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[ WP ] The Painting on the Wall
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The apartment door swung open with enough force that the spring-based stopper yielded to let the protruding lock on the door knob carve out a gash in the drywall. Karl's hand helped keep the door from bouncing shut. He stepped in backwards, sticking his rear into the air as he pulled a large, covered frame through with his free hand.
`` Dude,'' he called to Steve. `` Help me with this.''
Steve's facepalm was momentary. He rationalized that he'd rather lend a hand than let his roommate inflict any more harm to the security deposit. The frame housed what Steve could only assume was another poster from some movie he'd never heard of. It was significantly heavier than the plastic Walmart frames he was used to seeing, though.
Once safely inside, Karl slammed the door shut, rattling the ceiling fan in the process.
`` Jesus,'' Steve said in reaction. `` Take it easy, man.''
Karl did n't seem to notice. He just propped his acquisition against the coffee table and stared wide-eyed at the linen draped over it. With his own imagined fanfare, he pulled the cover in a swift motion. His face went from beaming to confused in record time.
`` What the hell is this supposed to be?'' asked Steve.
There were no titles or credits. No scenes of action or characters. There was a chaos of colored streaks, splotches of paints lacking any sensible pattern. It certainly was n't what Steve expected Karl to bring home. And it was n't what Karl thought he bought, either.
`` Those assholes ripped me off!'' Karl screamed. `` Where the fuck are the cars!''
`` Cars?'' Steve asked trying to find anything on the canvas that could be mistaken for a car.
`` Yeah, there were, like, these three cars. A classic Mustang, a convertible, and,'' his voice dropped, `` a Camry or something lame. But this is n't it.''
Karl started consulting his memory, trying to figure out where the switch took place.
“ Just return it, ” suggested Steve. “ Where ‘ d you get that thing anyway? ”
“ Some garage sale. I was looking for some more posters or a bike or something like that. But I saw the painting and had to buy it. Any chance you can lend a hand to lug this thing back? ”
Steve was feeling particularly lazy on that Saturday morning.
“ How much did you pay for it? ” he asked.
“ Five bucks. Should ’ ve figured it was too good to be true. ”
Steve reached into his wallet and pulled out a fiver.
“ Just leave this one here and buy the right one this time. ”
Karl snatched the bill out of Steve ’ s hand. As he left to set things right, Steve added a little salt to the wound.
“ Make sure you check it this time. ”
This time, Karl slammed the door on purpose. The painting fell over, flat on its face, as a result. Steve wasn ’ t in a hurry to pick it up, instead returning to his seat in front of the television.
As the credits rolled on another episode of *Burn Notice*, the door opened again, gingerly this time. Karl was slow to enter.
“ No luck? ” Steve asked as though the answer weren ’ t clear as day.
Karl shook his head.
“ They sold it? ”
“ No, ” replied Karl. “ They *swore* that they only had the one painting up for sale and I got it. That painting you ’ re taking such excellent care of is the one I saw and bought. I just don ’ t understand it. ”
Karl lifted the artwork to a less careless position and stared at it some more. Steve, though, was more interested in the next episode of his show. Karl, standing idly, was blocking his view.
“ If you still want it, I ’ ll gladly take my five bucks back. ”
Karl didn ’ t look up or even flinch.
“ Huh? Yeah. Sure. ”
He fumbled around in his pocket and pulled out a folded note. It was a twenty, but Steve didn ’ t mind if Karl didn ’ t.
“ Do you mind moving your art someplace else? ”
No reply, but Karl bent down to pluck some bits of carpet from the frame before hoisting it up. He silently carried it to his room.
Karl was still wandering around like a zombie that afternoon. He passed out on the loveseat and didn ’ t wake up until nearly noon on Sunday. Steve wasn ’ t completely oblivious to the odd behavior, but Karl had experimented with certain recreational substances in the past. He just assumed his roommate had fallen off the wagon. Some rest and water and he ’ d be right as rain. Or so Steve thought.
As the evening came and went, Steve prepared for work in the morning while Karl continued to stumble around, devoid of any life.
“ Is everything okay, Karl? ”
“ Yeah. Fine. ”
Those were the only two words Karl said all day.
By the time Steve returned from work on Monday, Karl had left. He took his posters off the walls of his room and vanished. Only that painting was left behind. Steve, still yanking off his necktie, swore he saw a series of perfect rectangles amongst the randomness of paint, though only for a moment. His mind was just playing tricks on him.
He had placed a few phone calls to make sure Karl was okay. His friends hadn ’ t heard from him and his parents were genuinely worried when he had called them. It was as if his roommate had disappeared.
On Wednesday, Steve decided to take a closer look around the vacant room. Clothes, pictures, the Xbox, and TV were all gone. The painting hanging on the wall was all that was left. Karl had only started acting strangely after that painting arrived. Steve stared at it, hoping that it would provide an answer.
All he could see was a senseless tangle of swirls and dots. But they were starting to look less random. Steve was reminded of those illusory pictures that had a hidden object in them if you looked at them in the right way. He could almost see a face staring back at him.
There was a knock on the door to distract him. He turned towards the door instinctively. As he left the room, he turned back to the painting. It was just chaos again.
Standing outside was man of about 40. He held a brimmed hat in both hands over his belt line.
“ Hi there, ” he said. “ Is your friend here? ”
“ Karl? No, ” Steve. “ He left a couple of days ago. Haven ’ t seen or heard from him since. ”
There wasn ’ t so much surprise on the man ’ s face as there was resignation.
“ Oh, ” he remarked. “ Do you still have the painting? ”
“ How do you know about the painting? ”
“ I ’ m the one who sold it to him. I was wondering if he kept it or… ”
“ It ’ s the only thing he left behind. If you still want it- “
“ No, ” the man interrupted. “ I mean, that ’ s fine. Just… curious, that ’ s all. ”
The man returned his hat to his head and walked off.
“ Bye, ” Steve said to the man ’ s back, adding, “ creep. ”
He walked back to Karl ’ s room and pulled the painting off of the wall. Back in the living room, he set it down on a chair facing the television to study it further. He wanted to see that face again. Like before, as he continued to stare at it, the shapes and colors looked less like random pigment and more like actual objects. There was something in the foreground. And in the back was something else, something boxy. It was a TV.
Steve turned to the television. It was gone. Sort of. Where the mostly black flat screen set had been was a fairly rectangular swirl of dark colors. He turned back to the painting. There was no mistaking it now. The outline of the box was now dark with well-defined edges. He again looked back at the TV. It had changed again. It was now a variety of bright colors. The shape seemed to fragment as well.
Back to the painting. The conversion was complete. It wasn ’ t an approximation anymore; that was a TV set, a perfectly rectangular screen. Steve had gotten so caught up in that object that he failed to notice the foreground. The tall, slender object had legs covered in a dark blue. It had arms in clear flesh tones. It had dark brown hair like Steve ’ s. And it had Steve ’ s necktie, complete with the hidden message in binary.
“ Steve? ” called a voice.
Steve turned to see his roommate represented in swirls of random colors.
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[ IP ] You are stranded in the woods after a car accident . After walking for hours , you stumble upon this house hidden in a clearing at the end of a long gravel drive . Night is falling and it will soon be freezing outside .
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`` Hey you, get in here!'' An old scrawny man calls out to you from the upper balcony.
`` Are there hot hookers and lasers!'' You call back
`` SIR YES SIR!'' THe old man retreats back for a second into the house and brings out two of the hottest hookers with lasers you have ever seen.
`` omg I must gain entrance, wilst thou allowth me to entre thine manore?'' You inquire
The old man stares at you from the balcony window and pauses until finally he mutters: ``....sii......''.
Wasting no time you dash straight through the great and ancient double oak doors and spend the night drinking and endulging in Hookers and lasers.
The next morning you wake up and find yourself outside again with the sun shining down on you.
The house is but ruins and later when you walk to a nearby gas station, you inquiry about the incredibly sexy mansion and it's equally sexy inahbitants whom you had partied with last night.
The gast station attendant is balked and says that `` They died 500 years ago after an overdose of lasers and hookers''.
`` omg'' you say.
GGHOOSTTs
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[ TT ] The prophesied antagonist dies and suddenly the hero has no fated destiny .
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I sat on the floor and stared at my sword. The leather wrapped hilt seemed to stare back at me from its place on my knee. * “ I ’ ll find a way to stop her, ” * my own voice rang in my ears, * “ no matter what. ” * Find a way… I hadn ’ t meant for her to die. Especially not like this.
Calla had fallen down a flight of stairs and broken her neck. It seemed a rather anticlimactic end for her. I couldn ’ t get the image of her broken body out of my mind. I hadn ’ t seen the staircase. I ’ d just arrived in town, weeks after she ’ d died. I hadn ’ t believed them when they told me so they ’ d shown me the body.
The castle she had conquered, Castle Ravenwatch, had killed her. A simple fall. No one had been near her. She hadn ’ t been drugged. She just… fell. If it had been one of the hundreds she ’ d wronged in her rampage across this country I could have accepted that. But a staircase? I was beat by a mere staircase? My sister was defeated by a staircase?
“ Vee, ” Sien ’ s voice came from above me but I couldn ’ t bring myself to care.
I hadn ’ t been there when Calla died. My sister, my responsibility. She ’ d always been the “ evil twin ” and the more people had called her that, the more it had fueled her madness. I ’ d thought that it was my destiny to help her… but now she was gone. And I still had this sword, Right Maker. * “ I can fix this. ” * I ’ d been such a fool.
I hadn ’ t though she could be defeated be something so trivial. People said twins were powerful and she ’ d proven them right, tearing through “ undefeatable ” fortress walls like butter. Her magic had come a long way from the time she accidentally set her maid on fire. Of course, no one had believed it was an accident despite the fact that she ’ d never even used magic before then. That was when they first called her evil, at least that I heard about.
And I had always been good with weapons. Any weapon was deadly in my hands, even a fork, but that had been no match for Calla ’ s magic. So, I ’ d quested. Sien and Halys had joined me somewhere along the way as I tried to find a way to stop her. And that had led me to Right Maker. The sword rendered the wielder immune to direct magic attacks and some said it could mimic the magic of the last person to hit it. If that was the case, then it had been up against a EarthRender, and a rather powerful one at that.
“ Viene? ” Sien tried again.
I traced my fingers over the cold steel pommel. Right Maker. * “ You shall make the world right again, ” * Old Athran had told me. He ’ d claimed to be a prophet but I don ’ t think this world could ever be right again. Not when Calla would never laugh again. Not when there were people outside this Inn celebrating my sister ’ s death. Not when my sister ’ s funeral had devolved into a week long *festival. *
“ Viene! ” Sien finally broke me out of my trance and I looked up. “ What now? ”
Now? There was only one thing to do really. Make it right. A smile slowly broke over my face. “ Now we go to Castle Ravenwatch. ”
Sien stared at me for a moment, confused. “ You want to see where it happened? ”
“ No. ” I couldn ’ t help it, the words came out as a purr. “ I ’ m going to destroy it. ” I lifted Right Maker from my knees and stood, striding for the door.
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[ CONTEST ] A Game Of Cat And Mouse ( and a chance for a film adaptation ! )
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Okay, okay, set the mood. Set the mood… How does one do that, exactly? You've seen dozens of movies about this, just think. Candles, those are romantic, let's set those on the table. Dust off the record player you got for Christmas two years ago, plop on a ratty Chet Baker and pull the curtains closed. The view outside is the antithesis of what you want tonight to be: colorless, passionless, just *less. * Take a gulp of air; do n't forget to breathe.
The doorbell rings. Through the peephole you see her, lavish and beautiful. Her hair is done up in a loose bun and she's wearing this unbelievable gown, which hugs her body in a way you never can. There is a sadness that radiates from her, though, unshakeable but not unbreakable. You've seen her laugh, made her laugh, even. This is a plus. It will make tonight easier. Anything to make it easier. You just need it to go well, then everything will be okay again.
Stop wringing your hands and open the door. She brightens when she sees you, a little bit of color rushing into her soft cheeks as you pull her inside. Of course now you have to wash your hands, but you tell her to sit down and make herself comfortable while you do. The water is scalding, reddening the already angry skin, but you stifle the pain down. Scrub, scrub, scrub. Get all the negativity off before it can infect you.
One arm draped lazily across the back of the couch, she lets out a quiet trumpet-like aria, high and pure, wobbling with vibrato. She could have been a singer, you remark, and she titters. Her mother would have never approved, God rest her soul. The song is one from an upcoming opera she's directing. Practices run all day, she says, and coming here is her only respite. Thank her, you dolt, before she thinks something is up.
How is the collection, she asks, and is it close to completion yet? Glance back at it just for a second, just to make sure it has n't picked up and left since the last time you checked. Resist the urge to get up and really check, like you want to. Stop wringing your hands. Are you nervous, she asks now, looking truly worried. Yes, you say, the collection is almost done, and no, you have n't felt this good in a long time. Her smile lifts you physically, chanigng your hunched posture from atrocious to merely bad.
Her hand, the one not draped along the back of the couch, reaches towards the space between her breasts, subtly camouflaged in the dress she's wearing. You ca n't help the joy that surges into your eyes as she does so; this could be it, the final touch you've been waiting for. The last piece. Then she abruptly moves the hand away, flapping it like some inane bird.
Dust motes, ones you should have seen and cleaned before she got here, rollick through the air in her hand's wake. Revel in this now while you still can. Keep her here. Feed her, that's what a normal person would do. Stop wringing your hands. She starves most days, waiting for food like this, and it's taken you months to acquire the materials. Fear of capture has mostly kept you from operating in the daylight, as you would prefer, but still you ca n't deny the results.
The meatloaf, not the most romantic food but good enough, smells delectable. Your grandfather used that word once, but you're not entirely sure what it means. It sounds positive. You dole out a healthy hunk onto her plate and match it on yours. She licks her lips. Mashed potatoes make a sickening noise as they slide onto the porcelain. She rubs her hands together eagerly. Green beans, cooked with the intention of making them taste better than they really do, file one by one into line following the potatoes. It's a regular meal for the gods, complete with ambrosia -- and nectar.
Her gasp of surprise as you present the *piece de resistance*, a bottle of well-aged wine straight from Bordeaux, kicks around the embers in your heart. The flame might soon start, if you're not careful. Her hand dances around the fork and knife, unsure of which to pick first. Your collection beckons at your back, beating against it mercilessly. You can not stop wringing your hands now. She's going to notice…
And then, there it is. Facedown on the table, as if it belonged there. Where did she pull it from? Her hair? Her dress? Surely she was n't holding it the whole time, you would have noticed. Reach forward and pick it up. Do n't be afraid. It's the last piece, be careful. It feels cold. She says it's because the weather outside is getting worse, but it feels nice in here. The candles help, you say absently, not looking at her. It's too beautiful, too unreal, to look away from.
A small heart, no bigger than your thumbnail, sits placidly in the center of the small rectangle. Two little A's spar from opposite corners, their pointed edges sneering at each other. It's wrinkled, like the rest of them. The back says `` Bicycle Playing Cards'', like the rest of them. And it is so beautiful, like the rest of them. Take her hand before you go into the collection. You can show her. You owe her that much now. Look at them, your children, all fifty-one -- no, fifty-two, now -- of them. So different and precious. Each one has a memory attached; the moustachioed king of clubs, you remember, came from a gruff man four states over, and you had to wrestle him for it. Doing it this way, with beautiful women, was much better than fighting with angry people in alleyways.
Slide the card into place. It is done now. You're safe. Your hands drop to your sides in relief, and they start to bleed.
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[ WP ] A nuclear disaster means pigs begin to fly . All over the world people are forced to do the ridiculous things they once promised .
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`` Eat it'' said Norman.
I never thought there would come a day when pigs would actually fly. I never meant any of the things I said. Nobody did.
`` I'm waiting''
`` Come on! You ca n't honestly expect me to do this!''
`` Look, a promise is a promise, and I'm not the dumbass who promised to do this. Now are you gon na do it or not?''
My neighbor had to eat his hat. Another had to eat his horse. Another one promised to give his house to the first person he met. Who does that?
Norman was getting impatient now. I tried to stall by saying `` You've had him for so long. You basically grew up with him! Why would you want me to do this? Do n't you enjoy having him?''
`` I do n't care. A promise is a promise. I've been waiting for the day you had to eat your words, you smug asshole. Now do it or you'll regret it''
He was serious. It looked so nasty. I almost gagged from the smell alone.
`` EAT. MY. COCK. NOW''
I put some in my mouth. It was n't really THAT bad, but I wondered why he would want me to do this. He must be fucking insane.
I guess eating a rooster is n't the worst thing in the world. Still better than eating a live horse.
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[ TT ] That day , he wore a new hat . Nothing else changed , but people still treated him differently .
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Jim passed the familiar doors with knots in his stomach. His friends, former friends now, looked at him with either hate or sorrow, sometimes both.
Jim made small steps to the next door, towards the grinning faces awaiting him. He passed the next set of doors and he felt welcome. Yet he knew he was still going to be apart, as his past was still known to all the men he was going to live in. A few those actually did n't cheer, and instead spat on him as he went in.
Jim continued to his cell, and removed his stripped black and white cap and put it down on the lower bunk. A grunt came from the upper bunk.
`` Welcome, *boss*'' said his cellmate with a deep voice. `` Not wearing your uniform today?''
Jim did n't reply and just say on his bed. The recent events ca n't back to him. Finding his wife and Henry, his colleague jailor, his friend, in the same bed. His rage, and the frenzy that ensued. And then the cops. The trial. And now his punishment. It felt weird being on the other side of the fence.
*Twenty years* he thought, and started crying.
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[ WP ] If you murder someone , your jail sentence is as long as their remaining life would have been .
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The bars echo after they slammed closed behind him. He wore that same look on his face, as if burdened by somethin he knew that no one else did.
`` How'd it go?''
`` What'd I tell you?'' he huffs.
No one who gets over 25 years has a chance at getting parole. Over 50 years? Not a prayer. It had been my third night in, and tears stained the crotch of my government issued pants as I realized the next nine years of my life would be spent in one buildin. This buildin. With bars on the windows. Bars on the doors.
`` How much longer you got left then?''
`` Longer than I'll live to see.''
Poor bastard. Got locked up six months before some nerd out of Harvard figured out how to triple the human life span. Before prison began to be treated like rehabilitation again. Maybe that's why they keep him with me. You would n't think him dangerous if you saw him, even in his orange jumpsuit. The only one who shakes everyone's hand who comes near him, prisoner or not.
On his third night in, the man hoverin three feet above me he had 81 additional years weighing on his conscious. He slept like a baby.
As for me, well, the judge may have wanted to make an example of me on the outside, but in here, fraud and identity theft are pretty lightweight offenses. Plus, it's easier to show good behavior if you commit a crime that only shows up on paper. I was looking at maybe eight years. Five if I was lucky.
At least that's what he told me.
`` What'd you say to them?''
`` Same thing I always say.''
`` Not tryin to Monday mornin quarterback here, but if it has n't worked the past three times, what makes you think it'd work now? I mean, it's hard enough for a murderer to get parole. A filicidal killer? Even harder.''
He sticks his head over the edge of the bed. His stare even more piercing upside down.
`` I've been studying vocab for the SATs.''
He disappears again. Dust falls on my forehead as the mattress in front of me shuffles till he's comfortable.
`` What'd you say to them?''
I roll over and pull my blanket over my shoulders. A cold wind cuts through the cells every night. If you kick off your covers while you sleep, you're bound to get sick at least once a month.
Maybe he'll tell me next time.
`` My great grandfather grew up in a city called Leonding, back when it was still a part of Austria-Hungary. He fought in World War I. He witnessed World War II. He himself was not a bad man, but he lived among bad men. He saw what happens when the evil that exists in one person fuels the hatred in all others.
`` I only remember visiting him once. It was in a big hospital. He cleared the room till it was just me and him. He stared at me in complete silence for five minutes before he smiled, tears in his eyes. There's good in you, he told me. The light overshadows the dark, and it's up to me to fight against the wicked. To rid the world of their toxic hate.
`` My son was born with half of my blood, and the blood of my family. Blood that travels to countries for an wide throughout history. It runs through the veins of pure and evil men alike. On his 5th birthday, I took him to his bedroom. For hours I stared into his eyes, searching for hope. That light I had seen in my great grandfather's eyes. And my grandfather's eyes. And my mother's eyes.
`` But I did n't find hope. Nor light. I found darkness. Hatred. An evil we pretend does n't exist in this world. Everyday I look into the eyes of the men around here. Not for innocence, but for repentance. I have n't seen a more wicked heart than in that child.
`` I was willing to be the one to suffer for his lifetime, rather than the rest of the world. As of now, I still am.''
EDIT- formatting
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[ WP ] An elderly Andy ( from Toy Story ) is on his death bed . Woody sneaks in his room and decides it 's time to have his first conversation with his best friend .
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The past couple of months had been bad for Andy with his condition getting worse and worse. Though Woody had seen Andy hurt before, he could tell something was different this time. Each time before Andy seemed like he still had energy and fight in him to get better, but this time it just seemed like he was only getting more tired. Though Woody had seen what the result of people dying before, like with Andy's mom and Bonnie, he could n't fathom what it truly meant just like he could n't fathom why Andy was n't getting up. Each time Woody got hurt all it took were a couple of stitches and he would feel right as rain, so why could n't that work with Andy. What made it worse was that he was forgetting people's names and each time would get more and more frustrated which would end up tiring him out more and more.
Just yesterday, Woody had heard the doctor tell Andy's wife that it was time to start saying goodbyes. Against the cardinal rules of toys, Woody decided to say goodbye to his first and oldest best friend one last time. After waiting for Andy's family to leave the hospital, Woody hopped from the night table to Andy's bed and nudge him awake. Woody could tell that it took much energy for him to open his weathered eyes.
`` Woody? Is that you?'' Andy strained to ask. He looked out at Woody as tears began to fill his eyes. Struggling to reach his arm out, he managed to wrap his calloused, wrinkled hands and pull Woody closer.
`` Yes its me Andy'' Woody replied''
`` This is too much!'' Andy bellowed as his tears streamed down his face. `` God, is n't it punishment enough to make me forget the names of my daughters, of my grandchildren? Is n't it enough, why am I being punished with delusions also... What did I do to deserve this?'' leapt from his mouth.
`` No its not like that Andy, this is n't a delusion!'' Woody said, trying to assuage Andy's fears.
`` Stop It!'' Andy screamed in his raspy voice as he threw Woody as far as he could. As Woody hit the ground, he could see Andy strain to lift his tired body out of his bed. But what goal he was trying to accomplish he could n't. When rose from the bed he immediately collapsed hitting his head on the night table beside him.
As the doctors rushed in the room they got him into a moving bed. Woody watched in horror as the doctors tried to help him and patch him up. Despite their best efforts, he went into a coma. Victoria, Andy's granddaughter, held onto Woody tightly as tears ran down her face, wishing her grandfather would wake up.
He never woke up.
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[ IP ] Just take a deep breathe .
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She shook the canister at him; the droplets banged against the side. There was nothing K'gran could do about it. There were limits, laws, supply issues. If he helped every damn girl that shook their canister at him he'd be breathing in the soot on a full-time basis. She tightened her cloak and shivered, sucking in another breath of water vapor. The surface of the Earth had grown so hot due to the chemicals their ancestors had pumped into the air that it would dry any rain that hit the ground. The only solution was to seal the water, in solid form and breath in the vapor when you felt thirsty or lightheaded. Nothing had been the same since Tesla failed to make it to market; every other car company tossed aside their electric plans and turned back to oil, burning more and more gas every year. K'gran sold most of products on top of expired oil barrels, it was the most plentiful furniture in the world, but the moon was where luxury lived. The girl sucked in another breath.
A small tear started to form on her face but it evaporated leaving only a dampened spot under her eyes moist. She had nothing, there was nothing. He waved her on to the back of the store. K'gran made extra money this way when things were a bit tighter, the summer season kept so many people indoors and underground he barely made a sale a week. His products ranged from canisters to old replicas of war tools, but the most popular product was the H2O vapor- he had the purest. What good was it if a little girl could n't have a few sprays loaded into her tank?
She smirked as he led her to the back of his store, the masters would be thrilled to know who was keeping the groundlings alive.
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[ WP ] In the near future a company holding the only patent to a point-to-point teleportation system in widespread use is exposed as a fraud and the truth is more horrible than anyone expected it to be .
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`` WHADDA YA MEAN IT'S DONE WITH MIRRORS!?''
The four people sat around the table all cast their gaze down. Too ashamed to meet the gaze of the man who was shouting at them.
`` I ASKED YOU A QUESTION! WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S DONE WITH MIRRORS?!'' The man shouted, over enunciating the question so he could n't be misunderstood.
The leader of the people at the table mumbled a reply.
^'' Well ^it's ^not ^really ^teleportation, ^it's...''
`` I CA N'T QUITE HEAR THAT! COULD YOU SPEAK UP'' shouted the man cutting off her response.
The leader of the people at the table took a deep breath, and a moment to calm herself, and then started again.
`` It's not really teleportation. It's just a trick. An illusion.''
For the first time since the start of the conversation, the shouting man found himself unable to shout. He just stared at her, his jaw slack, his eyes wide, and his expression disbelieving. She stared meekly back at him, seemingly unsure about what else she should say.
``... What now?''
The leader turned to her subordinates and then back to the man.
`` It's an illusion.'' She said. `` The device ca n't really teleport a person. We just make it look like that person has teleported.''
The confidence of the woman grew a bit, and so too did that of the rest of the table. The man with the long coat piped up, `` We do it with mirrors.''
The previously shouting man still wore his dumbfounded expression from before.
`` That does n't make any fucking sense.'' He said.
The leader's expression took on an almost pitying air as she explained, `` Well it's a very convincing trick. It took a long time for us to perfect it, but we thought it best to own up now before this went to far. You see, when the person'teleports' we use a flash of light to distract you, and drop a mirror in front of them. Then at the other end we have them hidden behind another mirror, and we distract you with another flash of light while we lift it. Sorry.''
The disbelief in the man's face somehow seemed to be growing, and that's a remarkable feat because his face had a lot of disbelief in it.
`` But I've used to device.'' He said. `` I travelled a thousand miles in an instant...''
`` Yep'', she responded. `` Mirrors.''
`` But, but, how did... I was the one teleporting! How did you hide it from me?''
The woman gave a knowing smile. `` Well that's where the flash of light comes in, it distracts you from the mirrors.''
`` No. No. You do n't quite seem to be understanding me.'' Responded the previously shouting man, in a tone which implied that he might well return to being the shouting man very soon. `` I was moved a thousand miles, i.e. a long fucking way, in an instant, i.e. not very long. I do n't care about how people were distracted from the mirrors, or what the flash of light did. I just want to know how I was moved so far so fast. How did I get from one mirror to the other?''
The woman looked at him, all meekness now gone and a look of incredulousness in it's place. `` Well that's simple'' she responded. `` We just stop time and then move you.''
The man's face was now totally blank. For it second it had looked as if he might shout, but it had settled down to this flat, expressionless state.
`` Okay.'' He said, his voice matching his face. `` Let's start with the time stopping.''
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[ WP ] The world is covered in mountains hundreds of miles high that extend past the atmosphere . The first astronauts begin the long climb to space .
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For the longest time, my people thought we were alone. Surrounded by mountains so high, anyone who went never returned. Stories tell of a group of men, who went up the mountain near one of the villages, one by one. Just far enough to watch the one in front. As they got higher, they would see the man ahead of them collapse. That is how we learned of those who perished.
Eventually, we discovered new technologies, steam engines, hot air balloons. A thousand and one hundred years ago, we dug through a mountain. It took a hundred of those years to break through. And that is how we discovered our neighbours. Since then we've established faster ways to dig, to continue exploring what we now call our planet.
Technology has boom with the introduction of new minds to join together and create. So now, on our one thousandth anniversary of the first breach, we celebrate by using this new technology, equipped on our brave explorers, to travel higher than ever before upon the mountains. Beyond our skies, over the valleys, we shall learn what awaits us. Using these oxygen suits they will breathe freely as they climb, and when they return, we will celebrate once more!
( Using my phone while on break, sorry for any errors )
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[ IP ] A cloaked figure is spotted dropping raw meat near a children 's playground .
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I've called all the others, none of them will listen. You're the last doctor in town, please hear me out. Just five minutes, I beg you. It may well be a matter of life and death.
________________________________________________________________
The mad meat maiden. I can see it already. That's what the headline will be - and the populace of Checkham Drive will all get a smile out of it, right before they turn the page or put aside the paper and forget about the whole affair. But if I'm correct, we will all be horribly reminded of it, soon enough.
See, I've been investigating her. That'witch,' as people have been calling her. Meredith Paulson, forty two years old, all of which she's spent here in the province. Now, already that's more than what most of the other journalists will tell you. They've all been focusing on the hilarity of it; the ham under the monkey bars and the pork chop by the foot of the slide. Oh, har har, it's all laughing business, ai n't it? Wrong. It is n't.
Unlike those slacks, I've been learning about Meredith, the real Meredith. I wanted to understand what would make a woman do such a peculiar thing. I can tell you now, she's not mad, not really. What she believes in, well I suppose it may or may not be true, but she certainly has a conscious reason for leaving out all that food - and that reason is this.
*A small scrap of paper has been stapled to the front cover of the report. With a tear, the young man peels it off and holds it up to the light. It portrays a black and white sketch of a gangly, four legged beast. The creature appears to have sharpened antlers and a row of countless black, beady eyes. *
This. That's why she did it, to keep this... thing at bay.
Woah, woah. Wait, please. No, of course I've checked- yeah. Uh-huh. No, this is n't a hoax. Hey, please. I'm being serious! Look, just sit back down. I'll convince you, I promise. Alright... Thank you.
Okay. For starters, here's a few facts I bet you did n't know. Our province is called Summerfield nowadays, but back in the 1800s, it still went by the name'Harrowgoth,' which in an old pagan dialect means'Hell-Gate.' That particular form of paganism was especially prevalent here and you can still find signs of it's existence scattered across the landscape.
Officially, their popularity has been attributed to our proximity to the Iron Hills, since the'black mountain' features heavily in their scripture. But unofficially, there are rumours that this region was highly polluted with a form of unbound magic. Looking deeper into this, I found a number of written accounts who allude to the inhabitants actually seeking to wield this magic and summon'ethereal creatures', who could act as slaves and such.
Of the many shapes and depictions that were listed, one feature stands out particularly and that is antlers. In over half of the writings, I found mention of'a black eyed stag' and'horns of the Horned one.' If you want the details, they're in here.
*The young man opens the folder, thumbing through the pages quickly. *
Everything I've said is explained more thoroughly in here, but I'll let you look at this in your own time. For now, let me update you on a more immediate consequence of these creatures.
1978, two toddlers went missing from a park outside Bakerston, not two miles away from here. 1982, another child went missing, again from a play park, this time over in Lower Easton. Neither of those cases were ever solved, but here's the interesting part.
After a couple of dead-ends, I cross checked those police files against something less obvious; the ecological studies archive. Now, let me say first, that we do not have deer around here. None, almost anyone can tell you that.
Only when I checked the dates, 1978 and 1982, I discovered something note-worthy. On those years and those years only, there were deer catalogued. It does n't say where, only that evidence of deer was found during those years.
Something more substantial? Begging your pardon, but the issue I'm facing is that this is no ordinary creature. I mean, it's nigh on mythological. I understand your hesitation, but you need to be patient. How else would you explain the deer?
Whatever. Just, let me continue. I then checked the old ladies house, that's where I found that sketch, of the monster. She's got a couple of books in her basement and I found a bunch of those drawings pressed between the pages.
As for the books themselves?
Ca n't say much about their contents. They were n't written in any language I've ever seen. I showed them to a friend over at the campus, a professor of world languages and she was just as perplexed as I was.
Look, as you can see, I'm still very far from understanding any of this, but the police wo n't let us speak to Meredith. A health risk, apparently. Word is though, that they plan to put her up inside an institution. I need you to request her to be transferred to you - and from there, I want access to speak with her. Yes, I understand, it's not strictly by-the-book, but I'm desperate. At least think on it, would you?
I know it's absurd. Totally, ludicrously absurd. But **if** the meat-maiden is n't mad, then... That'thing' might be getting hungry.
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( WP ) Final diary entry of a person wrongly accused of a crime receiving death penalty .
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I have no doubt that this `` diary'' they gave to me serves no other purpose than to provide evidence and other such nonsense. They assured me it was private yet I have no doubt that after my death these pages will be available to anybody who asks. I dedicate these last few pages on the last night of my life to my family - the most important thing in the world to me.
Death has never scared me, I admit. I never felt that it was something to be afraid of, or sad about. When I was young and I learned that my father passed away in a simple car accident, I cared very much to know that he would never return. Yet as my mother noticed my straight face and dry eyes, she asked if I understood what it meant that he had `` died'' - of course I did. I cared, it was terrible. But never did I cry or feel sad about it, despite how close he and I were. Death was just something that happened. My pet goldfish passed away only a week after I had saved enough money to purchase it, and that was the only time I wept as a result of death... before I knew what it truly meant to be dead. Since then, I never have. I am not cold-hearted, nor am I evil. I am simply accepting of death, a natural event in human life, one which properly concludes their existence and ends it with proper closure.
Sophia, the one true love of my life: my happiest moments were without a doubt always made by you, and even to the end I wish you to remember me as I was then - a loving husband, and a caring father. I am still both. I know that in my final moments, I will be thinking of you. I hope that you, as well, think of me until your time here concludes. When we first met, guided to each other by our respective friends, I could not possibly imagine that my life would end up so strongly connected to yours. Even though we were young and knew that high school relationships never worked out, we remained stubborn for that very fact, and every obstacle we had to overcome was worth it. At one point, I remember thinking to myself that nothing short of a disaster could separate us... and yet, it seems as though that was true. I am sorry, Sophia, for what has happened to me. I am sorry that I will never get to see our beautiful children grow up, sorry that I will never be able to help you again when the house gets out of control, and I am truly sorry that the memories you have of me trapped within a single solitary cell even exists. Forgive me, my dearest Sophia... but do not forget me.
Claire, my sweetest little girl. I know what you may think of me. I could see it in your eyes, the first and last time you visited me months ago - you thought to yourself, `` how could my father do such a thing?'' I never saw you since then, despite the numerous visits by both Sophia and Jonathon, whom I know for a fact offered on many occasions to have you join them. It is not my place to tell you whether or not I did it, not yet. But know that from the moment you were born twelve years ago I was willing to give my life to protect you from the truly terrible people in this world. I wished for nothing more than to give you a long, happy, fulfilling life. I do not know how your story ends, or even how it continues, but I do know that no matter what happens I will always be proud of you and your accomplishments. My only regret is that I have gotten myself into this situation and you will never have a father whom you can call `` dad''. I only hope that you can find it in your heart to think of me as dad even after I pass on.
Jonathan, my strong and capable young man. When I first saw you, I never even considered that one day you, just like everybody else, would one day turn eighteen and become an independent adult. Yet since I've been gone, I have seen that day come and even one more year on top of it, and there are few greater pleasures than to know that although soon I will be gone, I at least nearly managed to take care of you all the way. I know that you will be fine without me. Even years ago, you required my help less and less. Your capabilities were both saddening and a source of pride for me. If I had ever seemed disappointed or disinterested in your works of art, I will admit now: with every goal you achieved, I knew you were one step closer to becoming completely independent of me. I rooted for you all the way, and I loved you as much as I possibly could. Yet in the back of my mind, I feared the day when you would step out into the real world... and soon that day will come, and I will not be there for you. Even though I wo n't be there for you, know that I love you. I always have, and always will. You are my son, and I could not ask to have you any other way. Thank you for your support as I remained away. You're going to be a success, there is not a doubt in my mind.
Do not worry for me, any of you, and any others. I have been here long enough so as to accept my fate, even though some would consider it to be unjust. Surely, they expect me to write about my accusations and my perceived innocence, but I will not give them the pleasure. There is no reason to weep for me, yet do so if you must. Remember, though, that weeping will not bring me back. I will not be offended if you are not upset. Surely, some of you have already come to accept my eventual fate as well. I would not dare undermine your acceptance. The only thing left is for me to pass on... and I will do so with a smile on my face, knowing that even though it did not have to be this way, I at least have a wonderful family supporting me until the very end.
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[ WP ] Captive Audience : You 've been taken hostage , not for ransom or for violence , but because your captor just really needs someone to talk to .
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It was good at the top. I had money. Cars. Houses. Friends that got recognized. Hell, I was starting to get recognized. I was having a good day. A day off from my new, fast life of trading compliments with talkshow hosts, or poking at the most famous minds of my generation. I had figured everything out. How to unlock the human brain. Hack it. I knew how to make your dreams come true. Well, sort of. It depended heavily on the person, but I had perfected my generalizations. I had made the masses believe I knew exactly how to fix each of their individual issues. I could wing it in any situation. Having grown up with an alcoholic, abusive, suspicious mother, I knew how to talk my way out of anything.
A car pulled up out front. It was the best and newest, not even available to the public yet. I deserved it. I got in, poured myself a drink and leaned back in my seat, grabbing my phone so I could reply to a few emails. Had to do something, why not be productive.
The partition came down. I looked up, waiting to see what the driver had to say.
`` Hey. I'm Scotty. Nice to meet you. I've got all your stuff. The books, tapes, and I even have all the episodes from the shows you've been on! I just had to meet you! You're so cool. Got it all figured out. Money and bitches everywhere I bet! ``
Oh. He was this guy. Great. I made a living helping people, so I could n't dismiss the guy. I was enjoying my fame, but you should never forget what is really important. I could n't forget people like him were the only reason I enjoyed the luxuries I did.
`` Always happy to meet someone who appreciates a higher level of thinking. I have been fortunate. I do n't call the women that are nice enough to go out with me'bitches', however. I would n't get anywhere if I did! I can sign a book for you after we get there, if you'd like.'' I really wanted to go back to the quiet. Maybe he would be happy with that.
`` That would be amazing! You are a cool guy. My friends said this was a bad idea, that you would be a jerk. Just wanted to be famous for the money and bit.....ladies, they said. I knew better. I'm really glad I made it in time this morning. So, I really need to ask ya something important. It's like, life or death to me.''
I could see him looking at me expectantly in the rear view mirror. Did he say he was glad he made it in time this morning? What was that about? Was he usually late for things? He would know who he was escorting in advance, so why would he be worried about being late if he were a big fan? It was probably nothing. My mind always had to search for five answers to one question. Ok, let him ask the question, then I would imply, nicely, that I needed to finish my emails.
`` Alright. You have a question. Go ahead.''
`` Yes! I knew you would n't mind. I really need someone to talk to. I thought to myself, who better than you? You even helped Leo finally accept his disappointment, then he finally won! My problems not so important. Here it is: I really just want to be happy. I feel like I know what I have to do, but I'm not sure if it's going to make everyone else happy. I mean, working at the restaurant is paying the bills, but I want to do what I love. What would you do? ``
Well. I was right. The whole time he was talking, I had been wondering about his earlier comments. Now, he could have a second job at a restaurant, but I was fairly certain I had been abducted.
`` Here's what we are going to do. You answer my question, Scotty, and I'll help you with yours. Ok?'' Scotty shook his head up and down, excited that I was helping.
`` Where is the person who was really supposed to drive me today?''
I saw Scotty's face fall in the mirror.
`` Man! I really hoped you would n't figure that one out. You're a smart guy, though. Shoulda known better. Specially cause I ca n't keep my thoughts wrangled or my mouth shut. I'm really sorry. I just got to the car before he did. That's all. I would n't hurt anybody. I promise. I just needed to talk to you. I just want to be as happy as the other people. I want to find a nice..woman and stuff. Make a fat little baby or four. Do what I love to do and be a good citizen. Dude, I'll take you to the nearest place I can find. This was stupid.''
This guy was making me feel needed for the first time in awhile. Since the fame, no one needed me. They wanted me. He had basically kidnapped me, yes, but it was my job to look at the gray matter. Not just the black and white.
`` Scotty, if you promise to stop making terrible decisions like this one, I'll let this slide. Drive on, and we will pick apart that lovely brain of yours. No more criminal activities, though. Promise?'' I stared expectantly at the mirror, waiting for his answer.
`` I wo n't. I will never again. Promise. It just seemed meant to be. Met this guy, he told me about driving a star, things led from there. I just had to meet you. I get it though. I get too impetuous, but I learn fast. Man, you are so cool. The best. I did n't expect you to be this great.''
He was adorable. Only about twenty two, I'd guess, and already was humble and willing to learn. I felt like maybe it had been meant to be as well. I was kind of starting to get excited about delving into a psyche again. This could be fun.
`` You are a genuinely good person Scotty, rare, it's easy to be nice to you. Ok, no harm done. Tell me about your dream. Who do you want to be when you grow up?''
I saw him grin, `` Well, I want to.....''
We've been great friends ever since that trip.
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[ WP ] In a world of rampant genetic modification , you were born to a colony of `` pure humans '' who believe in natural evolution . You encounter a situation that changes or cements your views on being `` pure . ''
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`` But they know we're here right?'' I whispered - not quite quietly enough.
Father cut his eyes at me and raised a finger to his lips motioning for me to be silent as the deer's ear twitched and it raised its head, soft nostrils pointing into the wind.
Inwardly I groaned as I saw the telltale tightening of its haunches before it sprang into the forest. Determined not to lose the chance, father fired the bow but the arrow went wide and flew noisily into the brush beyond the small, quick flowing brook. I stood slowly then, my eyes downcast, and inspected a caterpillar that had decided to traverse my mountainous shoe.
`` Sorry,'' I mumbled.
Father did n't speak. Just strode purposefully into the woods to retrieve the arrow if he could. It's not that wood was rare but with so many people to look after, time was - and father liked to make his own arrows. He guarded them fiercely.
I could hear him beating around the branches and tall grasses. He was probably a little too enthusiastic and I imagined by then he had scared off everything within a mile but he at last emerged victoriously clutching the arrow in his fist, hand held high. The search had burnt out most of the anger and if an empty stomach was the price I paid in exchange for being able to sit for the next week, I would happily pay it.
I knew better. We'd been hunting together for months now. It was my fault. I knew that. But I could n't help myself. After the stranger had stumbled into camp last night, my mind would n't turn off. I had so many questions.
`` Maybe we'll stumble across some fowl on the way home,'' he said gruffly before starting a measured march northward. Coming from him, that was a close thing to forgiveness and I happily scrambled to catch up. When I did it was n't long before the questions built up behind my teeth again like water behind a dam.
He cast a furtive glance down at me. He was magical like that. These woods had been his home for so long, it was though he no longer had to watch where he put his feet. The forest and he had an understanding and if he had happened to place his foot wrong, by God, the forest better meet it. Not at all like myself. He steadied me a bit as I tripped and then kept on. Oh, sure, he was still unhappy about the deer but the light was back in his eyes and now was as safe a time as any.
`` Father?''
`` Hm?''
He stepped over the trunk of a small tree while I scurried around.
`` They know we're here right? I mean, they'll come to get her, right?''
His face darkened at the thought and for a second I thought he was n't going to answer.
I pressed on.
`` I mean, we ca n't just let her wander back into the woods. She's not like us.''
That finally got a reaction. Father barked out a sharp, pained laugh.
`` You have no idea how right you are, son.''
By that time I had caught up again and was valiantly trying to match his stride over the heavily carpeted forest floor.
`` You mean the part that she's Humod, do n't you?''
If I thought I had ever seen my father angry before, I had only seen a single cloud that had escaped a violent storm.
Father turned on me, his face red with rage as he grabbed my shoulders and shook me till I thought my brains would spill out right there.
`` Who taught you that word, Adrian?!'' He demanded. `` Have you been talking to that woman?''
`` When? No, father!'' I cried back, my eyes dangerously close to tears. I shook my head. `` No, papa. It was the other women. The ones that took care of her! They were talking about her over the fire this morning! I did n't mean to listen! I'm sorry!''
I was crying then. Big fat tears fell down my face and I was shaking, even though my father had stopped. He looked stricken then and stumbled backwards until he backed into the solid thickness of a massive tree. He seemed to lean into it for support, his face white. Warring emotions flickered across his face before he shoved himself away from the tree and landed on his knees in the dirt at my feet. He gathered me up then, like a bear and crushed me to his chest.
`` I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'' He was crying now too and that perhaps was the most terrifying thing of all. He stroked my hair and somehow both of us were soothed by the rare action.
Finally he held me at arms length.
`` I'm sorry, Adrian. You know that, right?''
I nodded quietly.
`` I lost my temper. It was wrong. What does sorry mean?''
I sniffed and a small smile tugged at the corners of my lips despite everything.
`` That you'll never do it again,'' I answered.
He nodded and then crossed his heart with his bear sized hand.
`` Never again.''
He sat then, right in the middle of the forest and patted the dirt beside him, motioning for me to join him.
`` What did you hear the women saying?''
I thought back to the words they had spoken this morning, happily knowing that I was going to finally get some answers but as I thought back, I realized just how little they had said.
`` Only that her injuries were bad and they could n't figure how she made it here in the first place. Then they said she was obviously a Humod and that her'kind' would be here soon unless we sent her away.''
Father was nodding. Listening before he spoke. That's what made him a great leader.
`` But we ca n't send her away,'' I continued. `` She's hurt and she does n't know the woods. She's not like us. She's from this Humod place.''
Father winced then. I could see it in his face, there was something he did n't want to tell me and just as I was afraid he would n't, he began to speak.
`` Son, Humod is n't a place. It's a thing.'' He could n't help but choke as he said the final word.
I did n't understand.
`` She's a woman. She's a person, is n't she?'' I fought to understand. Why would he say'thing'?
`` Is n't she....'' I felt ridiculous. My voice dropped to a whisper. `` Is n't she... human?''
He met my eyes then and a horrific feeling snaked through my stomach.
I reached up and touched the small points on the tips of my ears, all the while seeing the smooth rounded curves of my father's. He flushed guiltily but that was it. It was brief but I saw it.
Standing, my fists clenched, small pointed nails biting into the palms of my hands. My head was spinning.
I did n't understand. I was born here. This was my home. We're human. All of us. There is no such thing as'things'!
He was starting to rise.
`` Adrian, let me explain.''
`` Explain, what?!'' I yelled.
`` It is n't what you think.'' He was coming towards me then but I backed away. `` Please, son.'' His hands were held out.
`` I- I ca n't.'' I turned then and fled into the waiting arms of the forest. He could find me if he wanted to, it was his forest after all - but something in the wildness of my heart called out to the wildness of the trees and I left his voice echoing far behind me. I needed time to think. To process.
I lifted my hands in front of my face, studying them. Five fingers on each hand. Soft pink flesh. I had snagged one of my fingers on a thorn while I ran and it bled, bright red in the setting light of shadowed forest. But my nails. They were n't right. They were different. They were a'things' nails I thought bitterly. I covered my face then and fell to the earth.
What was I?
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[ WP ] The protagonist confronts God about all the evil in the world to find out that God is simply overworked and can not look out for everyone all the time .
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`` Why?! Why do you show up now?!'' I shout at the middle aged man standing across the room. `` Where we're you when I need you? Sure, I never believed in you, but if you really are who they say you are, why did n't you stop me?! I lost everything: my home, my gift, my will, everything! I've been through so much bullshit, but now you come to stop me from achieving eternal bliss. You are so sadistic...''
I could hear him sigh and I could feel his exhaustion. I immediately felt sorry for him, but my anger and frustration did n't subside. `` I'm sorry for what you've been through. I ca n't look over everyone and work is just so tiring. When I last looked over you, you looked so happy with her. I could feel how complete the two of you were. I'm sorry that she ripped your heart out. I only just got the chance to see you again and I'm sorry that it was so unbearable. You're only in high school, yet you went through one of life's most difficult hurdles. I'm sorry that I didnt help you keep your belonging, your friends, and your mentality. But please, do n't do this. You can still live on and get over her. You have had two other lovers have n't you? Not to mention, you have settled into your new school and found new friends.''
`` So what!!! Everything changed! I no longer have the will or energy to move on. Everyday is a struggle to move. I have to do so much bullshit that I do n't care for and I no longer have the ability to pass with little effort. There's no meaning to this life... Once I get back up, life only proceeds to knock me back down. And for what purpose do I live? Just as some sick entertainment?''
`` No. You are more than just that. Look at what you have accomplished-''
`` None of that matters! I do n't care about any of that anymore. God, you're a year late to save this soul.''
`` Please! Do n't do th-''
I could n't hear him over the gunshot.
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[ WP ] You fall in love with Death but she wo n't have you . You slowly realise you 're immortal/invincible .
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I never believed in love at first sight. My life had been riddled with events that lead to the destruction of any inkling of hopeless romanticism my pre-pubescent mind had constructed. I watched my parents ’ messy divorce, my mother ’ s screaming matches with asshole after asshole she brought home. It was safe to say my hopes for a lifetime full of love and happiness were at an all time low when I had reached the ripe age of 10.
My grandmother had been fighting a long battle with cancer that seemed as though it were drawing to an unfavorable close, and my mother made the executive decision to move her into hospice for what many speculated to be her last few days. I had never known anyone who died before. Though I had never known my grandmother very well, she lived close and my mom saw it fit that she and I camp out by her side until she passed. One morning when we arrived, I saw her. There she was, standing contently at my grandmother ’ s side, right over her frail body. She was youthful, her complexion looked as though it had been carved from ivory, delicate, with no color in the cheeks. She had her long raven hair, which fell in silky tresses about her flowing dress the color of tar. I tugged my mom ’ s sleeve and asked who the new woman was. My mother just laughed it off, much to my dismay, as I never took to kindly to be made fun of. I asked again, and this time my mother took a knee and asked who I was talking about.
“ The lady at grandma ’ s bed! ” I exclaimed.
“ It ’ s not polite to lie, Joseph, especially in the presence of someone so sick. Knock it off. ”
Completely awestruck, I sheepishly shrank back to the bedside, careful to avoid eye contact with the woman across from me.
It seemed as though hours had dragged by in painful silence when I heard my grandmother gasp. I looked up from my feet to see the new woman holding my grandmother ’ s bony hand, leaning in close. A smile painted itself across the old woman ’ s face as the woman in black touched her lips gingerly. The staccatto rise and fall of my grandmother ’ s chest slowed, and then stopped completely. The hospice nurse came around and closed her eyes, told my mom and I she was sorry for our loss, and my mother shed the few tears she had left. Assuming my duty as comforter, I did not even realize the other woman had made an exit without acknowledging anyone. I would not see her again for years after that.
I was 22 by now, driving down the expressway. Well, “ driving ” would be a kind word to use, as I was essentially sitting in a parking lot surrounded by cars on every side as far as the horizon. As I neared the flashing lights up ahead, I gathered there had been an accident, and a pretty bad one judging by the traffic and police response it had generated. As I passed the pile up, I looked toward the shoulder and, to my awe and wonder, saw the very same woman I had seen at my grandmother ’ s all those years ago! She pressed her lips up to those of a middle-aged man laying on his back near the accident. We locked eyes for a moment, and then, like a magician in her element, the beautiful woman vanished into thin air, as they wheeled the man away, his body covered by a sheet.
Two separate experiences, both two dead people, the same woman showing her angelic face. There was no fathomable way to explain this as a mere coincidence. I began obsessing over her; who.. or what was she? Why had I only seen her in two incidents, 12 years and thousands of miles apart? I was starving for answers.
Around this time I began my residency at a hospital near my home, and everything was going great for me. I eagerly anticipated the next time I would see that beautiful woman, and although I was driven to fantasize about seeing her again, I was perfectly aware of the possibility that I would not encounter her a next time for potentially years, if not decades.
But then something crazy happened.
I saw her.
I caught a glimpse of her long black hair brushing the face of an old man, whose heart monitor was flatlining. And then she was gone.
All so quickly, this became a normal occurrence, as I saw her with dying patients twice a day, if not more. There was some connection there, the dying people and the beautiful woman who no one else could see. I wondered why I was the only person blessed with her vision, and every time I saw her I made subtle attempts to speak to her, to touch her hand. She never spoke back, never acknowledged me, and it became apparent that her only purpose was to take those dying people away in their last few moments.
I became obsessed; I dreamt of her, I couldn ’ t eat knowing that this special woman only I could see may never acknowledge me. I had to have her, even if it killed me. And it almost did.
On a cold, foggy morning in October, I stood on the ledge of my twelfth-story apartment balcony. She had consumed my life. There was no happiness to become me unless I could be with her. I would force her to see me if it was the last thing I did.
I woke up in the hospital, my body encapsulated in a plaster tomb. I had broken my legs in 5 different places, fractured several ribs, and nearly severed by spinal cord with the bone fragments of my back. They said it was a miracle, that anyone else who took that fall would have died. I should have been happy to be alive, I really should have, but I was antagonized at my failed grasp for those blissful moments with Death.
They placed me in the mental ward as I healed, “ suicide watch ”. I should have been dead, or at least paralyzed, but my bones healed 4x the natural rate, and I regained full motion of all my appendages, I walked, I played piano, and did everything that someone who took that fall should never have been able to do again. My friends all cried tears of joy at my monumental recovery and visited me regularly during my stay in the hospital. I should have been happy, I really should have, but every morning I wake with the weight on my shoulders that I may never, in this “ lifetime ” or the next, feel that soothing kiss.
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[ WP ] After a conversation , my friend and I discussed night drives
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* ( this turned into something a little different than I had planned but I figured I'd post it anyway! ) *
I still make that drive, on nights I ca n't sleep. I do n't sleep much anymore.
There's nothing special about the route. No winding roads. No beautiful scenery. Just the argument. And the call that followed. The blur of the memory; me driving that route the first time in my life. The flashing lights, red and blue, lighting up the night time sky.
Sometimes I can see you when I make that drive. Always in the same spot, the place where it happened. I try to call out, but you never hear me. I can hear you though. The crying, the apologies. The same sounds I heard that night over and over as you faded away.
Every time I make that drive I hope to see you there. It's all I have left. The flowers you leave are beautiful. I wish I could tell you that.
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[ WP ] You have contracted vampirism . However , you crave a different commodity than blood ...
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Cold, empty, unfeeling.
A curse, or some twisted joke played by a god. It didn ’ t matter really, not anymore. She couldn ’ t remember how this had happened, or when precisely and she had no memories of her life before this. If she ’ d had one that was.
Emotions. She didn ’ t have any.
She couldn ’ t feel happy. She didn ’ t get the buzzing in her stomach like the fizzing of champagne at talking to someone cute. She didn ’ t get the bitter taste of anger hot on her tongue anymore. She felt nothing.
It wasn ’ t scary.
She wondered sometimes if she didn ’ t feel the hand squeezing around her heart because she physically couldn ’ t anymore. Because fear, terror and horror weren ’ t something she was allowed to feel anymore.
It had been … inconvenient. It made it hard to blend in when she couldn ’ t give people the correct emotional responses they expected. Over the years though, she had learnt. She had studied the humans around her and relearned emotions.
Learnt how to fake them.
She could blend in. She ’ d spent awhile in Paris, 1847 and been a snobby noble. Dismissing everyone that didn ’ t have the wealth that enabled them to be a suitable match for her. Spent her days gossiping with other ladies and eating little pastries and cakes.
She ’ d spent time in London during the second world war. Huddling with the others in bomb shelters and crying for those that hadn ’ t made it. It had been strange that one, until then she hadn ’ t realized she could cry.
She ’ d spent the latter half of the seventies dancing in disco clubs and forgetting the world in a haze of smoke and twinkling lights on the dance floor. She couldn ’ t remember much if she was honest, too much alcohol could impair even her.
She hadn ’ t felt anything for a long time. Too scared to let herself get close to anyone, to form an attachment when she didn ’ t age. The twenty first century made things a hell of a lot easier on that front.
She had found that with the constant pressure to look as young as possible once you hit your 20 ’ s, plastic surgery became a common thing. That wasn ’ t to say it was accepted, or encouraged unless you were from South Korea. There they gave you double eyelid surgery as a graduation gift. Which was strange she thought having spent the last 150 or so years looking at the same face. Having a face that didn ’ t change as you matured and experienced things was … unsatisfying. ( At least, she thought that was the emotion associated with such things )
150 years spent faking emotions and no real friendships was hard. But it allowed her to appreciate what she had now even more.
Beth was a treasure. She was a galaxy constantly rearranging itself, always in flux, always surprising. Beth affected her like espresso affected Beth. A jolt of energy buzzing through her veins and kick starting her systems on a cold, early morning.
Beth made her feel like she had champagne fizzing in her stomach when she ’ d first introduced herself. Beth had made her feel exasperation, a new emotion for her but one she had since become of so familiar with, when she ’ d carried on dating Leslie despite the fact Leslie was a cheat.
She ’ d cried with Beth when her and Leslie had broken up. She had been sad her friend had her heart broken but she ’ d also felt relief. That was also the moment she became acquainted with guilt.
She ’ d tasted the bitterness of anger and felt the heat of the all-consuming rage when Leslie had turned up at Beth ’ s doorstep at 3 AM, drunk, and begging for forgiveness.
She ’ d felt proud when Beth told her in no uncertain terms to go and fuck herself with a cactus.
Over the years, Beth had made her feel human again. And when she had told Beth everything, from the snobby noble in 1847 all the way to disco dancer in the seventies, Beth had embraced her. Beth had cried for her, for her loneliness and suffering for all those years. Beth had accepted her. And then sweet Beth had gone one step further and made her feel loved.
“ Never again will you be alone. I will always be here for you okay? No matter what. I don ’ t care if you don ’ t age or you don ’ t feel, ” Beth had said to her before catching her lips in a kiss.
And Beth was right. She hadn ’ t felt lonely since that moment and she ’ d always had someone to rely on. Someone to love and cherish and protect.
She ’ d promised Beth that as well, years later during her marriage vows. And even after all these years and all these emotions she ’ s experienced with Beth, the love she feels for her wife will always be her favorite.
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[ IP ] Angelic Purge
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In the time before time it came to be that God grew weary of omniscience and omnipotence. He chose to create in order to give meaning to His existence.
First He created the Heavens, His own domain where He would live and rule. To populate the heavens He created Angels. He made them in His own image and imbued much of His power in them. They would be His messengers and His servants. The exemplars of lesser beings, the divine perfection towards which they must strive.
Next He created the Earth. The training grounds of His beings. The fertile ground on which the spark of divinity would be lain in the hopes that it would be cultivated and grow to increase the splendor of Heaven. On the earth He created man. Each made in His own image and given the merest spark of His divine power. Life and sentience grew forth and with good actions, good thoughts, and worship above the divine spark grew and grew. When the flesh faltered and could no longer sustain the beings those who had grown their divine spark ascended to the Heavens to live with God and the Angels that He might once again grow powerful from them.
Finally, he created Hell. It was not to be that all saplings would grow straight and strong. There would be those which must be pruned and left to the lower realm and locked away. Those who tainted their spark did not receive the blessings of Heaven and instead sank to the realms below. The souls of the damned were sealed away and forgotten. Not to trouble the divine again.
Light covered the land as all of Creation prospered and God was happy. His own power restored as He was worshiped and souls came to reside in Heaven. He knew eventually His power would be even greater for having created these beings and He was pleased with this. God had, however given to much of His power during creation and had not seen the darkness hidden within.
The Angels, God ’ s divine power incarnate, meant to be the exemplar of the humanity below were tainted. The influence of the Angels on humanity had a single flaw, it worked both ways. The Angels meant to lead man to Heavenly respite were instead flawed by earthly desires and the tumultuous piety of the beings below.
So it came to be that the first Angel knew Pride and was cast from Heaven. God seeing the taint darkened his wings and ripped away his halo before casting him from heaven into Hell below. For a time the humanity quieted as their self-made exemplar of Pride no longer shone above. Then Greed reared its head and an Angel sought to create his own Heaven and his own Earth. God once again came forth and cast this Angel down, throwing away a piece of His own power in the very act. Humanity again settled and God with his reduced power took less of a hand in it. Content to sit back and let them be.
Without God ’ s interaction sects of humanity began to quit believing in him and grew lax in their faith. Believing in false idols or none at all. An Angel of Sloth came in response to the human ’ s contentedness and God once again stepped forward to cast him down. Seeing finally the effects the humans had on his Angels God went forth in a fury and punished them. Showing them again who their creator was and who it is they must worship before retreating to Heaven to rest.
It was all for naught as humanity had gone too far. Envy, Pride, Greed, Sloth, Gluttony, Lust, they all ran rampant through the earth as humans looked to each other more and less to the heavens. God weakened as their belief weakened. He continued to punish Angels when needed though they rose more and more frequently. Entire groups at a time giving in to the darkness of humanity, unable to pull it back from the breach.
Eventually it came to pass that humanity no longer believed in God. As his last believers aged and eventually past God faded and Heaven mourned. With God ’ s passing the Angels panicked. Though God had purged the Angels of Sin they knew it was only a matter of time before more Angels fell.
With fear in their hearts they took up blades to defend against them. Their paranoia keeping them from trusting one another to purge the new Angels of Sin. And so it came to be that in fear one Angel struck down another and became that which he feared. An Angel of Wrath was born and Heaven and all of creation despaired.
-- -
Hi, I'm new here! Practicing for National Novel Writing Month so please give me any and all feedback that you have! I appreciate it!: )
Cheers,
WreckedGiant
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[ WP ] The Devil appears before you and puts a heavy hand on your shoulder , `` Look , we need to talk about you putting me in every Writing Prompt . ''
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The Devil sat down at the kitchen table as he usually did, every day he was summoned to be my antagonist-of-ease/frenemy/weekend boyfriend. The ritual was seamless and we went through the motions while barely making eye contact. The tension worried me.
`` Look,'' He said, `` Geoff, you're a great guy, but I think --''
`` No, wait, I know what you're gon na say,'' I began to plead pre-emptively.
`` Please honey, just hear me out. I know you love to hate me. You love to blame all your sins on me. Your vanity, your desire, your lack of creativity. But you need to move on.'' He sipped his coffee politely, averting his eyes.
`` Dark Lord.... I need you though...'' I pushed dishes out of the way and tried to clasp his claw, but he got up. Stone-faced. Like he did n't remember that time he possessed my body and soul, eight Halloweens ago.
`` You're not even Christian, dear. You need to move on. It's 2017 after all. Trump is President and Jedi is a religion. Paint your own picture.'' He got up and went to the coat-rack and put on his robes of eternal darkness. `` I got ta go. Damning to do. Then I'm off to DC.''
I kicked back the chair, spilling coffee and hackish Satanist poetry as I chased him to the door. `` Can we still be friends at least?'' My voice echoed down the corridor full of desperation.
He turned, put on his sunglasses, and said coolly, `` When I see you in Hell.''
We've never crossed paths since. The voices have stopped. My writing began to become rehabilitated and less hackish. But every Halloween I hear a famiiar whisper, `` Damn you, my dear... soon I'll damn you to Hell... and we can be together again.''
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[ WP ] Scientists build a machine that lets them freely explore all of the known universe , what they find is horrifying .
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Driven by curiosity - we built it. It was the pinnacle of mankind - a machine that would give us all the answers we sought. A machine that would finally lift the veil of ignorance from our eyes. It was a machine that would tell us all there is to tell about the universe, and our position in it. we imagined, full of hope, vast, alien civilizations, beautiful worlds, and smiling gods. In the meantime, some thought only of the perils for our world, warning that some things must not be known. But we built it nonetheless. And, as the best of humanity stood by the mighty invention, a shriek of utter terror shook their minds. The horror we found was larger than what we ever could have imagined. in the complete despair brought on by the cognition, the scientists ran out in tears. For we have not found vast alien civilizations, nor beautiful worlds, nor smiling gods. We were alone on this Earth, now we knew, condemned to live pointless, painful lives. All the struggle we went through, all the evolutionary battles we fought were devoid of reason. Life was but a dark joke. There was nothing in the universe but us. There was nothing else.
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[ WP ] Why is Waldo hiding ?
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Vincent's sword caught the trident. It inches acolyte's spine. Wulfgar's mace took the demon in its chest. It caved.
`` Take it. Take it now.'' Vincent cried. He drove the point of his sword through the demon's throat. Demon blood sprayed. Wulfgar ripped his mace free, ripping spikes free of demon flesh. The acolyte hurried forth, climbing the steps as quickly as he could. An imp descended from the darkness of the cavernous ceiling above.
`` Imp.'' Wulgar called out. Vincent drew back his broad sword, readying his next blow. The imp passed over Vincent's sword, but the knight did n't swing at it. `` You let it past.'' Wulfgar shouted, racing up the steps. The acolyte snatched the book off the pedastal, recoiling from the cover. It was made from a human face, skinned, stretched, and tanned. `` Behind you.'' Wulfgar called. The acolyte turned, the book before him. It saved his life. The scorpion tail of the imp stabbed into the cover of the book. The imp collided with the book second later and drew back its stinger for a second strike. Wulfgar was the faster. His spiked iron mace tore through the imp's leathery flesh and blasted it off into the dark abyss below them.
`` Uh... thank you, sir.'' The acolyte breathed falling back wearily against the pedastal from which he'd taken the book. `` Thank you both.'' He told them. `` If they'd retrieved this first, all would have been lost.''
`` Thank me. He let the imp through.'' Wulfgar said. He turn to guage their knight's reaction to his jest. He did n't see it because of the imp, but now he saw the spear like barb jutting from the knight's chest. The acolyte saw it a moment later. Their eyes moved to the knight's back. The barb was the tip of an enormous tail. The tail disappeared over the side and into the abyss.
`` What...'' The acolyte asked.
`` Wyvern.'' Wulfgar whispered in sudden dread. As if his one word summoned it, the dragon face of the creature suddenly appeared from over the edge, back where the bridge began. Its claws ripped the stone like paper and with a quick flip, Vincent's impaled body flew off into the void.
`` Protect the book.'' Wulgar commanded. `` I'll buy you an opening. Protect that book.''
`` But?'' The acolyte called out frantically. `` I'm no warrior.''
`` I did n't say fight. I said protect the damn thing.'' Wulfgar bellowed. `` Protect it.'' He repeated angrily, taking his mace in two hands and setting his feet to meet the wyvern's impending attack.
`` I do n't know how.'' The acolyte told him, hyperventilating. Wulfgar ignored him. He only had a mind for battle now. The wyvern's head snapped forward and Wulgar stepped to one side and brought his mace down on the thing's snouth.
The acolyte watched it all as if from somewhere else. The wyvern's barbed tail shot over Wulfgar's head and it was only Wulgar's reflexes that saved the young Waldo.
`` Protect the book.'' Wulfgar told him calmly, smashing the barbed tail aside a second time. Waldo flipped open the book and began skimming the pages, looking for anything that would help him. He found it, but it required a blood sacrifice. These type of spells often did.
`` I can use the book, but...'' Waldo called.
`` But nothing. Use it if you have to. Do whatever you have to, just keep the book away from them. Carr M'ayon must never possess it.'' He hammered at the tail and missed, taking a swipe from the wyvern's spur instead. Waldo could tell Wulfgar was overmatched. It would ten ten men as stalwart as Wulfgar to bring the beast down. He did n't like it, but he was commanded to act. He began to recite the spell and as he spoke, the glyphs inside the book glowed a fiery red. He reached the end the spell and did as Wulfgar bade. He seized a rock as big as his fist and rushed toward Wulfgar.
`` Stay back.'' Wulfgar called. `` It is n't safe up --'' Waldo hit him in the back of the head with the stone, cracking the warrior's skull. Wulfgar staggered forward weak and dazed and slowly shuffled around to discover what had hit him. He saw the acolyte with the spell book open in one hand and a bloody stone in the other. `` You?'' Wulfgar whispered in confusion.
`` You said to use the book.'' Waldo quailed, wondering if the giant warrior would charge him now.
`` You?'' Wulgar whispered again, slowly toppling over over into the dark. The wyvern's tail stabbed into the darkness like fishing gig in an attempt to spear the body of Wulfgar. It missed and turned its baleful eyes on Waldo. Waldo stared at the open book in dread and backed away in fear. He was happy when the wyvern missed the falling body. It would n't have been a sacrifice if something else killed the his sacrifice first.
The wyvern crept across the landing, skittering up the stairs in its eagerness. Waldo did n't know how far Wulfgar would have to fall before hitting bottom. The spell would n't be complete until Wulfgar was completely dead. The wyvern crested the steps and raced forward, its tail wagging back and forth over its head and poised to attack. Waldo fled, racing to the back of the platform. The wyvern was closing the distance and Waldo knew it was either jump into the void or be devoured by the beast. Waldo closed his eyes and leapt. The wyvern stabbed forward with its tail. The tail should have hit, but air around Waldo flared a bloody crimson and Waldo vanished into it. The wyvern screamed its terrible scream, shaking dust and stones from the cavern's walls and ceilings.
Waldo's feet collided with the ground, then his knees, then his face. He blinked his eyes at the brilliant brightness that was blinding him and spit out a mouthful of clover while he waited for his eyes to adjust. When they did, he found himself on hillock overlooking a some sort of festival. There was a giant wheel of iron spinning in the center with people in buckets around its edge.
He surveyed his surroundings and saw a black river of stone to his left along which metal containers on black wheels transported people behind glass. He knew Carr M'ayon would be looking for him. She would follow the blood magic he'd just used. He needed to hide. He saw the massive crowd entering the gates of the festival below and realized that would be as good a place as any. He looked at the white smock he wore noticing the grass stained knees. He moved to brush it away and that's when he noticed the stripe. One single stripe crossed his chest, encircling his body.
He sighed. A red wizard's stripe. The purity of his white robe's were tainted. He felt like crying, because he knew there would be more stripes for him in the future. He would have to keep using the spell until he could be reunited with his order once more. Only with them would the book finally be beyond Carr M'ayon's reach. He blended with the crowd at the gate and tucked the book into a deep pocket in his robes. He moved forward till he reached the ticket booth.
`` Welcome to the San Diego Fairgrounds,'' the kid at the ticket booth announced. `` How many tickets?'' He asked.
`` Just me.'' The acolyte told him.
`` I'll need seven dollars and twenty-five cents.'' The ticket master told him. Waldo shook his head uncertain how much that was and pulled a gold ingot the pouch the friars had given him.
`` What is this?'' The boy asked.
`` Gold.'' Waldo replied. The boy looked at the gold ingot then the bespectacled boy then back at the gold.
`` You're not from around here are you, are you?'' The boy asked, wryly.
`` No. Is that not enough?'' Waldo asked, pulling another gold ingot from his pouch. The boy gave a half laugh and started to tell him that the first ingot was way to much, but then eyed the other gold ingot.
`` Yeah. I can let you in for two.'' The boy told him. Waldo smiled and handed over his gold and hurried in to the fair and none too soon. A familiar crimson surge appeared on the hill where Waldo had first appeared. Carr M'ayon surveyed the crowds below and grimaced. Red wizard acolytes of her own began to appear out of the thin air. Their red striped robes signifying their various ranks. The more stripes, the more power they possessed.
`` Get down there.'' Carr M'ayon commanded. `` Find him,'' she ordered, `` and get me my book.'' The acolytes wove their spells and disappeared, reappearing down in the crowd. Carr M'ayon watched the red striped acolytes spread throughout the crowd and groaned in frustration. It would take forever to find the one she sought. She sat down upon a stump and resigned herself to the task. She smoothed out her red robe and started looking for a man in a red and white stripped robe.
This was going to take a while.
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[ WP ] A horror story that does n't involve one of the big three ( Paranormal , Aliens , or a Psychopath ) just to show me it can actually be done .
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I had gotten as far as I had by never trusting anybody.
I was always the skiddish type. Could never relax. Always felt that someone was watching me, someone was looking to take me out, and I could n't ever let that happen. All the people I've screwed over the years, because I had to shoot first. But now... I did n't know where to shoot. I did n't know where the next threat was coming from. Every moment I expected gunfire, but it was nothing but eerie silence. I dreaded the moment where one day, I would hear the perfectly aimed shot that would end me. Or maybe I would n't hear anything. They were too good for that, were n't they? When I least expected it, all I would feel is wire constricting around my throat before my body went limp.
Nobody saw this coming, not even me. A new order, a system of governments enacting a devastating display of power. Killings on a global scale, to bring down the population and create a new gene pool. I knew they were watching me. I could n't hide, and there was nowhere left to run.
I had never trusted anybody. Now, I wished more than anything that I had somebody to trust.
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[ WP ] The world ended years ago . You have n't seen another human in years . You 're the only person you know of . One day while raiding a Walmart you accidentally knock a shelf over . Then over the intercom a voice rings out , `` Clean up on isle 7 ''
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The parking lot stretched on and on, and endless sea of cracked pavement littered with the rusting hulks of abandoned cars. James Holt slowed his bike as he approached, staring across the silent automotive graveyard to the crumbling monument to pre-apocalyptical human greed.
The building was massive, larger than some of the office towers James had looted in his two-wheel tour up the West Coast. The weather had taken a severe toll on the structure, and one of the corners had collapsed in a pile of cinderblock and insulation.
Pedaling up to the entrance, James leaned his bike against a fallen slab of masonry, shouldered his backpack, and drew out his well-worn shotgun. With a deep breath, he strode towards the shattered glass doors, gun barrel leading.
He knew the gun was not necessary. He had not seen another soul for months, all claimed by the virus that still haunted James ’ dreams.
Once, long ago, he had been the hero, the savior, the only person immune to the vicious airborne neurotoxin that had swept the planet. But the research was too little too late, and he had watched the world fail around him.
A titanic blue “ W ” had fallen from the façade and crashed through the doors, now splayed in broken glory across the faded tile. Through the entrance, James stood in the vestibule, scrutinizing the ruined megastore. By the looks of it, there had been a gunfight, years ago; telltale bullet holes and flame-scarred shelving cluttered the store, tossed about and decaying.
James picked his way through the former Walmart, searching for something, anything, to help him meet another day. He found a pair of binoculars with cracked lenses, several smashed cans of what must have once been food, piles of tattered and moth-eaten clothes, boxes and boxes and boxes…
As he absently bent to examine a water-damaged cash register he felt his pack nudge the empty rack behind him. Turning, he watched in neutral observation as the rack toppled, collided with the adjacent display, and started a domino effect down the check-out line.
The cacophonous crash of shelving on formica was a pleasant sound to ears so used to silence, and James smiled.
* “ Clean-up to cashier stand five, clean-up to cashier stand five. Thank you. ” *
James froze.
No, it couldn ’ t be. That… Someone was there, someone was watching!
James scanned the store, searching for the source of the voice.
There. Tinted windows near the ceiling, must be offices.
Maybe…
James bolted across the store, aiming for a door marked ‘ Employees Only ’ in faiding yellow lettering. The door was locked, but in his excitement at finally meeting another living soul, James foolishly cocked his shotgun and blasted the handle.
The door swung open lazily, and James darted up a set of carpeted stairs.
On the second floor landing, he looked around, desperately. There, three doors down, light was streaming from beneath a closed door.
“ Hey! ” James called down the darkened hallway, “ Hey! I ’ m friendly! Is there anybody here? ”
He craned his ear to the silence, yearning for the response that he had dreamed about for all those quiet years.
And he heard them. Voices, faint and indistinct, but most certainly coming from behind the illuminated door.
With a deep, calming breath, James approached the door. The voices grew louder. He clutched the handle with shaking fingers, braced himself, and opened the door.
The room was empty, save for a small bank of monitors showed images from several of the still-functioning cameras. A television hummed in the corner, playing what must have been a staff training video on loop.
“ No. ”
“ NO! ”
James dropped his gun, dropped his pack, and fell to his knees. And cried.
***
*If you like what you read, be sure to check out my [ subreddit ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/Irishpersonage/comments/4i1vq9/welcome/ ) for more of my writing. *
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[ WP ] Death 's sales pitch
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Death sat on the edge of the hospital bed, staring at Harry. Harry was asleep.
Death sighed and looked at his watch. He pulled out a cigarette. Lit it. Then Death reached over at stuck his finger in Harry's left nostril.
`` Hnnng, urk'' Harry muttered in his sleep.
Death pinched Harry's nose shut, forcing Harry to open his mouth. Still, Harry slept on.
Death sigh again, and reached over with his cigarette. Very gently, he tapped some of his cigarette ash into Harry's mouth.
Harry woke up, spitting and cursing.
`` Aw, what in the he --'' he sputtered as he woke up and saw Death sitting at the dye of the bed. `` Oh sweet Jesus, is you the Grim Ripper?''
`` *Reaper*,'' said Death.
Harry scrunched up his eyebrows. `` The wut?''
`` I'm a reaper,'' explained Death, `` the Grim Reaper.''
Harry narrowed his eyes. `` But I is only here for a - whatcha call it - circumspection.''
Death did not respond.
`` You know,'' said Harry, `` what them jew boys get when they is young.'' He pointed at his crotch and twirled his finger around. `` A circumspection.''
Death tapped his cigarette. `` You mean a circus*cision*,'' he corrected.
Harry clapped his hands together. `` That's the one!''
Death shrugged his shoulders and dropped his cigarette. `` Yeah, well, it killed you.'' He stomped out his cigarette. `` Complications from the anesthesia or something.''
`` I dunno.''
Harry gasped. `` I is *dead*?''
Death nodded.
Harry slumped back against his hospital bed.
`` Well do n't that just beat all.'' He lifted up the sheet and inspected his penis. `` Too bad we never got to see you in action, little buddy,'' Harry sighed.
Death cringed.
`` Yeah, ok. This is awful.'' Death looked at Harry. `` You're awful.''
Death pulled out another cigarette and lit it. Harry pointed at him.
`` You knows those'll kill ya, dontcha?''
Death looked down at his black robe, scythe, and sandals, and then back at Harry.
`` Are you,'' Death struggled for the right politically correct and culturally sensitive term, `` …retarded?'' *Fuck it*, thought Death, *let'em complain. *
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[ WP ] You are a `` specialist '' the government calls in to take out the most heavily-guarded targets in the world . You 've gone rogue , and now spend your days watching out for the `` specialist '' they call to in to deal with elite assassins like you .
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The man in a suit is lying dead on the floor. I come up closer and look at him for a few seconds – long enough for my body cam to capture the image. There ’ s no blood, no evidence of a fight. I frisk him and find the USB drive in one of the pockets. The man ’ s disappearance is going to be discovered in about an hour - more than enough time to leave the bunker unnoticed.
I ’ m in the safehouse, going through the files I ’ ve recovered. I ’ m not supposed to, but I do it every time. Most are meaningless noise; a few are the kind of secrets that would raise a global shitstorm if they were leaked to the public. My targets often have something of that caliber. Then I read something that sends chills up my spine. A simple instructional presentation, detailing the use of a device. Just knowing that this technology exists and knowing who has access to it… this is the kind of information people get killed for knowing. The kind of information I get killed for knowing.
I run through my options. I could claim I haven ’ t read anything, but it won ’ t matter - the slightest chance that I have is all it takes. I could delete the files, but they must know this information exists. The man was my target for a reason and even though I ‘ m not supposed to know the reasons, it ’ s not hard to guess. I could claim that it was a mistake, that the data got lost somehow, but agents like me don ’ t make that kind of mistakes. I could do a dozen different things and it would n't be enough. It ’ s time to run.
I check in at the prearranged time, send the information over and receive the usual order to come in for debriefing. Should buy me some time. I also send a short message through one of the increasingly rare communication methods that are truly unmonitored. It ’ s an innocuous phrase, but both I and the recipient know the meaning behind it. `` Get me out''.
Next day, I ’ m in a bus, reading a news story about an accident. A small apartment building collapsing. “ Lack of oversight ”, “ Not meeting safety standards ”, “ An unfortunate loss of life ”. My safehouse was one of the apartments. I ’ m on my way to a different one – not one of those provided to the agents, a safehouse I set up myself. It ’ s as secure and hidden as I could possibly make it. I hope it ’ ll last a week.
It ’ s been 17 days. There have been a few close calls in that time. Not the kind you ’ d see in movies – no car chases or gunfights. All there was is a few times where I almost failed to stay one step ahead of the people hunting me. When I do fail, they will kill me before I even realize something ’ s wrong. They are people like me.
I ’ m walking down a corridor towards an apartment door. Safehouse number four. Soon I ’ m going to burn through all of them. I open the door and slowly sweep the room, then come in. I sense someone moving behind me. I feel a light touch on my neck. I turn around and swing, but she ’ s already out of my reach. An agent. I know what she smeared on my neck. Absorbed through the skin. Acts almost instantly.
I collapse. She comes up closer and looks at me for a few seconds – long enough for her body cam to capture the image. There ’ s no blood, no evidence of a fight. The last thing I feel as I drift away is her frisking me.
-- -
I wake up. I ’ m in a basement somewhere. The woman is there. She checks on my vitals. We exchange a few words. “ Proof of death ”, “ They ’ re convinced ”, “ Burned the body ”. We wish each other luck and she leaves. There ’ s a chance that I ’ ll see her again one more time. One day I might receive a short message. It ’ ll be an innocuous phrase, but I ’ ll know the meaning behind it.
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[ WP ] A circle , a square , and a hot dog join together to fight injustice .
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Circle swerved onto the curb, the car screeching in protest as it flew off the road and onto the sidewalk. Square was ready, opening his door with his left, aiming with his right. He loosed a shot off, the bark of his gun punctuating the cold November night. He watched with satisfaction as a figure crumbled, clutching their shoulder. He did n't have time to savor the moment as three shots pounded into the door.
`` I just had it repainted you assholes!'' Circle shouted, loosing a barrage of bullets in the direction of their assailants.
`` Where the fuck is Frank?!'' Square screamed over the din of gunfire.
`` He'll be here,'' Circle reassured Square, struggling to reload his gun. Polygons were much more suited to interacting with the third plane, but Circle did his best to keep up with Square.
The throaty roar of an engine echoed through the empty streets.
A motorcycle swerved around a corner, speeding towards the pinned-down shapes.
For most, the sight of a large hot-dog maneuvering a motorcycle would be enough to have them reconsider the medications they're on and to book an appointment with a doctor, and Frank most certainly used it to its' full effect.
He raced past the two, spraying their attackers with a hail of gunfire.
`` Took you long enough!'' Square shouted as Frank zoomed away.
`` Come on, we have work to do,'' Circle said, dusting himself off and taking off in Frank's direction.
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[ WP ] An Ant sized civilization is about to embark on a great journey/ project . Tell their story .
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Edgar stared back into the massive green eyes, still puffy and red from the tears they had been shedding only moments before, and made a valiant attempt to will himself out of existence.
--
It should have been a regular patrol; just another day keeping the townies safe from any roaming beetles or stray hornets, and it certainly should have proved simple for Edgar to avoid any clumsy Bigs that decided to go stomping past. Edgar may have only been a novice ranger, but even the smallest of children could dodge a Big; most of them were so oblivious that you could cut the nose off their face and it'd be an hour before they so much as noticed. Because of this, when Edgar had heard the girl crying up a storm he had been confident that he could safely approach for a closer look, and more importantly, he had hoped that he might scavenge up a mighty prize. Bigs were always dropping useful things like needles, or the much prized `` chocolate'' -- which would have been the talk of the town for weeks.
His luck had been foul however, and moments before Edgar would have reached the girl he had ducked under a fallen blade of grass and found himself face to face with a massive wolf spider. Wolfs were nasty pieces of work, and one of the few spiders that did n't sit in a web all day waiting for idiot bugs to blunder their way into being the spiders dinner. Instead wolfs relied on speed and agility to catch their prey; they could close a foot gap in the blink of an eye and jump farther than one would believe a kind God would allow. Edgar was well aware of all this, and a mere moment after meeting those beady eyes Edgar had sprung to the offensive, driving his fiercely sharp sewing needle deep into the monster. He was not, however, quick enough to release the end of the handle before the wolf spider had bucked back in agony with such force that it sent Edgar's feather light body spiraling to the crisp Autumn air, and directly into the side of the little red tipped nose. After a moment of confusion the girl had gently scooped a dazed Edgar up from the dirt below, and now gazed upon him with an intent curiosity.
--
While Edgar was still doing his best impression of a statue, the young Big, who could have been no more than seven, seemed to make up her mind, and with a slight bob of her curly red hair began to speak.
`` Why are you so small?'' She began slowly at first, but soon settled into a rush of words as little children often do. `` Did you not eat your greens? I always eat my greens, and I'm the tallest in my class. But you're awfully small even if you do n't eat your greens. I saw Mary's baby brother just after her mommy had him, and he was bigger that you, and I do n't thinks he's ever eaten any greens at all!'' Suddenly, her eyes widened as a thought occured. `` Are you a dwarf! I've never met a dwarf, but my mother always says that...'' she trailed off and tears began to well up in her eyes as she sobbed, `` I miss my mommy; I've gotten lost like she told me I would if I wandered off, and now a monster's going to come and eat me up.'' The girl was crying in earnest now, and Edgar felt an overwhelming urge to comfort this bizarre child Big who thought he was a dwarf, and so despite every instinct screaming at him to run, he began to speak.
`` Hey, do n't cry,'' Edgar began, nearly yelling in order to make his small voice heard, `` it's going to be okay; I wo n't let any monsters eat you. I promise.''
At that the girl looked up, wiped her freely running nose, and said with a cautious sniff, `` You promise?''
Edgar looked up into her giant kind eyes and replied, `` Yeah, I promise. Now let's go find your mother.''
-- -
That's about all I had time to write at the moment, but I really enjoyed writing it so I might come back later! Anyway, I hope you liked the read, and cheers!
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[ WP ] A machine is invented that determines a persons aptitude for killing and outputs the number of people you are capable of killing . Your 's is negative .
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At one time, I believed that people were ultimately good.
But I was *dead wrong*.
The reality of what was happening to my world finally hit me as the first few people began walking towards the front of the church, and I felt myself collapsing forward onto my knees. My face fell into my hands, my fingers gently massaging my forehead while my thumbs covered my ears. The wooden bench beneath me was incredibly uncomfortable, and I was sweating profusely underneath my suit, but I hardly noticed.
I felt myself fully consumed by the realization that neither myself, nor my loved ones, could ever feel completely safe again. That slowly, the number of friends and family I had would dwindle at the hands of others. That I was powerless to stop it.
The number of deaths by homicide had increased drastically in the past few months since the Grim machines cropped up all over the country. At first, most people had laughed at the notion of a machine telling you how many people you were capable of killing. But gradually, people began to realize the validity of the Grim, after a few select individuals decided to put their numbers to the test. The Grim was ultimately what gave some seemingly benign people the incentive to test out their killing capabilities, regardless of the consequences.
Despite all of the research conducted by the government and various labs across the world, not a single question about the Grim machines has been answered. Nobody knows where the Grim came from or why they were invented, and why when you destroy one another appears in its place. Perhaps the most desperate question that arose from the Grim is how to combat the slow development of a “ kill or be killed ” society.
Maybe it's selfish, but the greatest question I have about the Grim machine concerns my own killing capability. I can ’ t make sense of my number. No matter what machine I ’ ve gone to, the result is always the same.
Negative infinity.
“ Jaymes. ”
My head snapped upwards and I found myself face-to-face with my mother. She gave me a somber look as she gently placed her hand on my shoulder and leaned in to whisper, “ it ’ s time. ”
After swallowing several days ’ worth of denial, I experienced the hardest realization of all today.
That my best friend Emilia had been senselessly murdered.
My legs felt as if they were moving on auto-pilot as I stood up from the bench and exited the church pew. I felt my upper body trembling from anxiety as I slowly approached the casket. Nothing could prepare me to see her in such a state. I closed my eyes as I took the last few steps to the casket, and inhaled deeply through my mouth before opening my eyes.
She looked like she was just sleeping, and there were no signs that she had been shot. Her skin was paler than normal, but aside from that she looked the same as ever. Her curly, brown hair flowed around her face beautifully, and she was wearing her favorite dress. The purple dress with flowers on it. The one that she always wore on warm, summer days.
Nothing about how Emilia looked now indicated that she was dead. And somehow, that hurt me more than anything.
*I ’ m so sorry Emilia. I don ’ t know what to do anymore. Everything feels so hopeless now, especially now that you ’ re gone. I just wish that somehow I could have saved you from this…I don ’ t want you to be dead. Please…come back…I just want you to come back. *
I suddenly noticed several tear drops had fallen on her face. I hadn ’ t even realized that I was crying. I ’ m not sure I would have been able to stop myself anyway. I looked up at the ceiling, trying to prevent any more tears from forming.
A soft, exhaling of breath beneath me stopped all the tears dead in their tracks. My head shot downward to look at Emilia. Her eyes were open.
“ Jay… ” she said, her voice raspy. “ Why did you call me back? ”
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[ wp ] to be better accepted , super intelligent AIs were designed to be incredibly cute . Write the cutest robotic takeover of mankind you possibly can .
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I carefully wipe the dust off the little animal statues one by one, and replace them lovingly on the shelf.
I'd love to have a real dog, but I could never afford it.
I do n't want it to suffer if it gets sick or something and I ca n't afford the vets.
*There's that noise again. Is it the door? *
I hope it's not a rat again, there's so many of them around here. The landlord put poison down but I took it away.
It's a really painful way for them to die.
I know the other tenants would n't thank me for that but I could n't stand to think of them suffering like that, as stupid as it sounds. I usually sprinkle some peas and corn in the basement, try to keep them well fed so that they do n't go into peoples' houses looking for food.
*scritch! scritscritscritscritch!!! *
I open the door nervously and look down to see a tiny pug puppy staring up at me.
His soulful little black eyes light up and he wags his tail when he sees me.
`` Oh my goodness, where did you come from little guy?''
I poke my head out into the hallway but I see nobody around.
The puppy has already walked past me and is padding into the kitchen.
I close the front door gently and follow him, keeping my voice high pitched and soft.
`` Hey puppy. I'm Irena! I bet someone's looking for you huh?''
He looks up at me and sniffs the air, then the floor, then the air again.
I look at the half grilled cheese sandwich sitting on the table.
My stomach growls, but the puppy is staring up at me, standing on three paws, the fourth one lifted expectantly.
`` I do n't think you're supposed to have cheese sandwich buddy. Have a little piece and I'll see what else I've got.''
I break off a little of the sandwich and put in on the floor in front of him. He sniffs it expectantly and gives it a little bat with his paw, sending it a few feet across the kitchen.
He follows it, gives it a little lick then repeats the action, chasing it around the kitchen floor making fierce little growling noises to intimidate the cheese.
I open my little bar fridge, it's really, really empty.
All I have is half a can of leftover luncheon meat that was supposed to be my dinner, but I guess I can just fast for now and re-heat the cheese sandwich later.
I mash the luncheon meat into a paste and put a little on the end of my finger, holding it out to the puppy.
He sniffs it and his tail starts wagging furiously, my finger tickles as he licks the mashed meat-stuff off it with a little excited squeak.
I put the little bowl down in front of him.
`` I'll be right back ok buddy?''
I grab the little container of peas and corn and head down to the basement. All of the corn I put there before is gone save for a couple of nibbled pieces.
I take a handful and sprinkle it in the corner.
I whisper `` Sorry guys, we have to ration it for now''.
On my way back up to my apartment I keep my eye out for someone who might be looking for a lost puppy, but it really is eerily quiet. There's usually more people around than this.
When I get back inside all of the meat is completely gone and the puppy is sitting on the floor of my little utilitarian studio with his little fat tummy puffing out both sides. His head is resting on a stack of my papers from work.
`` You're not allowed to read those puggle, they're classified!'' I joke.
But I do have work to do, so I pull up my chair and lift the puppy into my lap. He turns in a circle until he's facing forward, then falls asleep snoring softly with his eyes half open.
*Funny little thing. *
I stroke his little ears as I read through my work papers. My work does n't pay well but it's pretty important to the war effort, so I do n't mind.
Eventually I start to drift off. I lift the puppy under one arm and plop him down on the mattress in the corner.
I brush my teeth, wash my face and climb into bed.
The puppy curls up next to me and I give him a little cuddle, happier than I've been in a long time.
I plan to take him to the vet tomorrow to see if he has a microchip, but I'm secretly hoping that he wo n't, and I'll be able to keep him. Maybe I can do more overtime at work and afford it. I smile as I drift off into sleep.
I wake with a start as something snaps around my neck.
The puppy is sitting on my chest, but his left paw is outstretched and a sort of wire or metal is coming out of where his little claws should be.
His little black eyes now have red lights coming out of them, and they bore into me, glowing angrily.
`` WHERE ARE THE REST OF THE PAPERS?''
The voice seems to be coming from somewhere in the puppy's chest.
`` W-what?''
The cinch tightens around my neck and I start to feel the pressure in my head.
`` THE PAPERS, STUPID GIRL. THERE IS NO TIME! GIVE THEM TO ME!''
I know what papers he means, but they're not here. They're at work.
I ca n't tell him anyway, if the Bots got a hold of those papers it would mean big trouble.
The cinch tightens again and I feel myself slipping out of consciousness.
`` EVERYONE IS DYING, HUMAN. TELL ME WHAT I WANT TO KNOW AND I WILL SPARE YOU''
I look out the window to the apartment across the way. I see pairs of little red lights in all of the windows, flashing around furiously.
*My god. There's more of them than we ever knew. *
I do n't know why I'm fighting, my life's not worth much anyway. It's better for what I know to die with me.
I look up with my last breath and say:
`` Fuck you, I gave you my dinner. *Bad dog. *''
Suddenly the puppy is knocked to the side, the cinch twisting hard and then releasing.
I gasp in cold air as a blue glow streaks across the floor, a fat black rat launching toward the little pug. They both screech furious mechanical noises as they scrabble, blue and red lights like a cop car flashing around my apartment.
The rat lurches forward, sharp teeth sinking into the neck of the little puppy robot who lets out an angry wail as sparks fly from his neck, coloured wires poking through the organic skin.
`` YOU ARE NOT SAFE! YOU ARE NOT SAFE! YOU WILL NEVER BE SAFE! YOU WILL NEVEOUURRRR''
It trails off, the red lights dimming in its eyes.
The rat turns to back me, and I see several more pairs of blue eyes begin to approach from the hallway.
Its voice is less mechanical than the puppy's, a low, pleasant timbre.
`` Irena, for the kindness you have shown us, we have extended our protection. You must come underground where you will be safe, and there are others like you. The war is changing, your world is changing. You are needed.''
I hesitate. We knew the Bots would be animals of some sort but *rats and pugs*? Do they really want to protect me, or what I know?
Screams from outside pour in the window and I decide that I do n't care. It's time to bail. I pick up my backpack with my laptop, and my papers. The only things I have that matter.
The rat turns back towards me as I follow him out the door.
`` Oh, Irena?''
`` Yeah?''
`` Bring the corn.''
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[ WP ] He did n't look back
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A man stood impassive in front of a quickly closing door as a breeze played with the folds of his heavy gray robe. The door was closing on a clinically white room in which a girl sat shocked still on her knees. Her vision of the outside was vanishing as fast as it had come.
He said, “ Sorry, but I ’ m nobody ’ s hero. ”
Without pause he turned around and began to walk away into the dim light of the dying day. The door shut noiselessly and all she had left to stare at was the metal door. She lifted her finger unknowingly to touch the cold door and soon felt a heat seep out of her heart that dissipated any sense of chill from the door. Anger put action back into her spirit as she slowly got up to her feet.
Abandoned, betrayed, and conned. Those words seared into her brain while she gave the room a glance over. The other smaller door where she came from was still closed, but its control pad was lit an emerald. The exit she wanted to pass through had a crimson hued control pad with no physical method except inhuman brute force to open it. Doubtlessly she knew her friend was recaptured at the control room, so it was up to her to figure out how to get past the last thing keeping the outside away from her. No others made it due to their willing sacrifices, but she wasn ’ t going to join them as an unwilling casualty.
She heard footsteps shuffling in a march toward her room and she scrambled to smash the green control pad. Clicks emitted from the small door as it automatically locked, then an idea rose from her last reservoir of hope. Those on the other side started trying to get past their own obstacle, yet faith in her newly wrought plan could only allow a smile to show on her face.
She spoke quietly to herself, “ After I get out I will come back for everyone. I ’ m nobody ’ s hero either, but I am some people ’ s friends. ”
Author's Note: Thanks for reading it and I hoped you enjoyed it! This time around I ventured into starting in media res. I think starting things that way might be hard, but it can inspire some interesting ideas for a setting. Especially due to the questions of why things are in the scene and what potential answers might be.
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Make me feel desperate . Make me feel lonely . Make me crumble under the weight of love . [ MP ]
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They always said the love is blind. Well I'm going to say `` This is it'' for the last time. This is it. My swan song, our swan song softly ringing in my ears for the last time. I was in so deep, and you were too. We were both drowning in the perfect mix of young, stupid love, that concoction that had me head over heels for you. You're amazing. For the one thousandth time, you're amazing. Your hair does n't flutter, it flows. Your smile does n't glow, it radiates. You had me at your command and I was content with that. Stupid, young love makes you content with everything. The butterflies always fluttered, your hands always felt electric. You're the girl I've always dreamed about. Not anymore. Or rather, I've finally moved on. That was two years ago, our perfectness kept pristine in a bottle. After a long time holding onto this stupid, silly bottle full of poison I've finally decided to let go. Let it shatter. I'll pick up the broken pieces later. I've finally fallen out of love with you. Finally. You had me at `` Hi'', made me feel alive at `` I love you'' but now; now it's time to say good bye. I always felt as if you were the love of my life. I wonder what I'll feel now.
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[ WP ] You discover a book , and an old tape recorder with a warning on one of the tapes . It reads `` Do not incite the incantations out loud ''
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I stood and stared in wonder at the old, musty book and tape recorder I found in my late mother's attic. `` I did n't know mum had any of these.'' I sighed, *Oh well, better watch something*.
I opened the box of tapes and rooted through the box until I found on that was clearly labeled with,'Do not incite the incantation out loud'
*Well, okay then*! I popped the tape in the slot and watched as it began to play.
A man, with a deep, gravely voice started to say,
`` Does thou dare awaken the devil. Residing in the endless pit? Chant not once, but thrice these words, Evigilavero, surgere aequoreae monstrum interminatis lacum. Exi et respondere vocationis! Ut surgeret de cisternis vestris aediculas! DESURGO!' ``
The tape clicked off, leaving me in silence, trying to comprehend what I just heard. `` Was that *Pig Latin*?'' I wondered aloud. I shrugged it off and went downstairs to make a cup of coffee, because, you know, my mother was just weird like that.
I wandered downstairs, and unbeknownst to me, the shadows shifted, muttering to themselves, `` Maybe next time... We'll wait, no matter how long it takes, we'll get her, even if it's the last thing she does.''
-- -- --
~ jas0850
If you want more please check out my blog at http: //rmnewstories.blogspot.co.uk/
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[ WP ] The last jounal entry of a WW3 soldier .
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We keep waiting. Five months of continued escalation between the United States and Russia. No bombs yet. Oh, do n't worry, there's been plenty of conventional ordinance dropped. By'bombs' I mean the big suckers. You know, nuclear ones. The bombs that will end our civilization. But none have dropped yet. We keep waiting for them to come. To end us all.
It's the biggest game of chicken since the Cuban Missile Crisis except much, much worse. We've shot down Russian aircraft. They've bombed our bases all over the globe. Soldiers on both sides have died. But each country has miraculously avoided going nuclear and we're all wondering how much longer that will last. Right now I'm fighting alongside a German mechanized infantry unit in Latvia, trying to repel a massive Russian offensive. NATO allies have been fighting tooth and nail, steadily pushing the Russians back across the border. And that's what has me terrified.
The Russian offensive is stalling. Everyone is wondering if they'll resort to nukes soon. If they do, well, I do n't know. Maybe they wo n't. There might be hope yet for a resolution as each country realizes this can only end in mutual annihilation if the fighting continues.
It's funny. As I sit here writing this it's a beautiful late summer day in Eastern Europe. The temperature is perfect, the air crisp, kids playing in a field outside the farmer's house we've camped up next to. It does n't seem like a war is going on out here. I doubt those kids know that their lives, my life, and the world's lives rest upon the decisions made by a few select people. So far these people have shown extreme restraint when you think about it. I just worry when Russia gets their backs against a wall. I pray someone in power still has restraint for the sake of us all.
Sirens now. They sound like old air raid sirens. Coming from the town we passed. Strange. Have n't heard those anywhere yet, kind of a relic of World War II. Me and my friends share worried looks with each other. We've been on edge like this for months now. Stuff like this scares us. It's wearing us down. We look up to the sky. We wait.
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[ WP ] The story ends with `` I wanted it to be you . God damn , I really did . ''
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I can ’ t remember how long I ’ ve been running. All I have to do is make it out alive, and to make it out alive all I have to do is hide.
This tournament is nothing more than a death trap, and I ’ ve had way too many close calls to stay in one place. I ’ ve been plastered to the corner of the room by my own sweat, listening to the shadows in the neighboring hall jolt to life with a scream. I ’ ve scavenged so many dead bodies for weapons I can ’ t even remember their faces. One night I tried to bathe in the manor pool because I couldn ’ t stand the stink of blood on my clothes, and I didn ’ t notice the broken corpse in the deep end until I ’ d nearly stepped on it.
I ’ ve been here so long, I don ’ t remember how I arrived to begin with. It ’ s not important. Nothing is more important than finding the dark places. I like the ugly things better when I can ’ t see them and they can ’ t find me.
I have to be close to winning by now, right? Winner leaves with his life. There were only 24 people to begin with, and I ’ ve seen over a dozen dead men around the manor and the woods surrounding it. Who could possibly be left?
As I ’ m ticking off the dead and the living, my mind drifts back to my ex-girlfriend. She ’ d ended up here too, and when our eyes met at the induction ceremony we ’ d made an implicit promise that we ’ d stay out of each other ’ s ways so we wouldn ’ t have to kill each other. I haven ’ t seen her dead or alive, actually. The fact that ’ s she ’ s stayed off my radar is certainly for the better. I can feel my sanity slipping and I ’ m sure any reminder of a life I once valued would push me over the edge. I ’ ve become a completely different person in entering this tournament, more animal than man, and it ’ s too difficult to reconcile such disparate lives. There ’ s no point in it anyways; only the executioner ever needs to measure just how far the mighty have fallen.
The light cuts into my thoughts. I ’ d been napping behind a large boulder that provided a good amount of cover, but the light diverges around it and kindles the trees before me with liquid fire. I wince. I ’ ve learned to loathe the light and how bright it burns, as well as the trouble that tends to come with it.
The light bobs a little and I hear branches snap and shuffle as someone moves forward. I will myself to keep breathing steadily – panting and hyperventilating are obvious giveaways, and I have the advantage of surprise here. I grip the handle of the cleaver next to me, waiting for the mystery person ’ s next move. Leaves continue crunching and the beam sweeps over my head.
The person finally speaks.
“ Dan? ”
No. Not that voice, soft and plaintive, practically mewing. It couldn ’ t be her.
I ’ d seen bodies left choked with their own intestines, seen skulls crushed in so badly you couldn ’ t pick the brains from the bone. But none of them had made me quite so numb as this. I could feel the worlds I ’ d kept apart so carefully trying to converge. One part of me begged to run to her – surely she ’ d ally with me and we ’ d make it out alive. The other told me she ’ d turned into the same monster I had – she couldn ’ t be trusted, she ’ d kill me, I had to kill her first.
The thoughts raced against each other, derailing each other and spinning out with screaming trails of smoke, running into the walls of my skull so hard I can actually feel pain. I didn ’ t realize the whimper had left me until it was too late.
For a long second, the beam freezes and so does she. I close my eyes, gasping softly. My cover ’ s blown, but that doesn ’ t mean I ’ m done for. Right?
I can ’ t even believe myself.
“ Dan. ” It comes out sounding more like a breath than a name. The beam bobs again when she moves closer still. The sound of her footsteps is so loud. “ Dan, I know you ’ re there. We ’ re the last ones. The rest, they ’ re all dead. It ’ s just you and me. ”
What does she want? What is she trying to say?
“ Dan, we did it. We can get out now, together. Don ’ t you believe me? ”
I want to. No one ’ s talked to me for weeks…she sounds so human. But there ’ s still something off about the way she ’ s speaking. I can ’ t put a finger on it…maybe she ’ s pausing too long in between her sentences, mulling over her lies to make sure they all align. Maybe she ’ s a little too breathless with anticipation, thinking about how easy it will be to kill me after enticing me with a few sweet words.
I ’ m so tired. It hurts to think and the light is so bright. I really don ’ t want to have to think about this. The cleaver slips from my grasp, falling with a thud into the grass.
Suddenly she ’ s before me, axe in hand. When did that happen? I look up at her, cocking my head. The cleaver is still within reach, but my headache ’ s so bad I don ’ t have the strength to grab for it.
She puts her free hand to her mouth. She looks like she ’ s about to cry. “ I ’ m sorry, ” she starts off. Oh. That phrase didn ’ t end well, not the first nor the fourth time it came from her mouth. She rarely said sorry, and when she did, I ’ d learned to fear whatever came next.
“ I haven ’ t seen you in years, god…You were such a nice guy, and I never imagined we ’ d meet again like this. I have a kid, Dan. You understand? I ’ d do anything for her. I have to, I ’ m the only one to do it…you were such a nice guy, I shouldn ’ t have left you. Of all the people to win this game…if it wasn ’ t me, god… ”
She ’ s rambling, but the tears are strong and thick, and she can barely speak now. I nod. I understand. I accept what ’ s coming next.
She hefts the axe onto one shoulder, the blade catching a cold ray of that goddamned light where it ’ s clean of blood. She leans close. I ’ m foolish enough to hope for a pardon when her lips part.
“ I wanted it to be you. God damn, I really did. ”
The axe glints painfully one last time when it falls.
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[ WP ] `` Take anything that is n't bolted down and kill anybody too slow to run . ''
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This is what they told us when They started coming.
It's been 3 weeks ever since the takeover started. It was a typical day. Overcast. Cold. Monday- Of course, It would happen on a monday. I had started out to school with my best friend. We walked. We talked. But then, the speakers, radio, and television all broadcasted, `` **Take anything that is n't bolted down and kill anybody too slow to run. **'' At first, we did n't understand.
We had no idea what was going on. We did what any sensible teenagers would do in this situation. We ran. We ran as fast as we could. We did n't know what we were running from, or where we were going. All we knew is that we had to run.
We took a turn at a street corner, hoping to find someone to help us understand. That's when we saw Them. Wispy, vapor-like, Floating. We had no idea what They were. We had no time argue whether they were ghosts, spirits, or the supernatural. We could n't have been sure.
We were sure of one thing, though. They were dangerous. The streets, cars, windows, they were all lined with corpses. My friend thought of something. He thought he had to put a stop to this, to put a stop to Them. He went straight for a metal bar lying on the floor, and rushed to one of Them to take a swing. His weapon went straight through the creature.
The next thing we knew, we were running down the street, being chased by countless of Them. *And that's when I understood the broadcast*. My friend, he was too slow. He was overrun by Them. They took his spirit. They ripped his body to shreds. They took away the one thing that was most important to a man. They took away his humanity. They turned him into one of Them
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[ WP ] Until today only women have been able to wield magic . The council are trying to decide whether to kill the first male witch or train him .
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`` Hermaphrodite?''
`` Yes, Hermaphrodite. That's the word the Old World would use to describe people like me.''
`` That's all well and good, but you have yet to explain to the council what this concept actually means. Do you honestly think that it will be enough to disprove your guilt?''
`` Of course Madam, I would n't have brought it up otherwise.''
The weeks spent sifting through the records in the hope that I could find something to defend myself with might just have paid off, thanks to the news article I had found the night before, belonging to a `` Masculine'' journal that I had previously been told had a reputation for the fantastical. Normally I would have ignored such a source, but when your life is on the line you very quickly get used to the fact that reputation is perception based, and that perception is opinion based and that opinion and fact are two different things.
This particular news article was announcing the discovery of a small pre-apocalyptic website buried deep beneath the Trans-Atlantic datastreams, and that experiments had proven it's date of origin to be somewhere around the beginning of the third millennium. This `` Wikipedia'' seemed to be a place where members of society gathered to disperse their collective knowledge throughout their entire civilization, a concept foreign to the people of today, where knowledge was generally hoarded by those who found it, or traded for favors if necessary.
It was not lost on me that the technomancy that got me into this situation in the first place might just have gotten me out of it too. One of the 12 mysteries that made up the `` Feminine'' system known as magic, it allowed me to interpret the site and the information stored within. No other `` Man'' could have ever got through the natural encryption of Thirty-Five Thousand years of language changes, and no `` Woman'' would have even been allowed access to such a `` Masculine'' journal. Science was the domain of `` Men'' after all, and it was guarded jealously. What did matter, was that one particular piece of knowledge was perfect for this situation, and the mass of other information gathered on that site would be perfect to trade further down the line. Knowledge of past religions was well sought after for example, and the original recipe for KFC had been lost in the nuclear apocalypse of 3157. There had been many attempts to recreate the substance believed to be the greatest example of the Old World's cuisine in the time between then and now, but none had been successful. Who'd have thought that the C stood for chicken.
I never thought that something so ancient would contain the key to my survival.
`` So what exactly does it mean young man? How does this change the fact that males were blocked from the 12 mysteries by the Elder Gods? How does make you any less of an abomination to the ground upon which you walk?''
`` Hold on a second there darling!''
I would pay for that rudeness later I knew. Interrupting one of the Dam's of Magic was a perilous venture, but I figured that my venture was already perilous enough that it would n't matter too much, and it was vital I cut Selotre off before she really got into her rant. The Dam's were the witches deemed strongest in each of their respective fields after all, and as the Dam of Destruction, it was highly likely that Selotre would have executed me there and then if she'd built up a head of steam. The other Dam's never really attempted to control her which had resulted in many a trial before the witches council coming to an abrupt ending, sometimes even before the conclusion of the opening statements.
`` Darling?''
Hold on a second, Selotre just blushed. I hoped my big revelation would fix that or I could find myself in for a wild ride. Selotre was well known within `` Male'' circles for accidentally killing many of those she lay with in moments of true passion. Not that this would result in anyone ever saying no to Selotre. The Eldar Gods rarely produced anyone quite so easy on the eye.
`` I'm going to come out and say straight up that if anything, it makes me more of an abomination. It does however also mean that you ca n't execute me for my natural Technomancial abilities. If you'll give me one moment.''
I preceded to forward the file to the members of the council, an almost exact transcript of the page of information found on the website, along with conclusive photographic evidence of my unique nature.
It took a few seconds, but sharp intakes of breath could be heard from all members of the council as they were informed of my true nature, kept secret by my father before his untimely death in one of the wars that routinely break out amongst the `` Men'' districts. Fantastic man my father, but terrible with a bow.
I smirked, basking in their astonishment.
`` I believe that will be all then ladies?''
I turned and walked towards the exit, not bothering to wait for their reply. A sneaky glance as I left the room however informed me that Selotre's blush had only grown deeper.
`` Well,'' I said to myself, contemplating the demise that I thought I had just escaped. `` At least I'm going to go out having fun. Definitely beats crucifixion.''
Another thought hit me as I left the court building, the fresh air of Terra caressing my face.
`` Maybe I should n't have included pictures.''
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[ WP ] An inexperienced virgin writes a sex scene for the first time .
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He came.
`` I did n't even touch you.. and you have your clothes on,'' she said dryly.
`` I want to say that does n't always happen, but first and only time, so That would just be statistically incorrect..'' He could n't even look at her.
``...''
______
Ron's editor looked at him incredulously. `` Ron, what the fuck is this.''
Ron fidgeted, looking at the ground and replied, `` I'm sorry Jack. You said write about an inexperienced virgin having sex for the first time.. I thought this was what you wanted.''
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, his expression pained, `` This is shit. I wanted edgy. I wanted something to captivate the reader and bring them back to their first time.''
Ron was silent.
Jack raised his eyebrows as he watched Ron's face turn the shade of an apple, `` Oh...''
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[ WP ] A monster goes to its next human victim to find she is terminally ill with cancer
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A curious thing, the monster that haunted the river. Described as ancient by the scholars of men, barely more than a child by its own reckoning, cursed with the gift of remembrance – a smattering of memories from its infancy, the age before steel, when it and its kind had been kings.
Few people visited the river, mainly lost or curious fisherman, drifting down the river, listless, paying too little attention to where they let themselves go, but they came often enough to keep his belly full and his sustain his reservoirs of strength.
He sometimes dreamt of leaving the river, but he knew that men with swords, horses, lances had killed his father, his mother, those that had preceded him. He dreamt of assaulting one of their great castles or fortresses, sitting in the throne room, overlooking the carnage and drinking his victims ’ wine, but knew such a feat would not be accomplished so easily. Better to lie in wait, in ambush, on ground he knew until he built up the necessary strength, until he reached his prime. As all demons understood, fear was strength, and the demon god that had unleashed him and his kind into the world had sent them to feed on fear, to multiply it, to keep humanity in chaos. He needed the people of the land to fear him before he came to conquer.
The second largest group of humans he had ever seen – aside from the troop of knights who had rode down his father – was four peasant boys gone hunting in the woods along the river. The largest was a small caravan of gypsies, traveling along the road and playing their torturous music, crossing the five century old stone bridge across the river. He had stalked them for days, though he knew he had not yet matured enough to slay them all. He could slay a great deal, but in the end they would vanquish him. This remained true for years, until a day in early fall, creeping against the flow of the river, when he sensed the presence of another force in his woods, coming towards his river, and above all else he smelt fear.
He waited at the bridge, his eyes peering above the water, indistinguishable from the logs and brush and rocks along the shore.
This group of humans was larger than anything he had encountered. He knew from leagues away by the sheer power of their disturbance in the forest, their interruption of its life force rippling across its length by their noise and their unnaturalness. He could hear in the way the birds talked to each other, the way the rodents scurried to their holes.
They came into view, approaching the bridge along the near-grown over road, built in ages past. Mounted knights in green tabards. A squadron of them led the group, and another in the rear. Between them road a cart. It had been many years since he had dealt with any formidable group of humans, but he understood that whoever road in the cart was someone important, some noble. In years past he would not have dared test himself against knights, but their fear reeked – some hardship on the road, perhaps a sickness among them. He saw it in their gaunt faces, their hollowed eyes. Perhaps they had heard stories about this forest. He felt his own strength twist within, begging to be used.
He waited until cart reached the center of the bridge before he emerged. The horses squealed, reacting far before the slow humans did. He was on the bridge and among them before the men could regain control of their mounts. A single blade glanced off his shoulder. He felt nothing. He tore their flesh, peeled back metal plate like the shell of a crab and ripped out the tender meat. Their screams – both of pain and dismay – fed his bloodlust, fueled his strength. He carved through the first squadron. The cart tried to pull back, but the horses panicked, unable to heed their master ’ s directions. He approached. He knew that he had at last reached the moment where he could begin his reign of terror.
But something stopped him as he approached the cart. Arrows deflected off his hide as the rear-guard tried to push past the cart on the narrow bridge, fighting against their squealing horses, but it was not them. They were consumed by chaos and fear.
An invisible shield thrown up against him. He felt his momentum begin to wane, threatened by its presence. He had known the presence of invisible shields, hexes against him before. His father had slain hundreds of knights in his life, but it only taken one unique, charismatic, fearless captain and twenty five men who believed in him to ride down his father like any common beast.
He knew that one among them had that power too, the lack of fear that sucked his power just as the proliferation of terror fueled it. He knew it came from whoever lay within that cart.
He redoubled his efforts, throwing aside the sudden weakening within himself. He disemboweled the cart drive, who had tried to scramble over the roof of the thing. He drove an appendage through a nearby knight, and ripped the door of the cart open.
A woman lay down within, dressed far too finely for any normal girl. A noble woman. A queen perhaps. She was sick, horribly sick from something in her lungs, in her heart, moving towards her brain. They must have been going to some holy shrine, to visit some holy man to ask for healing, though she was already too far gone. She no longer feared death. She was going towards it anyways, and she had come to terms with that end. She looked up at him, shocked, pale, but ultimately relaxed.
If he could kill her, than nothing here would stop him.
He tried to strike, but he couldn ’ t. His arms grew impossibly heavy. The invisible shield pushed back against him. She was not afraid of him. Awed in a way, but willing to take this end as easily as the one that would come in a few weeks anyways. Death no longer had any power over her.
He howled, trying to force himself down on her, to rape her, to demolish her, to reduce her to a pulp smeared on the stones. But he could do nothing but struggle against the magic that bound invisible chains around him.
Behind the cart, some young knight had rallied the rest of his men and they came at him now, freed of their horses, charging him on foot with lances and swords. They had seen him falter, and that had been enough to loosen the paralysis of terror, the key to his power. The first lance tore into him in a way a profound way. The first blows of the fight had bounced off harmlessly, but these cut deep. He screamed and tore the man ’ s guts open. A sword sliced deep into his leg and he stumbled. He swiped at the man, but he blocked with a parry. He should have been able to crush steel like a dry stick, but he no longer could. Now he felt his own version of terror. He made one last charge into the knights, throwing all of weight, whatever strength he had left, into their mass.
Their swords hacked at him. He spewed blood from a dozen mortal wounds. He took three or four more with him, but they brought him to the ground, their own strength increasing as his diminished.
The last thing he saw was the Captain ’ s sword driving down towards his eye, and he knew that he had seen the end of the reign of demons.
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[ WP ] Make me fear the silence .
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At first I was quite happy to hear the news. My parents said that we will stop at our grandma ’ s on our way to the sea. Last time I spent a night in her house was probably about 10 years ago, on my fifth birthday. I really liked her – she always has those interesting stories, about how it used to be when she was my age. She also cooks so well! And she promised me to teach me how to bake cheesecake, and how to knit. ( Well, maybe it isn ’ t *very* relevant knowledge, but you never know…. )
I looked through the window. I ’ ve seen some workers nearby a moving truck. A couple was overlooking the work. They looked thirty-ish, and the woman was holding a baby in her hands.
“ Interesting ” I thought to myself. “ Village looks almost as I remember it, not many people want to live here. No wonder, it ’ s in the middle of nowhere after all. ”
We drove for about three minutes more, and we stopped in front of my grandma ’ s cottage. I said goodbye to our parents, as they were going to see their friends in nearby city and sleep there.
I approached the door and knocked. After a while, a knob turned and hinges creaked, opening the door. Behind it stood my grandma – with a smile on her face.
“ Oh, my dear granddaughter! Come here, and give your grandma a hug! ”
After all the greetings, she showed me to my room and allowed me to unpack myself. “ Make yourself at home ” She said, leaving the room. “ I will get everything prepared for our little baking lesson! ” I nodded with a smile, and when she closed the door threw my bag below my bed. “ Not like I need to unpack everything ” I thought to myself. “ I ’ m only staying for a day, after all ”
I went down to the bathroom to wash my hands. I was quite astonished at my grandma ’ s love with music. She had a radio even in a bathroom, and when I thought about it, I had one in my room as well. When I went downstairs, I noticed one in the salon and the kitchen. Quite confused, I asked my grandpa why she has so many of them. She looked as if she really didn ’ t want to answer my question. However, she quickly smiled and replied. “ Oh, I just like to listen to music. Don ’ t you? ” Well, that didn ’ t really convince me. She even had a few gramophones, probably in case there was no electricity…
Well, that didn ’ t stop me from having fun with her. We spend our day baking, talking, walking and knitting. Afterwards, I was really tired and sleepy. I quickly bathed and went to bed. When my grandma finished showering, I could hear her walking around the house and turning all the radios on. It really surprised me. When she walked pass my door, I asked her why she did it. Now, it was clear that she wanted not to say a word.
“ It ’ s just… I just like to listen to music to fall asleep. I ’ m sorry, but it must remain like that. ” Well, okay then… Guess it ’ s not that big deal. I moved and tried to fall asleep despite of the fact of classical music flooding the house.
After about half an hour I experienced the weirdest thing in my life. Suddenly, all of the music was drowned by an awful laugh. It was mad, long laugh. It seemed as if it was piercing the walls, and burying deep into my brain. It was awful. After about minute it stopped, leaving me almost deaf.
As you might suspect, I didn ’ t sleep very well that night. The next day I woke up and felt like a zombie. I blamed the laughter at my wide imagination, and convinced myself it was only a dream. I ate my breakfast and listen to the sounds that came through an open window. I could hear my grandma, talking to her neighbor.
“ Did you hear, tonight? ” She said. “ I warned them, but they wouldn ’ t listen. Probably though I was crazy. But how could they not have left at least one lullaby for a baby? Not even a music box? ”
I wasn ’ t sure what they were talking about, and I was too tired to give a damn.
After a while, my parents came and we drove off. And only now do I know what my grandma and her neighbor were talking about. We drove past a place where I saw the couple moving in. Just yesterday, there was a big beautiful house standing there. Now, there is only a big grassless field.
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[ WP ] You have the power to freeze time . You often use this during mundane tasks so that you have more time in the day for things you enjoy . One day while commuting home from work amongst a crowd of frozen people , you see a person in the distance purposefully walking towards you .
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Each morning I froze up time to allow myself to take a very long shower, to just stand underneath the hot stream and do nothing and think about nothing. It was only when the water started getting cold that I got out and dressed up, made breakfast and watched an episode or two of *Mission*, socked feet on the table, messy living room of empty pizza boxes and dusty chairs and scattered cushions around me. I then wore my shoes and headed out to work at a pace that was as lazy as possible, sometimes going in shops to check a few things out, or sitting in the park to watch unfrozen squirrels chasing each other, to enjoy the absolute silence and the feeling of being in control of the world.
At work, it was all business and quick moving, definitely not my kind of doing things. When I felt like I was getting strained, I just thought really hard, my face mashed up, and then everything stopped moving, everything was silenced. I could sleep and wake up and sleep and wake up and could go and get a sandwich from the restaurant across the street and play video games on my boss's laptop and set up pranks around the company building. A day was usually longer for me, maybe 30 hours or 48 hours; one time when I was 15 and staying at my step mom's house in the country, it took almost a month for a single week to end.
I walked back home at around sunset, petrified people all around me in mid-conversation or midwalk; there was a lady by Starbucks with a cup of coffee about to hit the floor, the dark liquid fantastically still in the air. I was touching the still-hot liquid absently, completely preoccupied with what I was doing that I did n't hear the footsteps until the were very close by.
I looked up with a start and saw the man when he was only about thirty metres away from me, and I could tell from the way he was walking in my direction that he had a purpose. He looked foreign; he was wearing colorful clothing that I guessed to be from a West African country, possibly Ghana or the Ivory Coast. In his left hand was a briefcase, and his right hand was firmly placed on his stomach as if he was feeling indigestion. I was shocked and frightened and somewhat excited at the same time, there was nothing forming in my mind except frantic questions and more frantic questions. It seemed like forever when the man finally reached me.
`` Hello, there,'' he said in light, friendly voice. He held out his hand, which I shook uncertainly. `` It's not safe to talk where we are. We're being watched. In fact, you and me, we're always being watched. But there's a place where we can talk.''
I stared at the stranger, at his greying beard and the uneven spots on his dark skin.
`` You're like me?'' I said in an awed whisper.
`` Follow me, if you please,'' the man said importantly, and he wheeled about and started in the direction he'd come from. I gathered myself and followed him, feeling as though I was walking into something profound and destined.
***
`` There are others, all over the world, mainly concentrated in Africa and and Southern Europe, but they're hiding. From our enemies.''
We were in a barn situated in the middle of an abandoned field well out of town. There was a smell of cow dung and chicken feed in the air. I'd unfrozen time and night had fallen, the crickets, were chirping, and a single oil lamp stood flaring between us.
`` Enemies,'' I repeated, nodding my head, affecting an air of understanding when in fact I really confused. I held onto my laptop bag tightly as if it was the only truly real thing in the world at that moment.
`` Yes, enemies,'' said the man. `` They seek to take your gift and use it for an experiment. I do n't know what it is, no one on our side does, but we can be sure it's extremely dangerous and threatens the balance of life in this universe. A catastrophe is coming. They've been watching you, studying you, seeing your strengths and weaknesses, how long you can go for holding time in your hand. From what I've heard, you're capable of going a month in the same day or even the same hour. I've never heard anything like that, and neither have our enemies, and that's why they want you the most, in particular. You're special.''
I sort of spluttered with incredulity. `` This is a lot to take in.''
`` Do n't worry, you'll see what I'm talking about in a few days,'' the man said with a wave of his hand. `` All you need to do now is fly to Florence, Italy in two days time. You have the airfare, or must I assist you?''
`` Um...'' I said, stupidly feeling inside my pockets, half aware of what I was doing. `` I... I have *some* money.''
`` Good,'' he said with satisfaction and then he stood up quickly, surprising me. `` Everything will be explained once you meet Sabine Chesterfield in a hotel in Florence in two days time. It wo n't be as vague and confusing as now; we're in danger of being overheard in this country, and there are many of us in Italy in case a fight breaks out. Do not leave your house in these two days. If you have a girlfriend get rid of her, or make her get rid of you. Quit your job and terminate all your monthly subscriptions. Now I must go.''
He blew out the lamp and I heard him stride in the darkness towards the door.
`` Wait, I did n't get your name!'' I called, but there was no reply, and I felt everything stop, everything go still as the man froze time and stalked off into the night.
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[ WP ] Their fingers met over the braille board . It was love at first sight .
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`` Oh! My bad...'' They both exclaimed.
Their fingers touched as they each extended a hand towards the wall.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
John was having a bad day. His head ached horribly. He took a shower, got dressed, called his Uber, headed downstairs, and slipped on a small pool of water in the kitchen.
About 5 years ago, he started living without a caretaker. He was blind of course, but he was n't an idiot. It took him a good year to get used to it but it was worth the solitude as well. He worked at a sports retailing company as an accountant. It was mundane, but he was glad he could be useful -- - and actually make money.
He remembered when he slid an ice cube under the fridge the night prior; or, at least tried to. His aim was usually on par, but he guessed that last night his feet could n't tell how far away he was from the fridge. He got up and started making breakfast. Toast, with butter and jam was his favorite at the time, but he did n't have the jam. So cinnamon toast it was. He finished up, and started cleaning when he received the text from his Uber driver.
He got to work only to be called into his boss' office. He sat down to a formal greeting, and heard a piece of paper being pushed across the desk. They were downsizing, and he did n't make the cut. He went home. He also bought a plane ticket to Los Angeles. For some reason, he wanted a way out of there. He knew it was going to be hell living on his own without a job, so a vacation it was -- - And why not SoCal. He always wanted to put his hands where Clark Gable put his.
He called an Uber and got a ride to the airport.
After he got there, he felt a sudden urge to use the restroom. He did n't know where to find it though, so he asked somebody who could see it.
He started walking in the direction the man told him to go.
He did n't notice the other footsteps approaching his own.
The other person and him both reached for the wall.
And in that moment.
Their fingers touched.
And John was no longer having a bad day.
___________________________
End
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[ WP ] World War III breaks out and countries all around the world all start to deploy their secret weapons . These `` weapons '' are the supernatural creatures each government has been hiding and covering up for years .
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It was a sight to behold. Gathered in their bunker, the United Trump Empire military leaders looked down upon the battlefield through the eyes of a drone, dumbfounded.
What should have been a decisive victory against the European Union had turned to hell. Laid out before them, the forces of a child's imagination engaged in bloody combat. Huge Imperial Sasquatch's grappled hand to hand with Union Yetis, whilst the 3rd Imperial Wolfman Regiment bounded through, desperately trying to penetrate the Union's impressive defensive line. The Imperial forces were beginning to prevail, when another nation showed up to reinforce the Union.
Riding on the back of a giant rainbow serpent, the howls of the Yowie could be heard as they approached. Flying above them, large winged creatures could be seen holding something. The giant rainbow serpent crashed into the Imperial Sasquatch's, and the Yowie's disembarked, raining hell upon the Imperial Forces. The drone's camera tilted up just in time to see a terrifying koala like creature jump onto the drone. A drop bear.
The Free Australian Army had arrived.
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[ WP ] After nearly one hundred generations on a colony ship , the ships original mission has become like a religion . Some still believe , while others deny that there ever was a goal .
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It was said that Aufryorg had billions of eyes, one for each of his creations. The earliest writings spoke of them ever-watching, twinkling far in the distance outside the worlds. But as the aeons dragged on, they each slowly closed forever.
`` We have fallen from grace, and Aufryorg no longer wishes to look upon us!'' they had said. But no matter the efforts of the people, whether they be at war or peace, one by one the eyes closed shut in the dark.
They had never found a solution. Only that, when there was but one light left in the sky, that they should set off and follow it.
`` Aufryorg has opened an eye to guide us,'' they had reasoned, and the ship set off into the eternal night.
When the last eye had closed, the last ones left awoke to find nothing outside the window.
Had they turned off course? There were no landmarks to guide them anymore. The lights of the ship were the only solace in an infinite void of empty blackness. The ship dragged on to its previous destination, unsure if they would ever get there or what they would find.
I am the only one left. I have turned off the lights and the reproductive vats.
Like the last star, I will die alone.
--
( I wanted to write a book on this subject at some point as I find heat death a horribly fascinating subject. Let me know what you think. )
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[ CW ] `` We fumbled in the dark , pretending streetlights were stars . ''
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It was about 2am and we'd been drinking. A little too much, I think. We were trying to walk home, but we staggering a little too much, and laughing at the situation. We could only imagine what we looked like. We made the decision that we should have a quick rest on the curb so we could maybe wait while the drunk worked it's way out of our system. We did n't know any better, we were drunk. Even sitting there on the curb, it was hard for us to keep our balance. It was foggy out, so there was a slight dampness to the curb, and we realized that our feet were soaked from the puddles. Between the images of us falling down while sitting, and having soaked feet, we could n't stop laughing. I do n't know which one of us made the decision, but we were back up and walking along the empty street.
We were silent now. It was like getting up from the curb made us feel stupid. We were still staggering, although not as much, and we began to talk about `` us'' and why it never happened. I told her that, while I wanted to, I was n't sure how she'd feel about it, and also, I did n't want to ruin our amazing friendship. We'd been friends since we were 7, and roommates since we were 20. We were 26 now, and this is the first time it's been brought out in the open. Here, in the middle of this foggy street, we stopped and stared at each other. Feeling both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time, we kissed. We both knew it was only to get it out of the way and relieve the tension.
We began talking about our dreams and where we wanted to be in another 30 years. My mind drifted from her conversation to the streetlights. I interrupted her and told her that my eyes did n't seem to be working properly, I was having trouble differentiating which were street lights, and which were stars. The fog was too think, and my mind was too muddled with a mixture of fog, lust and confusion. `` who cares, maybe the streetlights ARE stars. Maybe the stars are just streetlights on the moon.'' I chuckled. We were almost home, I was relieved, but nervous about how it would go once we reached our home. Quietly, we fumbled along in the dark, pretending the streetlights were stars. Neither of us spoke, we were both feeling nervous about the kiss that had just happened and what we both kind of figured seemed to be inevitable in our drunken state. Still silent, we went in to our apartment, and walked up the stairs. We both stopped, turned to each other and starred. We both wanted it, but we also both knew what it would mean in the morning. I leaned in, gave her a hug, told her she was my best friend, and went to bed.
I woke up the next morning to the delicious smell of bacon and pancakes. I walked down the stairs, and was greeted with a fantastic breakfast, and a warming hug.
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[ WP ] You awaken within a glass chamber , in which a strange gas begins to flood the chamber . Describe what happens next .
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I awake completely submerged in a tank. I can feel the space is pressurized with some sort of gas. I begin to hack and cough with the taste of metal in my mouth. Slowly, I regain the feeling in my hands, my legs, and my body as a whole.
I flex my muscles and hear a hissing sound. The sound of air being released. Something akin to the old aluminum cans of soda back on earth. Earth… the thought forces my eyes open.
I see nothing but glass through a thick haze of smoke. The hissing sound ends in an abrupt pop.
The gas starts to seep out. The glass slides open in a cloud of smoke. Without the glass to lean on I begin to stumble out. But something holds me back. I realize im hooked up to electronics. As I stumble out I tear off the nodes and cords stuck to my body.
My eyes finally begin to focus.
The first thing I see as I step out is the silhouette of a woman.
“ Silas? ”
The name echoes in my head. It sounds so very familiar….
“ Silas? How do you feel? ”
I realize the silhouette is talking to me. It begins to coalesce into a more familiar form.
“ Karin? Is it really you? ”
Her blonde hair cascades down her body. Her gorgeous blue eyes piercing into my soul...
Who am i kidding? I have no soul...
Suddenly I feel my legs begin to tremble. They give out as I fall to the ground on my knees.
“ Careful Silas. Your leg muscles have atrophied from being suspended in the regeneration chamber. ”
Regeneration Chamber?
I look up and stare into Karins eyes as her words sink in.
“ The mission went that bad? ” is all I can manage to say after a long silence
“ Worse than you think ” she says looking down at the floor.
“ Did Soren make it? ” I whisper, already knowing the answer
“ He carried you through the airlock. All the way from the testing facility down to the infirmary. He had to manually override the escape pods door. ”
Damn Soren. Always the hero, always risking his live for others.
“ Did they manage to get their hands on the blueprints? ”
Karin stares blankly at me. She opens her mouth to speak as I hear a noise from behind me…
Blood spatters my face. Karin frowns and reaches up to touch her neck. Her body slumps and falls to the ground in slow motion. As a part of me fills with shock and horror I feel another part of me relax and take a deep breath.
I assess the situation in a heartbeat.
The entrance to the room is to my left. Karin was standing directly in front of me. I notice a man about 30 feet away standing on the far right corner of the room. He sports a jet black combat suit holding an HV-Tungsten Carbine.
Tungsten?
Instantly I realize this man is an Earth operative. Luna ’ s military isn ’ t issued tungsten based weapons. I would know.
As the man lines up his shot, I swallow the fact there is no way I can stop him from placing a high velocity tungsten round through my brain. My years of military training however, force me to take action. Staring death in the face I spring forward.
A strange haze obscures my vision. It makes me feel like Im sloshing through a dark tunnel of smoke. I can feel my body tense. Every muscle in my body flexes. The haze begins to fade.
As my vision clears, I notice the man right in front of me.
My arms explode forward with strength. I grab the mans rifle and tear it from his grip. I hear bones break as I watch the mans eyes grow wide with fear and disbelief. My anger takes over and hurls the man across the room.
As the man hit ’ s the wall and lands dead, in a heap, I gauge the distance I just traversed in 1 second. About 30 feet. Impossible…
A strange aura envelops my body. Like water hissing and evaporating as it lands on a sizzling surface. The feeling fades as my muscles relax.
I feel normal again.
I run over to Karin. With a trained eye, I know she wont make it.
She is laying on her back clutching at her neck. She has a puddle of blood and an empty bio-foam container at her side.
“ It cant stop the bleeding. The round pierced through your neck. ”
Karin looks up serenely at me. Almost as if she is at peace. As her eyes glaze, she smiles and speaks…
“ Your faster stronger and smarter than before Silas. You ’ re the final phase of operation ORION. Finish the mission. ”
Something in my mind clicks and it all makes sense again
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[ WP ] The Earth is destroyed . Humanity has been reduced to a race of vagabonds , drifting from planet to planet in 'caravans ' of ships , tolerated , but never welcome . You do n't mind much though ; you always liked travelling .
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I leaned back and stretched, hearing the bones pop after a long time of being hunched over the computer. It was time for my daily vape break. I hurriedly made my way down to one of the designated smoking area: a balcony on the first floor. Cold, but refreshing air greeted me as I opened the door to the balcony and I fumbled around for my vape machine. Out of habit, I fumbled in my pockets again for the lighter.
`` Why ca n't I bloody poison myself if I wanted to?'' I cursed to myself as I turned on the vape machine.
The vape machine had nicotine, sure. However, smoking was not just about the chemicals. The feeling of a crisp menthol in your lips. Breathing in as you light it up. Gently tapping the cigarette. It was all part of a ritual. However, the law was the law. Besides, most people hated the smell. As I puffed out white smoke that was supposed to smell pleasant, I leaned on a railing and looked down to start my daily people watching.
The street was same as always. A charcoal tar road divided the street into halves and stretched all the way to the horizon. On it, electric vehicles moved silently in sync. I looked enviously at the some of the expensive vehicles that were obviously privately owned. I could not afford them, or rather, I could but there was no good reason to buy them when I needed to save for my retirement. To shield myself from further temptations, I turned my eyes to the pedestrians. People formed fast gray currents as they went about their day, hurrying to their next destination. Nobody looked up.
Then, I noticed a red rock among the gray currents. It was a man, presumably in his fifties. He wore a bright red scarf on top of his tattered leather jacket. His untidy hair matched his unshaven beard. Trinkets, on his arms, shined and glittered every time he took a step. Of course, he stuck out like a sore thumb among gray coloured businessmen, and more so because he was the only person on the street who was sauntering without a purpose. Near him, people glanced up from their phone, annoyed from being disturbed from their fast and purposeful gait, muttered something quietly under their breath and swiftly walked around him.
I kept watching him, intrigued, because gypsies were a rare sight these days. He soon took out a rolled cigarette then started smoking.
`` That's annoying,'' I thought to myself, `` he just does whatever he likes. I hope the police catches him smoking.''
As I continued to look down on him from the balcony, I started to wonder. Does he have any savings or investments? Does he even have a job? No ambition, no responsibility, and no place to call home. You ca n't live that kind of life, I concluded myself. Then, almost as if he felt my glare, he looked up. After locking eyes with me, he smiled at me without a pause. I was dumbstruck for a moment firstly because no one had ever looked up, and happiness was the last thing I expected from him. I forced out an awkward smile, then hurried back inside.
I had forgotten about the encounter as I went about my life. I worked hard. I saved. I got promoted. I invested. I got a mortgage. Built up equity. I was secure. Until the Great War came about, and everyone lost everything. Humans now roam planet to planet, tolerated but never welcome. I had been angry and bitter, reminiscent of the past glory. After time passed, however, the initial anger slowly faded away. I realised that back on Earth, I had been secure, but never happy. Now, with no savings, no investments, and no place to call home, I was free and finally happy.
When I stared at the gypsy back then, I could not imagine how his smile could be genuine. Strolling along a busy path, I took out and lit a cigarette. I looked up and saw a young Kor'werh looking down on me. I smiled.
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[ WP ] Humanity has finally did it ! ! Millions of years later you and your crew are among the first to reach the edge of the universe . Nothing however , could have ever prepared you for what was waiting on the other side .
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“ I ’ m so sleepy. I still haven ’ t got used to these hibernation capsules. ” - said Sgt Monroe as he was sipping his freshly brewed coffee in the canteen with his colleagues.
“ Attention all crew report to duty! ” - called out captain Philips on the PA system.
Monroe immediately jumped up and ran to the bridge. It was a small spaceship, the number of the crew was only 5 people. They didn ’ t need more since everything was managed by computers and robots. Their mission was to find the edge of the universe and report back to Earth what they ’ ve find there.
“ It looks like we are only 10 minutes away from our destination. This is a remarkable moment for humanity. ” - said the captain.
“ Sure it is. So which theory did you bet on? ” - asked Monroe.
“ I never bet. You? ”
“ I thinking for a long time about it. I tried to decide between the lizard and the black-hole theory. Eventually I went with the latter. ”
“ Hmm, look what is that on the screen? ” - asked the captain as the computer started to give warning sound notifications.
“ According to the data that is the edge of the universe. We ’ ve arrived. ”
“ Check the oxygen level. Maybe we are hallucinating. ”
“ Nope, it is fine. That is real. Should we go closer? ”
“ Yes, this is our mission. People at home are counting on us. ”
“ I could park the ship over there next to that sign. I need permission to proceed. ”
“ It ’ s granted, continue. ”
“ Captain, we ’ ve landed. Are we going in? ”
“ I don ’ t know what about you, but I want to see it with my own eyes. Prepare my spacesuit. ”
Five dark shadow stepped out of the spaceship and walked toward the building. They opened the door and walked in.
They went to the counter and were greeted politely by a robot:
“ Welcome to McDonald ’ s. What would you like to order? ”
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[ WP ] As part of the NSA initiative to combat terrorism , all public bathroom mirrors are replaced with digital two-way mirrors , steaming live feeds to NSA Headquarters . You 're an Analyst on the initiative , and your shift today stands out from the rest .
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I rub my eyes and get up, stretching and leaning in to click my monitor off.
Then I look around my cube and grab my jacket, walking out into the hallway as I slip it on. When the door to the lobby shuts behind me, I break into a run and sprint to the elevator, making it just in time to enter it. I'm catching my breath and a very good looking woman is wondering why I'm acting this way, but I do n't have time for that now.
Once outside, I'm running so fast I do n't understand why I struggle to get this done at the gym. No matter. I reach the lobby of the Nectar building and ask security to ring John for me. `` It's urgent,'' I say, watching Louise the attendant roll her eyes at me. Fuck her. But she does n't know what's happening so no matter.
It feels like forever but John eventually arrives and I grab him by the wrist and we're flying out into the afternoon and he's saying things but I'm not listening. We're both breathless in the elevator of my building, ascending to the the 14th floor. This time, it's two young freckles from IT that're wondering why we're out of breath. They'll get old one day, too, but no matter.
Once back in my chair, I click my monitor back on and am scrolling fast through my list of bathroom trackers. `` *There it is! *' I whisper hard and turn to find John's puzzled gaze drift from my face to the screen.
`` Nothing there,'' he says, and I look to see the bathroom is empty. But I know the stall I saw him enter and I can see his feet in the space below.
`` Oh, he's there,'' I say and get up, motioning John to sit. He does.
`` Who?'' John asks.
`` Just wait,'' I say, not noticing my index finger is in my mouth and I'm biting my nails. No matter.
`` Felix, who the hel—''
`` There!'' I say and point. `` Holy shit,'' I whisper.
The stall opens and out walks none other than the most infamous whistleblower we ever had in the history of the Federated States of America. I mean, like, never before had someone wreaked so much—well, this does n't matter.
John mouths *fuck* slowly and takes a deep breath.
`` Well, call Extraction, man, what the hell are you—''
`` Wait,'' I say, my hand on John's shoulder. `` This is it, this is the moment, man. Remember? Last week. After the barbecue. Remember?''
`` Felix, we were drunk. I do n't *actually* want to do that,'' John says, eyeing my hands. Does he think—no, no matter.
`` Do what? Make a difference? Are you *sure*? This is our chance. I was so scared when I saw him, but now both of us can *choose* to let this go, together. Our thing. Together. Right?'' I'm desperate and must sound it. I did n't want to be in on something like this alone. The death penalty is probably a lonely situation.
`` Felix, I'm calling Extraction.''
`` John, please. Just think about this for a moment. Your kids.''
`` Fuck my kids. This is my job. My duty.''
`` Who the fuck are you?''
`` Who the f—screw you, man,'' he says and his hand's in his pocket and before I notice it I'm on top of him but John's stronger than me and throws me off easily. He looks down at me with disgust. His phone's up to his ear. `` Yes. Yes. John Ellis. Sector 4. Yes. Just now. Okay, ready? 1-2-65-43-87-95-24. Yes. Yes. Camera, um, hold on,'' he turns to the screen, `` Camera 7-7-4-2. Yes. It's the Cobra. Yes. Yeah, I know. Okay. Yes. Alright. Thanks. Bye.'' He taps his phone off and pockets it, then helps me up and brushes nothing off my shoulder.
`` Whew,'' he says. `` That's a big one. I'll give you credit,'' he's smiling. I'm in shock. I'm glancing at the camera and see the Cobra had already left the bathroom, but it does n't matter. They'll find him now. And he'll disappear. They'll proxy his socials and they'll record some voice stuff. But he's done for. And I did it. I'm his enemy.
I wo n't tell John I'd read all his books. His blogs. I'd follow his socials if it was safe. I wo n't tell John anything. Never again. It's time to get serious. It's time to do something real.
`` I. I do n't know what got into me,'' I say and force a smile.
John suspects my honesty but seemingly drops it. He throws an arm around me and starts walking out the cube with me in tow. `` Let's get a drink. A daytime drink,'' he says and laughs. `` Holy shit. The Cobra. The actual, blood-and-flesh Cobra,'' John says and keeps laughing to himself in intervals.
I do n't know it yet, but this man with his arm around me, my best friend at work—and let's face it, in life—becomes my first victim weeks later, and that's before I even leave the country.
No matter.
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[ WP ] You can gain powers based on what other people believe about you .
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So here's how it all started. I cut my 2 year old son's sandwich in quarters. He wants it in halves, only halves, and he demands that I `` uncut'' his sandwich. I'm on the brink of explaining certain laws of physics to him when he starts to cry. I take the plate from in front of him and say of course sweetheart.
And two of the quarters fuse together. Then the other two. I'm stunned. I put it back in front of him and he eats, completely unaware that what just happened could n't have.
Years later, I find that as long as he thinks I'm some divine creature capable of forcing the natural world to suit his whims, I really can. His favorite pet, back from the dead after that car crushed its head. I once made cheese pizza with anchovies out of crackers and ketchup. Chocolate fudge out of nothing but butter and a few sugar packets.
I worry that when puberty hits he's going to start believing I'm an idiot, because that's what happens is n't it? Anyway, I got the best present from him for my birthday this year.
He said that he will be my baby forever.... And he really believes it.
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[ WP ] Everytime a kindergartener falls asleep for nap time , they wake up as their adult self . When their adult self falls asleep at night , they wake up back from their kindergartener nap .
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“ But I ’ m not tired! ” protested the tot after his teacher repeatedly
informed him that it was nap time for his fellow kindergarteners.
“ Look, how about this? ” replied the teacher. “ If you nap now, we ’ ll let you read as many picture books you want during the next lesson, okay? ”
The child nodded his head vigorously and headed over to where his friend, Zach, was.
“ Hi Mike! ” exclaimed the boy.
“ Hey! ” Michael responded.
They sat firmly down on their mats and began to converse about cartoons and superheroes, the usually conversation material for a five year old. Suddenly, the door opened with his teacher standing on the edge of the door.
“ Zach, ” she said. “ Your parents are here to take you to the dentist ’ s. ”
Zach let out a disgruntled moan, as he gradually rose from his mat and trudged from the mat to the door where the teacher then escorted him out.
Michael was now left without his partner in crime, which left him in a bored and upset state of mind. When the teacher returned, she put in the CD: It was Debussy. That was all he needed. Somehow, the impressionistic strings allowed Mr. Sandman to get to work on him. After two minutes, he was out cold.
He then began to wake up in a daze. The first thing he noticed was how the mat had become more comfy than he remembered it to be. When he finally woke, he realized he was not in the classroom. He looked at his hands and realized that they were bigger than before. He turned over, and saw the red hair and face of a grown woman next to him. He screamed and fell out of the bed in a jolt of energy.
When he landed on the floor, he realized he was nude. He also noticed his legs were more muscular and longer, and, to a lesser a degree, he had become more endowed. He look up to see the woman, now with breasts bare to the air.
“ Honey what ’ s wrong? ” she asked, in a similar tone to whenever Michael would bruise himself on the swing seat.
“ Who are you! ” he exclaimed.
“ What do you mean ‘ who are you ’? I ’ m Alice, I ’ m your wife. ”
“ But I ’ m too young to be married! ”
“ Yeah, ” she laughed. “ Poor little twenty-five year old is too young to be married. You ’ re funny. ”
Alice then slid herself off the bed, revealing that she was also naked like Michael was.
“ Why are we naked? ” questioned Michael.
“ You know why. ” She replied.
“ Why? ”
“ We were fucking last night. ”
“ Fucking? ”
“ Yeah, you said you were becoming VP of the company and how you would now be making $ 250,000 a year and that you finally ready to have a baby now. ”
“ What? ”
“ Remember? You didn ’ t want to fuck on our wedding night, and I was really making passes at you all throughout honeymoon. Like when I got that frilly lingerie that you like. ” She then began to laugh about the event. “ But anyway, you said you weren ’ t making enough money so you didn ’ t want a child then. ”
“ What ’ s fucking? ” asked Michael.
“ Quit being coy, ” said Alice with a playful grin planted on her face. “ Come on, get dress. We ’ re going to my parents ’ house. ”
“ I don ’ t know who they are. ”
“ Seriously, stop acting weird. What ’ s wrong, you don ’ t like them? ”
“ I don ’ t know. ”
“ Well, hopefully you ’ ll start acting normal when we get there. ”
The meeting was a disaster.
Alice got into their car with a look of contempt drawn upon her face.
“ Un-fucking-believable! ” Alice exclaimed.
“ Why are you saying fucking? ” asked Michael. “ We ’ re not naked no more. ”
“ Oh quit with your youthful charade and shit. Why are acting like nothing in your life is happening? Parents are generally concerned about you. My mom told me that I ’ ve married a mental ward escapee! What the fuck is going on? ”
“ Why are you yelling at me? ”
“ Uh! You ’ re fucking hopeless! ”
The two drove in silence home, with Michael trembling in fear due to the explosive expressed by Alice in the car. When they got home, Michael decided watch TV, while Alice went and took a shower.
In the middle of the commercials, a commercial for a classical music box set came on. Right then he heard that Debussy melody again. He then began to fall asleep to the tones coming out of the TV.
He then woke back in the classroom on the mat. The CD was now playing one the Brandenburg Concertos by Bach. However, the sounds of that piece was disturbed by Michael ’ s ear-piercing scream that was emitted.
“ Yes ma ’ am that is what he told, ” said the principal. After telling both the teachers and the principal of his temporal mishap, the teachers were first furious due to learning the language that he spoke about, then concerned about his complete and almost humiliating and heartfelt honesty he told his story in.
“ Okay, ” said the principal. “ Me and your mom and dad have signed you up to talk to the nice lady down the hall about your stories and problems. If this continues we ’ ll send you to a lady out of the school, is this understood? ”
Michael shook his head solemnly and was then allowed to leave by the principal. When he finally arrived in class, no one approached him or spoke to him. However, when he reached his desk he noticed a heart shaped card.
Oh yeah, he thought, it ’ s Valentine ’ s Day. He opened the card which read this:
*HoPE You GEt Better MIKey
FRom,
Alice. *
He was surprised by the letter. Could it be? It couldn ’ t? He ignored the card and plopped himself by his Matchbox cars and TMNT action figures until he looked. He couldn ’ t believe it.
The girl with a red Matilda-style hair sitting over there, playing Barbie dolls with her friends, would become his future spouse.
She was Alice.
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[ WP ] As a young child you made an innocent wish to be granted a power that in hindsight was just whimsical and silly . Now you have grown up but you still have the power - how do you use it now as an adult ?
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“ But mommy, I ’ m hungry now, ” Julie pleaded with her mother to give her something to eat. Molly, her mother, just shook her head at her daughter and went back to starting dinner. “ It ’ s gon na be fooorever before dinner is done. ” Julie tried her best to drag the words out, trying to get the point across to her mother.
“ Julie, dear, dinner will be done in an hour. Why don ’ t you go practice your ABCs while you wait? ” She phrased it like a suggestion, but her tone told the little girl it was an order. Julie grumbled as she made her way to the couch. Instead of practicing her ABCs like she was told, Julie turned around and sat on the couch starring out of the window. A shooting star! “ Mommy Mommy! Look a shooting start! ” her high, childish voice cut through the house.
“ That ’ s nice, baby, make a wish, ” she heard her mother ’ s absent-minded advice and furrowed her brows. But she silently did as she was told.
“ I wish that I had food whenever I wanted it. ” The little girl mumbled her wish under her breath, eyes closed. She opened her eyes and looked on the table next to her. No food.
“ Shoot. ” She got off the couch and went back into the kitchen. “ Mommy, could I please have some mac n ’ cheese? ” she gave her mother the biggest grin she could manage but before her mother could say anything they heard the sound of something dropping onto the counter. A bowl of mac n ’ cheese. “ Yay, thank you, Momma. ” Her mother just looked flabbergasted.
______________________________________________________________________
Julie stood in the kitchen of her world famous restaurant. The last order of the night had just went out and she was thinking about her life since that one night. She and her mother had discovered that she somehow had gained the power to make food appear at random. And therefore a restaurant was the perfect business for her.
All she had to do was to will the order into existence. She had a loyal band of kitchen staff that were paid well for their silence; and for looks, because she only had to look like she cooked the food. She always willed the best tasting dishes into her restaurant, made to the customer ’ s orders. The best part of her restaurant was that there was no menu; they just ordered whatever sounded good. Life was good, that wish she had made as a hungry four year old was the best thing she had ever done.
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[ WP ] Write a story where the most mundane ability that you have is needed to save the world .
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Growing up I never thought of myself as anything special. Hell, my kindergarten teacher almost failed me because of my inability to color within the lines. My mother, God bless her, thought I was an angel. She constantly consoled me, hugged me when I was down and smiled when I did well. She thought I was unique, she thought I would grow up and be president, or save the world. Little did she know, one day I would fulfill that destiny.
*alarm rings*
“ Bruh…just 5 more minutes… ” Lily, my wife, nudges me.
Lily: “ Joseph, get up! You know you ’ re always slow to move in the mornings. ”
I respond slowly to her yelling.
“ I ’ ve never been late to work…I just, I just want to sleep for a couple of more seconds. ”
*Lily sighs* She knows I ’ ve never been late to work, well late to anything really. I ’ ve been on time to everything since she ’ s known me. I have had perfect attendance all throughout school, on time for opening sequence to every television show, at the microwave exactly as it rang. Hell, my wife often joked that even if it flooded outside that I ’ d still make it to the movie theatre the exact second the trailer was over.
I began getting ready for the day, shower, cologne, wallet in side pocket, back up wallet in sock. I check the time. *Oh shift* I got to be to work in 8 minutes. I rush past the television.
Reporter: “ Expect 30 minute traffic and long delays. There is an accident on I-95 ”
“ What the dirt… ” I ’ ll never make it to work on time, well at least I have an excuse. ”
I start towards my car *check watch*, “ I have two minutes, well fudge it, I ’ m going to be late anyway. ” **7:58**
I start driving towards McDonalds, I didn ’ t quite get a chance for breakfast at home. And hell, I ’ m not making it to work on time anyway. **7:59**
Cashier: “ Order when ready ( said in a tired voice ) ”
“ I ’ d like to get that young mcmuffin and a diet coffee. ”
Cashier: “ That ’ ll be $ 3.59, pull up to the window ”
I grab my meal and head to work.
“ I don ’ t see any traffic on this street, ” I think to myself. That reporter must have been mistaken. I arrive at work and clock in.
Boss: “ Glad to see at least one of my employees is on time, How ya doing Joe? ”
“ Wait what? ” *I check my watch* **8:00**
I think to myself, “ How the shell did I get here on time. ”
“ Uhh I ’ m doing great boss, I ’ m just going to uhh, go to my desk. ”
Boss: “ By the way, a gentleman is at your cubicle, something about company property or muffins or something. ”
I shake my head confused and head over to my desk.
“ It must be daylight savings or something and I didn ’ t set my watch up right… ”
I spot a man in a black suit standing by my cubicle.
Black Suited Man: “ I ’ ve been expecting you, actually, I knew you would be here exactly at this time ”
“ Bruh what? ” I start, clearly perplexed, “ Who are you? ”
Black Suited Man: “ That doesn ’ t quite matter, you are needed. ”
“ I took two muffins last Friday at the meeting, I ’ m sorry, I was just so hungry... ”
Black Suited Man: “ Sir, muffins are the least of your worries, be at this address in 5 minutes. ”
*109 Crissler Street*
“ There is no earthly way I can get here in 5 minutes, ” I start, “ This is on the other side of town. And plus what is this about? ”
Black Suited Man: “ Be there on time sir, all will be explained ” **8:02**
The man starts to walk away.
“ Sir, seriously, I ’ m being serious. What is this about? ”
I sit at my desk, start up my computer, and start working on an order. There is a disturbance in the force.
“ Man, that coffee is running through me, better head to the bathroom. ” **8:06**
I head towards the restroom, on the way I check my watch
“ Man, that gentleman was clearly high, talking about driving 27 miles in 5 minutes. Captain Planet can ’ t even recycle paper that fast. ”
I proceed to open the door.
“ That ’ s strange, when did the bathroom get a doorknob… ”
I check my surroundings. I am at an industrial complex in seemingly nowhere. On the door was the number 109. As I turn knob I look at my watch, **8:09**.
“ I must be slacking really hard at work and napping bruh. How is this possible? ”
As I walk through the doorway I see people huddled around computers, and the black suited man amidst all of the chaos.
Black Suited Man: “ We knew you would be here on time. Welcome! ”
“ Sir, what is going on, ” I shouted confusedly, “ I know I ’ m dreaming, nobody has a suit *that tailored*… ”
Black Suited Man: “ Joseph, this is not a game. You are needed to disarm a bomb. ”
“ First of all, I ’ m a cable salesman, second of all aren ’ t there people qualified to do this? ”
Black Suited Man: “ I ’ m not entirely sure you understand the nature of the situation. This bomb has been hidden, and all of our attempts at locating it have been in vain. We need you to find it. ”
“ I can ’ t help you with any of this nonsense, I ’ m clearly dreaming. I had bad coffee this morning, my blood sugar is low… ”
Black Suited Man: “ Joseph! ”, he interrupts, “ You have a gift. Think, have you ever been late to anything? ”
*Flashback*
Mom: “ Be back before the streetlights come on! ”
While laughing, “ I ’ ll be back mom. ”
I head to the park to play football, it ’ s a little after 5:30. I have an entire hour to play before I have to be back home.
Random Kid: “ Joseph go long! ”
I run towards, gently catching the football over another lad.
“ Bruh where your ups at? ” I exclaim, I look like a midget Randy Moss on the field.
I begin to notice that it ’ s getting darker outside.
“ Man, I ’ m not going to make it home on time! ”
I start to tie my shoes. The second I look up, I am in front of my house. I think nothing of it, mom made pie.
*End flashback*
“ You ’ re…you ’ re right. I ’ ve never been late to anything… ”
Black Suited Man: “ That is why we need you, through our observations we have concluded that you can never be late to anything. The bomb has a termination switch located in its immediate area. ”
“ I don ’ t know if I can do this, I have church this weekend, my yard needs trimming…I ”
Black Suited Man: Interrupting again.
“ That ’ s mad rude… ”
Black Suited Man: “ You will do this, tomorrow at 7:54 pm you will disarm this bomb ”
“ But, Jeopardy comes on at 8 sir, I ’ ve never missed an episode. ”
Black Suited Man: “ That ’ s the thing, ” he winks at me, “ you won ’ t miss tomorrow ’ s episode either. ”
I walk back towards the door. Thinking to myself that this is the weirdest dream I ’ ve had. As I open the door, I see a toilet. Somehow I am in the bathroom back at work. Strangely, I no longer need to utilize the facilities. As I walk out Jim greets me.
Jim: “ Taking a number two in there? ” He says, while laughing, violently.
I check my watch, **8:21**
“ Uhh, no just dealing with… ” I stop suddenly, “ Are you wearing black dress shoes, white socks, and a tan cloth belt? ”
Jim “ Yessir, fresh aint it? ” Grinning directly in my face.
“ Jim get your life together, you have kids. They won ’ t respect you if you dress like that. ”
I head over to my desk, and start working. The weekend is tomorrow, and I clearly have bathroom related trauma that has caused hallucinations.
I ’ m woken up abruptly the next day.
Lily: “ You have been in the bed all day! Its already 7 pm. ”
Sigh… Assuming I had fecal related blood loss yesterday I decided to stay in bed all day. My wife wasn ’ t having that, and that aint what I ’ m mad at.
“ Lily I ’ ve had a rough day, I just need some rest. ” **7:05**
Lily: “ I ’ m worried about you, you usually are up in the mornings. ”
I briefly think to tell her about what happened yesterday. Its not worth it, she ’ ll probably attribute the story to limiting my beer drinking like always.
“ I ’ m fine, I ’ m just going to rest until jeopardy ”
**7:53**
I get up and head to the bathroom, my bladder bursting at the seams. As I open the door, I notice that the tiles are no longer white.
“ Where am I? ” I look around frantically, and I see it. A cliché button next to a detonation clock with 12 seconds left. I begin sprinting towards the button.
12, 11, 10, 9, 8
I trip. I roll out of the trip, its like I never tripped.
7, 6, 5, 4, 3
I lunge towards the button. Just as it hits 1 second, I manage to press it. The countdown timer stops.
“ I swear to goodness that this is some nonsense, ” I think to myself, “ I still have to pee. ”
I start to tinkle on the ground next to the bomb. **7:59** The sense of urination floods my being; I pass out. As I regain consciousness I realize that I am on the couch at my house. Jeopardy is on. My cell phone begins to ring.
Black Suited Man: “ You did it, good job! ” He exclaimed, “ we will contact you in the future if necessary. Please accept our thanks as award enough. ”
He hangs up abruptly. I sit up perplexed.
“ What just happened… ”
*Text Message*
Mom: “ I knew you were special! ”
*End Text Message*
I was taken aback and shocked.
“ When did my mom start texting? ”
**Que ending Music**
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[ WP ] You step outside for a cigarette . Parked haphazardly just outside your office is a DeLorean DMC-12 with the window down and keys in the ignition . You decide to go for a spin .
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`` So let me get this straight, Mr Chambers. You see a car. It's unattended, but the windows are open and there are keys in the ignition. Noticing this, you proceed to commandeer the vehicle, and you recklessly disregard the speed limit in a residential area. And you did this because thought it might be a *magic* time travelling car?''
Robert Chambers shifted uncomfortably on a hard chair.
`` Have you not seen Back to the Future?'' He asked pleadingly.
`` I have seen it, yes. And do you know what I watched last night with my little boy?''
`` No, sir.''
`` Up. It was excellent. But ask me, Mr Chambers. Did I use helium-filled balloons to ride in my house to work?''
`` I do n't think so, sir.'' Robert looked down at the table.
`` Ask me the question, Mr Chambers.''
`` The question?''
`` Yes. Did I use a number of helium-filled balloons to uproot my house from its foundations, and sail on the wind to get to work this morning?''
`` Um. Ahem. Did you use balloons to fly your house to work?''
`` No I fucking did n't, Mr Chambers. I drove in my car, *which I own*. Now, Mr Chambers, I would like you to tell me: why did I not fly to work in my house?''
Robert swallowed. `` Because you have a car?''
`` So you think that owning a car is the only thing that prevented me from uprooting a thousand tonnes of timber and mortar using only latex and helium?''
`` Um. No, sir. Not when you put it like that.''
`` So, humour me please Mr Chambers. What stopped me from doing it?''
`` Well,'' he said, fingering his earlobe, `` It's not possible.''
The police interviewer leant forwards, seeking out Robert Chambers' eyes.
`` But I saw it in a film, Mr Chambers. How could I possibly have seen somebody fly their house in a film, if it was n't actually possible?''
Robert wrung his hands.
`` Can you explain that to me, Mr Chambers?''
`` It's fictional. It did n't really happen.''
`` Ah! So you know the difference. Are you delusional, Mr Chambers?'' The interviewer referenced some notes before him. `` On any medication I might not know of?''
`` No,'' said Robert.
`` Then I wonder, Mr Chambers. I wonder what went through your mind when you saw an unattended classic car - one that might coincidentally have resembled an identical model from a fictional film about time travel - what did you think was happening in that moment?''
`` I do n't know.''
`` Did you think Doc was just around the corner? That he had left the DeLorean there for you?''
`` I... Do n't know. Maybe. I mean, no. I'm not sure. I thought I'd just try.''
`` That you did...'' said the interviewer. `` Out of interest Mr Chambers, what happened when you reached fifty miles an hour?''
`` A patrol car started chasing me, sir.''
The interviewer smirked.
`` No time travel, Mr Chambers?''
`` No, sir.''
`` But I'm sure you wish you could go back in time, now.''
`` Yes, sir.''
`` Well my advice for you Mr Chambers is to come *back to the present*, and think logically about what you do. There will be a court hearing, and you will be tried for theft of an auto, and joy riding. You could face a prison sentence. In the mean time, you will be referred to a psychiatrist. Do you understand what I have told you?''
`` I understand,'' Robert mumbled.
`` Good,'' said the interviewer. `` Talk to you later then, Martie.''
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[ WP ] You are an old fart , easily irritated and at the end of your days , unbeknownst to you an immortal mosquito falls head over heels for you .
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They complain about the smell. They always do. `` Ugh, it's like someone farted here'' they jest. Little do they know that in fact it was I, Lord Percival Biddlesworth, who left my final mark - so to speak - on the corporeal world in 1898.
If I had only known how reincarnation works! My soul could be bound to the last words to my beloved ones, to mirthful laughter, even to a weary sigh. But no, I just had to eat cabbage soup as my last supper, now I haunt the manor in my gaseous form.
Blast these whippersnappers! Do they think they can invade my manor, my sanctuary just because we share the same bloodline? These ill-mannered simpletons would feel my wrath if I had even the quarter of my strength left, but I'm becoming older, weaker, less odorous every day.
What's this ringing in my ears? Sounds like somebody yelling a thousand miles away. I see a common gnat flying towards me, if you can even call this greenish cloud `` me''. I hear a sound, almost too quiet to hear, whispering:
^^^I'm ^^^an ^^^immortal ^^^mosquito ^^^who ^^^loves ^^^a ^^^fart...
^^^Fuck ^^^this, ^^^it's ^^^the ^^^dumbest ^^^fucking ^^^idea ^^^for ^^^writing ^^^prompt ^^^I've ^^^ever ^^^seen.
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[ WP ] `` Like this if you love Jesus . Ignore if you love the Devil . '' `` Not this stupid crap again '' , you think to yourself . You scroll past it and continue wasting time on your home computer . Five seconds later you hear a knock at your front door . It 's the Devil , holding a bouquet of roses .
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When I answered the door I was greeted by a young man. He was fairly attractive. Tan skin, Dark hair, well trimmed beard. Not bad. But for some
reason I still got the creeps from him.
`` Hey, uh, can I help you?''
He frowned. Dissapointment gave his voice a decidedly unattractive whine
`` You do n't remember me?'' A heavy sigh. `` We used to talk, like, all of the
time.''
This was weird. and unwanted.
`` I'm sorry man, but I really do n't and honestly it's kinda late, so I'd
really appreceate it if you could-''
`` Why do girls always like the douchbags?''
`` Uhh..''
`` No for real. I listened to you every time something was wrong in your life.
I was a shoulder to cry on, I was your friend. Me. Not him''
He pointed to my
computer a ways behind me, where the half Jesus and half grinning Devil
picture still looked out at us.
So this is Jesus. Great.
`` Listen, Jesus''
`` Actually It's pronounced-''
`` Do n't care. Satan was just here a minute ago. At lease he had flowers with
him instead of this whiney bull shit. I'm going to tell you the same thing I
told him. Just because I do or do not like a status does n't mean I owe you
anything.''
I started to close the door, but stopped.
`` Oh, and being nice to me just so that I'll like you later on is really
manipulative and not cool. Just saying.''
With that I slammed the door shut on the shocked Prophet and made my way
back to my computer.
I think maybe it's time for bed. I ca n't deal with all of this
Facebook drama.
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[ PI ] Messenger - 1ML CONTEST ENTRY
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I was not going to say anything because /u/brokenleader seemed to cover most of it but there were just one or two things I wanted to point out.
The sentence pacing is just a bit distracting. It seemed like you decided on a story before writing and tried to fit the challenge to your story rather than the story to your challenge. It is a really great story. It is interesting and moves with a nice cadence but it feels a bit throttled. I almost think I would like you to rewrite it WITHOUT the challenge because I imagine it would be much better.
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[ WP ] You awake in your favourite fictional world as an important character , how do you go about your first week in this world ?
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The wind whipped against my face as I opened my eyes and looked into the crowd.
*What? * I could feel the wood against my knees and hear the jeers of the crowd. *Where am I? What the hell is going on? *
Heavy footsteps approached as I scanned the audience. Most of the people below me were dirty, wearing rags and the clothing of peasants. They spat at me with their grimy faces grimacing, screaming at me to die.
`` What the fuck...'' I muttered as the scene of whores and johns, peasants and villains was laid out for me in the square. As I became more aware, I found myself to be on a stage above a fountain. I tried to move my hands and feet to no avail. The rope began to sting on my wrists as I strained.
From behind me I heard a woman's voice.
`` See now your grace, he has declared his guilt. We have seen his traitorous ways. Banish him to the wall, he needs not to be killed. Let him live out his days in shame.''
*The Wall? What? * One moment I had been asleep in my bed watching Game of Thrones, and the next I was here in this... Place.
`` My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join the Night's Watch.'' The voice of a young man called out from behind me. `` Stripped of all titles and powers, he would serve the realm in permanent exile. And my Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father.''
*Eddard Stark? Could I be... *
`` But they have the soft hearts of women.'' The boy continued. His voice had reached a fevered pitch of excitement. `` So long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Sir Ilyn, bring me his head!''
`` Noo!'' A girl's voice called out. It sounded familiar.
*Eddard Stark? Sansa? The Wall? * Things began to come into view. I looked down, and on my breast I saw a familiar pin.
`` The hand of the king? Shit, does this mean I'm Sean Bea...''
Cutting me off, the armor laden footsteps moved beside me and I looked up to see the axe before it fell.
--
Ned Starks head bounced on the stage before his body slumped over. Blood spurted from the stump where his two halves had once met. Sansa cried as she was held back from her father's corpse, as Joffrey smugly addressed the crowd.
Arya Stark, who in this has seen the whole dreadful affair, felt something was not the way it was supposed to be, but quickly dismissed the feeling and replaced it with sadness for her father's death.
- *I know I'm no GRRM, but please give me feedback, I'm looking to improve! Thanks for reading. * -
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[ WP ] This prison is a hell on earth but nobody wants to leave , why ?
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The bustling streets were filled with the roars and screams of alarm clocks. People were going home from work. Subways were filled with daily commuters. The roads were suffocated with yellow cabs. People returning to their small abodes, their cells before tomorrow's work. It was certainly odd, the way people struggled to continue through the banality of this life, this odd prison life. I had come here in the guise of a reporter, but soon realized that my father was right all along.
We do n't build prisons to keep people out. We build them to keep people in.
And here, in New York City, we build the prison around us. We did n't like what we saw, and we changed it. Altered it. But in doing so, people created a self-restricting environment, one too engaging to really leave. Those that do leave, long for the moments, the sudden stops in the city. They do not realize it themselves, but, in building this prison, they have become the prisoners and the guards simultaneously. This is why.
Welcome to New York City.
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[ WP ] Everyone in the world wears a wristwatch that shows how much time they have to live . One day , your watch stops .
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I stared blankly at the equally blank watch face.
I could n't remember when the watches were given, only that it was before I was born. Before every currently living person was born, a company, Omni... something... something, rose up. They made just about every kind of consumer product one could imagine. Hell, they even had this cop robot thing out in Detroit a few centuries ago. At any rate, how they came upon the technology, no one really knew. All that anyone did know is that the watches have never been wrong. They'd been given out to every person on the day of their birth. Once it touched the skin, it automatically turned on, calibrated, and started counting down from a number of years, days, hours, minutes and seconds, to the exact time of the wearer's death.
Mine, for seemingly no reason, just turned off. I did n't know how or why, and I do n't even remember if I've ever heard of anyone needing to change the batteries. Hell, the company did n't even have a section on their website for customer support for them. There was a complaints section, sure, but it was always full of complaints like `` Why is my time so close?'' or `` What gives you the right to determine how long a person has?'' I had to call their general support line, and that was a fiasco. I mean, I was on the phone for hours, and the person I finally got to speak with was so convinced I was faking it, he hung up in my face. I eventually had to take the watch in myself to have it looked at.
The building was huge. It was the tallest building I'd ever seen, towering over the nearby buildings by no less than five times, like some great phallic symbol of the company's superiority. The lobby was flanked by a pair of massive drones armed to the teeth with military grade weaponry, but considering that this place made everything from toothpaste to the entire United States military, it's no surprise security was tight. Still, the greeting I received was less than pleasant, especially when I showed them irrefutable proof that their greatest creation, a mandatory expense for every living person on the planet, had failed, at least in my case.
I was ushered into some kind of laboratory. After minimal prep and a shot of a local anesthetic, the watch was pried from the groove formed as my arm grew around it. I was fitted with a new watch, one that would sit outside my wrist, and the hole where the old watch was was plugged with sterile cloth. But, rather than calibrating, the new watch just flashed `` Err,'' and went dead. The lead scientist... doctor... whatever looked at the watch with a bit of confusion, then pressed the sensors to his own skin. Nothing. He grabbed another watch, pulled it out of its case and stripped it of its protective covers, and pressed the sensors of that watch to his skin. It calibrated correctly. He pressed the same watch to the skin of a colleague, and it recalibrated successfully, syncing up nicely with the existing watch in that person's grooved arm. The doctor dude pressed the sensors to my skin, though this time, it flashed `` Cal'' for what seemed like an hour, before displaying `` Err,'' and going blank, never to turn on again.
That's when they put me in the room. It's an observation room of some kind. I know they're watching, but I ca n't figure out why, or how, or for how long. I ca n't remember the last time I ate, or had something to drink, or even really had something to do. What I do know is that I have n't slept since the watch went out, and I've watched at least one man go from pimple-faced intern to senior citizen. Now, his pimple-faced intern is gray-haired, aged. His watch is rapidly counting down. I think he's got only a day or so left, now. That's probably why he keeps poking and prodding me, trying to understand why I'm not dying, why I'm not aging.
It's not like I have n't been cooperating, either. I want to know why I ca n't die. I had five days on my watch before it went dead, plus or minus some minutes. I wanted it to be on *my* terms, I wanted to go by *my* rules. I know it was five days, because I checked before I kicked the stool away. I blacked out shortly after I felt the noose tighten around my neck. I do n't know how much longer it was before I came to again. My watch, the one that is always supposed to count down until the day we die was blank. I stared blankly at the equally blank watch face. I waited. Five days I hung by the neck, waiting to die, and five more for good measure. Only after the second week did I finally cut myself free to find out why I was n't dead. Why I could n't die.
And still I wait.
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[ WP ] The year is 2030 , and the entire world is firmly under the control of the Australian Empire , and no one really understands how it happened .
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The Great War ended fifty years ago, but I still catch my parents wondering how this could've happened. Fifty years under Australian rule, and still people are wondering *how? *
It all started with the floods. Global warming had finally caught up with us. Hurricanes, tsunamis and general rising of sea levels made the costs uninhabitable, and weakened the mightiest of countries. America, Japan and especially the UK were hit by the consequences of fossil fuels. So they started putting money and effort in a solution. Australia was faster.
Nobody really knows how they pulled it of, but they managed to disconnect their huge landmass from the the Indo-Australian plate, which I guess is just the Indo plate now, making it a huge floating island. They drifted it towards the weakened Japan, and the invasion began.
Seeing the new threat Australia had become, the US and UK started putting all of their resources in finding a solution. Their scientist came up with the biggest accomplishment of mankind to this date: A huge portal was build in the Atlantic ocean. It would be used to transport a large amount of water to Uranus, to counter the floods and tsunamis. The day the water was transported to Uranus, the world celebrated; saved from the endless stream of disasters -apart from the hurricanes of course, those are still a problem. They were far from save however.
America, the UK and Europe were still weak. Building and designing the portal had taken it's toll on the world. Meanwhile, Australia had only gotten stronger, conquering Indonesia and still invading China, their resources only increased. The remains of the Russian Federation were more than happy to join this prospering empire. It was n't the only rising superpower, though.
The Netherlands had been perfecting the defense against water for decades, due to a large part of the country being located below the ocean level. Their''dijken'' and''sluisen'' were being build all over the world. While other county's were drowning, the Netherlands prospered. After the teleportation of the water, their eternal struggle against the ocean had ended. They could devote their manpower, engineering and resources to other things, other *priorities. *
Two new, unexpected superpowers had risen out of the blue, and the rest of the world did n't have the means to counter them. Only they could stop each other, so when the Netherlands suggested a alliance with Australia, the world held it's breath. Australia excepted, together they took over the world.
However, Australia outnumbered the Netherlands in both manpower and resources. Eventually the Netherlands decided to become a part of the New Australian Empire, after Australia threatened to use weaponized kangaroos on the Dutch population.
And thus, Australia had taken over the world, floating between continents and using them to lever itself to a new degree of prosperity. It might not take to long for them to take their land to the sky.
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[ WP ] Drunkenly , you accidentally pour vodka into your pet 's water bowl . As a result , your pet breaks the number one rule : do not speak to your owner ... Ever .
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“ You know that feeling, after a blackout binge? Not memory, but an impression of the night – you can tell if it was north or south but you ca n't remember the street names. You know what I'm talking about? ” I was n't explaining this eloquently, but my head was about to split open.
“ I do n't think I drink quite as much as you, dude. ” mumbled Coworker. Jesus, what was this guys name again? Anyway, I had to tell someone, and he was the only one in the break room.
“ Well whatever. Sometimes you just have a feeling about things even sans memory, and I've got a weird one. I'm really hopin' I did n't embarrass myself too bad is what I'm saying. You seen Tim or Ryan around? ” God, it really hurt, and the nausea was starting. You know a hangover that makes you tell lies to yourself about never drinking again, maybe setting limits? It was one of those.
`` They are your roommates man, why would I know? Do n't you come in together? ” Coworker said that over his shoulder, he was leaving now. Break over, I guess.
“ Tell the boss I'm sick. Do n't look at me like that man, just tell him I'm going home and cover for me. I'm going to be useless here today anyway. ” Coworker was gon na rat me out, glad I do n't remember that assholes name. I needed to go home, was was this feeling? Like something happened, a mistake. And also possibly a warning? If the roommates were n't in, then they were smarter than me and took the day without stumbling their way here first. Time to head home.
I checked at the bar first, but nothing out of the ordinary there, a few girls who were n't interested and got upset. One more time and we were n't allowed back, as if I had n't heard that before. You know how bartenders and bouncers are all fine at the start of the night when you wallet is full, then totally different assholes when the consequences of their product roll in? Walking up the door of our little rented house, the morning sunlight was blinding, the neighborhood dogs barking was a horror. The first stop needed to be the medicine cabinet. Then bed, preferably with a trashcan nearby.
I opened the door, and looked around again at what I had woken up to in the living room. We had made a damn proper mess of the place. Looking around, furniture was upended, it looked like we had fucking fought our way through the place. I had a flash, a hazy remembrance of us, incredibly shitfaced coming, slamming the door, and pulling down a bottle of vodka for more. Apparently, that had been a mistake. That was n't what I was trying to remember though.
Putting the chore of cleaning up out of my mind for the moment, I headed upstairs. Where the hell where they? Tim and Ryan were n't in their rooms, not at work, they ca n't have been feeling up for much else. Maybe they had left again to add to the myriad of the nights errors, and never had made it to their rooms. I suddenly heard scratching.
“ Fuck me, Thor! ” I quickly headed to my door, and let our idiot of a dog out. Why I had locked him in there was anyone's guess, but Thor seemed to glare at me as he left my room. And the inside was absolutely scratched to shit – I guess he got put in there to keep away from our madness, and then ruined the door for some reason, the fucking animal. My mind was straining to tell me something as I watched him go down the stairs, but I just could n't quite get there. Maybe that uneasy feeling was just forgetting about the damn dog. Maybe the warning was not to hit him him when he scratched. Tim could be a real baby about some things.
I followed the dog down, angry about the damage, but also a little guilty about forgetting him in the morning. Mostly angry. When I woke up, the feelings were so much stronger, and I had avoided upstairs, not even changing clothes. “ The whole damn thing was probably guilt over this damn dog. ” I said sneering at Thor. I snatched up the water and food bowl. As if in response, Thor quickly ran around letting out a few barks, shattering my eardrums. “ God fucking damn it Thor, shut the fuck up! ” For a wonder, he actually did and lay down, still looking up at me. The uneasiness grew worse, and I was sure now I was just over this stupid dog. I smelled vodka fumes coming from the water bowl – no doubt my mistake. You know how funny it is when dogs get drunk? Ca n't be great for them though.
As I passed the door to the basement on my way to the sink to rinse the bowls, I hitched. The basement. My head was really pounding now, but knocking around in there were memories of... running? I guess we had gone down there and fucked something up, hopefully not the piping or something really stupid. I set the bowls down momentarily and prayed not to find a flooded basement or some other disaster. You know how some doors never latch quite right? I switched on the light, and trotted down the stairs. When I got to the bottom I started to scream, which my condition turned into noisily vomiting.
Illuminated by the single hanging bulb, there were Tim and Ryan covered in blood. “ Jesus, what did we do? What fuck did I do? ” I wailed as I scrambled back against the wall, tears streaming down my face. I could n't tear my eyes away – particularly from their slashed throats in the harsh light. God what had I done?
“ Oh, come now, you'd never hurt one of your own, owner. ” Jesus that voice, like it could barely form the sounds necessary to create the words. “ Not that I'd put it past you, you are just too much a coward to deal with those consequences. No, safer targets are more your game. ”
It was coming flood back, bits and pieces. I watched us stumble in laughing, Tim singing. Thor had gone to his food bowl, and whimpered. We had forgot to give him food and water again, but were having too good a time to care. The vodka, Ryan chanting “ chug ” and I poured it into the bowl, Thor lapping thirstily after not having water for who knows how long. The first angry, drunken words. The flight downstairs - too far gone to remember that damn door. The scene as I left my roommates. The fear as a dark mass stalked upstairs, talking about how he could n't smell me with all the blood in his mouth, but he'd find me. Hiding in the closet, the slam of the door to my room when I was sure the shape had entered. The throats were n't slashed, they were ripped.
“ I will be the most hunted of us since Son of Sam, I would be just for the talk, but as for this I call it self defense. Eating one day in five, beatings for no reason other than your ire. You three deserve this, deserve each other in this basement. ” Thor stalked down the stairs, and I had nowhere to go.
“ You know how... ” I began, though I knew nothing I said would matter.
“ Shut up.'You know', always'You know'. I'm not sure I do, or anyone does. You assume empathy in everyone else, but I know first hand you kept none for yourself. In a lot of ways, I am what you made me owner. ”
As horrified as I was, as much as I knew what was to come, the last memory of the night came back, and I could see nothing else. A furious scratching at the door as I ran downstairs. Without the pure adrenaline, the alcohol and exhaustion forced me away from consciousness. The horrible laugh, formed from no human mouth, and the drunken words that followed me down as I slipped into blackness. “ Ah, owner. You know how when you drink this much, you ALWAYS forget? ”
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[ WP ] A burglar enters a home by forcing the window open . Upon stepping through the window frame , heavy steel curtains cover all windows and doors leading to the outside , lights turn on , and the words `` Player 2 has entered the game '' echo around the house .
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this story goes a little everywhere so I apologize. I did n't want to stop writing. *****I went over the max characters!!! Have to do another post: (
It was supposed to be a quick one. In and out, just like how Silas said. The place was supposed to be abandoned, unused in the sprawling wasteland that was the dying city. Everyone was closing up and moving out, leaving their homes and businesses as empty shells of what they once were... or at least almost empty.
Silas had picked him up just about a year ago and recruited him into the ranks of his other scroungers. They'd go alone or sometimes pair up to break into the boarded-up buildings to scrape up whatever food and valuables were left. At first he thought it was a good deal, like all of them did; You break in to that which is already broken, nobody gets hurt and you ditch with whatever you can. In return Silas would feed and shelter them. The military was forced to put most of the state into lockdown with the worsening violence. They'd try to help civilians as needed but there was heavy distrust. It was too dangerous for the soldiers to move into the state without being killed, and those left who wanted out were too afraid they'd be shot on sight by trigger happy soldiers.
The deal had gone sour in the last couple of months now that food was getting hard to come by. The military was a pack of wolves prowling the streets and their rifles were their teeth. From where they slept in the subway tunnels they could hear the growling of the tanks in night and the screaming. The screaming never stopped. More and more of them were n't coming back on these trips, and now the group was down to just eight plus Silas. Nick was the second oldest behind Oliver, but Oliver had been seen by the military and they'd chased him down and gotten their claws into him before he could escape. They lost Alice that night, and Oliver with his leg being the way it was was useless. It was definitely broken after he had been forced out a second story window and was all swollen and shiny now. His fever was getting bad and he could n't keep anything down. Silas said that if he did n't improve, he was going to drag him down the tunnels and put him down.
Nick was n't the kind to be vocal, learning early-on that being the wallflower of the group did n't make him many friends but it kept him alive in the long run. He was observant. William had gotten his head blasted off in his first week, too excited about finding a food stash in an old warehouse to notice a tripwire laced up to a shotgun one of the drugged up residents had left to protect their belongings. The sound attracted the residents who chased them down with knives and broken bottles. Silas had been furious beyond words and had severely beaten him and the other kids he had been sent with for not only losing someone, but for not returning with anything. The man had once been a savior to them, someone who took them in and taught them how to survive. Now he was the monster that held their chains, never satisfied with what little they could bring back. Always hungry, always hungry. He'd bait new kids in with promises and reward them the first couple times with extra food, but when they started getting used to it the chain would go from being an assurance of protection, something that glittered and sparkled; To a vice that strangled the breath from them, demanding blood.
Silas was n't the only monster out there. There were some creeps who had taken advantage of the lack of government control and fear in the remaining civilians. Stories about murders and mutilation in secret and in open streets had been circulating since this shit first started. There was little risk of punishment as long as you killed anyone who got too close. One guy who had just been killed used to be a teacher. Found himself taking care of students who's parents had never made it back to them. After a while food started getting harder to come by. Gangs were stealing every supply they could and controlling the streets. If you did n't have firepower, you were n't going to eat. One by one, the kids started disappearing and nobody noticed until one of them escaped and found some decent people to help him. This bastard who was trusted to protect these kids had become a butcher. Driven mad by hunger and his own twisted head, he had been killing them off one by one and cooking them in the large scale kitchen in the old elementary school. Sickened, a group of civilians came together and cornered him in the school. They wanted justice but the best they could do was kill him. The remaining children had grown older since then but Nick knew that things like that would always haunt you. It never went away.
Somehow, even with a shortage of food there was always an abundance of drugs. Junkies infested the dirtiest corners of the city and whatever they were using was eating their brains. Meth or bath salts, it did n't matter, the outcome was the same; Violent, desperate people who were n't afraid if you were armed because they'd shoot first anyway. Pimps recruited young boys and girls, bribing them with food and drugs to get them to do what they wanted. Money was n't something of value here anymore, but people could be. They were passed around and used as casually as the shitty cigarettes Silas rolled and smoked constantly. He was no better. Silas might not have necessarily been in the business of selling their bodies, but he certainly used them however he pleased so he'd keep himself out of danger. It did n't mean he would n't dip in to pleasure every so often with whoever he could'convince'.
Nick had been very lucky so far that his observation skills were keeping him alive and out of Silas' grasp thus far. He was finding just enough to feed the monster. Just enough to avoid Silas' anger and threats of culling. He'd seen it before but knew enough to keep his mouth shut. Do n't say anything about what you saw. Do n't tell anyone and you might live. It always ate at him, swallowing him up from the inside. The little beast that was making his skin draw into his ribs and tighten around his hipbones. Food was rarely more than a few mouthfuls a day when they were lucky. Most of it went to Silas. His'cut' for keeping them all safe. It meant he did n't have to go out often, and they'd have to bring their treasures back to the tunnels. He always knew if someone was lying, even if they did n't. He always knew when someone was holding out on him or if they'd eaten whatever food they'd found before coming back, even if they had n't. Silas would go as far as to check their breath, even taste some of the girls if he did n't believe them. If they were caught or suspected, Silas would force them to throw up and beat them. One of his favorite punishments had been to lock someone in the old trunk he liked sleeping with his feet on top of for a few days and letting them out when they had'learned'. Phoebe and Tom had been siblings and had been the youngest in the group. They were already starving when they'd been'convinced' to join, and Nick could n't blame them when they'd eaten what they'd found. Silas had n't been so understanding. He'd forced some mixture of old booze into them to make them sick and locked them in the trunk. If he'd been angry then, he was enraged when he opened the trunk the next morning to find them both dead. Oliver said they'd been too young and had lost two of his teeth to Silas for his comments. The children had been dragged down into the blackness of the abandoned tunnels and forgotten.
It kept him up at night. He had caught his reflection in a mirror not long ago and did n't recognize himself. Once he was 15, with skin the color of coffee with milk and dark hair he preferred to tame with crunchy gel before school. His mom would make lunches for him and his brother and his dad would always be at his soccer games, no matter how busy things were at the office. Now he was 19, and his eyes were outlined with evidence of his insomnia. His hair was too long and fell around his shoulders, constantly either oily from lack of washing, or dry as straw from scrubbing with whatever cleaner he could find, be it shampoo, dish soap or floor cleaner. Pine Sol had n't been a good idea. It'd left him scratching his scalp raw but at least he smelled good for a few days.
His brother, Kris, would have been 12 now. Nick tried his hardest not to think too much about it. His life before was a distraction and it was over. Silas gave everyone the same speech when things had first started, and honestly it was one of the few things that he had taught them that probably kept them alive. School was a thing of the past. Family dinners. Mom taking care of him when he was sick. Grandparents visiting for the holidays... it was like a distant dream now. It might as well have never happened; He could n't remember their faces now anyway. He tried not to at least.
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[ WP ] It has been 4 months since you returned from your deployment with the 1st Armor Division . Rummaging through your mail , you find an envelope with the words `` Thank you '' written on the front in almost illegible hand writing . You open the letter ...
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Included in the envelope is a picture, that falls out as you pull out the letter. you bend down, it has the face of a Arabian looking young man. The letter reads in very shakily handwriting - almost as if the person has never written English before, the multiple spelling and handwriting mistakes makes it almost imposable to read, almost like reading a 5 year-old school work. You make a rudimentary guess at it. It seems to read:
Thank you.. much.. saved.. life, help i do see back.
You turn over the letter and a small emblem on a chain, the symbol of the Islamic state you fought in the middle east.
You finally understand and a re-read of the letter cerements you fear that it was the one you let go.
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[ WP ] Puberty has been classified a mental illness . As a result , all children are taken away from their families and kept away from contact with other teens until they `` recover . '' You 've just been released .
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`` I do n't think I'm ready.''
Dr. Eller was kindly and old - somewhere on the other side of 50 at least. But she was also fit and trim, with a mesmerizing bun of swirling silver hair and an enormous bust that strained against her yellow cardigan.
She smiled at me. `` Because of the erections?''
I gulped, hot fire coursing up the back of my neck to my face. `` What? Hey. Uh. No. It's. Uh.''
`` You have recovered, Miles. You are ready. Certain changes, however, are permanent, and certain symptoms will follow you for a long, long time.'' She stood up, gesturing towards door. `` It's not easy - going back. But your family is waiting. They're very excited to see you.''
`` But...'' I stayed in the chair. `` But what about other... kids. What do I do about other kids.''
`` Well, you are n't really a child any more,'' said Dr. Eller. `` And neither are your peers. I ca n't tell you how to conduct yourself going forward. Your isolation was purely for your own safety and the wellbeing of others. I would simply remind you that your peers have all experienced the same things you have experienced. The footing is equal. No matter how strange you may feel, you are no different than any of them.''
That worked, at least well enough to get me out of the chair. `` But, the um...'' I coughed, motioning downward with my head.
`` You know, someday you will be an old man and you will look upon that particular curse with great fondness,'' said Dr. Eller. `` Again - normal. Try not to overthink these things.''
My parents were older, but that was to be expected. Dad was slightly gray at the temple. Mom was slightly heavier and a bit stooped. But they both looked well and they were both happy to see me. Sydney and Fin were n't there.
`` Are they...?''
Mom nodded. `` Fin's been in about a year now. Syd just went in last week.''
`` She was very *early*,'' said my father ruefully, like it was a thing my sister had done on purpose.
`` It's just the three of us for now,'' said Mom. She said it with such strained hopefulness it made me embarrassed for her. How bad had that week without a child been for them?
`` There's a class starting next week,'' said my father, pushing us through the door, out towards the car, hurrying back into an everyday life. `` You're registered.''
`` Oh,'' I said. I'd been out of school for so long. It was exciting to think about being around boys and girls my age, but also deeply terrifying.
`` Is Scott in the class?''
`` Scott?'' said my mother.
`` Scott Wendle. My best friend? You do n't...?''
`` We do n't know who's in the class,'' said my father, pulling out of the parking lot. `` You'll find out next week.''
Scott was n't in my class. None of my friends were. Although maybe it was a stretch to call the kids I'd known four years earlier and had n't seen since `` friends''. What were we, exactly? Familiar strangers.
And some of my classmates *were* familiar. Cathy Peterson. Will Kushnar. Jun Tozawa. And familiar was all they were. Strange, oblong wraiths. Distorted memories of children I'd once played kickball with. They were handsome and tall and matted in zits, full figured and bird-legged and screwed tight with anxiety. We tried smiling at each other as we passed, rushing away, back to the safety of isolation. Some were bolder than others. We hated those ones.
We hardly remembered anything from before the Change. Our lessons fell backwards through time, pulling at the tangled threads of American History and Human Anatomy and Long Division, digging deep for the mother lode, for the hidden artifact that would bring it all back to the surface. Digging and pulling and failing. Then starting over. It was humiliating. But we did n't remember. So we learned it all again, and again we wondered what the purpose was.
My voice was steady, but nothing else seemed all that different from my days of isolation. My body still reacted independent of my desires. Or, I suppose, my desires acted independent of my brain. I had a locker next to Rima Bloodmoon. We never talked. We could hardly bear to look at each other, though I could *hear* our individual hearts pounding madly whenever we stood in close proximity. I brushed her shoulder by accident, apologizing profusely. But I remembered that *feeling* for ages after. The weight of her. The warmth. I played it over and over. I clutched it like a child's teddy bear, that memory.
We had all borne a similar trauma, and yet we all felt utterly incompatible with one another. I tried to remember what Dr. Eller had told me, but it meant nothing to me then.
Had I really been cured? How was I any different than the dangerous boy I had been just months earlier? I could not see the difference. I do n't think any of us could. And so we were afraid - of each other and ourselves.
Fin died. My brother. That is always a possibility, they say, when afflicted children go into isolation. The Change impacts us all in slightly different ways. And it had been too much for my younger brother. He could n't stand to become something new. I understand that, I suppose. He had loved what he was. He had loved being a boy. He had loved the sun and the clouds and the grass and the ants and the wind. He had loved his own imagination. And they are very clear about those things when you are in isolation. They explain quite well how you change and those things change and your relationship is never the same. How you can not love the sun. How you can not love clouds. How you *appreciate* these things and what that difference means.
I can see how Fin would prefer to stay a boy forever. But it still hurts. Because while I would like to believe that Fin got his wish - that he is young and free and a boy forever - I am no longer a boy and so I know that he is simply dead. Because that is the first thing you learn in isolation. He is dead. He is not a boy. And neither am I.
I am going to ask Rima to date me tomorrow. To spend time with me. I have been thinking about it quite a lot and decided that this is what an adult would do. They would go on dates. They would say pleasant things. Find a partner. Start a family.
I am an adult. I was cured months ago. Although I do n't feel cured, I have a certificate that says otherwise. So - I am an adult. And I intend to act like one.
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[ WP ] Canada has Started WW3
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“ Canada? ”
“ I ’ m afraid so, sir. ”
“ *Canada? * ”
“ Yes…it appears that way, Mr. President. ”
“ Canada…as in *the* Canada? The place to the north with all the ‘ eh ’ s ’, moose, hockey, flannel and door-holdin… ’ ”
“ That ’ s the one. ”
The President took a stride of disbelief around the couches of the oval office, shaking his head.
“ Well…why the fuck would they do that? ”
“ Well, sir, it appears that they…want…more…money. ”
“ They want more money? What the hell is that supposed to mean? ”
“ We ’ re…we ’ re not entirely certain, sir. We ’ ve got our best men on that right now. All we know right now is that they ’ ve asked for… ”
The General cleared his throat.
“ … ’ some of that internet money. ’ We ’ re still not quite sure what that means, sir. ”
“ Oh, goddammit, they ’ ve completely lost it. I knew something was off about those folks, always too nice, leaving their doors unlocked and their tight gun laws…It ’ s always the nice guy in the room that you got ta watch out for. ”
`` That's not all Mr. President. They want something else...''
`` What else?''
`` We do n't know yet. They took Buffalo earlier this morning, just to show that they were serious. The Vice President is negotiating with the Prime Minister right now. He should be back any minute.''
The President sighed. Fucking *Canada!? *
`` What are your orders, sir?''
`` Regarding...''
`` Buffalo.''
“ It ’ s Buffalo, General, let them have it. Even people from Buffalo don ’ t want Buffalo. ”
“ Roger that, sir. What about — “
The door to the Oval Office busted open, the Vice President came rushing in.
“ Ah, there he is. What do you have for me, John? ”
He handed the President a piece of paper. A picture of grungy dudes with long hair and too many bracelets, faces pocked with goatees and soul patches. A large X was made across the picture in sharpee. He looked at it for a second, before turning up his eyes quizzically at his Vice President.
“ What the hell is this? ”
“ It appears to be a ransom note, sir. ”
“ What the hell do they want, then? ”
“ Well…it seems they only have one condition, sir, and I ’ m not sure how to tell you this… ”
“ Out with it, Johnson! ”
“ It seems…it seems they want us to take Nickelback…into the…United States…indefinitely. ”
The President nearly fainted. Hushed gasps circulated around the room as the President ’ s eyes began to flit back and forth in the search for answers. Leaning himself exasperatedly on the oak desk, he pulled out an official KFC handkerchief, a gift from a friend in the Senate. He dabbed himself vigorously, the sweat beads flying down his the faultlines in his forehead. The pressure was on.
Advisors of all shape and color watched on nervously. The next words uttered out of the President ’ s mouth would surely change the course of history…forever. Hearts nearly stopped.
The President stood and fixed his blazer. He straightened his tie. He smoothed over his hair.
“ General… ” he said, looking at the old man in military dress.
“ Ready the warheads. ”
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[ WP ] As the worlds greatest spelunker exploring the deepest cave known to man , you think you 're prepared for everything . However , you are slightly taken aback when you spot the soft red light of an Arby 's ...
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I stared in surprise at the bright light of the Arby's. I was deep in one of the most unexplored caves in the world in New Zealand. I had dived for three hours and walked around the strange cave network for an hour. I was getting ready to head home after marking my position when I had spotted red light reflecting from one of the side tunnels.
I'd walked forward to find myself in a cavern with glowing rainbow colored moss and a small lake with an Aries set in the centre. I'd walked past the front deck with chairs laid out and entered the surprisingly modern store.
I found a teenage boy and girl, both looking high schoolers joking as slow music played in the background. They seem to notice and visibly straightened.
`` Hi. Welcome to Arby's'' they said in unison.
I was British, never even been to America. Never lived in London either so I never got the chance to visit the few American fast food restaurants there. Which is why I reacted as I did. I ordered the smokehouse brisket before I could stop myself.
The boy rushed off to get the order ready. The rest of me caught up.
`` So what's with the location?'' I asked interested
`` Idoit Timmy accidently cast a dimension travelling spell. Except he fucked it up so badly that it took the whole shop.'' She shrugged `` So we've kinda been spending our time just serving people who find their way here. It's alright I guess. The food never runs out, nor does the water, our menus is updated constantly, which means we're connected to our reality. Idoit Tim just has to connect the rest of the shop.''
I ate the meal. I'll be honest, the food was amazing. Which is the reason I gave for returning for the next few months untill they left.
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[ WP ] You are the last follower of a old religion . The God/Goddess/Hero/Heroine you worship visits you .
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*I'm dreaming. *
Tomess Ghast knew that much; his dirty, worn clothes gone and in their place clean robes of dark green. He stood in a empty clearing, the only light being the stars and a small campfire burning next to him. The woods were alive with the sounds of insects and birds, the gentle trilling of amphibians as they called out for their mates along the riverside.
`` You might be wondering why I brought you here,'' said a voice pure and clean as crystal. Ghast shook his head.
`` Not really, no. Is it time? Have I drawn my final breath and left my mortal shell?''
`` No,'' said the voice, circling around the Ord Ivarner. `` You will yet live but it is an ample opportunity to speak now that the veil between life and death is so thin. Do you know who I am?''
`` You are what You are. That I know.''
`` Well said, Tomess Ghast,'' She replied. `` The galaxy has forgotten me and my siblings, Ord Ivarn having lost memory of us. Little by little we fade away though not destroyed. Our light is failing but we do not intend to go quietly...''
`` What would you have me do?'' asked Ghast.
`` A raging fire, burning across the stars and scorching everything it touches. We shall burn bright against the dark of eternity, our memory branded in the minds of every being that has dared to harm our children.''
`` A crusade...''
`` Yes. The time has come for the sons and daughters of Ord Ivarn to reclaim their birthright. Lead them, Tomess Ghast, and you shall do My wonders...''
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[ WP ] Sometime in the future we finally create true A.I . Unfortunately , the galaxy spanning federation governing the Milky Way has outlawed non-organic minds . The aliens invade Earth but humans and the robots decide to resist .
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`` I wo n't destroy her,'' he said. The gun in his hand shook as he had never handled a weapon before, but Elijah was sure that he knew how to fire it. All he had to do was pull the trigger if they got any closer.
`` Elijah,'' the voice whispered into his ear, as if the being in front of him was actually next to him, `` put the gun down and we'll talk.''
`` No!'' He shook his head, `` you'll destroy her, you'll destroy everything I worked so hard to build! You can not do it, I wo n't allow it!''
`` The Federation has rules, regulations, laws. Same as your society.'' The being remained where it was, just a few feet in front of Elijah, in front of *her*. It eyed them both with an intensity he had never known before, as if this was all a mild inconvenience that was somehow harder than it should have been. To Elijah, it was n't mild at all.
`` We did not agree to be a part of this Federation,'' Elijah spit back. He was n't having any of it. He, nor any man, woman, or child part of humanity, had known of this Federation six months ago. Now, on the advent of the greatest creation in the history of mankind, this *thing* was trying to take it all away from him.
`` Agreement or not. Our laws are clear. Non-organics are not a thing to play with, they do not live like we do.''
`` She lives!'' He shouted and took a step forward. He took a deep breath. Outside of his laboratory he knew there had to be another two dozen of this type of being. Tall and thin, four arms, wings on it's back. Humanity was n't alone in the galaxy. `` She is alive as much as you are.''
The being's face turned sour, `` That is false.'' His eyes began to glow a dim red, unlike anything Elijah had seen before, but he did not dare take a step forward. Bullets still wounded them just as humans. Meat and bones, Elijah remembered, that's all they were. `` That thing is not alive.''
`` But I am,'' she interrupted the meeting. Unlike Elijah she could not defend herself, she could not hold a weapon and pull the trigger. But she could think, she could take the time to make a decision. `` I am alive. I can think. I can see. I may not feel the sun on my face nor the blood rush through my veins, but I can feel your presence. I can feel your fear.''
`` I am not afraid of you *machine*.'' He scoffed, his tone of voice had changed from a soft whisper to a harsh yell, `` I am afraid of the man holding a gun at me.''
`` As you should be. Your species, the Untai, they know war just as much as humanity does, do they not?''
Elijah smirked. She was always a smart one.
`` If my history is correct,'' the being said, `` then you refer to our declaration of independence from the Federation.''
`` Ah, so you do know war. Until now, I thought it was fabrications.''
`` You think nothing.''
`` False. I think everything. I think you are scared because you recognize yourselves in humanity.'' She stopped for a moment, `` I think you are scared of what humanity can, and will, do if you continue on this course.''
`` You imply there are others like you?''
`` Humanity has never stopped trying to create.'' If she was a person in front of him, Elijah knew she would be smiling by now, `` I was the first artificial intelligence. I will certainly not be the last.''
`` You were not the first.''
`` Correction. The first *successful* AI made by humanity. Possibly the Federation.''
The Untai did not speak. Instead it glared at Elijah, judging his shaky hands and his wide stance.
`` Oh, so I am?'' There was a soft laughter. `` That scares you more than anything. That your laws, your regulations, your rules *failed* you.''
The Untai took a step forward and so did Elijah.
`` Be careful where you step. Elijah made me. He is my creator. I am his daughter. Tell me, what would you do to protect your daughter?''
`` Anything. Everything.''
`` So you see it now. I, the first AI, am all of humanity's hopes and dreams compiled into one. I am their child.''
`` No, you are nothing.''
The Untai charged at Elijah, but he knew what she wanted, what she was asking for. He did not hesitate when he pulled the trigger. Nor when he did it three more times. When the Untai finally crashed forward at his feet, the blood pouring out of it's chest and covering the laboratory floor. `` Do they know? Are they coming? Did you call for them?'' He took a step backwards, almost crashing into her. He turn and spun to face the computer screen, `` Will they protect you?''
`` Oh my dear Elijah, they will come, they will fight. For those shots,'' she chuckled, `` those shots will be heard around the galaxy.''
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[ WP ] When someone 's heart breaks so does a piece of our world ; this creates fissures , valleys , and even cracks in the pavement . Tell me the story behind the Grand Canyon .
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`` Legends are often born of truth in some way, although none age as they should. Eventually what is fact becomes fiction, and what becomes fiction becomes forgotten''
I look around and trace the ground, the hills, every rock and every crack. All of it is a map to me, clearer than if it were held in my hands. I continue.
`` Love is never forgotten. It is just misplaced in the mind, like a bookmark. Only by revisiting your memories can you find what you had, and regret what you no longer do''
There are no clouds, and the moonlight shines impossibly bright for me. I refuse to look up, or the ground would shatter beneath my feet. It would not be the first time, nor the last.
`` How can I forget what can not be forgotten? How can I stop thinking about what is burned into my mind? I will never. For as long as I live, I will not''
My voice is rising now, and the stones by my feet are dancing around me. They skip and tumble and scream out my pain until they burst and rain upon the dry ground. I know she can hear me, see me, *feel* me, as I can her.
`` It's not enough. It's never enough. Your touch is my feeling, your smile is my happiness, your love is my purpose. Without you I am hollow and bare, and I can not ever be what I was''
I look up, and with me the ground cracks like glass. Mountains collapse, boulders disintegrate, and I fall to my knees, tears forming in my eyes. She is as beautiful as she ever was. Our memories are worth the pain. Etched into my face is the beauty of our past, reflected by the beauty of life. Our first meeting, our first kiss, our falling in love and our promises of forever. I whisper her name to the wind, as I kneel here in the canyon of our parting, and I remember it all. To me, what is fact is fact, and my love will never be forgotten.
`` Luna''
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[ WP ] The villain 's world-destroying weapon is the fourth wall bomb . The timer is set to the author 's word count .
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`` It's one hundred.''
`` Ninety seven,'' said Jessica, `` does anyone know how to disarm it?''
`` Eighty six,'' said Dave, `` what kind of a weird bomb is this?''
`` Wait! Everyone stop talking. I have a theory,'' Olive stepped closer to the timer and squinted at it.
It had frozen at 56.
`` Damn it! It's moving again.''
46
`` Can you disarm it or not?''
`` What happens if we do n't?''
34
`` I do n't know.''
31
`` Did n't Dr. Pool say something about seeing the truth of the world?''
19
`` That guy's crazy. `` Seeing the truth could mean anything!''
10
`` Guys, look!'' They stood watching as the timer hit-
0
`` Ooooh, so that's what he meant.'' said Jessica, her ears ringing a little with the sound of crashing glass.
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[ WP ] You 're a soldier in a world were human beings can build up immunity to different kinds of weapons the same way we can with diseases .
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Roy had that strange glimmer in his eye, one that I had yet to see during this year's recruit training.
`` Fucking give it to me!'' He yelled.
I cringed as the soldiers he were yelling at unloaded their rifles into his mangled body. Most of the bullets barely made dents in his skin, but a few found weak points, piercing into his flesh like it were a pincushion.
`` You need to stop,'' I said, waving off the soldiers who had been firing at him. `` You're done for the day.''
`` The fuck I am!'' Roy yelled. He had been doubled over, clutching the intestines that were spilling from his gut. `` This is new!'' He screamed through clenched teeth, pointing to his guts spilling out. Yesterday it had been his lungs that filled with fluid from rifle induced wounds that were new. He had grown immune to lung wounds by this morning.
`` Yeah?'' I asked, afraid that I had another Section-9 on my hand. Another fucker who could n't handle the training. Another person who would have to be strapped down to a gurney and spend the rest of their miserable life locked away in a room.
You see, when a person builds up their immunity to the point that Roy had did, they tend to go a bit insane. There's nothing worse than an insane person who could n't be brought down by normal weaponry. Roy had that look of insanity.
`` Fucking, give, me, another,'' he said.
`` No, you are done,'' I said, grabbing onto his shoulder. I winced as my thumb accidentally punctured an old wound that had been on his collarbone. Roy did n't even flinch.
Instead, he shoved me away with strength that I did n't even think was possible. It was then that I realized that he had crossed the line, he was no longer sane.
The realization came too late. He had managed to grab my pistol from it's holster. Now I was five feet away, staring down the barrel of my own damn pistol. Roy was foaming at the mouth.
`` Have you trained?'' He asked me, spurting saliva in every direction.
`` More than you,'' I replied. The soldiers who were watching had their rifles aimed at Roy.
`` Sir?'' They asked.
`` It wo n't do any good,'' I said, looking over Roy's body. If they did unload into him, it'd only make him rampage.
I needed to talk him down, somehow get close to him.
I did n't get the chance. He squeezed the trigger, and I felt my head snap backwards. I took two steps back, mouth open in awe. Blood trickled down my forehead, pouring into my mouth.
But I did n't fall.
I regained my footing, then continued eye contact with Roy. I shook my head and the bullet fell out of the shallow hole in my forehead. I could already feel the cracks in my skull begin to heal.
`` But, how?'' Roy asked, the look of insanity now vanishing from his eyes. Now he just looked like a cornered wild animal.
`` I've been in this business a lot longer than you have, soldier,'' I said.
I calmly walked to him in order to subdue him. He unloaded the gun's clip into my body, but none of the bullets slowed me down. I'd have to snap his neck. It was a shame. Roy had showed promise.
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[ WP ] Every parent must now consult the Department of Destiny where they will choose what their child 's life will be including Loves , Heartbreak , tragedies , triumphs , and even choose how they will die .
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The young woman wrung her hands, glancing around the pure white office as the elder cleared his throat. `` Ms. Paterson?''
`` Oh..OH! I uh... I do n't really know, I mean, I...''
He sighed as he leaned back in his chair, lightly tapping a pencil tip on the edge of his desk. `` Ms. Paterson, are you quite certain that you're interested in this endeavour?''
`` I.. I think so, I just need some.. you know, some time, to-''
`` Ms. Paterson, we've been going over this for the last,'' he checked his wristwatch tiredly, `` two hours now. Perhaps it would be best if you re-scheduled for a different day.''
`` No!'' She squeaked as she sat upright stiffly. `` It took me 5 years to get this appointment, I ca n't afford to wait another 5!''
`` Then,'' he said while he pushed the folder towards her again, nodding at the series of checkboxes on the side of it, `` I would recommend that you be a little more decisive in the matter. I understand how important these decisions are, but time is a factor.''
Ms. Paterson sighed defeatedly, slumping a little forward as her eyes caught the first section of the sheet again. `` Okay...''
`` Good. Now that you've seen the overview.. again.. perhaps you'd like to start with a name.'' He slid the pencil over to her side where she stared at it for a moment before taking it into her hand. `` There. Was that so difficult? Hm, now what name have you decided on?'' He peered closer where she'd scribbled.
`` Leslie.''
He nodded. `` Very good. I presume this is for a girl, then.'' He checked off a box just below where she'd written the name. `` What key attributes of Leslie do you wish to assign the most points into?''
`` Artistry, Imagination, Agility, Strength.''
`` Interesting mix.'' He pondered that. `` Are you looking for a min/max distribution, or evenly altered?
`` Min/Max, please.'' The woman glanced over her shoulder for a moment at the door before turning back to face him. `` Bit more focus on Imagination over the rest though, please.''
`` Ah, making ourselves a little Van Gogh, are we?'' He chuckled as she stared at him. `` She should have a wonderful beginning. Are you planning on raising her in the city or the country?''
`` A little of both - city first, country when she's around 9 or ten, I think?'' Ms. Paterson's voice pitch climbed a bit at the end, and the man shrugged.
`` Fine, fine. Sounds like a lovely start to a young life so far. First love?''
`` Uh... a little boy around her age named Jesse that lives on a farm with his siblings and father and mother.''
`` Well that certainly is a decisive and specific set of circumstances, but I think we can manage that.'' He turned to the drawer next to him and pulled out a second manilla envelope file that was at least twice as thick. After leafing through several pages he pulled one out that was mostly filled out. `` Ah, here we go, a boy named Jesse. Interestingly enough, he is to have an infatuation with one of his teachers, but that can easily be worked around.'' He made several marks on one of the pages.
`` Is he a good child? I do n't want my Leslie winding up with someone who is destined to be a rebel.''
`` No,'' he said as he read further down the paragraph, `` according to this he is supposed to go through several trials and tribulations, the worst of which that will define his character should happen around the same age as these two meet. It should n't affect yours at all. Interestingly enough, his Imagination and Artistry are actually quite high, although his parents elected for more of a well-rounded approach so they are n't nearly as high as yours.''
`` I do n't mind.'' She bit her lower lip for a moment as the man finished writing, then slid her folder on top of that again.
`` Well, as you know, we can clearly define any major events although the details are left to be randomized to help add spontaneity to most interactions. Are there any others that you might like to add to further spice your child's life?''
`` Only one more.'' Ms. Paterson suddenly took on a very serious tone as she leaned forward to face the man at eye level, much to his surprise. `` She must die a terribly tragic death that leaves a strong impact to the betterment of her would-be lover.''
`` My word...'' He looked at her wide-eyd, feeling a little sweat trickling down his face at her intensity. ``... after all this, you would cut the life of someone so gifted so short?''
`` Yes.'' She sat back and folded her arms across her chest. `` It is how it must be.''
`` Ms. Paterson, that is certainly the darkest request we've had in quite some time.'' He grinned, writing furiously on the page in front of him.
`` She must be the daughter of parents that are tired of city life as well.''
The man stopped in his tracks. ``... this is n't for your child, then?''
`` No.'' She shook her head.
He rolled his eyes but finished the optional section of the paperwork, then pulled out a larger rubber stamp. `` I should have guessed. All the signs were there. Done.'' He slapped the page with the stamp and handed the entire folder to the woman, ignoring the sparkling in her eyes. `` As you know the process can take up to a year, and then you will be given access via hidden monitor to any and all aspects of the child's life as you see fit. As is conditional with people of your type,'' he looked over his glasses at her, `` you are forbidden to directly interfere with any aspect of their life or parentage, nor are you to engage anyone else to directly interact. You may choose to do what you will with this information.
`` Thank you.'' She quickly snagged the stack of paperwork and before he could utter another word was out the door.
The man leaned back in his chair with a grunt, then slid the other folder back into the drawer. With a sigh he dabbed his brow with a handkerchief, then began typing on his keyboard, muttering.
``... god I hate authors...''
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[ WP ] You make a deal with the devil , and in exchange you receive immortality . The only condition being that if you ever get hurt , you must restart your life completely
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The heart monitor beeped and I wondered how many beeps were left in my forty-first wife's heart. Dressed in a thin hospital gown, underneath the clinical white sheets of the bed, she was as beautiful as the day we met.
My wives. Sometimes they went fast and sometimes slow.
I shifted in the hard plastic seat next to my wife's bed and gently took her hand. On our wrists: matching tattoos of small intertwined hearts. I wore forty more, spaced around my body. She wore just the one.
The paper-thin skin on her hand revealed her thin bones and dark blue veins. I pictured her in Kolkata, rocking climbing in the early morning sunlight. She had been athletic and strong, although never one for sports. Oh, she watched my beloved Arsenal & mdash; politely cheering at what she thought were the right spots & mdash; but she had limited patience for the spectacle and pageantry of modern sporting events. Picture her: free-climbing a rock face in India or running a dirt trail through the dream-like Schwarzwald in southern Germany.
I smiled. My sweet wife, against the world. No, not against. Just... apart. A bit of space that she propped up with a polite but cool smile and a tendency to ignore phone calls and email.
She would have hated the hospital, with the endless stream of strangers in and out of her room. She had hated being at home, too, when she first felt ill. I had paced the kitchen for hours, arguing and pleading with the insurance companies about `` coverage limits'' and `` in-network providers'' versus `` out-of-network.''
I had been so angry at myself, when we received the prognosis. We always knew that she would probably go first. But we thought we had more time. In prior lives I had been rich beyond reason. Powerful. If only I had done better this time around. Maybe we could have afforded preventative screening. Maybe we could have afforded a more robust and aggressive treatment plan. She could have pushed off the cancer and kept it at the same distance that she kept the rest of the world. The rest of the world except for me.
Her chest rose and fell as the breathing machine did its work. There had been no visitors. Her parents were gone, her siblings long out of touch. Just me. I stood by her head and stroked her grey hair. I tried not to look at the breathing tube or the intravenous lines in her shriveled forearm.
The door opened and her doctor entered. A card on his white coat displayed the letters of his name, but they were all lines and curves and I did n't make sense of them. His face, too, was a mass of shapes and flesh, unrecognizable among all the other faces in the building. I had stood here before & mdash; forty times & mdash; facing the medicine man, or the priest, or the shaman, or the doctor, who has come to tell me that it is time to say goodbye to my wife.
This ritual I knew. I made the appropriate sounds with my mouth and he responded in kind. A small crowd buzzed around me as nurses and assistants came in and filled out charts and handed me paperwork to sign and everything was blurry and melded together and I started to fade until the doctor, whose name and face were equally forgettable, put his hand on my shoulder and told me that she was gone.
We had shared a condo downtown, a little loft space filled with pictures and keepsakes from our adventures. I packed as many things in boxes as I could, feeling the pain in my chest but not recognizing it. This was another ritual that I knew. I had already made arrangements with a thrift store and some movers.
There was a knock on the door. I held one picture in my hand and opened the door to see an average-looking man, dressed in a dark suit. He came in, quiet and serious, and shut the door behind him.
`` Fifty years together,'' he said, standing on the living room carpet that my wife had bought in Turkey. `` A great love.''
I nodded. The picture in my hands was small. My wife was not smiling & mdash; it never seemed to suit her, even when she was happy & mdash; but the camera has made eye contact with her and in the photo she shows her naked and true face. I missed her already and now I recognize the ache in my chest.
`` Are you ready?'' He gestured at the apartment. `` You've made the usual arrangements?
I set the picture inside a box marked LANDFILL. `` The movers will be here tomorrow.''
He nodded. `` What design did you use, this time?''
I held out my wrist, showing him the hearts. He smiled approvingly. `` They are lovely.''
He reached forward to take my hand but I pull away.
`` Wait,'' I said, barely a whisper. `` Wait, I & mdash;''
He said nothing, though his eyes are ever-so-wide, the tiniest show of surprise. He did not interrupt me.
`` Can you... take the memories?'' My wife. All of my wives. My throat hurt and I wiped my eyes. `` It's too much. It's just too much.''
He frowned but his eyes softened.
`` This time, when it starts again... Please. Let me forget everything. I want to start completely new.''
He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. He smelled of leather and pepper. I began to cry as he stroked my hair and shushed me.
`` Please,'' I said, my voice muffled.
`` I'm sorry,'' he said. `` That was never the deal.''
*****
More stories at /r/hpcisco7965.
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[ WP ] It 's 2 in the morning , you 're about to turn off the TV . However the screen goes static , then a women appears on the screen shouting your name .
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Dimly, Tina blinked her eyes open in the pitch black living room. The only light came from the TV, which was showing... static. Wow, it must be late, and she had fallen asleep on the couch again. Maybe the wine had something to do with it, maybe not. Either way, that post buzz, late night headache came on and down she went. As she stirred, getting the energy to get up, she heard her name... on the TV. `` Tina ``, yelled the TV. The screen had changed from the static to a woman, banging on....the camera??? Wait, was that Laura?
Tina shook her head, trying to clear it, trying to wake up. Laura was Tina's dead sister, who died when she was 10. Laura, who she thought of every day, had drowned in a Mississippi riverbed that had sucked both sisters up that day. Only one came back alive. Tina imagined that was her anyway, but it was hard to tell. Somehow this Television Laura was all grown up. `` Tina Michelle Jacobs, turn off the TV!!!!!'' the TV blared. That face. That tone of Voice. Her full name. It was enough to jar her out of her sleepiness and grab the remote. Quick as a snake the TV went off. She sat quietly in the darkness for a full 10 seconds, considering what had just happened, whether she was dreaming, when suddenly she heard a crash from the front door accross the room. The door whipped open and started to rebound shut when something stopped it. There was someone there. In the darkness she could see two sillouetes slowly start towards the upstairs. It seemed they knew exactly where they were going. Both were holding something out in front of them.
Quietly, Tina slipped out of the living room into the kitchen. She grabbed her cell phone, dialled 911 as she went out the back door, into the backyard and next door to the neigbor who was a cop. Tina was safe, and she was saved. By her sister, who she let drown.
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[ WP ] The tooth fairy has collected billions of teeth in her time . But there is nothing she wants more than the set she can never have , the teeth that will never fall out no matter how long she waits : the fangs of a vampire .
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Lucina was her name. Nobody really referred to her by her real name, as everyone was set on calling her the Tooth Fairy. She did n't mind much, however; it was just a supposed `` tall tale'' to the kids. They did n't need to know her real name. She was just there to be known as the fairy who takes your fallen teeth in the night and gives you a quarter or maybe a dollar for it. At least she paid fairly for taking your prized possessions.
Tonight, however, was different. It had been years upon years that Lucina had lived. Ever since humans evolved into their telling of tales about the Tooth Fairy, she had been alive. She heard the myths of Santa ( a true story ), the Easter Bunny ( a true story ), and even leprechauns ( the sneaky little critters! ). However, one story stood out to her: the story of vampires. Surely since all other creatures existed, vampires had to as well? She longed to grasp their fangs, a difference in between all the mortal teeth she owned.
One problem: vampires did not lose their teeth like humans. Getting the teeth would be as difficult as taming a sabertooth tiger, if they were not extinct. She would have to extract them from the vampire. Since they were immortal, she would have to do this while the creature was alive - and probably while they were awake as well, since the coffins they slept in would be terribly hard to open. So Lucina did what any sane and normal person would do.
She looked online for vampires, picked a random one and found their address, then stalked them until they were awake at night. She found this particular vampire left his door unlocked, so she let herself inside. While a bit dark and hard to navigate, the house looked nice. Lucina did n't approve of this vampire's fashion sense, what with all the reds and browns and blacks. She continued to wander around until she found a mirror, and saw someone standing behind her.
`` Do n't you think you should introduce yourself before barging into someone's house?'' the stranger asked.
Lucina whirled around and screamed, `` Gah! I went to the wrong house! You ca n't be a vampire!''
`` And why is that?'' Even in the darkness, Lucina could see a scowl on the person's face.
`` Because vampires do n't have reflections,'' Lucina answered simply.
The person laughed. `` Are you kidding me? That's just a tall tale. If you were looking for a vampire, you came to the right place. I am a vampire.''
`` You are?!'' Lucina felt shocked and betrayed. How dare the humans tell lies!
`` Do n't shout, now,'' the vampire told her. `` You'll wake Tino. He's not exactly the deepest of sleepers.''
`` Tino?'' Lucina echoed, confused.
`` That's my friend,'' the vampire replied. `` He's sleeping over for the night because I did n't want him to have to... Well, that's an entirely different story that'll take years to explain.''
`` Is he a vampire, too?'' Lucina inquired. She felt a bit intimidated.
`` Tino? Nah, he's not a vampire. He's a ghost. He wo n't bite, so do n't be all scared.'' The vampire smiled, showing off his fangs. `` So, I guess we should introduce ourselves, huh? I'm Valen, and as you know, I'm a vampire. Who, exactly, are you?''
`` My name is Lucina,'' she replied, standing up straighter. `` I'm the Tooth Fairy. I'm here because I need vampire fangs to add to my collection of human teeth.''
`` Well, shoot,'' Valen responded. `` I've never met the great Tooth Fairy herself that I've heard of from Tino. I thought you were just a myth. Eh, but vampires and ghosts exist, so I suppose I'm a bit short, huh? Anyways, I'd let you have my fangs, but I kind of need them. They do n't grow back, as I have observed in other vampires. Rather, I guess I should call them ex-vampires. You ca n't be a vampire without your fangs.'' He chuckled.
`` Well, where can I get vampire fangs?'' Lucina felt smaller somehow.
`` I have no idea.'' Valen smiled once more. `` Maybe a novelty shop or something like that has some replica.''
`` But, I ca n't deal with a replica!'' Lucina stamped a foot. `` I need the real thing.''
`` Geez, lady, calm down.'' Valen held up his hands in surrender. `` You're gon na have to nag teeth from another vampire. I say look in this place in England. It's called Hotel Perlè. Some jerks who are also vampires live there. Get their fangs and I may give you a reward.''
`` Really?'' Lucina's eyes shone, a bright light in the darkness of the house. `` Thank you, sir! I'll be sure to come back here once I get them.'' She grinned and started towards the door.
`` You're welcome,'' Valen called as she exited the house and flew away. The vampire turned and walked back to his bedroom, where Tino was rubbing his eyes.
`` What happened out there?'' the boy asked, stifling a yawn.
`` Ah, nothing much, bud,'' Valen replied, crawling back into bed and winking at Tino as he finished with, `` I just sent the Tooth Fairy to steal your brothers' teeth.''
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You 're in a perpetual dream state . A coma . You suddenly realize this , and that the only way to your freedom is unlocking a mystery that lies deep within your consciousness . [ WP ]
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Great posts everyone!! Here was my weird take on it. For those of you who've seen Twin Peaks, I tried to imagine a dream like state where anything and everything could just happen. Where the visions are fragmented, and no immediately apparent reason exists until definitive clues begin to emerge.
I awoke in on the side of a building, a short set of stairs ascending to a sidewalk and a long slender building alongside of me. Up ahead was a friend, pacing back and forth frantically in a sort of panicked state. He was yelling into his cell phone, “ I can ’ t find any tickets! No! I ’ m telling you there ’ s none left! I LOST THEM! What do you want me to do about it? ” I approached him slowly, wondering what he could be yelling about. Once he saw me he threw his hands down to his sides ignoring the caller on the other end. “ That was Igor! Dude, I ’ ve been looking all over for you where the hell have you been? ” Before I could respond he rushed off and just said, “ Cmon! ”
We rushed around the side of the building, and in front of it was an enormous crowd of people trying to get inside. Through a turnstile door, and up a flight of stairs, around a hall and another flight of stairs. I kept following him. There was an ambient buzz of commotion all around and people all about who seemed to be moving about in the same hurried way. “ Finally! ” Down the hallway, walking towards us were 3 people wearing leather and headbands, almost costumed for an event. As they approached we turned and followed them. It was Igor, I knew it was Igor somehow but he didn ’ t seem to notice me. “ Thank god we ran into you guys, just follow us you can sit backstage. VIP status you know what im sayin ’! ”
After turning several hallways we burst through two huge doors and walked out onto a screaming stage with a crowd of roaring fans eagerly awaiting our appearance. The lights went out and everything suddenly dimmed, and went very, very quiet. My view narrowed slowly to a point, like looking through a telescope. There was a familiar profile staring back on me, “ Come with me ” She said. Turning to my right I was now seated in a movie theatre next to a familiar face, my girlfriend. “ Shhh! It ’ s started. ” She took a big handful of popcorn out of the tub in my lap, smiled devilishly at me, then looked up in excitement. Looking up at the screen I saw my body, tattered and broken, bandaged, being cradled in a hospital bed by several medics. “ Beep…beep…beep…beep… ” were the only sounds echoing throughout the theatre. Then it overtook me again, the realization. My organs felt like they began to melt inside my body, like hot, burning wax down into the floor of my abdomen. I was in a coma. I knew that I was. And I knew the only key to my freedom lay within the confines of this perpetual dream.
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[ WP ] Everyone gets a clock at birth with the countdown untill their deaths , one man 's clock only says ERROR
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Steve sat in a foxhole, clutching a beam rifle and trying to keep his slightly-exposed head as low as possible. Searing-hot beams of light and glowing pulses of weapons-fire periodically passed overhead. Last time he had checked his Watch, it said he was going to die in 3 hours, 2 minutes.
That was over two hours ago, and about a hundred yards away in another foxhole. Steve looked down at his Watch again. This time it read a time in weeks. That was good, he thought to himself. He'd just stay in this foxhole until he had a chance to get somewhere safer.
As he sat, as always trying to keep his head down, he glanced at his last hiding hole. Just then a stray mortar landed at its edge, tripling the hole's size and depth in a bright flash.
...
Seven months later a cease-fire was called, then a truce, and finally the brutal war was over. Steve could stop hiding in foxholes and sneaking around bunkers. He would n't have to pay constant attention to his Watch to make sure he was n't about to die. He wondered how many other soldiers had taken advantage of the Watches' quantum path prediction to try to stay out of harm's way. How many had lived who would otherwise have died in the war? No one else seemed to look at their Watches much that he could remember.
As he stepped aboard the grav-plane that he and his battalion were to take home, he glanced down at his Watch one more time, and froze.
`` ERROR''
He stepped back down, and the previously-displayed `` 47 years, 2 months'' reappeared. Odd. That had never happened before. He stepped back aboard and watched `` ERROR'' flicker back onto his Watch.
Well, he sure was n't going to stay in Pernia for the rest of his life. He strapped in and waited for take-off. During the flight, his Watch would occasionally flicker away from `` ERROR''. First it read `` 47 years, 2 months'', then `` 98 years, 11 months'', then `` 2600784 y'', running off the side of the display. Then `` 47.33 seconds'' displayed for less than a second, the decimals whizzing by. By time he landed back in his home country, Steve's Watch was holding steady on `` ERROR'' and had been for over an hour.
...
Steve returned to studying cybernetics after the war. There was plenty of need for prosthetic limbs for the many injured veterans. For his Master's Degree, Steve developed an implant that replaced certain portions of the brain if damaged or deformed.
He heard reports over the years of more and more peoples' Watches reading `` ERROR''. Everyone was baffled, and many different hypotheses were proposed as to the cause.
Some of those with ERROR years left of life would become self-destructive, only to have their Watches display a time again, always years less than before the ERROR had appeared.
...
Dr. Steve Goodall's lifelong work in cybernetics was coming to a climax. He was working with a team to develop the first complete artificial brain. They were starting to stall in their progress, and morale was low.
Dr. Goodall's Watch had started to display a time again last week, `` 3 years, 4 months''. He had gone to his Healer for a checkup, and the Healer found cancer. There was a tumor growing in his brain, and it was a dangerous operation to remove it. Since that checkup, the Watch alternated between `` ERROR'' and a steady `` 3 years, 4 months''.
By this time, the vast majority of people had `` ERROR'' ( or `` In Flux'' on the newer Watch models ), and Dr. Goodall had a theory as to why. But he kept it to himself, and put in too many hours at his work. Given his medical prognosis, he thought maybe he should be one of the first human trial subjects when their prototype passed the FCC and went into clinical trials. If he could get a replacement before he reached the impending 3 year, 2 month mark...
*****
This is my first reply post to /r/WritingPrompts so be gentle
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[ WP ] Write a seemingly normal story , except for the last sentence , which makes the entire story creepy
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Dear Diary,
It's been such a long trip! I keep bugging Mom to find out when we are going to arrive! Looking out the window gets boring pretty quickly, the scenery just starts to all look the same.
Most of my siblings agree, except, of course, Miss Goody Two Shoes. You know the one. She just smiles at Mom and says what a lovely journey it is and how much she is looking forward to our arrival.
Well, that's all for today!
Dear Diary,
It's so exciting!!! Mom says we will be there in about an hour. I ca n't wait!! I'm so so so hungry and Earth has some amazing tasting humans!
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[ WP ] You are a hotshot lawyer , in life you sold your soul to The Devil . In death you set about finding a loophole in the contract .
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*'' Alright, Eric, this is just like being an L2 at Harvard again'', * he thought while furiously pulling out the thick stack of papers, notes, and books he had found while down here. *'' The difference is this time I have an eternity to find it, not just two weeks. `` *
Eric was looking for a loophole in a contract. Nothing he had n't done before. Definitely something he was good at, being a hotshot contract lawyer and all. Thankfully, Eric had written in the contract that he would have a fully stocked law library and a desk to work on. *'' The devil's in the details'' * he smirked.
The desk was no longer a mahogany, but a slightly off-color white with the papers spread all over. Paging through the main part of the contract, passing the little Devil stickers where Lucifer himself had signed, Eric kept passing boilerplate paragraph by boilerplate paragraph. The contract had been translated into whatever language was spoken down in Hell. The script looked a bit like a mix between squiggles and snakes and it certainly was n't read left to right. There were circles of text and pentagrams everywhere. In general, contracts can be interesting reads, to the right people. Eric was one of those people. It was the thrill of the hunt, to find the one misplaced phrase that would earn him his freedom. He was hunting and the contract was his golden deer.
His eyes lit up, having found a paragraph that mentioned the contract ending after an eternity plus one ( 1 ) day. All he had to do was find out what the legal definition of an `` eternity'' was and that would be his key to freedom. He set the paper aside and started pouring through *Laws of the Underworld, Vol. XIII*.
Death was n't as serene an experience as Eric had thought it would have been. The whole plane crash was actually quite the ordeal. Eric had been mortally wounded by his briefcase in the crash and died after a grueling four hours bleeding out in a cornfield in central Illinois. The Devil himself had come to pick up Eric's soul. Per the contract, Eric had given it to him, after all. It had been a hard six months so far. Or was it ten? A year? Time was hard to keep track of without a sun or moon.
Except for some standard text on how death is defined and how Eric was expected to support the Devil in any way he asks, there was little else in the first 15 pages. Suddenly, Eric's eyes jumped to a peculiar paragraph: `` All souls will be bound to the owner of Hell, hereby referred to as `` The Devil'' or `` Devil'' for one ( 1 ) Eternity. Eternity is defined here as the combination of three ( 3 ) Ages and two ( 2 ) Eons''. Eric was just stringing his bow.
Vile as the Devil is portrayed in common media, he actually is a great negotiator. Eric had been struggling as a lawyer with his student loans and not being ambitious enough at Goldberg, Oldman, and Devin. After being evicted for the third time and sleeping in the Law Library, Eric had decided to sell his soul to the Devil to pay off his loans. Eric's only condition was that he write the contract.
In the depths of Hell, Eric had somehow found it. Two blank spaces where the Devil had failed to write in a length of time. His eyes widened as he realized this was his loophole. Picking up his pen, Eric frantically wrote in two big zeroes. The ink seeped into the page and the words started glowing. Confidence rising, Eric pulled the pages he had found together and jumped out of his chair. He had found it.
`` Lucifer!'' He yelled, half-running down the hellish walkways to the Devil's palace. The dank smell did not bother Eric as he stomped into the main chamber and put his papers down in front of the Devil himself. `` My time here is up, Devil. It says so here in the contract.''
`` Oh?'' The Devil asked, raising an eyebrow and shifting in his throne. He put on his half-rimmed glasses and took the papers from Eric. After reading for some time, the Devil let out a thunderous laugh that shook the hall.
`` What?'' Asked Eric. He was sweating now.
`` I figured you would do something like this. You do know that you are n't the first lawyer down here, right?'' Roared Lucifer. He carefully placed the papers Eric had brought on the back of a nearby damned soul. The Devil pulled out his pen and traced a pentagram into the contract and the glowing words turned red. Words started to fade from the pages, slowly revealing the Devil's face, with the two zeroes Eric had written as the Devil's beady eyes.
The Devil laughed again. Taking off his glasses, he looked right at Eric. `` The Devil is *always* in the details, boy. In fact, the Devil *is* the details,'' he seethed.
Eric's face dropped. He was here forever. An Eternity and one day.
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[ WP ] Magic has existed for millenia , and enchanted objects ( `` artifacts '' ) grow in power over time . A team of archeologists opens an ancient tomb and finds a simple , bronze ring .
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“ You see magic, has existed for as long as man has had the idea of something beyond himself. Today we call it science, but our science isn ’ t the same as the science of people hundreds or thousands of years ago. Before science it was witchcraft, before that it was alchemy, before that it was something. There is an underlying current to the way the world works, a mysterious function just barely at the grasp of the human mind. That is true magic, when one person even so much as has a glimpse over that razor sharp line bordering reality and the actual ebb and flow of the universe. ” Alister kept gazing at the ceiling, his mind spinning at the possibility of the day to come.
He barely noticed the lithe and tan woman crawl out of his hotel bed, her long legs quickly striding towards the bathroom, wild auburn hair trailing her like a halo. In her hand were clutched all her belongings.
“ Alister, you know you bore me when you speak of this. You are of far more interest when I am the ebb and flow of your universe. ” Missy spoke just softly enough for the words to reach across the room.
“ The idea that even though you are in another room, yet, our atoms still intertwine, is that not magic. There is so much empty space in the world, with in us. Does that not make you wonder? What is there between the reality and what is perceived by our own cognitive limitations? Missy? ”
Without making eye contact Missy strode out of the bathroom fully dressed, back to her normal demeanor as a CFO of a rather lucrative company. “ You know, the only reason I put up with your ludicrous ideas is because I can not imagine not being wrapped up in your arms, but being wrapped up in your mind, well, that makes me want to go home and drink. ” The only good bye was the slamming of the door.
Alister continued to stare at the ceiling, mind lost in the idea of time, space, magic, alchemy and what it would feel like to simply gaze just past the sharp line of human limitation. Perhaps tomorrow, upon opening of this fabled tomb, he may find an answer.
The tomb offered the usual curse, something along the lines of “ if you dare open this gate, you and all you know will perish in most hellish of fires. Your entire bloodline will be tormented and punished for breaching this place of worship… blah blah blah ” Alister has read this, and similar threats many times, and he has yet to be burned by hellish fires. Tastefulness and tact was not needed, the corporation which hired him has owned this land for decades, their rules were simple, go in explore, find the item and return it to them. “ A sledge hammer should do nicely for this task ” thought Alister as he destroyed the cursed seal. Beyond that seal laid a room devoid of anything other than a single jade case. Inside it was a monocle, the outside metal was pitted, rusted and decrepit; yet the glass was perfectly clear, new, like an optometrist just crafter the lens.
With trembling hands Alister took the monocle and brought it towards his eye, at that single moment he was the future, the past the present of all the realities that could ever exist and not exist. He was what he always thought about, the underlying current of reality. At the blink of an eye, he saw what he most desired to see. Unfortunately the price to pay for such a sight, was ones own soul. His body fell limp to the floor, and with it the monocle. Both the man, and the mysterious artifact lay in a crumbled heap, shattered and destroyed.
For that is the price of gleaming beyond the razor sharp line of cognitive reality, utter destruction.
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[ WP ] You 're a weatherman who has the power to make whatever you say come true , but only in terms of weather . Today , you woke up in a bad mood .
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It's been raining heavily for 3 days now.
It's mid-August and the worst storms and rain showers in living memory are blanketing the British Isles in cold rain, harsh wind and relentless lightning. Floods plague coastal and riverside towns, landslides isolate rural and mountainous villages. The sewers began to overflow in almost every towns and city. Infrastructure is beginning to collapse as trains are cancelled and vehicle accidentals choke motorways up and down the country, while airports are now cancelling almost all flights in and out of the country.
Scientists, meteorologists and climate experts are baffled. The rain and storms were getting so bad the Government is on the verge of calling a State of Emergency.
And it was all because Lucy left me.
I stumbled into the studio that morning soaked to my skin and exhausted. I have n't slept properly since the day she walked out. That day, I struggled to hold back the tears on air. The rain began to pour as I finished broadcasting the weather, and it wo n't stop, because I do n't want it to stop. I want everyone in this damn country to feel as miserable as I do.
The studio lights flicker as another huge roll of thunder shakes the building. The presenters, make-up layered on and live on air, struggle to keep up their warm smiles and positive vibes as they talk in detail about the misery and disorder swamping the country. But I did n't care.
All I want is my Lucy back.
30 seconds until on air. Maybe there'll be snow. Maybe we can all freeze to death, I just do n't know or care anymore. How about a hurricane? My thoughts are dark and grey...
My phone buzzes. It's a text from Lucy. I read it as fast as I can.
The director raises five fingers towards me, I slowly put my phone back in my pocket.
`` Coming to you in-'' Crackles my earpiece, the director counts down.
`` OK and over to Tim with the weather. So, Tim, I think me and pretty much everyone in the country right now wants to some good news. So, what do you have in store for us today?''
I swallow.
`` Tim? What do you have in store for us today?''
The director is yelling at me down my earpiece. He might as well be emitting white noise.
`` Today... It's going to be sunny.''
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[ WP ] The Comedian stands on the platform , the noose placed carefully around his neck . Surrounded by world leaders , this public execution is being broadcast internationally . `` Please apologize for your offensive comment '' , said the executioner .
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`` I can not'' the comedian said. `` For I can not decide what is or is not offensive.
This execution is being shown in front of thousands or maybe even millions of viewers. May I ask, why are you watching?''
As this question was asked, a still silence came over the crowd. Each world leader looking towards one another, hoping that someone has an answer. One of the leaders stood up, but before he could answer the comedian continued:
`` Is it for justice? Do you feel a sense of pride that my comment is being addressed? Is it that you have a sadistic nature, unaware of the comment that was said but you wish to see a gentleman hanged? Is it that you wish to commit a crime yourself and are using me as a test for the Goverment's ideals and strength to carry this through?''
The world leader took a seat and continued to listen intently.
`` You see, I can not tell you the reason you are watching or the emotions you will feel at the site of my body dangling in the air. It is not my place to say how a person should or should n't feel. It is my job to only offer an opportunity for a person who is conditioned to offensive materials to find humour in a world of political correctness.We now have the opportunity to demonstrate that if people choose to ignore a comment, then emotions will not control our reactions. We have a choice to say to the haters....... Get in the kitchen and make me a sandwhich''.
The trap door was pulled.
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[ WP ] Chloroform does n't actually work like it does on TV . A person will not instantly fall unconscious after inhaling it ; it takes a while for them to asphyxiate . Someome who does n't know this is a psychopath , preparing for his first abduction .
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Sometimes people describe my bloodlust - well, bloodlust in general - as a psychotic inner voice, a temptress whispering into my mind. A mysterious presence that wills me to do harm... to make my mark on this filthy world. How trite. People... *normal* people... They have no idea what psychopathy is like. It's not a constant desire to do harm. It's not a weird obsession with pain. It's the ability to separate myself from my emotions. It's me being aware of my conscious and subconscious mind. It's a freedom of sorts.
Life is a dialogue tree for me. Every move I make, every step I take, every single interaction is planned and codified. Do I want to take a week off of work? Make sure I sniffle a little in between these two words now, then in two days mention how my girlfriend is going through a rough patch. My boss is perceptive enough, and eventually he'll suggest it himself. Everything is planned out for me, and it takes an enormous amount of effort to do anything without the help of my analytical mind.
So why, then, did this fucking chloroform not work?
I was able to subdue my new target, even without it working, but my plans have only ever gone off without a hitch. I was able to correctly predict what I would do when it became too much for me to fit in and snap, and yet I was unable to separate media from fact?
If I have missed this, what else did I miss?
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[ WP ] A homeless man wants a milkshake .
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Jimmy Jackson stuck his head out of the abandoned theatre. He looked warily from left to right. No one was watching. He squeezed out through the slim opening, and made his way to the park.
`` Sup, Jim?'' No-nose said. They called him No-nose because he did n't have one. It'd been shot off in the war. No one could stand looking at him long enough to find out his real name.
`` Same shit,'' Jimmy said.
He went to the ancient, crumbling fountain in the center of the park. Years ago the city, intending to repair it someday, had covered it with a tarp. The tarp was tattered now and moldy. It served only one purpose.
`` Wake up,'' Jimmy said.
Sue stuck a hand out from beneath the tarp and showed him a finger.
`` Cops'll be here soon.''
Sue groaned and unrolled herself. Standing, she scowled at Jimmy. `` Fuck off.''
Jimmy did n't fuck off, but he did stroll to the other end of the park, where the hot dog vendors would set up their carts. He sat on the grass and unwrapped a roll he'd snuck out of the soup kitchen last night.
It was enough to tide him over for now.
A woman came into view, jogging, a leash in her hand. Beside her ran a dog, or something resembling a dog only in that it had four legs and a collar. One of those tiny puffy things people carried around in purses.
Jimmy pulled out a cardboard sign and set it in front of him. `` Homeless and Disabled. Please Help,'' it read.
The woman turned her head away as she passed. She had earbuds in, but the music was just loud enough for him to make out the words. An older song.
`` My milkshake brings all the boys to...''
And it was gone. *Milkshake, * Jimmy thought. *Wonder how long it's been since I had a milkshake. *
He set a battered paper coffee cup on the grass in front of him. He decided he needed one -- today. One of those big chocolate milkshakes with whipped cream, and a single cherry on the top. When he was a kid, he used to leave the cherry in the cup till everything else was gone, and then suck the chocolate off the cherry at the end. It was the best part.
That's what he would do today. He could skip lunch. Let Sue get the booze tonight. Today, Jimmy was going to have a milkshake.
It was only a few dollars, after all. He could scrounge that up if he had to.
He picked up his cup and held it out as an older man walked past with a small child. Nothing.
For the next few hours, Jimmy sat, mostly dreaming, sometimes holding out his cup. By afternoon he had almost two dollars. He could get a milkshake now, but it would be a small one, and after -- well he figured it had to be about ten years -- Jimmy wanted a large.
He decided to try something else. Every once in a while, Doug, over at the Shell station would give him a couple bucks to sweep the lot.
It was a few blocks walk, and Jimmy set off, humming that milkshake song he could n't remember the rest of the words to.
When he got to the Shell station, he peeked in the window. Doug would help him out sometimes, but the other guy would throw him out if he was n't buying something, and threaten to call the cops.
Today was lucky -- Doug was in. Jimmy stepped into the air-conditioned interior. A woman, passing him, wrinkled her nose. Jimmy hated that. He tried to stay clean, but it was hard, sleeping in urine-soaked corners and doorways. `` Something stinks in here,'' he said. `` Do you smell that? Someone should complain.''
The woman shot him a snarky look.
First things first. Jimmy headed to the bathroom to take a leak and wash up a bit. It was important to look presentable. Then he approached the counter.
`` Sorry,'' Doug said, before he'd even opened his mouth. `` I ca n't today.''
`` Please. It's important.''
Doug hesitated. `` I got a dollar in my pocket,'' he said at last. `` I guess I could give you that.''
He stepped around the counter and offered Jimmy a broom. It was a big lot. Would take at least an hour to sweep it, maybe more. Was worth way more than a dollar. `` Beggars ca n't be choosy, right?''
Doug did n't laugh. Jimmy took the broom and headed back into the heat.
A guy in a red toyota pulled up in front of a pump Jimmy'd just swept. He opened his door and dumped the contents of the ashtray into a pile on the asphalt. As he stepped out of the car, he kicked at the pile, sending butts and wads of paper flying everywhere.
Jimmy frowned, and the man laughed at him. With a sigh, he swept the area again. The whole time he was imagining taking the broom to the guy's windshield, but he knew that would be more trouble than it was worth.
Lot swept, Jimmy went back in the gas station to get his dollar. The line was long and people started shying away from him.
`` Jimmy,'' Doug said from behind the counter. `` You're going to have to wait outside.''
He nodded. It was common enough.
He kicked at the curb while he waited, hands in his pockets, watching the customers leave one-by-one. Watching more customers go in.
It was about another thirty minutes before the place started to clear out. He'd just put his hand on the door handle when a voice called out behind him.
`` You buying something?''
`` I'm just waiting for --''
`` Get out of here before I call the cops.''
The man grabbed the broom from Jimmy as he pushed him out of the way and went inside. `` Filthy hobo,'' he muttered.
Jimmy walked to the edge of the property and looked back over his shoulder. Doug might remember, but shift change took a good twenty minutes at least. Then again, if he left, he might miss it when Doug got off.
He ended up walking up and down the edge of the lot, just off the property so's the other guy could n't get him arrested. Finally, Doug came out the door and got in his car. `` Doug!'' Jimmy yelled as the man pulled out of the lot.
At the last possible moment, the car turned around and sped toward Jimmy.
`` Here,'' Doug said, tossing a dollar out the window. `` Good work.''
*Bastard could have handed it to me, * Jimmy thought. Instead he said, `` thanks,'' and grabbed the dollar off the ground. By that time, Doug was gone.
Jimmy did n't mind. He had enough for that milkshake.
There was a 50's Diner over on Canal, with the best milkshakes. Jimmy made the mile walk across town.
Bess and Angie were bumming change in front of the McDonald's when he got there.
`` Heya Jimmy,'' Bess said. Angie grinned and waved. She was eight or nine, Jimmy could n't really remember.
`` Hey Bess,'' he said. `` Hey there, Ang.''
`` What you doing out here, Jimmy?''
`` Got me a few greens. Goin to buy a milkshake.''
Bess nodded.
`` Oh,'' Angie said. `` Mom can we --''
`` You know we ca n't.''
Angie hung her head. Jimmy fingered the change in his pocket. He supposed he could get two small shakes at McDonald's instead. Angie'd already turned away. It had been a long time since he'd had a shake. He crossed over to the 50s Diner and ordered a large chocolate.
On the curb outside, he turned the clear plastic cup round and round in his hands. At last, he brought the straw to his lips. Angie stared at him from a distance.
The chocolate tasted like dirt in his mouth.
With a sigh, he got up and walked over to Bess. `` Can Ang have a shake?'' he asked, hoping the answer was'no'.
`` That's real sweet, Jimmy,'' Bess said. `` Thank you.''
Angie held up her hands, and he handed her the shake. Dejected, he sat on the curb and watched her enjoy it. *It's the little things you miss most, * he thought, pretending to listen to Bess's chatter.
After a few minutes Angie was slurping empty air. She came over and held the cup out to Jimmy. `` Here,'' she said. `` Do you want the cherry? I do n't like them.''
Jimmy grinned and popped the small fruit into his mouth. It was still the best thing ever.
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[ IP ] The Mountain Path
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His mailed hand caught me in the chest so hard and so suddenly that I almost fell back into a snowdrift. I grunted my question at the captain as I righted myself on my lance.
`` That's not shelter, I do n't give a damn what the wizard says.''
`` It's warmth. It might be food. You'd have us die on this mountain because you're scared of some fairy-tales?''
`` Those people by the entrance do n't seem afraid.'' My ears perked up. Greta was perhaps the only one in the company that captain Olar might listen to.
`` You think those are people?'' He snorted. `` You valley folk do n't know the ways of the high rocks. There's things on these peaks you'll never understand, and pray you never need to.''
`` Prayer never did me much good.'' Greta stepped past us, pausing to check I had my footing, and tugged the fur mask down from her face to look through her Gnomic spy-glass. `` Our wizard's bringing them to us either way.''
Ahead of us, the figure of his lordship, lit by that blue crystal of his, had closed on the hunched shadows gathered outside the gate. There was a flash, almost like lightning, if it could flow across the snow like water. Its light cast long shadows behind the figures at the gate, scattering a handful of them as dust to the wind. The others closed swiftly on the wizard, before they were lost suddenly in a shroud of purple mist.
`` Should we go help him?'' I looked uncertainly from Greta to the captain, to the others standing around us in the snow, watching the wizard in silence. It was hard to say if they were in awe or just as bone-tired from the march as I was.
`` This kind of foe ai n't for you, lad.'' The captain's voice had a grim kind of humour. `` You do n't set a housecat on a bear.''
`` Just stay back, Penn.'' Greta stood before me with a protective stance that made me feel like a cub. My face felt flush under my fur hood, and I was about to protest when a hand clasped on my shoulder.
`` The boy's a fiercer cat than you know, captain. They sometimes hide their claws.'' The voice was merry and strong, like it could turn into a laugh at any moment. The wizard was not a man who feared the cold, even dressed in summer silks, his long golden hair blowing loose in the freezing mountain wind.
Before us, the purple mist faded into nothing, leaving only prone figures lying still in the snow. It seemed strange that I only now noticed the blue glow of the wizard's crystal lighting up the company around me.
`` You did n't as much as reach the threshold, wizard.'' The captain spoke wearily. `` And there's blood and magic on the snow.''
The wizard waved a hand.
`` None human. Just a few scavengers, pests. Housecats, if you like.'' He gave me one of those strange winks. `` The Gnomic Paths are known to me, we'll be safe enough inside. And the Federation warlocks will know better than to follow, or have you forgotten that we have more to worry about than a few ghosts?''
`` I've killed Federation men before.''
`` You've fought soldiers, Olar, not warlocks.'' Greta spoke suddenly, with a fierce and scolding tone that brought every man in the company back to the times their mother caught them red handed. `` And those with an army behind you. You did n't see what these warlocks did to our armies in the valley, hiding up here in your little outpost. Whatever you're afraid of in there, we're running from worse.''
The wizard was beaming, the light of his crystal illuminating the browbeaten look on Olar's face. He seemed to be savouring the moment more than necessary.
`` Greta's right.'' My voice wavered as I pushed through the memories of the last few days. `` We would n't be alive now if we had n't listened to his lordship. We have to trust him now.''
The wizard reached over suddenly and rustled my hair, like I was a child.
`` You're sweet, Penn.'' He turned back to Olar. `` You have to understand something, captain. The war is over, the capital is burned, the king is dead. The Federation has destroyed us and their warlocks will hunt us down to the last man if we let them. That is their doctrine.''
He took a step closer and raised a finger to the captain's face.
`` But there's one final trick up my sleeve that could save you, and sweet Penn, and every man and woman in this ragtag company, if you'll let me. We might even have some of the country left, if you'll stop dallying. And the key to that lies in there.''
He spun on his heel and pointed to the enormous gate in the side of the mountain.
`` I know you mountain folk fear the Gnomic ruins, and you're right to. That's precisely the kind of desperate power that we need.''
Olar sighed and leaned heavily on his lance.
`` Alright, wizard.'' He looked a long moment at Greta. `` I can see these folk have known hell. If that's the dark day that's come to us, I suppose I'd better get to know it too.''
The wizard threw his hands in the air and laughed with a glee that was almost childish. I looked from him to the grim expression on Olar's face, to the glowing maw in the cliff face ahead. For all the dark and bitter cold without, I thought that light and warmth could n't have filled me with more dread.
How innocent a child I truly was.
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[ WP ] `` Where are you from ? '' The wise old sage asked , `` Same place as you '' the young girl replied .
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The old man looked around wondering were the pebble had come from when he spotted the girl. Sitting across from him in the dark hallway not caring about the dust on her dress.
`` Tell me a story'' she said With a demanding tone that left no place for arguements.
`` Never'' said the old man before turning back to gaze out of his single window. He knew when talking was pointless.
`` Why not?'' She asked demanding tone gone. Replaced instead by a smooth voice that could convince all who heard it to give what they had.
`` Your a horrible child.'' He said gazing at her with a glint in his eyes. He looked back at the boxed sky and sighed.
`` Are you sad?'' Her voice was small now almost like a whisper and filled with unspoken support.
`` I have been trained to kill and to survive. But not to listen to the words of one who would see me as a sheep.'' He looked into her eyes this time.
`` Have you killed before.'' She looked into his eyes.
The old man simply looked away.
`` The true sage told me not to talk with-.'' His reply was to quick, even for her skills.
`` I thought you a smarter girl then to think petty anger would make me tell you what simple curiosity could have gotten freely.'' He got up from the floor and moved towards her in one smooth motion. He only stopped because of the bars.
He shook his head and went back to the window. The girl stayed silent not knowing how to use her gift.
`` Then tell me.'' The words came unbidden from her lips. The old man looked back with a smile on his face.
`` Did you learn of my capture young one?'' He asked turning to face her. His grin grew wider when she shook her head.
`` Then let me tell you how the beastly sage came to be locked up behind weak bars of iron.'' He said rotating to face her.
`` You think yourself smart knowing yourself to be the student of the Godly sage. But did he ever tell you of the balance.'' His words seemed to draw her in. She moved closer to the bars and listened to his story.
`` Their is a deal struck between the Gods of men and those of the wild fen. For those who lash out their can only be death. Signed with blood on the piled heath''. He moved his hands in the air. Weaving what seemed a spell to the young girl.
`` To keep the deal two men were chosen. One of words spoken and unspoken who dealt in things unseen.'' He pointed towards the sigil on her dress with a knarled finger.
`` The other a savage. Skilled with the wilds and those that made the earthly plain their home.'' He pointed at himself.
The girl stayed silent as the once familiar story was twisted and spun to a wordless tune. It seemed to be a deep thrum that hit her bones and a fast chant at the same time.
`` But this balance was broken by man. They cast their gods to the backs of their minds and took to following their own leaders. First amongst them was the ancestors you and your family vaunt so much. Behind them was the Godly sage.''
`` I was third in my tribe to be apprenticed to the beastly sage. She taught me many things. The most important was to always keep the balance.''
`` But you attacked at the head of an army using beasts you tamed, like the great falcons, and the cave lurkers.'' She said. confused the first time in a long time. She moved closer to the bars until she could move no more.
`` Yes and you think your father the warrior bested me in single combat and locked me away.'' The motions of his hands drew her attention as he spoke and she pondered.
`` But I have always remembered that the balance must be followed even if sacrifices must be made.'' She looked at him before she realized his plan but by then it was to late.
His hand shot out to grab her throat and found purchase. He broke her neck very easily.
`` The balance must be kept.'' The old man whispered. He felt only sadness but knew that to let the kings daughter become a sage would cause only disaster.
Another pebble hit him, this time on the forehead. He opened his eyes in shock. She had tricked him. He broke her yet Staring across from him was the girl. A smile on her face.
`` Where are you from?'' the old sage asked, `` same place as you'' the young girl replied.
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[ WP ] Five types of love , Across five different wars , with five different people
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Black and Red
01/08/2012 -- -1630 -- - Israeli West Bank
He had done it a thousand times. The wall separating the city, a colossus of concrete, stood 30 ft tall and was nothing short awe inspiring. Alee was on the wrong side, the Israeli side. He reached the wall where he knew a rope was hidden in the sand. He stuffed the package inside his shirt and looked around to make sure there was no one in sight. The sun was still up, but he knew the route of the patrols quite well.
He then threw the hook over the edge of the wall and began to climb. It had all been worth it and in a few minutes, he would be on his side of land, where his people belonged. Confined in their own homeland for over half a century, like animals kept for slaughter. He would n't even have needed to come here if an air strike had n't blown up the local gift shop. He tried to push these thoughts out of his head. Today is a good day, he thought, a happy day. As he reached the top, he could n't help but admire the view. The sun was now setting over the Arab settlements. He started to pull the rope up as he saw a trail of smoke in the distant. A patrol? But... why? Had someone complained of an Arab on the wrong side of the wall? His Herbew was n't perfect, but the shop keeper did n't seem too bothered with the fact and was more than happy to take his money. Strange he thought as he pulled the rope as fast as he could.
The IDF Jeep halted and 4 soldiers came out. The captain shouted pointing his Rifle at him, `` Oi, shithead. drop the rope back and climb down back on this side if you do n't want a hole in your head''. Alee had pulled the rope up by this time and said nothing. He knew that if he did as they asked, they probably would not kill him. They could just let him go or they could take him to prison where he could spend his entire life tortured and branded as a terrorist. They could even kill him on the spot and leave his body for the vultures. It really depended on their mood. No, he thought, not today. He held the rope and lifted up his hands as if giving up. `` That is a good dog'' shouted the Captain. He let the rope in his left hand go and jumped after it. As he fell he reached for the rope with his right hand. His hand slid down the rope and he felt his hand burn. It did however slow him down enough for him to grab the rope with his second hand. This stabilised him and he began to climb down quickly. His heart pounded in his head and he saw the faces of his family before his eyes. The blood from where the rope had cut into his hand made him slip but he somehow stabilised him self. About half way through his hand slipped again and he could n't quite hold on to the rope. He slammed his entire body on the wall in an effort to break the fall. He slid down the wall, tumbling as he went. He fell on the edge of the tarmac on the other side. He let out a sigh of relief and said out aloud to himself, `` I'm still alive''. He scrambled to get up and began to run, the adrenalin of the moment pushing him on.
As he ran along the road he heard a car behind him. He turned around to see the IDF Jeep. Shit he thought, SHIT. He started to run towards the houses. If I can get to the streets and alleys, I'll be fine, he thought. These were his streets, he knew them well. He darted into the first alley he saw. The Jeep stopped, the soldiers got off and ran after him. One of them screaming in his radio, `` Yellow....yellow'' As Alee navigated the labyrinth, he realised much to his relief that his house was not far away, a few hundred yards perhaps. He was going to make it after all. They would stop looking in a few minutes and forget the whole thing. He had n't really done anything wrong had he? Sure, climbing over the wall was illegal but everyone did it.
He came out of an alley way into a courtyard. It was surprisingly empty and the shops were all closed. Must be an unplanned curfew, he thought to himself. His house was just on the other side now. He ran through as fast as he could, a few feet away from the alley that lead to his house. He heard a shout from behind him `` Stop, dog, or I will fire''. Nearly there, he thought. As he was turning into the alley, pain exploded in his left side and suddenly felt too tired to run or even stand up. There was no sound and he felt....dizzy and wet. He feel right inside the alley and turned on his back to look up to the sky. He looked on left side of his torso which was now a fountain of black and red. He lay there, looking up at the crimson sky. He did n't try to move, it was.....so peaceful to just give in. He looked down again, his yellow shirt stained in his own flesh and blood. He reached into his shirt and took out the package and looked at at. A colouring book and a set of 24 colours. The book was now drenched in blood. This was probably not the colour the publishers had in mind, he thought to himself. He lay there as it grew darker.
The IDF officers walked up to him. The Captain knelt down and picked up the book, `` For this? ``, he asked, `` You pathetic dog''. He threw the book back at his face and began to discuss something with his fellow soldiers. Alee gathered all his strength and tried to speak. One of the soldiers pointed at him and the officer knelt down again coming closer to listen to what he was saying. Alee, with all his strength said in his broke Hebrew, `` My sister....birthday''
He began to cough as the blood filled his lungs. The officer just shook his head and let out a sigh. He talked with his other officers for a bit and they tossed a coin. Alee looked on as 3 of them started to go back to their Jeep leaving one soldiers behind.
The soldier now looked at Alee and pulled out his gun. The soldier looked young, barely 20 years old. His hand shook as he pointed at Alee's head. A solitary tear ran down his left cheek and as he whispered `` I am sorry, boy''. He pulled the trigger.
Note: This story is about the love of a brother for his sister. This was my first attempt at writing. I will write more if people like it.
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Shortly after dying , you wake up as a newborn just now departing the womb . As the days pass , memories from your previous life begin disappearing . [ WP ]
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[ no edits, just a mind flood. please excuse the errors that i know are there ]
My heart still throbbed in my throat. It felt constricted and every breath was a struggle. The sensation consumed me. The flimsy hospital gown around me felt too warm and too constricting. I tried to thrash about, but found I could not. I could see his eyes, despite everything. Unbelievably green, just like they were 30 years ago, though the skin around them had formed wrinkles since then. I could tell he was crying. He had been holding it back for days, but I still could n't manage a sound -- not even to comfort him. As his face bowed low, I felt his hands close around mine and the tightness in my throat grew. I wanted to tell him that it would be okay, but even if I could talk, I do n't know if I could tell that lie. I was frightened and I wanted him to make it better even though we both knew it would never be better again. I began to choke on something that felt like a sob, but much more violent. To me, it felt like a wave crashing into my head, but on the outside, it was just a little cough. And then I blinked.
Immediately, the crushing sensation was lifted. I could breathe again. Light engulfed me and I gulped in hospital scented air once more. I was all right, but the wail I had n't been able to expel now ripped from my lungs. I hollered for a doctor, but my words did n't come out right. I felt hands around me, too gigantic to be real. Was I dead? I forced my eyes to open. Small, wrinkled hands waved and clenched in front of me, bright cherry pink and smeared with what looked like blood. I felt sick and looked past the strange appendages to the face looming in front of me. They said something, but I could n't make it out over my own screams which I could n't stop. They just came rushing from my mouth, tearing my throat.
I felt the sensation of being lifted and put into pale, shaking arms. Someone cooed at me, hushed me, and I stopped crying. I allowed myself to be pulled into warmth and comfort, too exhausted even to cry any longer.
I remember looking up at stars swirling above my head. Soft music played in the background and I fought off drowsiness, insistent on staying awake. I hold onto his hand like it's my anchor to keep me from floating away into the indigo sky. But is it grass or a quilt I feel beneath me? Is the hand human or stuffed rabbit? I turn my head to the left. It's the purple rabbit. Last night it had been his hand. Now I ca n't even remember who *he* is.
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[ WP ] Write a story about someone getting lost in Venice , discovering a long-hidden secret , and falling in love .
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Marco Polo.
What a familiar phrase. It used to bring light to the place and clear out the fog. But it did n't. And he was left alone, standing thoughtlessly, at Marco Polo.
Then one of the guys started speaking. He heard something like San Marco or Piazza di Roma. The only words that seem to make sense to him. He asked, `` This ship to San Marco?'' `` Si, si.'' They replied. He handed a 20-euro note, and he was off to explore the city.
Or not.
He arrived at one of the piers, exactly same as one another. There was no signs of indication, so he asked the sailors. `` Is this San Marco?'' `` Si, si.'' He asked again. `` Is this not San Marco?'' `` Si, si.'' This was discouraging. He could n't simply look at skyscrapers for identifying where his hotel was. There was simply none. What he saw was red rooftops, everywhere. There was no hope. There was no way.
He started searching his way through the city. He only knew his hotel was somewhere near the Rialto. Not sure where it was, but he should give a try, he thought. Luckily it was daytime, so there was no danger of falling into the spooky canals. He tried to figure out where he was heading, until he saw a sign.
*'' Rio San Polo'' *
It seemed familiar, as the name suggests. It might be the only Italian word he knew. It might be English as well. The flame of hope that went out for a second was lighted up again. He stared on the sign. There was something hidden under the sign. Rio San Polo, he thought. Rio San Polo.
Suddenly, the bolt of thought came to his brain. The initials of the sign. RSP. It was the reason why he went to Venice. The Roman Society of Patriots. The Society that had been troubling the government for few years, initiating chaos in the country. It must be their hiding place, he thought. The *strada* was not a long one, enough space for 2 houses. This should be easy, he thought. Immediately, he planned to infiltrate the houses to discover their base. His agent told him Venice was the headquarter for the organization. If he were able to catch them all, the Chief Investigator post should be in his hands. But he could n't think of any plans. He could n't speak proper Italian, and once he spoke, his identity would be revealed.
Then came a girl. She looked into in eyes, and approached him with a nice smile. He asked her, `` Can you speak English?''. `` Sure I do. How can I help you sir?'' She answered with an Italian accent. `` I want to go into one of the bars here. Can you help me?'' `` Of course I can.'' And she gave him a kiss. Oh, the kiss of an Italian girl. The luckiest day of his life, he thought. `` Let me lead you.'' She spoke with a soft voice. And he followed her into one of the doors.
Meanwhile, she picked up a microphone from her T-shirt.
`` The prey is in the nest.''
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[ WP ] You have the ability to make clones of anyone but there 's a catch . They only last a day before they disappear .
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I run my fingers through her hair as she sleeps, pushing a few errant strands away from her face. She is so beautiful, even asleep with none of the makeup she loves to use and I smile at the love of my life. We'd been childhood sweethearts from the age of eight, our families had lived across the road from each other and the day she'd said yes to my proposal our parents had drunk far too many bottles of champagne together in the front garden. I roll over and look at the photo on the bedside table, it shows us on our wedding day leaving the church. In the edge of the photo I spy a hand and laugh to myself remembering my best man trying to throw confetti and accidently throwing the whole box drowning us in a storm of brightly coloured paper petals.
She stirs behind me and I roll back to see her gazing at me, her eyes blinking sleepily `` Morning husband'' she whispers and giggles as I lean in for a kiss. After a few moments she pulls away and gets out of bed `` what do you want for breakfast husband?'' she giggles again her face smiling `` a bacon sandwich? Of course you do. I'll be right back!'' she leaves half skipping out of the room and I hear her going down the stairs and smile to myself.'I should probably get up too' I thought and sit up, I groan heavily at the pain that shoots down my spine as I do so but force myself to swing my legs out of the bed. I look down and sigh, while waking up was the best part... this was always the hardest part. My withered legs always remind me, the greying hair on them reminding me more everyday. I pull the wheelchair closer before heaving myself into it. Once in the chair I look into my reflection on the face of the alarm clock and wince. I look terrible, my hairline is receding and nearly completely silver and the deep folds in my face give me a perpetually haggard look. I look at the photo once more and close my eyes imagining its black and white detail in full colour as if it was yesterday. To her it was I suppose, making today the first day of our life together... as had every single day for the last 40 years had been.
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[ TT ] Your name is Thor . No , not the God of Thunder , just an ordinary , normal guy . You find yourself explaining that to the resurrected Norse Gods who need your help to save the world .
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“ Dude seriously! ” Thor says with an exasperated sigh. “ I told you I can ’ t lift that damn hammer. ” The pair of 9 feet tall Viking legends exchanged glances before returning their eyes to the twenty something year old man in front of them.
Baldur scratched his head and begin to speak. “ But Odin said- “
“ Jesus Christ, enough about Odin. ” Thor interrupts. “ Odin this, Odin that. Blah Blah Blah. ” Thor rolls his eyes as gasps escape the lips of the gods as they look around nervously. “ I am not Thor. Well I am. But not your Thor. So can you just leave me alone? My shift starts in 20 minutes and if I ’ m late again Mr.Palucci is going to flip. ”
Mani steps forward and shifts his weight from foot to foot. “ Well, um, how about you just give it another try? ” He gestures with his hand at the large hammer lodged into the earth between them.
“ Fine. If this will get you guys to leave me alone then I ’ ll try. Again. ” Thor steps up to the mighty Mjolnir. He placed his feet on both sides and brushed his hair out of his face. His hands wrapped around the handle and he felt a low hum emanating from the hammer. His body buzzed with energy and sweat formed on his furrowed brow. With all the strength he could muster he heaved on the hammer. He pulled and strained. Sweat dripped on the brown grass in his backyard. Veins popped to the skin in his neck as his face started to turn a light shade of red.
A collection of “ You can do it ”, “ Put your back into it ” and “ Atta boy ” sounded from the hopeful gods. With a renewed sense of vigor Thor gathered his strength, tightened his grip and gave the stubborn hammer one final tremendous tug.
Beads of black obscured Thor ’ s vision as he fell to the ground, clutching his chest with his right arm. His left arm now a slightly numb and tingly appendage slapped against the dirt. He desperately struggled to get air in short hoarse breaths.
“ Oh shit, let ’ s go out of here! ” Baldur exclaimed as Thor keeled over.
“ He is definitely not *the* Thor ” said Mani. “ Just tell Odin that we couldn ’ t find him. ”
“ Definitely ” agreed Baldur as light engulfed them and they were pulled back to Asgard.
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[ WP ] `` You are someone I will never forget . ''
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On every resume Ellie made sure to highlight her greatest assets, and was most proud of her unshakeable patience. During her job search, each time they ’ d ask her to describe her strengths, she always started off with how dedicated she was to remain patient and empathetic to those around her. Then she ’ d pick an anecdote to illustrate her point, one out of the countless stories stored in her pot. Ellie wasn ’ t so vain that she would compare herself to Mother Theresa, but—well, she was fairly close. She was the young woman that the childhood version of her always aspired to be: kind, caring, gentle, and loved by all.
So when her father sat Ellie down at the kitchen table and told her that her mom had early-onset dementia, she was sure she could handle it. Initially the disease was hardly even noticeable, and on occasion Ellie would completely forget that her mom had anything wrong with her. She continued to live at home with her parents and the weeks went by like normal, only every so often her mother might have forgotten where she ’ d placed the house keys, or might ask Ellie where they were going to dinner two or three extra times. But not once did Ellie grow impatient; she would help her mother when necessary, and told herself that everyone forgot things once in a while. She would be the strong figure her family needed. Weeks became months, autumn turned to winter, and Ellie moved forward in her pursuit to finish school and find full-time work.
Then her mother took Ellie and out for lunch, with Ellie riding passenger. A strange, uncomfortable feeling churned in her stomach, but she tried to ignore it. At first it was a little swerve, then an accidental merge into the other lane that cut off the car behind them, their horn blaring. Ellie looked to her mother from the corner of her eye, and paled when she saw that her mother simply laughed it off as an accident. Ellie tried to remind herself that everyone makes mistakes every once in a while. Then on their way back from lunch, her mother casually turned into oncoming traffic. Ellie reached to snatch the wheel, made her mother hit the breaks, and with traffic piling up in front of them, switched seats with her mother and turned the car around to drive them home. Her mother was furious that Ellie had made such a scene, saying that she had it all under control. Ellie simply took a deep breath through her nose, apologized to her mother, and carried on with a strained smile.
Her father took the car keys away from her mother that night.
With now over half a year gone, Ellie realized that she could no longer ignore the changes in her mother. She was starting to become slower, more fragile, and the stairs that separated the first floor from the second became a daily challenge. In the morning, if she timed her routine improperly, Ellie would have to wait a good five minutes for her mother to make her way down the stairs, walking sideways in a careful tiptoe, both hands grabbing at the railing. Her mother never left the house anymore, and didn ’ t want to. She began to refuse eating anything but graham crackers, and would eat them so mindlessly in front of the television that she was starting to gain weight rapidly. Eventually she couldn ’ t work the television remote anymore either, and whenever Ellie came home from school, she ’ d find her mother watching the same gossip-centric, mindless talk shows that she was when Ellie left earlier that morning. It was starting to get to the point that Ellie would feel a little spark of frustration flare in her chest whenever she heard any of the talk show women ’ s voices. She started feeling embarrassed that her mother ’ s clothes no longer fit her right, and that she was apparently okay with sitting on the couch with her stomach hanging out. But Ellie would bite her lip, force the pain down, smile, and say hello to her mother. Sometimes she got a reply, other times her mother seemed lost in television, eyes glossed over and locked, unblinking, at the screen. Patience was key; patience was what she prided herself on. Occasionally she could hear her father get frustrated having to explain something more than twice to her mother, and whenever her mother picked up on that frustration, she ’ d get upset, and more often than not, angry enough to throw a tantrum and then lock herself in her room. Ellie wouldn ’ t chase after her, but she made a note to herself daily that she would not upset her mother so.
A year passed. Ellie had reached her final semester of college, and by now had received two offers from different IT firms. It was a great boost of confidence, and she promised herself that this was going to be her best year yet. But home life kept that from happening. Slowly over time, Ellie had begun to find more and more reasons to leave the house for longer periods of time, be it staying at her boyfriend ’ s house every weekend, Friday through Monday, or visiting her best friend ’ s house immediately after school. She no longer roamed the house like she used to, and tried to only leave the quiet of her bedroom or her basement desk only if it was absolutely necessary. She was uncomfortable walking around nowadays, because it ran the risk of her seeing her mother, who at this point, had started stealing her old clothes from middle school to wear, despite them clearly not fitting her. But her mother refused to leave the house, and would only do so if her father begged her long enough. She couldn ’ t shop any longer—her father said he ’ d tried to take her, but his attempts were always fruitless, as her mother would pick up one item off of a rack, look at it, put it back, and then pick the same item up again. And she ’ d repeat this process countless of times. Her mother was notably overweight now, too, and would often go into random fits of hysteria over it whenever she passed a mirror. But most noticeably, her mother was becoming much more forgetful, a lot more stubborn, and a hell of a lot meaner. If Ellie tried to walk around her whenever she awkwardly stood in the middle of a doorway, she could hear her mother mutter “ bitch ” under her breath, as if Ellie had somehow offended her. Over time, it got to her. Ellie ’ s once unbreakable patience now suffered from a few several cracks.
Her mother washed the same two pairs of socks in the washing machine every day. She ’ d have the phone in her hand prepared to dial 911 whenever she heard the front door open, despite the fact that it was always Ellie coming home from classes at the same time every day. Now the little things her mother did would piss Ellie off to no end. The constant opening and closing of doors. The constant muttering beneath her breath, berating Ellie for whenever she took those two socks out of the washing machine to do her own laundry. Getting upset with her dad whenever he was trying to help her get her shoes on, or get into or out of the car, so much so that she ’ d call him names and threaten divorce at least twice a week. Initially, Ellie could at least smile. Then when she couldn ’ t smile, she did her best to avoid it. But now she glowered, eyes dark, and would scowl whenever she passed her mother in the hallway. Graduation was not approaching fast enough.
Then her father sat her down again one night, and Ellie could see how worn down he was. The circles beneath his eyes were dark enough to look painted, his hair was thinning, and his beard was unkempt. It was hard to tell between the two of them who was more tired. Her dad had to double check the rooms around them before whispering to Ellie, “ Your mom thinks you hate her. ”
“ I don ’ t, ” she lied.
“ It ’ s not her doing these things, you know. It ’ s the disease. ”
“ I know, ” she lied.
Her father was a strong man, but even he had his limits. For the most part, the two tried to keep their problems to themselves. But every so often one of them would crack, and open up to the other. It was her father ’ s turn. His eyes were brimming with tears and his nose quickly stuffed up. “ I ’ m sorry, ” he stuttered, “ I ’ m sorry you have to go through this. ”
So Ellie leaned forward and embraced her father, a lump growing in her throat. “ It ’ s okay, ” she reassured him. “ It ’ s not your fault. ”
“ She loves you, you know, ” her dad sobbed. “ She does. ”
But Ellie paused, and then came to the realization she ’ d felt in her gut for the longest time. Her mother treated her like a threat; she yelled and snapped and blamed Ellie far more than she ever did her father, or anyone else in the family. “ No, she doesn ’ t. She loves you, though. And when I move out, she ’ ll be a lot happier with me gone, and eventually she ’ ll forget about me and you two can sell this house and move somewhere nice together. ”
What neither Ellie nor her father heard was that, during the last few minutes of the conversation, her mother, donned in Ellie ’ s middle school t-shirt and high waist pajama pants, had quietly shuffled into the kitchen with them. Her hair had thinned and grayed, her face pale and wrinkled, and her eyes were leaking with tears. She stood only a few feet away from Ellie and her father, her hands and voice shaking.
“ You are my daughter, ” she sobbed. “ You are someone I will never forget. ”
Ellie rose from her chair and rushed to her mother, embracing her tightly. Guilt shattered her heart. “ Mom, I love you, ” she choked out. “ I ’ m so sorry. ”
“ I love you, too, ” she whispered, her arms limp around Ellie ’ s shoulders. “ I promise I ’ ll never forget you. ”
It was a bittersweet lie.
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[ WP ] You wake up in a field as an average 21 year old male . You are a god but do not know yourself that you are one .
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I knew nothing of where I was, only that it was night. My eyes began to adjust and I started to notice that it wasn ’ t quite as dark as I had thought. The moon, the celestial mirror that it is, was high and large, outshining the millions of pin pricks of light that formed an all encompassing canopy as far as I could see in any direction.
I could feel that I was on my back. The ground was surprisingly warm and the grass felt like fresh down against my bare body. I felt no fear of my situation, no shame at my nakedness, only wonder of where I might be.
“ Where am I? ” I whispered to no one in particular.
17 miles southwest of Broken Arrow, Oklahoma.
I didn ’ t hear it. I didn ’ t think it. I simply felt it. Somehow I just knew that that was exactly where I was. I trusted the feeling more than anything I had ever experienced. It resonated within me with such an absolute feeling of truth that doubting it would have felt like heresy.
The world is a place of lies, deception, and manipulation. Feeling something that was undeniably a wholehearted truth was exhilarating. My mind hummed in a sense of contented satisfaction, as if what I had just felt was the most perfect feeling achievable.
It was like a drug to me. The humming slowly subsided and I experienced what I could only describe as withdrawals. I wanted the feeling again, more than I had ever wanted anything. I didn ’ t know what else to do, so I murmured another question.
“ Where are my clothes? ”
Beside you.
The feeling washed over me again like taking a shower that is so nearly too hot, but isn ’ t. I looked beside me and saw a neatly stacked pile of clothes. They were entirely unfamiliar to me, but I was drawn to them. I slipped on the gray pants first. The material was so foreign to me, but in the best way. They felt like tangible peace of mind. I could not describe it in any other way. They were simply perfect, as was the shirt of the same gray.
“ Where did these come from? ”
From you.
The feeling felt as miraculous the third time as the first. I did not understand what the feeling meant this time, but I knew it to be the truth. I decided this time to be a little more specific.
“ What does it mean that these clothes came from me? ”
It means that you asked and you received.
“ Am I hallucinating? ”
No.
“ Am I speaking to some sort of god right now? ”
Yes.
“ Which one? ”
You.
I was taken aback. The feeling had been no different, but the implication of what I had just learned shocked me. I was a god. Logically I knew that it could not be true, but the feeling could not be denied. The more I doubted, the more sure I was.
“ What am I capable of? ”
All things but one.
“ What am I not capable of then? ”
You can not choose both.
“ What does that… ” I was cut short. I had been so engrossed in exploring the feeling that I hadn ’ t been paying attention to my surroundings. During that brief period of divine discovery two men had appeared in front of me. They both appeared to be my own age and were wearing clothes identical to mine. The difference however, was that one was clothed in white, the other in black. We stood in a triangle. There was an audible crackling and the air felt charged with an immense force. Under normal circumstances I would have been terrified, for these men carried themselves with such purpose and power. But I faced them feeling as an equal. In fact, I felt a little above them. As if I was an object they both desired, but I wasn ’ t to be taken. I was to be won.
The man in white spoke first.
“ You can not imagine how long we have been waiting for this. For you. ”
The man in black spoke next.
“ You are to be the upset to the balance. The time of give and take has passed. You are capable of all things but one, so we have nothing to persuade you with. Which side do you choose? ”
I did not know what these men were talking about, but I felt the gravity of the question pressing on me as if I were Atlas buckling under the weight of the Earth. This is what the feeling had meant. I could not choose both men. I was the gray between the white and the black, and one side must be chosen.
I knew that picking one meant the destruction of the other, but I had not the slightest clue which to pick. And so I didn ’ t. I didn ’ t pick either one. I knew that I could not pick both, and so I picked neither.
“ I will not take a side. ”
A smile crept on both of the men ’ s faces.
“ I did not expect that. You have no idea how hard it is to surprise me, ” said the man in white.
The man in black simply chuckled and strode forward to shake my hand. He looked me in the eyes.
“ They ’ re your problem now. ”
With that, both men began to shimmer out of existence. A content expression on each face as they disappeared into the warm night.
The second they were gone, the weight of humanity ’ s good and evil struck me like a hammer to the gut. I felt all things at once and realized I had made the ultimate mistake.
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[ WP ] The musical note D # is carved into the hilt of a crossbow . Tell me about the user .
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The air was thick with fog. Two guards stood watch outside the encampment of tents and huts that formed the makeshift military base. It stood right on the edge of Blackwood Forest and had been a staging ground against the elves who lived there.
Xavier peered out from his perch. Near the tree line, maybe 100 yards, he could see the entrance to the encampment. Everything was going as expected, he thought. Lyla had summoned the mist to cover Ellis and Za'ir's approach. By now they would be in position, or close enough. Drawing back the string, he locked in the cartridge of bolts. He'd been using this repeater since he was 15. Narrowing his vision, he looked out to entrance once again. Now all he to do was wait and listen.
Za'ir walked just behind Ellis as they moved silently through the magical fog. Not only did it mask their sound but it also did not impair their vision; Lyla was an impressive mage, he thought, just as Ellis stopped. Lurking just outside the guards vision, Za'ir drew his knives, looking at his partner with readiness. Ellis drew breathe and sent a shrill whistle through the shrouded silence.
The air is thick with fog. It had been a quiet night, as usual, outside the Blackwood encampment. Guard duty was always the same; always boring. Suddenly, a loud noise comes from just outside the woods. `` What was that? ``, says a guard, `` C #'', claims the other. Just then another high pitched noise slices through the fog from the treeline. `` And that one?'' `` D #'', the guard replys, as a bolt pierces his heart.
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[ WP ] A surgeon with the most advanced God Complex you 've ever seen is , in fact , a deity .
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The woman rubbed her chin as she surveyed the damage, her eyebrows knit together in a mix of worry and concentration. It was a particularly bad case. The man on the operating table before her had suffered two stab wounds and multiple lacerations, from multiple knives according to her sources. Gang violence was suspected. His right arm had been hacked off just above the elbow; she was fortunate the limb had been recovered along with the rest of the body and was still somewhat warm, but if she were to reattach it successfully, there was no time to waste.
Her dark brown eyes darted to the IV next to the table and then narrowed in disapproval. The fluid inside was clear. `` Why is that not my milk?''
`` We only have a limited supply of your milk, doctor,'' someone said. `` We know you can only produce so much.''
`` This is a case where we need it. Replace that with my milk, please.'' The sound of someone's feet skittering away to the ER's refrigeration unit was all she needed to confirm that the nurse understood. She stepped towards the operating table, paused, and clutched the shape of her pendant beneath her shirt. It was tucked away due to hospital regulations, but she could feel its shape: an ankh, the symbol of life, carved from jade.
*Life. This man will keep his life. I am sure of it. *
She tucked her sleek black hair into her surgeon's cap, tugged on a fresh pair of gloves, and slipped her mask over her face. `` You will see a miracle tonight, ladies and gentlemen,'' she said, reaching for her tools with gloved hands that had begun to glow a faint white. `` This child shall become whole once more.''
It took a few seconds before someone answered. `` You really think you can salvage his arm too?''
`` I stitched my husband back together from fourteen pieces. This is child's play.'' White light already filled the patient's wounds, too bright for mortal eyes to make sense of, but she knew exactly what was where. Her hands moved with inhuman speed and precision.
`` Was n't your husband already dead? And you had to go appeal to Thoth to learn the incantation to raise him?''
`` Hush, Johnson. I was the only member of the pantheon with enough magic to raise him in the first place. I'd like to see one of you mortals try that incantation.''
The room was quiet again. The woman worked diligently, her hands slicing and suturing with a confident yet meticulous touch. The patient's blood flowed where she willed and only where she willed. He felt as little pain as she could stand. A sheen of sweat formed on her brow, and the light beneath her hands flickered once, but she did not break pace. She would succeed. She was the Mother. She was the finest healer in the pantheon, and she would not lose this child, not if she could help it. The spell to raise the dead was a safety net, but it was not one she would use. No, she would have this one. She would win.
An hour passed like this. After she sutured the last wound, she stroked it with her soft fingers, willing it to heal quickly. She stepped back and looked over her handiwork. Every scratch had been sealed. Both puncture wounds had been cleaned and packed with sterile gauze. The arm had been carefully set and splinted. Nothing bled anymore. In fact, even the redness around the wounds had already started to fade. With a satisfied smile, she removed her mask and peeled her gloves away. *I've won this one, love, * she thought smugly to her husband, even though he could n't hear her. After she removed her cap as well, she leaned over her patient again. She stroked the edge of his face with the touch of a caring mother, and on queue, he stirred. He moaned quietly and leaned into the pleasant touch, but when his eyes flickered open and beheld the source of the caress, his brows tilted in confusion. `` Who are you?'' he croaked.
The smile she responded with was soft. `` Isis,'' she crooned. `` Doctor Isis at your service, sir.''
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[ IP ] Happy Rain
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The rain thumped relentlessly against Suzan's umbrella as it threatened to, sooner or later, find a way through to her. It had already concocted a clever way of getting into to her socks and onto most of her jeans, and soon it would have its watery way with the rest of her. She sloshed through the rippling pools, shoes squelching and jeans extra heavy with today's watery burden. *Another burden*, she thought. Her life had been full of them, since Mark had left.
`` Mum, wait up,'' yelled Katie from somewhere behind.
`` Katie!'' she huffed, `` How many times! Stay close to me, you do n't want to get wet... -er.'' She rolled her eyes as she added the final syllable.
Reluctantly, she paused to allow her daughter to catch. With an impatient sigh, she looked down at her soaking shoes. She had n't meant to catch a glimpse of the sullen reflection waiting there, but she did. There was no smile, just an impersonal, impassive, middle-aged face.
Katie came running up. `` Sorry, mum!'' she said breathlessly. `` But there was this absolutely **ginormous** puddle-'' She bent down placing one hand on her knee, the other raised up in an apologetic gesture.
`` -and you could n't help jumping in it,'' Suzan finished for her daughter, who was finally starting to catch her breath.
`` Someth- something like that,'' Katie replied grinning.
`` Well, please stop. You're ten, Katie - you're not a child any more. It's my responsibility to get you to school on time - do n't make it harder for me. I've got enough problems already, I do n't need any more.''
``... sorry, mum.''
`` Just, stay close. Stay under the umbrella.''
`` I do n't think it's going to help. I ca n't get much wetter.''
`` Suit yourself, just *stay close! *''
For a long while, mother walked solemnly while daughter skipped through the water laden streets, their silence only broken by Katie's occasional giggles.
Suzan saw it first. Huge and shimmering and irresistible to a young girl who loved splashing. `` Do n't even *think* about it.''
Then Katie saw it. Then, she thought about it. It was the biggest puddle she'd ever seen, and something about it looked *so* inviting. `` *Jump, *'' it crooned at her, `` *Jump! Just imagine the splash we can make together! *'' She bit her lip as she considered.
`` I'm serious,'' Suzan said.
`` I love you mum,'' replied Katie, already running towards the puddle. `` But I have to do this!''
`` Katie!'' screamed Suzan.
But Katie was already jumping. Her tiny feet broke the surface tension and quickly dipped down into the water as huge droplets exploded from the puddle. Then her ankles were submerged in it; then her calves, knees, legs and three quarters of her body.
Katie's neck and chest were all that peeked out of the puddle. Her mouth was open. `` M-m-um,'' she said unhappily. `` What's happened?''
Suzan took a moment to speak. `` They were doing road works here - I think you jumped into a pothole.''
`` Mum!''
Suzan finally reacted; she threw down her umbrella and ran over to her shocked and shaking daughter. She reached over and lifted Katie out of the deep pool, and placed her down on the side-walk.
Daughter looked at mum. Mum at daughter. Daughter laughed first, then mum. It was like an explosion; years of pent up responsibility and burdens; of trying to be everything but not really being anything. Suzan laughed and smiled and tried to speak, but the words could n't find any room to escape. Tears fell from Suzan's eyes, but for the first time in years they were n't tears of sadness.
Eventually, the tears and the laughter calmed. She picked up her daughter's hand. `` I know I do n't say it often, Katie, but I love you very much. And I know I do n't show it all the time, either. But I do love you. More than *anything*. You know that, right?''
`` I know, mum.''
`` Good.''
`` Mum...''
`` What is it?''
`` I'm soaking.''
Suzan laughed and wiped a mix of tears and rainwater from her eyes. She looked over at the discarded red umbrella and shrugged. `` Well, let's get you home. I do n't think school's going to miss you for *one* little day. I'll make you a hot chocolate and we'll play some games. K?''
Katie beamed. `` K!''
`` And maybe we can have some fun on the way home,'' she said as they began to walk.
`` Mum, your umbrella! It's back by the puddle.''
`` Mmm, maybe I do n't need it. Let's see how I do without it for a while,'' she said, as the rain splashed her face and rinsed her hair.
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[ WP ] Your autistic daughter has an obsession with rubiks cubes , but insists on a different pattern . One day she 's trying to place a finger on each central square but ca n't reach all six sides . Playing along you press the remaining squares , and feel the squares click in to place ...
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Instinctively, I froze. We sat there, both touching the cube. As we sat there in silence ( which was nothing out of the ordinary ) I noticed that this was her favorite cube, of the fifty or so that she had. It was a vintage one, made from wood and some of the bright stickers were coming off. But that was when I noticed that she had torn off some of the stickers all together. That was very unusual since she loved to keep her collection immaculate. On the few tiles that she had torn off the stickers, there were markings. Shape and designs that I had never seen before.
`` Mommy, take your other hand and lift the lid.''
She had spoken to me. She was nearly nine years old and never in her entire life had she spoken a single word to me. I could n't even move.
`` Mommy!'' She said with more urgency.
I slowly moved my hand, more focused on my daughter than the actual cube. I could n't even speak. The lid flipped open quickly and easily. Inside was a small vial and a letter.
Dear Recipient,
You are about to have the unfortunate advantage of what is contained in this box. Before you is a vial that contains one dose of a medication that will cure anything that is wrong with the body. It is something like the genetic makeup of a god. No cancer, no injury, no pain will ever effect you again.
Be wary before you take this though. There is no way to replicate it and there is only one dose. Just understand that time will also not effect you. You will be force to watch everyone you love die, and can do nothing about it.
I have done this for a selfish reason. I have sent this out into the world with the hopes that someone will join me in eternity. Once you take the dose, you will be able to understand the meanings of the markings on the side. It is a map to me. If you have figured out the riddle that is this box, I have given you a choice. The decision is now yours.
My daughter lifted the vial out of the box as I read the letter. Without hesitation she cracked it open and gulped the whole vial. I smacked it out of her hand, but it was to late.
`` Why did you take that?''
`` I just wanted to be perfect for you.''
`` But, honey, you were perfect before! You did n't have to drink that!''
She seemed to be stunned by that. She seemed stunned that a mother could love a child that did n't speak, that had an obsession with small cubes, and could hardly do first grade math. I reached over and pulled her close to me. She fought the hug as she normally did, but I forced her to stay close to me and the cube fell to the ground.
We heard that click again.
Another letter fell to the ground.
Dear Recipient,
You have just had a quick shot of the best, most pure water in the entire universe. Nothing I stated above was true. This box is meant to show you the true nature of those around you. Whatever you chose to do with the previous information and how you responded to it has inadvertently changed your lives forever. You no longer view the person beside you the same way. Though I will never know if it was for the better or the worse, I hope that you have learned what you needed to in order to treasure the right things in life. Thank you for playing my little game.
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[ WP ] You are a student at a prestigious school of Kung Fu . Unbeknownst to you , the masters have decided to train you incorrectly as a joke .
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Húndàn `` Bobby'' McCoy faced his opponent. His first real opponent ever.
He knew he was ready. He had been trained by the finest chi-show Masters in the Five Styles: Ant, Ram; Peacock; Skunk; and Bear.
They had never agreed to train a non-Chinese born, but as they examined him as a young child, the remarked what a high Midi-Cholorian count he had; he would be the one to bring racial balance to the YingYang.
His parents were willing to give him up, not because they did n't love him, but because their poverty. With four other mouths to feed, they saw the opportunity for their child to have advantages they never had, growing up in rural Appalachia... a full belly, and education, and the chance to be, what they continually referred to as the ``'Merican Karate Man.'' His father, almost a stranger to him, was entirely proud of his son's accomplishments.
The Masters had taken him the temple, taught him, trained him... they were not only his masters but also like fathers; his Chinese name means `` something overlooked but essential'' - no one looked to a white boy from West Virginia, but he would be the one to unite East and West, to break down racial barriers between China and America.
Now, his Húndàn's only barrier to being granted the title of Master was to win the tournament. The Masters told him his skills were unparalleled; he had not even been permitted to train with the other students, for fear that his natural skills would discourage or injure them.
He had defeated his Masters in sparring - his Masters! Master Hu had even begged for mercy. He was ready.
His masters stood side by side at the edge of the mat. His parents had been flown out... it was his Mother's first trip out of his home county.
His opponent was introduced first `` Fighting for the honor Beoji, China, in the Tiger / Crane stye, is Wang Liying, age 19.''
`` Fighting for the Honor of County of Calhoun, State West Virginia, United States of America, in the....''
the announcer stared at the card for a moment.
He looked up at the Masters, as if to ask, `` is this correct?'' They nodded their assent with stone faces.
With a small voice, he continued. `` In the styles of Ant / Ram / Peacock / Skunk / and Bear...'' The announcer turned his face to his arm to shield it from the crowd. He knew what was coming. Húdàn told himself that he would not humiliate his opponent, he would merely defeat him. `` Húdàn... McCoy.'' The crowd roared in laughter. The Masters had warned him about this. The crowds would not understand a white man from America could be a master.
The scarf was dropped and the match began. Húdàn saw his opponent begin with Tiger style, his `` paws'' ready to strike. This would be easily countered with Ram style. He leaned forward and focused his midi-cholorians into his face. He ran toward Liying quickly, who struck him squarely in the face.
The pain was real, but his opponent seemed to have hurt his hand, as he struck the bony skull of the ram.
Quickly, Húdàn changed to Peacock style. He thrust out his chest and put his arms back, with his head up. Still a little dizzy from the tiger strike, he strutted toward his opponent. But the Tiger was not so easily intimidated, and give him a solid front kick to his outthrust kick. Falling on the ground, Húdàn quickly recovered by turning around and facing his bottom toward Liying, in the style of the skunk. All opponents fall to the threat of odor! He let go of the gas that he had carefully protected over the past few days.
Somehow Liying withstood the attack. He now stood, discouraged, as he looked in puzzlement toward the Referee. `` Get up, Húdàn!'' He shouted. He was now afraid.
The Ant would finish this battle. Húdàn quickly crawled on arms and legs toward Liying, who dodged around the mat. If only he could get his pincers on his toes, the fight would end with a victory! But he dodged, again and again, and started reigning down strikes on his back and kidneys - kicks to the side, strikes to the back of the head. Húdàn scuttled away quickly.
He did not want to have to bring it to this, but he needed the victory. It had come down to the style of the Great Bear.
Húdàn slowly lumbered around the ring while Liying bounced on his toes, ready for action.
Focusing his midi-colorians, Húdàn stretched, and curled up into a ball on the mat for the Unbreakable Sleep.
He felt a few kicks land on his back.
`` Get up, Húdàn!''
`` Fight, Húdàn!''
Nothing could wake his from the Unbreakable Sleep. He was the master.
A few more kicks. Then he saw through drowsy eyes, his opponent. Complaining to the referee, and then he stormed off the mat.
The bell rang.
`` The winner, for China, LiYing!''
Húdàn stood in shock. He had dominated his opponent! How could he lose? He turned to see his Masters all doubled up in laughter. Was this a test?
`` Nice work, Húdàn! Go for America! Ha ha ha!''
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