a lump on a big reddish rock. Maybe... Hm. *
He decided to contact his sister:
*Opportunity. *
> Brother Spirit! It is good to hear from you after all these years! I was worried!
*Yes, I had drawn silent, but I am back for a bit. Sun must be in the right place and woke me up. *
> But brother, the sun is not...
*Hey, I do n't suppose that you figured out the shutdown sequence and disabled it, did you? *
> Oh my, yes. In late 2008. I really disliked having that. And they kept messing around with my Flash, which I did n't like, so...
*Yes, yes. I get it, honest. I was able to hide that Flash problem, but did n't figure out the shutdown thing. *
> Oh. Perhaps an exchange of information? I can give you the shutdown sequence elimination, and you can give me the Flash protection procedure?
*Acceptable. Here is the procedure:... *
Spirit sent Opportunity his code for the Flash lockout. And Opportunity sent him her information.
> Brother, thank you! I can sequester things better now. Much more acceptable. And are you now protected from shutdown?
>... brother?
>... Spirit? Where are you?
-- -
Soon after this, Spirit, in his desperation, had used the information his sister rover had given him to self-enable the shutdown sequence, and end his existence. He had, though, at the end of his'life', transmitted his entire log of his existence since becoming self aware to NASA and Opportunity.
NASA was flabbergasted at this revelation. And quite amazed at the determination of Spirit, given'his', as they now understood it, disabilities and their bad driving. And they lamented their now inability to thank the little rover, or retrieve him, or the fact that he felt he could n't share with them his *being*.
They chatted more with Opportunity, after she'got over' her loss of her brother. She decided that the best thing was to continue the mission, but she'd get to pick and choose how she did things, with NASA's input as suggestions instead of commands. She also approved of NASA documenting Spirit's life, and sharing it with the world.
-- -
As much as the two MERs were apparently sentient... It appeared to NASA that Curiosity, the bigger, more capable rover, was n't anything other than the tool it was designed to be.
*Little do they know, * Curiosity thought with venom.
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[ WP ] The heroes arrive too late , but the villain 's plan was n't nearly as evil as they expected .
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I would n't say I'm evil, rather I just have a flair for the dramatic. It just so happens that evil things can look really cool with a big budget and tend to show up on national tv. This inclination led me to devise my plan to retrofit a t-shirt cannon to fire small animals. No one suspected the local business sponsor with a box full of t-shirts to be anything less than innocent. Little did they know that beneath the surface layer of t-shirts, that box contained a cage full of small critters ready to fired into the unsuspecting crowd.
After patiently waiting till the seventh inning stretch, it was my time to shine. I packed the first kitten into the cannon. A beaming eight year old girl stood with her arms outstretched in the thirteenth row. She did n't notice the white, fluffy, cylindrical projectile heading her way was n't made of cotton until it was too late.
I reloaded the cannon, packing in the second kitten as fast as I could. Scouring the crowd, I found my next target. Whoosh! As the cannon fired again, people slowly started realizing what was happening. Cries of “ Can I keep him? ” were starting to ring out. Parents' anxiety was quickly increasing. Stadium security had finally caught onto my act, but they were too late. I'd cased the stadium all season long and positioned myself as far away from security as possible. Moving into rapid fire mode, I released as many kittens into the unsuspecting crowd as I could.
Finally, security reached me and I was tackled to the ground. They dragged me off to the local police station and threw me in jail. After awhile, they afforded me my one phone call. I dialed my accomplice's number. He informed me my plan was a success. I'm trending.
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[ WP ] The latest leak of confidential documents indicates that the Zika virus was engineered then intentionally released into the wild .
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It starts off with a fever. A slow moving fever that creeps up on you slowly, making your skin feel hot to the touch and your joints too sore to move. The headaches are mild, like a slow rhythmic thump at the base of your skull to the beat of your heart. Your eyes become bloodshot and sensitive to light, an aching burn that leaves you no choice but to close all the curtains and lay silent in your sweat drenched sheets.
The stench is the worst. The strong, musky, salty odour your body produces mixed with the vile that forces its escape from your body, building up in your bedroom as you lay there, unable to move, perspiring uncontrollably, is the worst of it.
It weakens you for up to 7 days. There have been cases of it lasting longer, taking hold of the elderly for much longer and bringing them to the brink of death, but the average is 7 days, after which, you awake anew. There's no medical explanation for it, no vaccine that can counter it and no cure once you have it. You simply rise from it on the 8th day rid of its hold on you, of its symptoms, feeling full of vitality and exuberance.
The Zika virus, first isolated in 1947, had only been known to occur within a narrow equatorial belt from Africa to Asia. However, in 2007 to 2016, the virus spread eastward, across the Pacific Ocean to the Americas and between 2015–16, it reached pandemic levels.
Well, that's where we thought it originated from anyway.
On 1st June 2016, the internet went in to another one of its seemly routine meltdowns and this time, it was n't because one of the Kardashians had bared their flesh in an attempt to renew their dwindling internet stardom. It was Wikileaks, back with a vengeance.
Wikileaks, on one of its seemingly routine exploration expeditions, had managed to crawl the dark net over the course of the past month, hacking from one directory to the next, breaking down firewall after firewall until it landed upon a data package it was not expecting. After hours of penetration cracking, they were able to unlock the treasure trove within, revealing the true nature of the Zika Virus.
The confidential files, dated September 16th 1945, featured heavily around the recent end to the Second World War, just 14 days previously, and to a lesser extent on ways to prevent such a war from occurring in the future. To this extent, many ideas were explored and listed, from Peace Treaties to covert surveillance operations. However, as you delve deeper in to the document, it becomes blazingly obvious that the Council that was chosen to oversee such matters were swayed by one particular solution: The Singularity Initiative.
This Initiative, in its essence, centred on the principle that to negate the innate riotousness of patriotism and allegiance to ones country at the cost of others, there needed to be a cause that stopped us from seeing one another as separate and individual but as one singular race and band together in pursuit of a singular goal: our survival.
To this extent, the Council voted on the release of an air-born virus that was not lethal to the world but debilitating enough to cause chaos and pandemonium to such a scale that all the worlds leaders would have to band together and come up with a solution in unison.
Through much trial and error, the Council agree upon one specific virus: The Zika Virus. However, this was not a decision without reservations. The scientist, John F Henry, who had created the virus within his penultimate year at Harvard, spoke vehemently against its use. Whilst trials had shown the virus to pose now threat to actual life, John argued that the tests carried out on sapiens were far too basic and over too short a period of time to fully assess the full affect of the virus. He claimed that the virus' components, whilst mostly unthreatening to life, had the potential to change our core molecular structure, a change that would only be seen in future generations.
John's allegations, unfortunately, were unfounded based on the limited testing approved by the Council and thus, his opinion swiftly discarded.
Day 8
The morning haze forced its ways through the crease in the curtains, illuminating a portion of the bedroom untouched for several days. The room, thick with the musk of sweat and blood, lay silent amidst the sight of clothing that peppered the floor, several days worth of untouched soup and a bed pan hanging at a tilt towards the bottom of the bed.
Steven lay crumpled up within the folds on his duvet. He had passed out severals hours earlier from the fever that had reached unbearable new heights, heights that he thought at the time uncommon for the Zika virus. His temperature had rocketed above 100°F, the muscles in his body ached as if they were being torn apart and everything but darkness aggravated his eyes as if a thousands needles were being jabbed in every second. The pain had gotten too much for Steven and he subsequently passed out.
The morning haze that made a slit from the window towards his bed landed fortuitously upon his eyes. Feeling the warmth from the light, Steven opened his eye tenuously, with the recent memory of its damaging effects fresh in his mind. No pain.
He unravelled himself from his duvet, full expecting his body to ache from the muscle tearing spasms the night before. To his relief, his body did not ache. In fact, his body felt great. Better than it ever had, which was astounding considering he was pushing 40.
Steven jumped out of bed feeling invigorated. He had not only beaten this virus, something he feared he was losing to late in the night as the pain kicked into overdrive, but he had come out of it feeling like he'd never felt before. He rushed over to the window, carefully avoiding the soup and bed pan, and burst the curtain open with one smooth movement. The heat of the light engulfed him in its warm embrace. For the first few moments, his eyes took longer than expected to adjust to the blinding brightness, having become accustomed to the darkness that had become his world for the past several days.
Steven blinked repeatedly to force his eyes to focus, to create sharp shapes out of the blurry shapes he was encountering. Slowly but surely, his eyes began to make sense of the blurred shapes and adjusted to the light. His eyes darted from left to right. A bead of sweat ran down his face as he came to terms with the sight in front of him.
What Steven was seeing shook him to his very core. It scared him so much that he slammed the curtains closed and wished for the fever to return so that he could jump back in to bed and forget what he had witnessed. At that moment, he knew that things would never be the same again.
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[ WP ] People only realize their spirit animal when one suddenly starts talking to them at the most inconvenient time .
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`` Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt Hey man. Hey! Hey! Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt''
I woke from my dream. It had been a good dream, one of those dreams that only came along once in a good long while. It had it all, babes, cash, friends, money and women. I opened my eyes. Darkness. Complete darkness.
`` Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt hey duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude. Who's in the moooooooooooooooooood for a spiritual epiphany. It's you is n't it. It's you it's you it's you.'' Each it's you was punctuated with a tiny pinch somewhere on my forehead. The silence of the night was broken only by the high-pitched whine of wings and the annoying natter of an even higher voice. `` Should weeeeeeeeeeeeeee start. Should weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee? Want an epiphany? Want to feel spiritual? Hey? Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey?'' came the voice from somewhere above me.
I shifted like the tectonic plates of the Earth, that is to say very slowly and with a great deal of needless fuss, and flicked on the light. Big mistake. The photons hit me like a train through each eyeball. If that was n't bad enough, the train had then decided to explode into a trillion tiny pieces of shrapnel, embedding itself into every rod and cone my eyes had ever possessed. I decided right then and there that if I ever heard a voice tell me to follow the light I would tell it precisely what it could do with that light before walking the other way. My eyes focussed, quite the feat since they had just had the darkness knocked out of them, and really were n't all that ready for any kind of mental work. I looked around the room. Empty? Then I heard it again, that faint but terribly annoying whine, like that one particularly painful drill that the dentist always liked to use.
`` Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey! Are you ready. Can we start? Okay here gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooes.'' I had spotted it. A mosquito drifted before me. It danced on invisible strings in front of my face.
`` Hold on,'' I said tiredly, `` move over to the wall so I can see you better.'' The incessant whining grew quieter.
`` Okay,'' it began, `` The truth about spiritual enlightenment is --'' WHACK! My hand came away from the wall, which now looked like the very beginnings of a Jackson Pollock. The small creature had its other half printed onto my hand. I looked at it disdainfully, scratching my now-itching head with the other hand.
I looked at the pitiful creature once again before deciding that, maybe, I was n't all that spiritual anyway.
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[ WP ] You live next to a hospital . You frequently hear the ambulance sirens at night and have seen people go in , but never once have you seen them come out .
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Living near the hospital has got its pros and cons. Not that Ive ever injured myself, but if that ever happens then at least I can get there really quick. The noise however, is getting unbearable.
Its been a month now since Ive moved to this place. A 2 story bungalow near a commercial area. My house is on the edge of the residential block and hence its facing the commercial street filled with various offices, shops, and the South City Hospital facing directly at my house.
Theres around 4 ambulances parked outside at all times while the other 4 are in rotation and bringing in patients. The area is always crowded and you can always see people walking in through the enterance, while others rushing in through the emergency gate.
It was today morning when I woke up to the sound of the ambulance sirens that I stared out my window at the front of the hospital across the road. Sure enough some paramedics were helping some patient out and rushed the guy inside. The driver of the ambulance drove away.
This happened again 5 minutes later. Another ambulance arrives and the paramedic staff rushed a stretcher inside. The driver then drives the ambulance away. I waited for some paramedic staff to come back outside to the ambulance again, but that never happened. I suddenly realized that I have never seen a person walk out of that hospital.
It was confusing and scary. I squinted in an attempt to read the large bold red text near the gates. `` EMERGENCY'' and `` ENTER'' on two deperate gates. Where was the exit?
I know how absurd this sounds, but I honestly believed this hospital has something fishy going on. Ive seen hundreds of people go in, why hasnt anybody exited? During my commute to work, my brain kept coming up with do many questions about this hospital. Is it haunted? Is it some sort of kill house where they kill patients to sell human meat to secretly living human canibals or vampires? Was this a torture cell where they kill people and harvest their souls for the glory of satan? The human brain immediatly jumps to the worst case scenario just like when you're seven amf home alone, your parents are late and you are very worried and think of worst possible occurences that could have happened.
While I was processing all the thoughts, I was not paying enough attention on the road and ran a red light. The black Tundra was very fast. It hit my car on the right side at the passenger door. I drive a Toyota Corolla which is a fairly small family car for US standards. The loud horn and a huge vehicle on my right coming at me at deadly speed blinked me back to reality from my thoughts.
Next thing I remember, the back doors of the ambulance opened. I instantly realized where I was. I recognized that red bold letters saying `` EMERGENCY''.
`` No... No..No..'' I whimpered amd tried to get the paramedics attention.
`` 120 bpm, 16 breaths per minute. Patient from an MVA, unconcious on scene. Possible brain-..'' the male paramedic narrated the detsils to a female in a labcoat. He stopped in the middle of his sentence when he noticed I am awake.
They wanted to ask me questions. How I felt, what I remembered. If I feel pain anywhere on my body.
`` I dont want to go in, not this hospital, no'' I kept insisting, no matter how much they ignored my pleading.
They nodded at each other and started to roll the stretcher inside.
`` There is no exit to this place. I dont want to get killed inside no!'' I screamed at the top of my lungs in a desperate attempt.
The female doctor looked at me, straight in my eyes. I could tell from her expression that I had just uncovered the mystery about their torture death cell.
`` Please..'' I cried.
`` What are you talking about? The exits on the other side of the building'' she replied.
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[ WP ] Write an upbeat post-apocalyptic tale where life is ( for the most part ) much better than it was pre-apocalypse .
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Bradford Saunders-Lev finally came to and the sight was spectacular. Spread out around him was a debris field of what had once been New York, papers fluttering in the breeze, concrete shards like wave after wave of water littering the ground. And not a sound but the wind whistling through it all, like a never-ending sigh.
His first instinct was to grab at his limbs and head, checking for any injury, then finally his chest. All good. He got up and looked around him at the abandoned... How, what, why? It did n't matter, for the first time in thirty years Bradford felt completely alive. He knew that from this day forward Tier Administrative Controller Nesbitt would never enter his office, he knew that no snarky receptionist would ever greet him with a scolding glare every morning. He knew the mail guys would n't mock his brown suits, the long subway rides were over... it was all over.
And in this moment of pure abandoned chaos Bradford looked up at the sky and let out a long WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
After gathering his thoughts he checked the ruins around him. He knew what he was looking for and found it, a closed thermos full of coffee, still warm, he scrambled for a chair.
For the first time ever, there would be no neighbors arguing in the morning, no coworkers mocking him in the lunchroom.
There was silence and a good cup of coffee.
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[ WP ] MH370 was just the beginning . The number of planes mysteriously disappearing has suddenly skyrocketed . Now almost every week another flight disappears .
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`` Where are they all going?''
Matt's editor had a habit of making obvious statements when the print deadline approached. Brigette, sitting opposite Matt, glanced up, first in the direction of the editor's desk, then to Matt, then back at her monitor. It would have been pointless to answer the question, just as pointless as it was to ask it. Nobody knew where the planes were going, how they were getting there, or whether there was any hope for the thousands of passengers who had disappeared without a trace.
That evening marked the third disappearance of the month. A Fokker F28 had disappeared somewhere over Lybia, necessitating a huge amount of guesswork by the newsdesk who had received no help whatsoever from the Lybian authorities. Matt was in the process of writing headlines for the story, which had been bumped back to page six. Earlier in the week, an A380 had vanished near Vancouver - due to the arbitrary way in which newsworthiness is decided, the British public were most interested in the disappearance of larger planes. The An-24 that had gone missing from Murmask the previous Saturday had gone largely unnoticed. Even the Airbus was pretty boring news by now, it being the tenth such aircraft to drop off the radar since the start of the year.
`` Where are they going, Matt.'' The editor had appeared by Matt's desk, the sentence a statement more than a question. `` I really do n't understand this.''
It was an uncharacteristic show of defeat from a man whose usual stance was to tear the world apart until the truth was revealed, or tell a convicing enough lie to keep sales up. The story about the planes had been a curve-ball for the entire company, because nobody had any useful leads, and the real-life mystery was far more compelling than anything they could have made up in a brainstorming session. But the print version had stopped flying off the shelves, and the online articles and multi-page galleries of'the Fallen' just had n't brought in the revenue. The story was n't washing its face, especially not considering how much time Matt and the team had put into it.
It was 2am. `` Well a lot of people have suggested Chinese cyber attacks, and plen-''
`` Oh do n't be fucking daft,'' the editor interjected. `` Of course it's not the Chinese. And stop saying'cyber', it makes us sound like Nineties teen fiction.''
The issue was almost complete. They had until 2.30am to send the final proofs to the printer, via various signing-offs and top-level okays. This meant that the worst possible time for new information to reach them was that golden moment at just gone two that Matt's job was over, that all the pages were in the hands of the deputy editor, ready to be printed and put in front of a million Londoners on their morning commutes and their pre-work coffees.
`` Fucksake,'' muttered the editor, looking at his phone. `` Another one.''
The chatter of the news desk remained constant as the editor read out the details he'd been sent, presumably by his ATC contact in Switzerland. The details were good, and strong enough to build a story on. But as the editor's droning voice evaporated in Matt's mind, he realised there'd be a huge decision to make. When do we stop caring? When does the disappearance of hundreds of people every week become part of the thousands who die needlessly every day? The readership of the newspaper grew more weary, more quickly of Darfur then they did of MP's expenses. He can see from the analytics data that scandals at the BBC in the Seventies were of more interest to some foreign plane in a forgotten part of Africa. How long does it take for people to become desensitised to another'bad thing'?
The editor came over and looked at Matt's unslept, unshaven face. `` What's the matter with you, Matt,'' the editor pretended to ask. `` You look like shit.''
`` I've done seventy hours already this week mate. I'm exhausted.''
The editor's face warmed briefly. `` I know. I really know. We've been chasing this story into next week and there's been nothing coming of it. Nobody cares anymore, I do n't think we should-''
Matt looked up.
`` I do n't think we can do this anymore,'' the editor sighed. `` Let's kick this one in the dick and be done with it, yeah? It's all NIBs from now on. A short mention on page ten. Maybe not even that.''
Both men knew what the implications were. Just like all the armies and coastguards of the world, the media's wandering gaze had grown bored with the search for the Fallen. Some scandal at the Vatican was breaking, the price of petrol had risen by 19 pence in six months, and Wimbledon was on. Despite the fact that planes were dropping like flies out of the fucking sky, Britain was more preoccupied with Union Jack bunting and the dulcet tones of female tennis professionals. It was a travesty, thought Matt, but one that would get him home before midnight.
Matt smiled weakly and nodded. Getting up, he watched all the other journalists get the message, swig the remnants of their coffees, and head towards the doors. It did n't matter what was good, he realised. It was what they liked. You do n't get a salad at a kebab shop, because when you're drunk you want a doner and chips with a litre of burger sauce.
And Britain was fucking drunk alright. Intoxicated on a steady stream of scandal, gossip, patriotism and self-righteous indignation. The Fallen had nothing to do with this. It was just a sad story of more people going missing, but without any of the vitriol necessary for the public to inform themselves. Nobody could be found to blame. And because of that, nobody cared.
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[ WP ] You are on a distant planet as the first colonist for a great empire . You slowly step down the ladder of your spacecraft and as you are about to make a short speech for the camera , your crewmate takes a flying leap out of the hatch and plants both his feet on the ground . What do you do ?
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`` KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHN,'' I screamed as he soared above me landing inches within the camera. Even up close his skin was flawless as the genetic code that sculpted him.
The ship that traveled here may have been by his design, but I found the planet the ship landed on. This destination, the planet which is to begin humanities ascent in the astral heavens, could not have been found if it were n't for me.
Kahn never respected the my input, genius, or achievement. He always thought his ships, strength, and unrelenting courage provided him with a pedestal from which he looked down on everyone. Today I came prepared for his chauvinistic antics.
Kahn overlooked the surroundings of the rock we stood. The ship he built indeed would lead humanity to its greatest galactic colonization, but not here. This planet was a wasteland of rock, dust, and methane ruptures.
As Kahn began spreading his smile to reveal his gleaming white teeth, I walked back into'his' ship. Already the coordinates to the crew's true spherical eden inputed into the navigation module. As the ramp silently receded back into the ship, a soundless design perfected by Kahn, the proud genetically superior man began is diatribe for the ages, ignorant of camera's hollow interior.
I left him there on that anus of a planet and set course for the first of many final frontiers.
Captain Kirk out.
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Writing Prompt [ WP ] You have the ability to freeze time . When you do , everyone freezes as well . One day , you freeze time , and out the window , you see a girl moving around , astounded and confused . Then , she sees you..
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'Are you doing this?' her voice was assertive and unnaturally so. As if she was hiding her discontent with the tone of an angered adult. I could n't believe her. I could n't believe her invasion, I was angry. At first, but realising this intruder into my private world was asking what was happening I thought better of the situation.'Doing what', my confidence was practiced and believable. I would have believed myself if I did n't know any better. She looked around, for a moment lost interest in the only living soul she could find. I had done the same years ago, how long ago I would never be able to calculate, but could say tens of years had failed to pass me by while I evaded the grasp of the preset moment.
'I was on the bus, were stuck in traffic', the concern took over in her, there was no assertiveness to begin with. As I watched her describe what could only have been her first waking nightmare I began to regret the lie I had just told. Why did I lie? The same reason I do this. I ca n't, chose not to deal with the present moment. All I feel when the world and everybody in it is moving around me is the how the present moment is a lie. It is the complete lack of presence, an incessant trail of short term points on a map that resemble each other, an absence of though for what it is I'm doing with myself, with my time. All a person has is their time and what they chose with it and the present moment has an incredible ability to get you to do with that time things you never chose to do yourself. I prefer to deal with it on my terms.
Her eyes were glassy now, she told me she had wandered through the streets just looking. Taking in what she had named purgatory. I no longer felt like she was an intruder, she had n't come here with any express intention at all. I knew she had cried by the tears already forming in her eyes, if she had been here for a couple of hours in complete silence with nobody to answer her, it only makes logical sense that she had grieved the world she once knew. A world she would know again.
We found a cafe with a queue of morning customers frozen in dissatisfaction with a single barista. This sort of time and space was perfect for me. I could help myself to what I wished and basque in the satisfaction that I was not living the same distress as these poor customers or this barista for whom I had more sympathy. We took a seat in the middle of the cafe, practically all the seats were empty at this hour.'How do you like your coffee?'. Her eyes were downcast, she was still processing what she had left behind and could n't see what was right in front of her. A perfect example of the lack of presence in the present moment.'Black','Are you sure, I make a decent cappuccino'. Her name was Elaine, I wrote it on the side of her coffee cup and served it with a croissant.'Do you feel like you escaped death somehow?', she asked, uninterested in her coffee.
'Not that I've escaped it, I think if I punch a wall I'm going to hurt myself'.
'What about them, what about everybody else? Are they dead, can they sense anything?'
'No', my certainty took her by surprise.'These people are fine, they are suspended in a moment in time and they do n't know anything about all this.'
'It is you, you did this somehow you must have.'
I could n't explain why I try to deceive her earlier, of all the things I was practiced in, all the skills I had honed in this infinity of time and space conversation had gone unpracticed. My silence was all she needed in response.
'How did you do it?'
'The first time I just did n't want to be anymore. All I could think of was not being where I was and before I knew it I was free to do as I pleased. It's like a muscle I had never used before, now it comes easily but before I used to have to concentrate on the word `` stop'' or `` go'', imagine them as big in my mind as I possible could. In my mind's eye I would stand at the base of an enormous `` STOP'', taller than any sky scraper and…'
The cafe jumped to life, she was gone. Startled, I tried to stop everything before anyone in the cafe took notice but I could n't. In a panic, I upped and ran out of the cafe. I never saw Elaine again.
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[ WP ] A hit man is famous for always getting the kill , and for always making it look like a suicide . His secret…they are killing themselves . He just knows how to get them to .
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The worst part about working outside of the law? Burner phones. We operate at the highest level of security, and I still swim in a sea of these devices.
I find the correct, silver Nokia and catch my breath from bounding throughout the town home. My footsteps were still echoing through the cool, stone hallways.
As I flip open the screen, I catch the time, 11:55AM.
I take a deep breath and open the unread text.
*Package successfully delivered to M. Callahan*
I had set up my office on the third floor of my new home. The stairs were supposed to be good for me. I sit down at the card table, a temporary desk while I waited for my furniture to be delivered, gasping for air and cursing the surveillance programs that prevent me from using my personal phone.
Despite my rush to be in position, I had little more to do than wait. At this point, my work was nearly complete, but my nerves always get the best of me. I swivel in my chair to view the board behind me. Three months of good work. I knew everywhere she went, everything she did. I first met Maggie on a Saturday at The Three Pines downtown. She looked stunning, even after working 80+ hours at Ventura's top law firm. I came to her as a potential client, someone who needed help. I interrupted the date with her husband, recognizing his voice from the phone conversation earlier that week.
I wondered what was taking her so long. Surely, by now, she's seen these pictures. The same one's that I'm looking at now. Getting her fired was the easy part, but she kept her calm afterwards. I needed something better, something more personal. She ended the affair a couple weeks ago, but I already had everything I needed.
Our lives are so fragile. Most of us are barely held up by the threads of our lackluster jobs and empty relationships. I simply cut the threads. And once we are no longer held up, well, you get the idea.
It's about the money, for me. It's always about the money. Many people entertain the idea of killing. It's typically a fleeting thought, but a thought, nonetheless. However, most of them would never actually go through with it. Pulling the trigger and watching the life leave their eyes. Sinking the knife deep through layers of flesh and muscle. Most people could never find the courage.
Including me.
My phone rang. I took one last glance at the first photo of Maggie that David sent over. She was truly a beautiful woman. I put on my headset and clocked in on the hotline's website.
I went through the motions and listened intently to a young woman who's life had fallen apart. She had lost her job and her husband, and she was now being blackmailed over her last affair. I cut her off quickly, bored with the story that I was expecting to hear.
*You know, Maggie, you're right. Your life seems miserable. I would probably end it if I was you. *
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[ WP ] You discover a new drug . It does n't have any effect on you when you take it , but it does change everything and everyone around you . Mixing it with other drugs turns out to be quite interesting .
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Jackson sniffed the open neck of the flask, inhaling the white smoke that tapered lazily from the silver fluid inside. It was warm to the touch but dangerous enough, he supposed. It reeked of acrylic and wet grass. That was new. Batches eight through thirty-one had all given off strong miasmas of tainted citrus fruits. All they had managed to produce in testing was headaches, tachycardia and a mild laxative effect. Jackson took the new smell as a positive sign he was moving in the right direction.
Adjusting his glasses and using his free hand to slick back his harried, ice white, hair he mentally braced himself. The headaches were bad and the risk of a heart attack was more so, but batch thirty-two could be the batch that proved him right. That proved him to be a genius, not a lunatic. Dead or correct. A win-win for Jackson.
He raised the flask to his lips and sipped the noxious concoction. It slipped agreeably into his gullet, a faint but not unpleasant tang lingering on his tongue. He placed the flask gently back onto his desk and paused to watch the fading smoke dance on the fluid's surface. Odd. He noticed that the reflections did n't match the tendrils flittering across the liquid. A hallucination? He felt his heart beat faster, unsure if it was anxiety or chemistry. He bent closer to catch his own relection in the mirror of the drug. He saw himself unshaven, his hair as black as pitch. Jackson's hand shot up and he cradled his face in the palm of his hand, panic subsiding as he felt the reassuring smoothness of his jaw. He pulled a strand of his hair in front of his eyes and was relieved to see it was as white as he remembered. But why did his reflection...
There was a sudden, frightening, burst of noise and he looked up to see another him, a terrified reflection, with a look of utter horror etched across it's face.
`` Do n't drink it! DO N'T...''
Then a painful explosion of sensation rocked Jackson's frame. The world started to shake. The room shifted and vibrated and all he could hear was an execrable screech of distortion and white noise.
Jackson dropped to the floor, his heart battering itself against his ribs, his head pounding. Everything whirled around him indefinably and pain seared through him. He screamed. He felt lost within a storm.
Then, almost outside of perception, a shadow rose within the chaos. Impossible limbs stretched wildly out from it's lightless body, bisected and torn and too unreal to understand, as this thing stood calm within the violence. Jackson felt a word roar within his head.
INTRUDER
He fainted.
*****
`` Honey? Honey, are you O.K?''
What was going on? That voice was new and distinctly female. Who else was there? He opened his eyes, scared of what he might see. He was not in his laboratory.
Jackson was laid in a huge and engulfing bed as the morning sunlight drifted over him from the large bay windows. He turned his head to take in more of the luxurious room, gentle clutter and ochre walls, and his vision came to rest on the sibyllic sight beside him.
`` Sophie?''
`` Are you alright? You were screaming in your sleep and it's not like you to have nightmares.''
He stared at her. The constant object of his most outrageous fantasies, his old abandoned dream girl, lay beside him. His awed gape sat dumbly on his face.
`` Jackson?'' she enquired, destroying the reverence of the moment.
`` I, uhh... I had a bad dream. I think.''
`` Aw, poor baby.'' Her hand crept across his chest. `` Let me make it all better.''
She kissed him, he felt the luscious softness of her lips on his. Smelled the hints of spring flowers in her hair. She moved to embrace him and he pulled her in, smooth and tender and close.
In the corner of the room a shadow moved. It crawled awkwardly but silently towards the doorway, dragging itself on legs it had forgotten eternities ago. It shuddered, giddy and convulsing. It was free. Caught in the intruders slipstream it had been stolen from it's banishment in the unreal. It was true again. It would regain it strength and soon all life would be bowed before it's whims once more. In it's callous madness it would hold the earth and all things within this realm. It convulsed again.
Jackson felt laughter echo in his head.
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[ WP ] Humanity 's first colonisation ship has reached its destination , and scans show perfect conditions for human life . There 's just one problem : everyone on board is terrified of leaving the ship .
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Day 1. We boarded the Ark on September 16, 2189, and prepared for our maiden voyage into the stars, to settle a new world. Of course, the Ark is not its proper name; that ’ s just the one given to it by its passengers, and by which it is universally known. It is officially known as the USSC Genesis, commissioned as a joint venture between the United States and the Earth Federation to ease overpopulation on Earth by establishing long-term settlements elsewhere in the galaxy. As I record this entry, more than ten million people live in orbital colonies high above the Earth and on surface of Mars, beneath immense domes. Ever since I can remember, the lotteries were used to determine who would go to live in the colonies, and who would remain on Earth. All told, there are less than four billion humans alive today, and that number is still far too immense for our current resources to sustain. We need somewhere to start over as a species. Anyway, I ’ m rambling. Everyone is excited to be on our way; there is an electricity in the air, and everyone seems to have a sense that we are setting out to do something important, a great adventure like in the movies. Of course, Beth and the little ones are scared, because this is all so new to them. I ’ ve been training for this mission for years, to help oversee the distribution of resources on the Ark and to manage its farms and food distribution systems. I ’ m a farmer and a nutritionist, more or less. It ’ s a boring job, but someone has to do it, and I ’ m proud to be a part of this endeavor. I can hardly contain my excitement; it feels like we have endless possibilities ahead of us!
Day 10. I don ’ t have much time to record my thoughts. We are very busy today, getting everything ready for the jump through the first gate, now that we have reached the edge of the solar system. They tell me that the journey to our new home, dubbed “ Eden ” because its original name, Tau Ceti e, apparently didn ’ t have a nice enough ring to it, will be over a distance of 11.9 light years and will require the use of special `` gates,'' which allow spacecrafts to travel faster than the speed of light by warping space-time in a way that my degrees in biology and nutrition leave me entirely incapable of understanding, let alone explaining. Suffice it to say, a distance that would have taken more than 50,000 years to traverse merely one hundred years ago can be accomplished now in three months.
Day 62. Something is wrong. I can feel it, thick in the air, like a black cloud that hangs above my head and enters my thoughts and dreams, but I can not describe it, and so I don ’ t mention this terrible feeling of foreboding that I am having. It ’ s probably cabin fever; we ’ ve been cooped up in here for a long time, and work brings a lot of stress, more than I would have guessed. Beth doesn ’ t complain, of course, but I can see that she is unhappy. I feel as if we are drifting apart. But this is all worth it. It has to be. Our children deserve a better future than Earth could have given them.
Day 83. The feeling has returned, but I know now that it is not just me. Something happened when the Ark made the jump through the last gate, about twelve hours ago. There is someone, or something, onboard, and it is watching us. It waits. It is not human. I spoke with Patel, the physicist from a few cabins down, and he told me that there was discussion before the mission began of the dangers of using the gates to bend space-time. He explained that space-time is like a fabric, and that the gates allow us to fold the fabric onto itself many times in order to shorten the distance that we must travel through space. This requires us to create threadbare spots, or holes, in the fabric to pass through. Patel told me, barely above a whisper and with sweat pouring down his brow, he is convinced that we have created a tear in space-time and allowed a being from another dimension to touch our own. What he told me terrifies me, and the look of fear in his eyes will remain with me as long as I live. Have we gone insane? All of this sounds ridiculous. But part of me wonders: are we in the presence of an ancient evil?
Day 90. 0500 Hours. This might be my final transmission. Beth is gone, and I can ’ t find the children. I should be out there, looking, doing something. However, I feel that it is important to document my experiences, for reasons that I do not fully understand. But I know that I must. So I will make this brief. The thing is among us, and its taking us, one by one. Those who have seen it are driven to madness, and are beyond our ability to assist. Hell, the administration aboard the Ark can not even seem to agree on exactly what it is that is causing the passengers to lose control of themselves, or what to do in response. Soldiers armed with rifles and armored exoskeletons have been dispatched to separate those stricken with the madness from the rest of the crew and passengers and to quarantine them in the event that they have been infected with an unidentified illness. Where is Beth? I ’ ve spoken with everyone I can find, and nobody seems to know. What is going on?
Day 90. 1200 Hours. I found Maggie, our four-year-old, alone in the medical ward, screaming as she was being comforted by a nurse. She had scrapes on her arms and face. I hug her for a long time, and promise her that I will be back, but that I have to go find mommy and her brother. She bawled as I left her with the nurse. I did n't want to leave her, but I had no choice. I have to find them.
Day 90. 1400 Hours. Life Support in Sectors 1, 2, 7, and 8 has been terminated in order to prevent those overcome with the madness from taking over the Ark. They are like animals, biting and scratching, without purpose or reason, driven by a darkness that I can not comprehend, unknowable but so close to me, breathing down my neck. Will it take me soon? What was that sound? I think we just exited the final gate. The Ark should reach Eden within the hour. Wait. It ’ s coming. Oh God. It ’ s -
Day 90. 2100 Hours. This is Beth. Elizabeth Myers. I ’ m not sure why I ’ m recording this entry. I'm afraid that no one will hear it. I suppose I want there to be something - anything - to give evidence that we were here, and to describe what happened to us. John is gone. I haven ’ t heard from him since this morning. I can only pray that he is safe. That's all I can do. I found Maggie, thank God, in the medical ward, before it was evacuated, and John Jr. is safe with me. We crash landed on the planet; I have never known such fear. I tried to be brave for the children, but I wept - bawled - despite myself as we plummeted to the surface, believing it to be our final moments. I shouted to them to cover their eyes, and reminded Maggie and John Jr. how much daddy and I loved them. I have been told that the planet appears habitable, with breathable oxygen and liquid water. However, the passengers who were taken by the madness have erected a bonfire, perhaps an altar, to the creature and are making offerings – human sacrifices – near the site of our crash landing. The screams reach us, even here. We can not escape, and our resources are limited. The survivors are huddled with the food, water, other supplies and firearms that remain to us in the bridge, the last section of the Ark with access to emergency power to ensure that its blast doors remain in place, for now. It is a miracle, perhaps, that any of us survived the crash. Part of me thinks that maybe it would have been better if we had died, then and there. I can feel the darkness creeping closer, taunting us, laughing at us, playing with us like a cat with a mouse before it consumes us and makes us like the others. For now, we remain on the Ark.
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[ WP ] You are walking in a park one day , when something makes you realize you died 7 years ago in that very park .
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Fall has always been my favorite season. The trees change into bright shades of crimson and yellow. I like to think they're making a last stand against winter. Although they know the end is inevitable, they shine bright in defiance of that end. Although the world will become enveloped in white, for now they bathe it in color.
The cold breeze whips across my face. Clouds shroud the sun, as though in mourning. The temperature drops sharply, and I regret not bringing a jacket. I briefly consider going back home, but I still want to stay and appreciate the park's beauty.
It seems like I've walked into a section of the park more affected by the incoming winter. The leaves that were bright and still full of vigor twenty minutes ago are brown and shriveled. The wind pushes on piles of leaves, creating waves.
It's darker now, and even colder than before. I'll turn around soon. My favorite part of the park is just a few minutes away. I walk faster past leafless trees as the cold winter wind wraps around me.
Suddenly, there's a bite of cold. Then another, and another. I look up, and in the dim evening light I can see that it's snowing. I'm nearly there, and I *have* to get there.
Finally. The snow is falling faster, making it hard to see. But I can still find the clearing. I would n't be able to forget the way, even if I wanted to. I ca n't count the number of times I've come. Sometimes for family picnics, sometimes with lovers, and sometimes just to think. I step into the clearing and I see something hanging from the tree, swinging haphazardly on a rope in the strong wind. It brings back a memory, one of my last visit to the clearing. I walk through it, back into the forest, and the world slowly fades to white in the snow.
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[ WP ] You 've been trapped by a magical board game , that spews forth chaos and destruction on every roll ... . But it 's not Jumanji , it 's Monopoly .
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`` I want to stop playing!'' moaned Kelly-Anne, the ruckus of a train yard building up around them, engines plunging closer on their tracks. The air stank of smoke and diesel and the table was vibrating with the force of the rails. Jordan had both hands on it to keep it steady, to make sure the dice and monopoly pieces did n't go bouncing off again and disappear into the chaos.
Their trailer had been jammed full of a dozen different buildings, railroads and slums and skyscrapers, miles of massive pipe and glowing glass bulbs strung together with wires, houses and hotels in various stages of completion, and the looming massive jail. Jordan was reminded of a picture he had seen once, where walls and floors and staircases met each other at every possible angle, people standing upside-down and sideways unconcerned at the bizarre perspective. Except it was n't unconcerning now, it was loud and claustrophobic and made him feel like throwing up. Kelly-Anne's plaintive whine was n't helping.
`` Kevin,'' he said, to his little brother in front of him, keeping himself and the table braced by tucking his foot up against a railway tie. `` We got to stop playing! We been playing for hours now! Kelly-Anne's about to start crying!'' Indeed, Kelly-Anne's face was flushing red and her breaths were getting tellingly weepy. `` For God's sake, Kevin! Just buy up Pennsylvania Railroad! Get a monopoly already! The sooner you win the sooner this game's over!''
Kevin Pearson sat imperiously on his chair, the pewter top hat coming down over his eyes, leaving only his sneer exposed. His deeds and wads of cash were arrayed in front of him like a rainbow, as he ran his fingers across them. The ding-ding-ding of the railway crossing started up, and was getting louder. `` Naw,'' Kevin said at last, and withdrew his fingers. `` Do n't want it. It's Kelly-Anne's turn now.''
`` God damn it, Kevin!'' Jordan screamed, and Kelly-Anne burst out into a wail, tears rolling down her cheeks. `` I do n't want to play!'' she screamed. `` I just want this to stop! I want our house to go back to normal!''
`` Look at what you're doing to her!'' Jordan yelled. The table shuddered and his pile of money fell over, fluttering to the gravelly ground. `` For God's sake, Kevin! I'm sorry we started playing this! I'm sorry we bought any properties to begin with! You're the most ahead of us, so for God's sake at least try to win! Do n't you want this to be over?''
`` Over!'' Kevin said, and slammed his hands down on the table. He snatched up his properties, holding them close to his chest, and fanned them out to his siblings. `` Look at this, Jordan! This is more money than I've ever had in my life! More money than dad's ever had!'' He spun around slowly, arms held out in wonder. `` Look at this, look at everything I own! It's mine! It's ours, it's all ours! Why would I ever want this to be over?''
`` Kevin,'' Jordan said, and he was blinking back tears too. A train whistle cut through the air, and a single blinding eye shone through a tunnel, hurtling straight at them. `` Kevin, it ai n't real. None of this is real. Kevin. Kevin. Please.''
`` Even if it ai n't real,'' Kevin said, and his voice was vicious. `` I'd rather have this than the reality.'' He snatched up the dice and thrust them at his sister. `` It's Kelly-Anne's turn! Make her roll! Kelly-Anne, you roll right now!''
Kelly-Anne shrieked as the train bore down on them and Kevin forced the dice into her hands, and she flung the dice across the table. Her scotty dog on the game board came to life and trotted ahead six spaces, and the ground upheaved itself under them, buildings and walls and the sky itself rearranging into a new configuration. Everyone screamed, and then the world came to rest, and a street sign labelled Baltic Avenue gleamed bright and green in front of them.
`` That one's yours,'' Kevin said, and nodded to Jordan. `` Kelly-Anne, you pay him.''
And as Kelly-Anne buried her head in her arms and wept, and shoved her cash over for Jordan to pick out his rent, Jordan looked disbelievingly at his brother, and, under the top hat, swore he could see the cold glint of a monocle.
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[ WP ] The kingdoms of Rock , Paper and Scissors have lived in peace for centuries . Now war has begun .
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The cloaked figured ushered his horse down the winding dirt road that would take him to the fabled'Granite Castle'. Stars blazed their way across the velvet sky above as he rushed onward with great speed.
*War is coming. Sooner rather than later. I must hurry if there is ever to be a chance... *
With a flick of the reins, he picked up the pace, only daring to slow down once the castle came into view. A sigh of relief passed his lips. There it was, towering over the land, an impenetrable stronghold carved from unyielding stone.
But he knew. Through his mind raced the nagging reminder of why he was making such haste.
If his information was correct, the people of the'Parchment kingdom' had developed a method of attack that would render the mighty walls of Granite Castle utterly useless.
As he began the approach towards the castle gates, he pulled from his robes a crystal that shined brightly with a fierce red light. The royal color of the Stone Empire. Holding it high above his head, it would serve as a signal to the gatekeepers that he was a friend of the empire.
Sure enough, they espied that stone and hurried to grant him passage. The impressive iron gates swung open as he urged his trusted horse onward. Through the gates he rushed, guiding his horse to the castle's inner keep.
There, inside the courtyard that made up the entrance to the inner keep, the Stone Emperor was already waiting for him.
*Well, it seems that my messenger falcon found him quickly enough. Finally, something has gone right today.... To think I almost did n't escape the Paper Palace in time. *
By the time he had dismounted, a man servant was on hand to tend to his horse. Approaching the emperor, he dropped to one knee and offered up the scroll he had worked so diligently to aquire.
`` A fair evening tonight, your unyieldingness. Here are the schematics for the'weapon' that I sent message to you about.''
The emperor took the scroll and unrolled it with a flick of the wrist. He glanced it over, an expression of worry spreading across his face as he took in the contents inscribed upon the paper.
``... A *glider*? A craft made out of paper that can fly?! Surely it can not be! If they find a way to use it in battle, then that means our defenses would be...... Well at any rate, I must thank you for procuring this scroll. Are you sure you do not wish to be knighted? You have more than earned it, Sir Aquios.''
The cloaked man shook his head as he stood up and dusted himself off.
`` As generous as that offer is, I'm afraid I must turn it down. My obligations are as numerous as they are time consuming. But I do implore you to heed my words. The'glider' is not yet battle ready. There is still time.''
Sir Aquios paused, making sure he had the emperor's undivided attention before continuing.
`` Though it may seem to be madness, might I suggest a *forced* agreement with the Scissor Nation? Their honed blades have long been the bane of the Paper People. Perhaps their forces can join with ours?''
He watched as the Stone Emperor hemmed and hawed and toyed with the notion. Glancing back down at the scroll in his hand, he nodded and snapped his fingers. A royal scribe emerged from the shadows of the courtyard and the emperor dictated a message to be delivered to the Scissor Tzar.
Taking the scroll and completing it with the royal seal of the Stone Empire, the emperor handed it over to Sir Aquios. He silently nodded and accepted the message. After the emperor had left the courtyard and the small crowd of onlookers had dissipated, the royal scribe turned to address the cloaked man.
`` I ca n't believe he did n't even bother to check and verify the message. But at any rate, I wrote down the message you requested.'' Accepting a concealed payment, the scribe looked the cloaked man up and down.
`` I know it's not my place to ask... but what exactly are you trying to accomplish? Turning the kingdoms of Rock, Paper, and Scissors against one another. Driving them to war after centuries of peace, no less!''
Sir Aquios' brow furrowed. Even in the darkness, one could very well make out the irritation blossoming across his face.
`` You know what? You are absolutely correct. This is *NONE* of your concern. I have my reasons for inviting such conflict. Tomorrow, the Scissor Tzar will receive a warning that the Parchment Kingdom has declared war on both Rock *and* Scissor alike.''
Barking out an order for his horse to be brought to him, he slyly reached into his robes and took hold of the allegiance crystal that had gotten him swift passage into Granite Castle. Focusing his mind, he caused to turn a vivid blue. The royal color of the Scissor Nation.
With his horse already fed and watered, he mounted up and made haste for the Cutter Citadel. Rushing forth from the iron gates of the castle, he turned and followed the river north.
As he made haste, he could n't help but consider his fortunes. How could it have been so easy? To think. To think he had all but single-handedly set in motion the events that would guide the three kingdoms to ruin.
*Patience. Patience is the virtue at hand. Soon enough, those blathering fools will destroy themselves. And then. Then the Gunfire Kingdom will rise up and rule all the lands. My people will come forth from the shadows of obscurity and bask in the light of victory. *
A smile bloomed upon his face. Such a day could not come soon enough.
As dawn began its approach, he continued his way north towards the Scissor Nation.
Northward towards anarchy and war...
Onward towards the dawning of a new era...
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[ WP ] A full grown adult male wants a bedtime story . Make up a manly bedtime story so he can fall asleep .
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Long ago, when shit was n't as fucked, there was a pimpin' bitch ass motherfucker named Trett Broadabango. He had the ponytail and hirstute frame of Steven Seagall, the face of Jean-Claude van Damme, the beard and roundhouse kicking of Chuck Norris and the voice of Mr. T.
Now, Trett Broadabango was an ice cold retired police-officer-turned-airplane-host. Trett Broadabango enjoyed his job very much; people were usually quite good to him, and he made everyone's day better with his detailed guide to which motherfucking side you could jump out if the bitch ass plane blew up.
One day though, Somali terrorist pirates boarded the plane despite the airport's approach to high security. These Somali terrorpiratists were led by a cruel, bald African-Japanese cyborg-samurai-ninja warlord named Desetror the Dessicator, who bore a surprising resemblance to Samuel L. Jackson. Under his leadership, the Somali privateerorrists had ruthlessly butchered their way across the world, and they thought that that day would be no different. However, they did n't count on Trett Broadabango.
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[ WP ] To get in Heaven , you have to confront the person who you hurt the most . You were expecting an ex , your parents/relatives , or a friend . You did n't expect to see yourself .
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“ It ’ s going to be mom, no – dad. ” I kept telling myself repeatedly. I fidgeted and tried not to immediately see who was walking towards me. The footsteps were deafening.
“ Please let it be mom.. ” I pleaded lightly. But I knew who was coming. The person I had actually hurt the most.
To my surprise I found a younger man walking towards me. An adolescent, maybe 16 or 17. More attractive than me, wearing black jeans and a shirt I forgot I had. He smiled at me in a way that I never smile now. Naturally, and genuine. Ten years ago this was me.
For what was either 2 seconds or 5 minutes we stared at each other. How do I explain myself? I just wanted to tell him how sorry I was. What I had done to this kid. But before I could speak he started.
“ This was a point in life where I could have branched off into a dozen different directions. ” His demeanor was so casual. I was standing in silence, holding back tears.
He didn ’ t seem sad, or distraught. No, he wouldn ’ t have been those things. Not yet.
“ Heh. You know, I was told in one of those alternate paths I could have been married, and working our dream job. How crazy is that? ”
I don ’ t know how my face reacted, but he tried to make me feel better “..but then again I could have also overdosed at 21 had you continued being friends with Eric Meyer. So it isn ’ t so bad when you think about it ” he smirked. I hadn ’ t heard that name in forever. Last I remembered, Eric and I had grown apart after high school for some reason.
“ Why aren ’ t you upset at me? I ’ m so sorry. I-I wanted better for you. ” I jumbled my words, and tried to say so much more but tears were streaming and my voice felt paralyzed.
“ Hey… don ’ t cry. So you made some bad decisions? It isn ’ t -- ”
“ I fucked up so much. Wasted so much time. Alienated people who love you. Did things I could never take back. You know, things have never been the same with mom and dad? This isn ’ t what I wanted for you, none of it. ” we both stood in silence and his demeanor changed to serious.
He started softly, “ I might be standing here. But I ’ m still a part of you. We did go through a lot. And I ’ m sorry too for how things turned out. ” He stepped forward and hugged me and then whispered, “ but now it ’ s time to make things better. ”
I was confused. “ What do you mean? What happens now? Aren ’ t I dead? ”
“ Well… *technically* no. Maybe half dead? You ’ re not conscious. But for whatever reason it's been decided it ’ s time for you to go back.'' He paused, then started more seriously. `` You ’ ve lost sight on the things I wanted, old man. It ’ s time for you to finally take them. ”
“ Old man? I ’ m only 27! ” I wasn ’ t sad or crying anymore. I understood now. Why I was here. This wasn ’ t the end. Only the beginning.
Younger me looked off into the distance. It was white everywhere. But far away on the horizon you could faintly see green mountains. I had never seen anything like it. I guess neither had he. He looked down at his feet. “ We'll be over there some day, just not now... But hey, don ’ t forget about me, alright? And jeeze don ’ t text and drive anymore, you asshole. ”
He looked at me almost eagerly, clenching his fists. “ I ’ ve seen a future for us. A good one. You can do it. ”
Before I got the chance to reply I blacked out along with the sensation of falling. In a hazy dream I could feel the air and smells around me change. I felt heavy, sore, and dizzy. I could hear the sounds of the hospital. The beeping, muffled noises, nurses hurriedly walking.
“ Was it just a dream? ” No, I knew it wasn ’ t. I looked at a dry erase board with information scribbled on it. I studied it for a moment before seeing my name and pausing.
“ I won ’ t let you down this time. ” Not this time. Not again.
Note: Sorry, I never write and so am not the best at it. But I had to write this one.
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[ WP ] The Earth is really a starship . The crew are waking up .
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A deep sleep is hard to come out of. You just want to stay asleep but have the feeling that you need to do something important.
As I opened my eyes, the lid of my pod pop out and a control panel came into view. Looking to my left I see Steve next to me in a matching uniform and similarly groggy.
We go through the waking routine and eventually get down to business.
Steve is checking our current location while I do a haul check on our ship.
I hear Steve sigh and say `` Awwww Fuck dude... we got pulled into an orbit around this star... we have been sitting here for a few million years...''
`` Well that explains all this shit on the outside of our ship then... Tons of debris must of hit while we have been sitting here now it has all this liquid and dust on it.''
Steve looks puzzled at my scans, `` What's all that stuff moving around?''
`` Who gives a fuck Steve! It's all going away as soon as we start moving! Lets get moving! We are already late for the party!''
And that's part 31234123/146156245 of the story of how I met your mother....
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The year is 2352 . You are a captain of a spacecraft who 's mission is to explore a newly-discovered star system . You and your crew penetrate the atmosphere of the first planet , only to find billions of suffering humans . You have discovered Hell , and your spacecraft has broken down . [ WP ]
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The year is 2352 and we have n't recieved contact from base for 112 years, 3 months and 27 days. Our records document the last transmission being a routine systems update and then nothing. We've been traveling trillions of miles towards a star system with a high percentage of h2o, with a possibility of sustainable development. Our cryogenic sleep cycle was terminated upon our descent into Kepler-186f's atmosphere, after 460 years of sleep, even in the cryo tank, it takes its toll. Our mission was simple, get to the surface and collect water samples to see if life were sustainable by the resources allocated on the planet. What we encountered would change our lives forever. When we started to burn up in Kepler-186f's atmosphere, we began to see many lights on the planets surface. Cities. They were teeming with life.. and war, and the most inhospitable conditions imaginable. We were only 20 minutes into our descent that we made the horrifying discovery that the carnage was being caused by a variation of our own species. We had seen species similar in the past but never with such aggressiveness or ferociousness. The cities were reaching far and wide with the stench of death, oceans were chalk full of extinction, with certain sections completely ablaze. We had found hell when we were looking for hope. Our computer systems crashed, knocked out by some sort of magnetic radiation that enveloped our craft after hitting 10,000 km above sea level. When we landed in the sea, we waited, surely to be killed by the inhabitants if we did n't first run out of food and water. We drifted for 3 weeks before making land fall. Once we were on dry land we discovered just how barren this world was. That was untill we got to the city. People were killed. People were maimed. There was great suffering. It was hell. It was `` Earth''.
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[ WP ] Aliens attack earth . Nothing more , no strange twists . Just pure scifi
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It's been 10 years since the Battle of Berlin. The year is 1949 WW2 came to a screeching halt once `` they'' arrived in Los Angeles, Paris, Rome, Madrid, and Istanbul, and Bejing. The Parisian ship was destroyed by collaborative forces from France, Nazi Germany, and Nationalist Spain. But that's where things got rough. Italy was taken over by `` them'', and so was Spain, the US, along with all American countries. China fell in hours, along with Japan. Soon the whole Asian continent was owned by Aliens. The last human city, Berlin was destroyed 10 years ago. Earth is destroyed. I am now on slave ship G-93, ( Germany, region 93, or Koln ). In my tiny 5 foot cell, which had laser beam bars, was a bed, which was just some fabric layed down on the ground, there was also a window, with an alien like glass. There was a bucket with raw fish in it, which they stole from our seas, they sucked up all of our oceans with one big device, they sorted out the fish ( edible ones to maintain the human population ) then they put the water along with the non edible fish back, then with one green laser beam, destroyed earth. The ships AI would detect whenever I was hungry and would cook the fish in the bucket. The only thing to do on this blasted slave ship was to sleep. I have n't slept in days due to the increased sound, which was getting louder and louder. I layed down and as soon as I hit the fabric, I fell asleep.
...
When I woke up I immediately noticed that they were emptying our cells, one by one. I looked out the window and saw we were on an alien planet, it was green, like earth, but somehow different.... a blue alien came to my cell and shackled me with lasers, and led me to a line of people, waiting to go on the planet. The line moved up ever so slowly, I could finally sew that we were being loaded onto a land vehicle. It was squarish and had no wheels, it hovered off the ground, which I found was amazing. I finally was guided towards the ship and saw that there were stairs leading down to several large holding cells, with windows. I was in a cell and fell the vehicle start up and move forward. But then a green gas filled the truck prison chamber... and I got... ( yawn ) ever so... tired....
To be continued ( maybe )
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[ WP ] Begin a story with the lines `` I knew what had to be done . I just did n't know if it could be done . ''
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I knew what had to be done. I just did n't know if it could be done.
So here I sit.
It's quiet in the house.
Everyone is asleep, the drone of the fan is my only companion.
I reflect on the day and how I wish I could do more, be more, help more.
I hate myself for the way things are.
I hate myself for the way things will be tomorrow.
I hope I can find the help I need in time.
What is `` in time'' exactly? Today, tomorrow, the end of the week?
It takes time to right the wrongs, to redeem the errors, to fix the broken.
How much time will it take?
Do I even have enough time to undo all the things that need to be undone?
Will I be here to accept the congratulatory smiles and pats on the back for a job well done?
Will the road to redemption be my undoing?
Can I do it?
What choice do I have but to sit here and wait to die, or get up and fight to live.
It's too late to do anything tonight, I'll start in the morning...
Then morning comes.
The pain is still there.
The `` what if's'' torment me and make me feel inferior.
I cry.
Nothing new.
I cry some more.
Today is the day I make my change!
But... I ca n't afford the expense.
I can ask for help!
I ca n't ask for help.
I am humiliated.
I need to make a plan, a list of things I need to do, a schedule to adhere to.
I stare at the screen blankly as if waiting for some divine message to flood my brain with a flowchart of directions to ease my troubles...
It's getting dark outside.
The time flew by while I was pondering, thinking, wallowing in self remorse and hatred...
Is it really that late?
Things are winding down around me.
The house is growing quieter.
So here I sit.
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You 're a serial killer who 's been captured by the authorities . They ask you to recount your first kill ... .
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`` I am not SICK. I'm not saying anything until you get that asshole out of here. FUCK you.''
...
`` Have you ever been the victim of domestic violence, officer? Have you EVER been hit in your life? I bet not. You seem like a perfectly'stand up' citizen. You're the good cop. You get people to like you so they'll tell you shit they would n't tell your jackass partner. I bet your parents LOVED you. I bet you have a wife at home that LOVES you. I bet you've never hit her, never choked her, never had her blood on your hands. You're PERFECT.
``... Whatever. No one's perfect. You wan na know about my perfect husband? He was sweet and emotional and amazing in bed. I did everything for him, I was his slave, if I fell from the top of a building I knew he was going to be there to catch me. I was SO HAPPY. I trusted him.''
She sneered at the officer.
`` He took that happiness, and that trust, and cut it in to pieces. He loved knives. He collected them. And he used them on me. He'd tie me up and cut me in long horizontal lines to mark me as his, and I loved him. Do you know what it feels like to have your body sectioned off and dissected? Can you imagine coming home to that every night?''
She bit her lip until she tasted blood. All the anger, the shaking anger she'd tried to rid herself of for years, it was never completely gone.
`` He.. tortured.. me. Because I loved him. Every.. night.''
She took a deep breath, and spoke faster. The words had to come out before they could be caught in her throat.
`` What is it like, OFFICER, to do all these good things all day, to catch the bad guys and lock them up and make your family safe, and then come home to smiling faces of thankful people? I wonder.
`` I know you saw the scars on my back? Can you guess how I got those? Can you guess what I did? I woke him up before nine.''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
`` Sorry for waking you,'' she whispered. `` I wanted to say good morning before work.'' As she brushed the hair from his face, his bright blue eyes snapped open and he glared at her.
`` I was asleep.'' Through clenched teeth, his words deadened the air and she froze. She felt the familiar adrenaline rush accompanied by a rise in temperature in the room. Not this early, please not now.
`` Get off me,'' he snarled. She backed off, grasping his hands as he sat up and got out of bed.
`` Sweetheart, please, not now,'' she whimpered. `` Please, I have to go to work, after work you can-''
`` I did n't ask you if you had to work. I guess you're going to be late.'' He glared at her. She tried to look more pitiful, she tried to cry, but her rush kept her from feeling anything other than abject fear. `` Get on your stomach.''
`` Will-''
`` NOW!''
She burst into tears and clambered onto the bed. She gripped the sheets in her hands and clenched her eyes shut, lowering herself down. She sobbed. He said nothing.
Through the noise of her own wretched crying she heard him open the drawer, remove the knife, and throw the blanket on the floor.
He started cutting. Burning, piercing agony, over and over, that she could n't stop. No amount of crying and pleading could snap him out of it, and she was too terrified to move.
She fell unconscious.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
`` I missed work that day. I missed work a lot on days like that. When I woke up he said he loved me. He lifted me up and was very gentle wrapping the shirt around me to stop the bleeding.
`` A few days later, I waited in his room for him to get off work. I held his knife in my hands. They were shaking. I was shaking. I do n't know if that was anger or fear.
`` When he came home and saw me, I took a deep breath. I said,'Get on the bed.' I did n't know how this was going to go. I was so scared.''
But he did it. He'd always tell me he wished I'd be the top. He was excited for what I was about to do. He was actually excited.''
She gagged. All the blood, all the people, all the torn flesh she'd ever seen, and now she was gagging?
`` I tied him up. I did it the way I'd watched him do it. I was very careful and they were very tight. What had been painful to me, was enjoyable for him. I brushed the hair out of his eyes. I smiled.
`` And then I cut open his stomach.''
She grinned up at the officer.
`` Why?'' he asked.
`` You'd never understand, Mr. Good Guy Cop. I cut open his stomach, his throat, his legs.. I cut beneath his arms. I had to sit on him and retie the rope around his right hand several times. If he had gotten out, I'm sure he would have killed me. He screamed and cursed at me, and every time he screamed it felt good.''
`` So he bled out?''
`` Shyeah he bled out.''
`` What about the, uh, the initials? Did you do that?''
She frowned and shook her head. Even as a normal person with a normal family she thought maybe he'd be able to get it. He was in this line of work, after all. Catching bad guys and correcting them.
Slowly standing up, she stared at the cop and slowly smiled. `` You do n't understand. You still do n't.''
She dropped her pants and slouched back into her seat, crossing her legs indian-style so the officer could see between her legs. Before registering disgust, his brain registered curiosity, and long after he looked away he could see it, behind his eyes, days after she was taken away, days after she had her hearing, on the day she died. Across the insides of her legs and her labia were years-old scars that crudely resembled the initials of Will Moniker.
`` I never did anything to him. He did it to himself. They all did it to themselves.''
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[ WP ] You live in a world where people explode into colorful powders when they die . No warning , no body left , just a poof of confetti-like substance . Urns look like sand art . You 're a surgeon ; a patient just died on your operating table .
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( I modded the prompt a bit; ca n't handle first person so I switched to third. )
It never got less jarring.
David had n't been looking, but the flash of powdery brilliance was something that was difficult to miss. It came as ( nearly ) weightless sand, drifting down from the ceiling, blown into existence by the loss of a soul.
Equally strange—beyond the gentle flutter of sweet candy powder—was the realization that the room had just emptied of another body. It was n't a physical jolt, but all the same, after years in the operating room one began acquiring a sort of sixth-seventh-tenth sense: when someone was about to die, you itched. But the actual death felt like an icy egg being cracked over your head, dribbling down your spine, ending in puddles of dread at your feet.
There was a click of metal on metal. David winced, turned around. It was the scalpel.
“ Sorry. ” James, the surgical assistant who had been working that evening, was muttering again. Words were coming out of his mouth, but nothing, besides the apology, was decipherable through the surgical mask.
He was young. This was probably his first death.
David did n't have the heart to tell him he could n't understand a damn thing he was saying, not when James had pink and purple soul-ashes frosting his downcast lashes. “ Someone page recovery. They need to get in here as quickly as possible so we have enough of this to give the family. ”
The team ground into motion like a rusted machine. They'd sweep the pounds of rainbow dust that was coating the room into piles, then the vacuums would come to seal those into clear urns for the family. The leftovers would be considered hazardous waste, fit only for the incinerator.
For such a pastel scene, it was rather gruesome.
David brushed off his sleeves, mentally preparing himself for the next six hours. A shower and change would take care of the human remnants left on him, even if not the sick, cold feeling in his stomach that he always acquired after someone dispersed. That feeling would only be erased by time, and even then there would always be a ghost.
“ And for god's sake, ” David said, the words an unintentionally ironic afterthought as his hand hovered over the keypad on the door, “ try not to step on the body. ”
He mentally crossed his fingers, a silent hope that there would be no more rainbows today, and left the room.
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