Split (3)

train · 273k rows

prompt stringlengths 5 331	story stringlengths 404 40.3k
[ WP ] Write a generally lighthearted and cheerful story that is turned dark by its last few lines/last paragraph .	I found the note folded up between the pages of a second-hand copy of'wuthering heights' - not a book i would ordinarily pick up, but something drew me to it nonetheless. And I am glad I did. It was written on blue air-mail paper, the kind I once used when writing to my penpal in america. The paper is thin already, and time has made it more so. I do n't think the note has been read in a long time - the book had a layer of dust along the top that i had to blow away. I only found the bookshop because I lost my way, trying to get to the train station. I must have taken a wrong turn, because I found myself walking in a circle, ending up back at the bookshop - so I thought I may as well have a look inside. I do love a good second-hand bookshop. The smell is just... like home. The note was particularly poignant for me to find at that time. I'd just lost my mother, and my job. I was n't sure how I was going to cope without either. I felt like I was adrift, floating out to sea. Or sailing away into the clouds, like a child's balloon, soaring higher with no telling where I would end up. Oh, you want to know what the note said? Sorry, I'm wittering on, like I always do. It said `` Sometimes the only way you can stop feeling lost is to choose a direction and start walking.'' So that's what I did. I walked out of the bookshop and started to walk. I looked up to the sky. I did n't see myself floating away anymore. But, I did n't see the car coming either...
[ WP ] Your tech-illiterate grandmother somehow broke into a top-secret government database while trying to get `` the Google '' .	`` Michael! Michael! Come here!'' `` Hey Grandma, what's up? You need help uploading your photos?'' `` Michael! Come here!'' `` I am here gra- uh I'M HERE GRANDMA. '' `` Oh, thank goodness! Michael, we have to do something, they are going to kill him!'' `` Calm down grandma, you're over excited. Have you been reading those Mick Jagger Paul McCartney fantasies again?'' `` Cheeky! And no, not yet. No, this is about that nice man Mr Trump. It says here they are going to'eliminate' him before he becomes a... national security threat.'' `` Are you on Fox news? Wait... what is this site? How did you get on here grandma.'' `` Well, I was just pressing the rat-'' `` Mouse.'' ``..do n't interrupt!'' `` Ow! My hand!'' `` Where was I... oh yes. That nice Mr Trump. I was just clicking on this bit here, and then I sneezed and then I tried cleaning up the keyboard from the mess, and then I saw this page called'top secret'. I think I have made it OK now though Michael - I unticked the box next to his name.'' `` This... this is a secure government site grandma, you must have typed in a username and password - this could be legit. We do need to tell- Hey! Where are you going?'' `` I'm bored Michael, I'm going to make a cup of tea.'' ``... OH MY GOD DONT PULL OUT THE..... plug. Oh jeez grandma.. Owch!'' `` Do n't use the Lords name in vain, Michael. Now, come have a cup of tea dear.''
[ WP ] All politicians must wear Nascar like uniforms showing the logos of who is sponsoring their elections . Everyone is shocked when the President of the United States makes a speech wearing a new uniform . It 's all blank except for one logo .	As the president came to the stand, he was not alone. Of course, the president can never be alone, always protected by security and followed by advisors and behind them the trusted more-than-a-few. This time, however, the president was followed by just one man. The man had on him a green jacket, white undershirt, and brown slacks. All proper attire, sure, but there was one feature the press for this surprise broadcast wanted to know: Sponsor Logo. As is, the man in green does not have a logo, giving birth to talk among the assembled spectators. Lacking a logo, they turn their attention back to the president, wearing a new windbreaker that would normally be proudly displaying the numerous corporate badges of his supporters, turning the symbol or focal point of American interest in the company for these minutes into a strutting advertising page... But this new windbreaker does not display the multitude of colored signage normally spotted. Instead, it displays but one symbol, unseen before then. Quick Googling by the reporters and many a political adversary turn up no relevant hits. The computer algorithms have failed them this one time and this shakes them, whether they show it or keep their mask. A short description seems in order, now. Orange or gold or some combination thereof, squared off into a corner at what would be the bottom right of a square, then extending halfway up the sides to turn suddenly into points parallel indicating towards the top-left. Nested between the points, in a pocket by the lower-right, a full circle. After the president makes it to the podium and the collection of individuals quiets, the president speaks. `` I wish to inform the country, and by extension hopefully the world, of a drastic new change about to come. Yes, we are already in the midst of a crisis, and the militaries and countries of the world have joined together wholeheartedly to combat this problem, which originated in this great country of ours.'' `` However... This new change, this... opportunity... has arisen not from this nation or any nation yet known to this world. I would like to introduce the man beside me to continue,'' As the said man in green taps them on the shoulder. `` Wallace?'' The man identified as one `` Wallace'' steps up to the podium as the president steps down and heads into the back, whence they came. `` Earth is a beautiful planet, full of opportunities as we all know and is currently in the middle of a crisis. Aliens ply our waters, dig our sands, and are currently waging war on mankind. A war we alone are losing. A war we no longer have to be alone in. I speak as former Administrator for the Black Mesa Compound, where this all began due to the negligence of a few. I have come bearing the answer to our combined problems, not just alien - Overpopulation, starvation, lack of fresh water, the housing crisis - all things we would eventually fall to without help.'' `` And help I herald, from beyond the stars so recently turned hostile - A union of extraterrestrial beings who have achieved far more than we could ever hope for! And what do they ask of us in return for their help? Nothing more than to join them when we have matured further with their teachings, their guidance. Think! Not only to end this war not but to ascend!'' `` Think on that if you will. Remember too that these benefactors may choose to stay their hand if we do not choose soon and annihilate ourselves by our own hand.'' `` The president wears their symbol. The symbol of the Universal Union.'' And what has that brought us? Nearly twenty years of suffering under the iron fist of the Combine with Wallace Breen their willing puppet. What of earth? Well, unless something happens soon, I'm going to lose hope. Well, end of the line. See ya.
[ WP ] Your kid calls you into their room one night , `` There 's something under the bed . '' You go down to check it out and upon inspection see your child under the bed and they whisper `` I think theres a monster on the bed . ''	I did n't want to look up. So I did n't. I kept my eyes locked under the bed. It was my son alright. Looking back at me, tears in his eyes, hugging his favorite teddy bear. He never went anywhere without his teddy bear. I should've noticed it earlier. `` Is... it... gone?'' He whispered again. `` How do I know it's you Jim?'' I countered. My eyes stayed glued to him. If death was coming for me, I'll admit, for once in my life, I did n't want to find out. `` Dad?'' He pleaded quietly. `` Tell me, Jim.'' I whispered back. As I did I felt the bed shift ever so slightly. Towards me, from overhead, I felt it. Someone, something watching me. Quietly waiting. Biding it's time. Expecting me to sit up. `` Dad...'' Jim whimpered. `` Jim... I love you man.'' I deadpanned, `` Please tell me it's you.'' `` Bad... Bad... Leroy Brown...'' Jim cried softly, `` The baddest man in the whole... damn town...'' `` Badder than old King Kong...'' We both quietly sung, `` Meaner than a junkyard dog.'' I'd taught him that silly old song this morning in the car. We got a good laugh out of it, and of course I'd mentioned never to tell mom. `` You said... Do n't tell mom.'' My blood ran cold. It was him alright. I felt the bed twitch again. I felt a lukewarm breeze against my neck. Breathing. Something fucking breathing on my neck. I had to do something. I could n't just lay here. I'm a man. I'm his dad. May as well as least go out like one. `` Jimmy...'' I breathed, `` I love you man. No matter what.'' `` I love you too.'' He cried. I breathed, tensed, made peace with God; and jumped up to face that fucking thing. And the bed was empty. Nothing there, the blankets strewn away from the mattress. I looked high and low for that thing. Checked every nook and cranny. It was gone. `` Marla!'' I shouted. `` Yeah?!'' She replied from down the hall. `` Get up! Get your clothes! We're leaving for your mom's house!'' `` Why?!'' Marla yelled. `` We're leaving!'' I responded. I quickly remembered to grab Jimmy from under the bed. `` Dad what's going on!?'' He cried. `` We're leaving buddy!'' I explained as I pulled him to the door. Marla greeted me at the other end of the hallway. `` What's wrong?!'' She panicked slightly. `` Something's here and it's after Jim! We've got ta' go!!'' `` Dad what's wrong?'' I went numb. I watched Jim walk out of the room from behind Marla. He rubbed his eyes as if he'd just awoken. He clutched his favorite teddy bear, like always. And when he saw me, true fear flooded his face. `` DAD WHO'S THAT!?'' Jim screamed immediately. My wife began screaming in horror and pointing at me. If Jim is there, who'd I just pull from under the b
[ WP ] Five Minutes to Midnight	`` Hey Jack, want to get a round of drinks?'' Tony asked as I made a half-hearted laugh. `` I wish, Tony, but I got ta go see my daughter's recital. How's about tomorrow night?'' `` Alright, Jack, but you're going to miss out on the big game tonight!'' `` Well, tell me who wins!'' I yelled back at Tony as we departed to our cars. I set my briefcase down as I pulled out my phone, looking at the clock that flickered onto the screen. It read 7:45. `` Shit, I'm going to be late to Sarah's recital.'' I fumbled my hand in my pocket for a few seconds, frustratingly moving between my wallet and the skin of the pocket's lining as I tried to drag the big wad of keys out from my pants. Finally, I pulled them out and opened up the door, tossing my briefcase onto the passenger's seat as I sat down on the driver's seat and closed the door. I took a small sigh of relief as my back melded with the leather seating of my BMW. But my relaxation disappeared as I heard it. A single beep, so eerie and out of place. Was it someone unlocking their car? No; it was those numbers popping up, in a crimson red tone, in the backseat of my car. `` 5:00''; it sat there, nearly motionless, with only the small flickering of the screen to remind me that whatever this thing was, it was active. For a moment, I thought it was a prank by Tony. He'd put an alarm clock in my car, probably from when he caught me sleeping in the underground parking garage many months ago. But that would've only made sense if this clock was plugged into a wall outlet. My suspicions were confirmed as a number popped up on my screen. There were no numbers, only the word `` RESTRICTED'', as I slowly answered the phone. `` H-Hello? Who is this?'' `` In the next few moments, the bomb in the back of your car will be activated. You have five minutes to live. If you move suddenly, the bomb will detonate automatically. If you do nothing, the bomb will detonate when it reaches zero. Choose what you do with these next few minutes wisely. They will be your last.'' `` Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you?!'' I screamed at the phone as sweat began to pour down my forehead. Tears began to form, struggling to contain themselves in my eyes, and struggling to flow down my cheeks as I continued to yell at the phone. `` Answer me!'' But there was no answer, and there was no one else on the line any longer. As I gently put down the phone, I looked back at the red lights and saw 5:00 turn into 4:59. Then 4:58,4:57, 4:56... Dear God, what was I going to do? I turned on the light in my car and looked at the black box, full of multiple wires arching all over the figure. I tried to think of which wires to pull or to cut, but I was no bomb expert. I'm a fucking accountant! I crunch numbers, not explosives! My hands began to tremble as I tried to grasp different wires, but fear turned my sweaty palms into impossible grasps. I decided to stop trying to defuse the bomb, and pulled my hand away. I began to cry, realizing this was my end. I was n't going to see my daughter graduate. I was n't going to see my daughter get married. I was n't going to see my grandkids, and I surely was n't going to see a single wrinkle on Debra's face; my beautiful wife. Although maybe that last one was a blessing in disguise. I made a small chuckle at my own misguided humour and slowly placed my hands together, praying to God, or Allah, or Shiva, or something. I did n't even know what. I was never a very religious man, and was more focused on my life than I was on life after death. But now being on death's doorstep, it was finally time to trying to get something's attention, hoping that this was n't the end of ever seeing my family again. And if it was, I prayed that they at least got some protection after my demise. I opened my eyes and looked back at the clock. 2:47, 2:46, 2:45... Wow, time sure was flying by fast. I would've thought that my last moments would've felt like an eternity, but it seems like I just was n't a lucky man. Then again, most men do n't end up being strapped to a 2-ton bomb. Man did I hope I would n't end up being labeled a terrorist or something along those lines. I mean are we really still scared of terrorism? It's not like we've been attacked any time recently. But man would it suck for Debra and Sarah to be seen as the beloved ones of a suicide bomber. Speaking of which, I sure as hell hoped they did n't think I'd end my life, especially not this way. I snapped myself out of it. I only have a little over two minutes to live, and yet here I was, talking to myself over some trivial matter. I needed to hear Debra's voice one more time, and hopefully get a small glimpse of Sarah's recital. I sure as hell was not going to calm down with seeing numbers ticking away with every breath I took. I opened my phone's contact list and pulled up Debra's number, calling as I waited for her to pick up. Every one of the long notes, informing you that the call was connecting, I gulped a little harder. What if she did n't pick up? What if I went with my last moments not even getting to hear her soft voice one last time? I gulped deeply, as my throat became a lead weight with each passing note. But finally, there she was, her soft voice speaking into the phone. `` Hello?'' `` Hey, honey. How's the recital going?'' `` It's just about to begin. Where are you, Jack?'' `` I'm still at work, honey. I ran into some issues before I left.'' `` Well just hurry over here. Sarah ca n't wait to show you her skills. She's becoming a real ballerina.'' `` That's amazing, honey.'' I began to gently cry and sniffed. `` Well unfortunately I ca n't make it, honey. Something's come up.'' `` What could possibly be more important than your daughter's big night? You're really going to disappoint her, Jack.'' `` I-I know, honey. But you'll understand soon why I could n't make it.'' My sobs became clearer as I cried into the phone. `` Jack, what's wrong?'' `` I just want you two to know that I will always love you. I'm so sorry this happened. I do n't know why it did, but it just did. Just know I'll always be looking out for you two.'' `` Jack, you're really scaring me here. Jack, what is wrong? What's going on? Please tell me.'' `` You'll know soon enough. Tell Sarah that daddy loves her more than anything. I love you two so much. G-Goodbye.'' I hung up the phone as I opened up my pictures on the phone and scrolled through them. My tears of sorrow became little bursts of happiness, remembering Sarah's birthdays, anniversaries with Debra, Tony's unusual humour, and that one time Sarah decided she should blow out my birthday candles! Debra called me back, and I thought for a moment of answering, but it would've been too hard to say anything else. I clicked the deny button and closed my eyes, taking in one last breath as I let my mind race. Man, I really should've gotten that drink with Tony.
[ FF ] Your job has just been relocated to hell ... less than 400 words .	And so I clock in, the low hum of acceptance that I am a slave of the Corporate agenda. Except now I actually am, in hell. It is n't as bad as I could have imagined it, but it still is pretty shitty, The Paint mixer now has a variety of Blood and additives to dye it. Now I sell Licenses to demons who need to get their daily cult following. I sell Demon Banishing ammunition and weapons to Demon hunters, and strangely to another demon today, although I ca n't say anything, he did mumble something along the lines of `` Oh, today she will learn to shut up. The other employees act the same, nothing really to do about it, we learned to put up with just about anything, before the relocation. It still is a soul sucking job except its literally sucking out my soul. Still though, who would have thought that Mike Duke was the Antichrist?! That was a shocker, well kinda, I guess it explained a to. Oh well, got ta get back to the grind, or else the Balors will eviscerate me, talk to you later.
[ WP ] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence .	Men screaming again, was there anything of note in that? She'd seen it enough not to be moved by it because it was everyday and natural, only natural given the circumstances. Sky gone dark, coup in the stars when so many years ago the night sky lit like a beacon and all those far-off worlds came screaming in to take two million and go streaking again. The whole world waiting for it to happen again but it never did. One fire-rain and that was it, a breath of the extraordinary and terrifying that turned all too human when the ships came crashing down. Trust people to turn the whole thing into national insanity. Rumble in the ground, more screaming again, men and women all crying out and copper stink in her nose, living right down in her pores. It was all there was most days, this hell. A vending machine she'd thought once, built by Satan, that, when she pressed the buttons, deposited corpses and she was left wondering what had happened to her candy bar. She'd laughed about that before but it was nothing but truth now and no reason for laughing any longer. Bright lights turned her pale, overruled the sun so she was always blanched and pinched looking. Buzzing fluorescent and cheap tile and horror on horror her whole world, outside a haze of petrol stink and chemical breath, dark wings in the sky. A blur of skin color and eyes was saying her name and shaking her. Wake up, wake up goddamn it, work to do. She blinked and waited until the world came back again, and stood up, ground rolling under her feet like a pitching ship. Great basso roar from somewhere. That'd be the old wailers, lobbing their fire to bring down the mountains. Goddamn overblown artillery, pried off the behemoths that came from the sky. She did n't like seeing them turn people, as if by cruel magic, to paste or screaming apparitions. Ringing in the year too, most likely. The standard New Year salute, in that twist of humor so dark as to be infernal. Hell of a thing, to be an active combat surgeon with a ketamine habit in good old 2152.
[ WP ] In a fantasy world that has been at war for centuries you are a drifter who , through random chance , has saved the lives of the two opposing Monarchs in two separate situations years apart . Neither of them knows that you saved the other , despite you having remained a close confidant of both .	The Minos were a hard and violent people. A cold race of warriors. They found little place in their stony hearts for the weak. They rarely felt pity. They looked on other tribes as enemies to battle, inferiors to enslave, or vermin to exterminate, nothing more. They had sharp features and lean bodies. They wore scars on the fronts of their bodies like badges of pride and victory. Those who wore scars on their backs were incessantly mocked by their peers, and sometimes even banished or outright murdered in their sleep. `` He runs into wrath who flees the spear of his enemy,'' they said, in justification of their hatred of back scars. Such were the Minos. A terrible and bloodlusting bunch. And Azuru was their king. He stood over seven feet tall and had incredibly broad shoulders. He was muscular beyond all compare. He dwarfed the other Minos, looming over whole crowds of them like the last living giant, a race which had long since gone extinct. There were few traces of the giants left in the world. Huge and broken stone tools, scattered bones. They lived on only in words and stories. But the Minos were invariably reminded of the giants when they watched Azuru in battle. The giants had been as ruthless as predatory animals. Azuru, too, was a ruthless, predatory man. He was a man who lived a walking death, despondent, listless, aimless, unless he had some enemy to taunt and fight. Some contesting power to face up to and kill. His spirit was energized by nothing but the blood of his enemies: the thought of blood, the sight of it, the smell of it, the taste. The last speech he gave before he left alone on the spiritual journey into the mountains that he, as king, was required to take yearly, was a speech of violence, enmity, and war: `` We Minos are the bloodthirsty spirit of the Earth made flesh. We are fate, death, and conquest personified. We are the ultimate predators of the Earth. All others are prey, on whose flesh we are destined to feast. And we Minos are more than mere humans. We are gods among mortals. Gods of war, whose spirits burn with the flames of eternity, but only in moments of violence and warfare. Only through warfare and battle are we made immortal and whole.'' The gathered masses shouted and cheered. One man was particularly swept up in the rhetoric of violence and promptly began beating the man standing beside him to death with a stone. The Minos watched and cheered. After the crushed man ceased moving, the crowd turned back to Azuru, to hear him finish his speech. `` But we Minos have too long been deadlocked in our war against the spell-casters. Those frail and bookish men who fear blood, who fear flesh, who fear the glory of true combat, and who therefore stand back from the battlefield, casting their shadowy charms upon us.'' `` Down with them!'' a man shouted. `` Yes,'' said Azuru. `` Down. Today, as always at this time of year, I shall begin my ascent to the peak of Bak Mountain to fast and to hear the speech of the God. I will ask him for a vision of how we may finally defeat the spell-casters. I do not know how long I will be gone. Perhaps days, perhaps a month. You will not become soft in my absence. The man who is softest when I return will be thrown to the vipers.'' The men cheered. Vipers slithered in the dark pit, a ways in the distance. And at that Azuru turned and went off, towards the mountains, to seek out a vision from the God. But what he found was not the God. Instead, he found the cold and inescapable hand of death, from whose clutches he was saved, at the very last minute, by a shepherd named Haku. The very same Haku whose praises rang loudly and constantly all throughout the Wizard Kingdom. The very same Haku whose statue had been erected in the royal City of Towers, before the palace doors. The very same Haku who had saved the Wizard King Obin, sworn enemy of Azuru, from certain death. What remains to be told, then, is Haku's story. ( I started and now have to go out but hopefully I can finish this later! Sorry that it only marginally overlaps with the prompt! ) -- - /r/lalalobsters
[ WP ] 75 years ago , a child was given an iron key by his grandmother . After all this time , he has finally discovered what it opens .	George turned the key over and over between his grizzled fingers, their tips dyed yellow from years of nicotine addiction. The key itself was nothing special; just a hunk of key-shaped pig iron he'd kept for the last 75 years. He was nearly 90 now and detested getting old. He hated the constant ache in his hips and knees, that haunting feeling of forgetting something important, the embarrassment of wetting himself with every sneeze, the empty spot in his bed where only a few years ago, his wife had slept next to him... For him, this was hell, watching his independence and self control slip through his fingers like sand. But what hurt the most, more than any physical pain could hurt, was looking into his son's eyes, and watching him watch his father wither away to a husk. George raised the key to eye level, tracing the familiar scars in the iron. His memory had turned to shit but he could still recall the day his grandmother had handed him the key. `` Georgie,'' she had said with her slight southern tilt. `` You will need this one day.'' She handed him the key, strung with leather before leaning back in her seat, sunlight flooding the parlor. He never found out what she meant by the time she died, or even by the time his parents had passed. But he still kept the key around his neck, feeling it get heavier with every passing year. But now... An odd letter had been delivered to him at the nursing home. The paper felt as thin and as old as him, the ink nearly illegible. But once he managed to decipher the letters, recognition struck him. The letter contained only one sentence. An address. So George snuck out of the nursing home, which ruffled his feathers the slightest. Him, a grown man having to sneak out like a teenager? But he managed to do so without getting caught and flagged down a cab. Now George sat in the city's oldest graveyard, eyeing the key in his hands, before a sharp pain struck him in the chest. He leaned over, clutching his breast. After a moment that felt like an eternity, the pain subdued to a minor ache and he unsteadily stood up. He was aware that he was experiencing a heart attack, and that meant his time was ( finally ) at an end. He started to walk past the headstones he had sat in front of, silently saying goodbye to his family buried under them, letting his hand brush against the stone of his wife's before stumbling past, towards the mausoleum. The letter had said' # 25' and he found the heavy wooden door easily. George pushed against it... and it did n't budge. He frowned and took a step back, inspecting it before he noticed the keyhole under the knob. He withdrew the key from his pocket, wondering if this was the reason he'd held onto such a useless object for so many years. He slid the key into the lock, holding his breath as he turned it. The lock clicked and the door opened slightly. George laughed aloud, pushing the door the rest of the way, suddenly exhilarated to know what it was all for. The room was dark and stifling, the smell of dust overwhelming- George cried out, leaning into the door heavily as another wave of pain shot through him, stronger than before. He kept still for a moment, trying to catch his breath when he looked up. Between the moonlight and his eyes adjusting to the dark, he was now able to see what waited for him in the room. A coffin. Through the pain, George laughed, shaking his head as he took one, two, three unsteady steps toward it, the door slowly starting to close now. `` You were right, Grandmother.'' He mumbled, using the last of the light to reach it, opening the lid as the pain intensified. He climbed in, slowly in the dark as the door clicked closed once more. He laid in the coffin, folding his hands over his chest. `` I would need this.''
[ WP ] A patient convinces his therapist to kill himself	I entered his office. It smelled of coffee creamer and leathery shoe shine. `` Take a seat, Lester'' the man in his late fifties said to me, as he motioned towards the couch. `` Any questions before we begin today, Lester?'' `` Yeah- I want you to kill your self.'' `` Lester, I will not do that, that is not something I'm interested in doing. Sorry. Any more questions?'' `` C'mon doc. What are you? Chicken?'' I said in my most menacing voice, taunting him. I could see Doctor Laudefriedensonfold begin to lose his composure. `` Lester, stop it. This is not why were here for. Can we begin?'' `` Doc, do us all a favor. Kill yourself doc.'' `` No.'' `` Yes!'' `` No!'' `` Please!'' `` Okay fine.'' The doctor then then killed himself.
[ WP ] A horror story about mayonnaise	Slowly Lila came to, her senses slowly filling in, first her hearing, then, even more slowly, her vision began to clear. She was in a cement room, possibly a basement. There was a drain in the center of the floor, a workbench to the left of her, a refrigerator to the right, and no windows, just a single dim bulb in the center of the room, dangling from the ceiling. She was wrapped in cling wrap, the same kind you use for leftovers when you do n't have a lid, not so tight it cut into her, but snug enough so that she could n't wiggle out of it or get her hands free. `` Woke up, have you, Peaches?'' Came a woman's voice across the room. `` I bet you're hungry. You've been asleep for two days. I've been waiting for you to come around. I've been bored.'' Lila tried to speak, but found her mouth to be full of more cling wrap, all she could do was mumble around it. `` No, no, no Peaches, do n't speak. I'm tired of hearing you make noise.'' The woman came out of the shadows, Lila did n't recognize her. She was a pretty girl, red hair, green eyes, the perfect kind of curvy. If Lila saw her on the street, she'd think she was lovely. `` You know Steven?'' The redhead asked. Lila nodded. Steven was her boyfriend, had been for almost a year. `` I was the one before you. I'm the one he'd be with if he had n't met you.'' Lila did n't respond, what could she say to that? `` You took away the one thing that mattered to me! I'M the one who loved him. I'M the one who dealt with his bullshit after his mother died! I'M the one who should be by his side, NOT YOU!'' Red's face had contorted with anger, getting more and more hideous as she paced. Suddenly her tone was calm, `` But that ends tonight.'' Red turned and walked to the work bench, she put on gloves, and grabbed a jar of mayonnaise that Lila had n't noticed before. All of a sudden, Red was very professional, bordering on pleasant. `` Do you know about mayonnaise, Peaches? How thick it is in the jar? Ever had it sit on a sandwich and just kinda melt after a while? That's what it does when it hits warmer temperatures, it just kinda... liquefies.'' Red said all of this as she spooned mayonnaise into a piping bag for cupcakes and affixed a thick tip. She set down the jar, rolled the ends of the bag until a little glop of mayo shot out. She used her free hand to grab Lila by the hair and pull mercilessly until Lila could n't move. Red tried to insert the tip into Lila's mouth, but Lila kept her lips clamped shut. `` Fine, Peaches, have it your way.'' Red huffed as she pulled Lila's hair even harder, forcing her head back, she inserted the tip of the piping bag first into Lila's left nostril, filling it with a slight squeeze, then she repeated with the right nostril. With her mouth shut, Lila could n't breathe! She violently blew out threw her nose, covering red with mayonnaise and snot. Red just laughed and immediately refilled Lila's nostrils. `` Peaches, I can do this all day. You're the one who is running out of time.'' Lila knew she had to open her mouth at some point, but she held her breath as Red started to talk. `` So basically, the mayonnaise will asphyxiate you, then, in time, as it heats up, it'll melt, leaving no reason for you to have suffocated.'' At this point, Lila could n't hold her breath any longer, she opened her mouth wide and gasped, Red seized the opportunity and pumped mayonnaise into her mouth, causing her to inhale some of the cling wrap and the mayonnaise at the same time. Lila began to choke and gasp, causing the mayonnaise to block hair air way. `` The cling wrap will leave no bruises and thus no sign of struggle, they might find some bruising on your scalp from me pulling your hair, but hair pulling ca n't cause death or suffocation so they'll assume it's unrelated, and after all, you're with Steven and we all know he likes rough sex.'' Lila laid there desperately trying to gasp while Red just watched, licking a bit of the left over mayo from the tip of a gloved finger.
[ WP ] Deconstruct Her Destruction	What a beautiful day. The sun gifts the organisms of life with radiating energy. She sits on a bench by the rose bush. She flicks her hair back and smiles, putting her purse down. Her smooth tanned skin bask in the rays of the sun. Her face is of perfect symmetry with an immaculate complexion. As she smiles two dimples appear just below her cheeck. She stands up and spins around as her long, luscious, brown hair waves in the cool summer wind and her sunflower dress catches the chandelier of light, dancing in a glory of dazzling beauty. She stands for a moment looking around at the beautiful garden. So many colors. So much life. The birds chirp gaily in the sycamore trees around her. She sits back down on the bench with a great big grin. Every few moments she would look around her and just smile, everything was so perfect. So perfect. The loud bang startled the birds away. The trees ruffled with small wildlife fleeing the unexpected sound. Blood drips from the rose bush.
[ WP ] During a boring English lecture the professor accidentally kills a student .	`` So why do we have English classes again?'' I muttered to Isaac. It was yet another boring old day with Professor... yeah I could n't even remember his name. I swear the administration made the schedule this way to bore us to death. Gym class at the crack of dawn, when we run about 5 kilometers? Fine. Basic Cain Combat right before lunch? Exciting. Dreadfully boring English, right after lunch, when we were all sleepy? What a pain in the ass. `` Hey Jenn, you are n't pregnant, are you?'' Isaac said, coyly grinning. We made sure to keep our voices down. As usual, he rapped his cane across the ground. `` Wait... what? You... last night... no way... ohmygodIneedtoseeadoctor-'' `` You do n't have any contractions.'' `` What?'' `` Get it? English class... contractions...'' While I was already slouching on my desk, I had to curl up and tuck my arms to prevent all of my limbs from strangling him. For the umpteenth time I wondered why I was dating Isaac. `` I'm serious,'' I hissed at him. I had to take a quick glance at the Professor to make sure he did n't hear us. `` We're Cains. The only soldiers who can fight against the aDAMs. We're guaranteed a life in luxury-assuming we do n't die. So why on Earth are we taking these dumb English classes?'' Isaac's face turned slightly more serious, but it was hard to tell because he still had that infuriating permanent grin. `` Eh, it's a nice break. Relax.'' He tapped the back of his own neck, which had a very large and visible white lump. I instinctively touched my own, too. `` If you're worried about training all the time, then these Onus cells might kill you.'' `` That does n't make sense. They only kill us if we stop wanting to become a Cain.'' `` Jenn, Jesus, use your brain a bit,'' Isaac said, groaning. I scowled at him. `` What, do you think if they overload us with training all the time, then we'll get sick of it, so we'll stop wanting to be Cains?'' `` Exactly.'' `` I'd rather have more training classes than English classes, because this shit is boring me to death and makes me want to quit.'' `` Jenn!'' Isaac said, alarmed. I rolled my eyes. While the back of my neck did flare up a little bit, it obviously did n't kill me. My resolution was a lot stronger than that. `` Isaac!'' the Professor called out. `` What's the matter between you and Jennifer? Please, I know it must be an exciting time for the two of you, but please do n't flirt in the middle of English class.'' There was a lot of sniggers at that. I groaned and buried my head in my arms. I did n't easily embarrassed, but I did n't expect the Professor to hear us. Isaac, meanwhile, continued unabashed. `` Sorry Professor Karling,'' Isaac replied. Ah, that was his name. `` It's just that Jenn is an apostrophe. I have to talk to her often, to reassure her I'm not cheating.'' `` Excuse me, Mister Johnson?'' `` She's rather possessive.'' The entire class burst laughing as Isaac beamed. I groaned even louder to make sure Isaac heard it. After a few minutes, Professor Karling managed to restore order. `` Dear me, dear me. What a quick-witted student you are, Isaac,'' he said, still letting out some snorts every now and then. `` Okay, Miss Parker?'' The girl across from me froze, dropping her pen to the floor. `` In The Scarlet Letter, who'' `` I DO N'T WANT TO BE IN HERE,'' Miss Parker shrieked. `` I CA N'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!'' `` Miss Parker, please take a deep-'' `` I CA N'T TAKE IT I CA N'T TAKE IT. I WAS RAPED A FEW MONTHS AGO BY ANOTHER PROFESSOR BUT I COULD N'T SAY ANYTHING BECAUSE HE'S A HIGH-RANKING CAIN I CA N'T TAKE IT I CA N'T TAKE IT-'' `` Miss Parker, I urge you to calm down. Please, can you tell me the name of this Professor?'' `` I CA N'T TAKE IT I CA N'T TAKE IT I CAN'T-'' and then she dropped dead. Isaac and I raised eyebrows at each other. I mentally crossed off another name in the checklist of students. That was an interesting way to die. Normally people dropped dead due to, well, the stress and such of being a soldier that saved the world. I wondered yet again about the survival rate of training. At this rate half the class would n't be alive by the end of the year. Professor Karling sighed. `` Please, ignore Miss Parker. Now, Mr. Xanither will tell us the significance of the color red in The Scarlet Letter. `` `` Oh, erm, uh... okay.'' As class continued, I took another glance at the corpse. It unnerved me how little I felt about the death. I never thought that I would be the emotionless type. That's what training at this school to fight against the aDAMs meant, I suppose. `` Hey Jenn,'' Isaac whispered. `` Isaac, this is n't the time.'' `` Not in the mood?'' `` Oh my God Isaac, I swear...'' `` Looks like you need some metaphorplay.'' Isaac spent the rest of the that class fending off my foot with his cane while violently laughing. Okay, I'll admit it. I give Isaac a lot of shit for his puns. But they distract me from the very grim situation. If I did n't have Isaac's humor to look forward to every day, I might've dropped dead like Miss Parker a long time ago.
[ WP ] Your life is an endless series of horror movies . You 're always at the wrong place at the wrong time . You 're stuck seeing all your friends die right after you make them . The reason you 're still alive ? You can hear the horror music .	`` Hey! Hey, wait up!'' I turned around to see a guy who looked to be in his early thirties with impossibly symmetrical features halfway between a shuffle and a jog running after me as I left my first college lecture. `` Uh, hi. Do I know you?'' `` No! No, but I know you!'' the guy blurted. `` You're the guy who survived that massacre in Deathridge!'' `` West Ridge. I went to West Ridge high. They just called it Deathridge because reporters are vultures.'' `` Totally!'' said the guy, still visibly excited. `` I'm Tan! Tan Branson. It's nice to meet you man, I have a ton of questions if you've got time!'' `` Uh, Tan, I'm still kind of not ready to talk about it. A lot of people died really terrible deaths, and most were elaborately staged so that I would see as each happened.'' `` Dude, I totally get it. I'm so sorry. Hey, you wan na come to the freshman mixer tonight?'' asked Tan eagerly. `` You're a freshman?'' `` Uh, yeah man, we just had the same class together,'' said Tan, unaware of how implausible it seemed that a person of his apparent advanced age would be a college freshman. `` Sure Tan, I'll be there,'' I said, and a familiar discordant string arrangement began. `` Oh, fuck.'' My skin began to crawl and I scanned the quad for anyone carrying an enormous rusty hook. `` Everything ok bro?'' asked Tan. A gorgeous woman apparently in her late 20's approached. `` Hey Tan!'' `` Hey Bunny!'' said Tan, who introduced her as another freshman living in his dorm. I tried to make conversation with her about anything but the murders, but they inevitably came up. `` So is it true that the killer forced you to strangle your surly chemistry teacher using his own penis?'' asked Bunny. I tried to respond, but that familiar string arrangement was growing louder. `` You look funny,'' said Bunny, `` Is everything ok?'' `` No, Bunny, everything is not ok. Unless you want to end up strangled by Tan's penis, you should go.'' `` Duuude,'' whispered Tan, `` I appreciate it, but your wingman game is like... aggressive.'' `` No Tan, I'm not trying to -'' I said, but the strings suddenly gave way to a deafening pause. I knew what that meant. Someone was about to get choked out with a dick. `` Look guys, I'm not going to the mixer. I think coming here was a mistake.'' `` Tan, this guy is weirding me out,'' said Bunny, adjusting her heaving breasts. Tan looked uneasy too. I assured him he should take Bunny and go, and that they should avoid having sex. `` Dude, now you're going like... way too far in the other direction,'' said Tan, a second before his chest burst open. I sighed as Bunny screamed. The hulking killer had plunged an axe into Tan's back and out through his chest, and leaned forward to make a snarky comment while making eye contact through the hole the axe left in Tan's carcass. Something about a treasure chest, I think. I could n't tell, between Bunny's screaming and the now violent music playing in my head. It sounded to be about 180 bpm, so I was in for a chase. Lucky for me Bunny was wearing heels. I bolted, and far behind me, Bunny's screams turned into a gurgle. I got into my dorm, and told my roommate to be sure to bolt our door and keep his music down that night. He asked if everything was ok, and why I had a large spray of blood coating my face and body. I told him there was no time to explain, but I had to hurry to my car in the sketchy, dimly lit part of campus. He asked if that was a good idea, and I sighed. `` No, not really. I'll be right back.''
[ WP ] In a fit of rage you break your bathroom mirror , and find a dark passageway behind it . Inside a video camera is pointed at you along with hundreds of tapes on the floor . You enter the space and turn around only to realize you 've been looking into a one-way mirror your entire life .	My entire life of living in this apartment has only been three days, the lease was signed four days ago, and since my new promotion I was able to move out on my own. Though small, this place was a steal for being in downtown Manhattan. New promotion means more responsibility, so when most were stumbling home from the bar I was up an at'em. The bathroom was so small that I could literally shower from the toilet, and hardly decorated since the lease took most of my money. Being in a rush my foot slipped as I stepped out of the shower, flailing and cursing for not buying a bath mat, my fist went through the mirror and my head bounced off the sink with a soft THUD! Unconsciousness has a devious way of fucking with one's sense of time, and since the bathroom has no windows I could n't tell how long I was out. Both my head and my hand hurt. My hand, bloodied, my head throbbing I stand to examine the destruction, feeling chilled I grab my towel. Glass... is... everywhere, I examine the knot on my forehead in a sliver of mirror still hanging on, my eyes focus and the fuzziness wains from my brain... the mirror! I carefully remove the remaining pieces, looking through both sides of the mirror, weird its a one way mirror, why the fuck would there be a one way mirror in my bathroom? A square hole is located at roughly eye level, directly behind the mirror, without a thought I plunge my hand through the hole and pull, I can feel wood and plaster start to give, I yank harder, the pain in my hand and head throbbing, I scream in pain and frustration. Chunks of drywall are flying, the bathroom is now a wet dusty mess, the point of the shower ruined as I stand bloody and filthy. I step through the now bigger hole the light from the bathroom illuminating my way, dust still floats in the air, my head is throbbing. My eyes adjusting, I start to make out the details of the bathrooms hidden secret, strewn on the floor is VHS tapes, who the fuck has VHS tapes, and a camera... is it still plugged in? I trace the wire but it disappears into the floor, I give a choking chuckle, I am not going to dig through the floor. Feeling squeezed in my head and in this room I hastily grab the camera and the tapes and make my way through the destruction, out of the bathroom, and onto my couch....but not before I grab some towels for my hand and an ice pack for my head. Fumbling with the camera, weird the battery is charged I get it turned on. Wading through the dust in my mind I remember these outdated devices... of course I had one years ago so I flip open the screen and rewind the tape... WHAT THE FUCK! I am on the tape, I am brushing my teeth, the date is three days ago, the day I moved in... fast forwarding I get to see the past three days in three minutes, all the way up to me ripping through the wall and ripping the camera from the outlet. I eject the tape, the label says 005, there are four other cassettes, they are labeled from 001 to 004. Am I 005? I put in 004 and rewind the tape. There is a girl blow drying her hair, the mirror is fogged, she must of just showered. She is wiping the steam off the mirror, damn she is cute, almost looks like Melissa Stern, was n't she the one who held my position, the one I was just promoted to... my head really starts to pound, I feel myself fading fast, is that the door pounding or my head? I hear people shouting but I feel myself falling, everything getting dark and fuzzy, Melisa, they said she had been promoted, that her position was... was where... more shouting, and pounding but I did n't care, did n't even hear the camera hit the floor.
[ WP ] Suddenly the dead have risen . The living corpses are walking the streets . But they are not craving our flesh , they are just as scared and confused as we are .	It was just so dark in here. Sam looked around but all he saw was a deep endless black. His breath was starting to get shallow as his brain started to suffocate from the lack of oxygen. He used the little strength he could muster up to kick the wooden boards surrounding his every side. Sam heard the crunch as his arms and legs crushed the insects crawling about on his skin. His hands hurt so bad from clawing away at the dirt. A mixture of blood and dirt coated his baby-soft hands. Finally, one of his arms broke through the ground and pierced into the air. To Sam it felt like it was the first time sun had ever shone onto his skin. He frantically gasped for air as his muscles tensed and pulled him out of his grave. Sam laid himself on the ground by his tombstone while he caught his breath. He looked down at his body in shock. His ribs were all back in place and his missing arm was back. He could n't find the scar on his leg from when he crashed his bike in 5th grade. Was n't he an organ donor? Sam pulled up his shirt, but his skin did n't have a single blemish. Not even his birthmark. Even stranger was the fact that Sam had his gained all his muscle mass back, he did n't look like the sickly bedridden thing he was in his last days. Sam did n't know what was going on. His mind was blank. It was still processing the fact that he was n't dead. It was going to be a while before he would even be able to conceive an theory on what was going on, but it did n't matter. He was alive. All that Sam had to do now was get back to Sophie. Luckily Sam had been buried in the local cemetery just like his mother. He visited her a lot here as a kid so he knew the way around. Unlike him, her death was painless. She just passed on in her sleep. Sam walked past her grave and stopped in his tracks. It had been dug out and desecrated, he peeked in to see an empty coffin crawling with insects and all the other nasty things in the ground. The pain in his cut up, bruised hands disappeared as he thought about someone digging up his mother's corpse for God knows what. Her bones belonged in the ground, not in the hands of a sick freak who gets his kicks from messing with the dead. Sam eventually got himself to the road leading to his house. Cars gave him weird looks as they drove by, seeing a man wearing a suit completely covered in dirt. Sam had walked for miles, but he did n't feel the slightest bit of fatigue or hunger. A empathetic driver eventually pulled to the side of the road, rolling down his window. `` Hey bud, ya feeling alright there?'' The driver asked. `` Yeah, I'm just trying to get home.'' Sam thought about how ridiculous the truth would sound. `` I think I was kidnapped. I'm not sure why, but they just threw me out over by the cemetery.'' `` The cemetery? You've got to be walking almost a whole day by now? Here, I'm Jim. Get in the car and I'll getcha a lift home.'' He offered. Jim could n't just stand by while someone needed help this bad, he would n't be able to sleep tonight if he just let the man keep walking. `` You mean it? Thank you so much!'' Sam's face lit up. He was so much closer to seeing Sophie. Now he would n't have to walk until tomorrow to see her. The car pulled off into the road, passing by farms and trees as far as Sam could see through the window. `` You've probably got to be real thirsty walk'in in the sun all day?'' Jim said as he passed over a water bottle.' `` Not really, but I guess that's just the adrenaline from being kidnapped'' Sam chuckled as he opened the cap. He pressed the bottle to his lips expecting the cool refreshment of water, but all he got was the water burning over his tongue with the taste of ash. Sam coughed up water all over the dashboard, trying to handle what felt like a fourth degree burn in his mouth. `` Woah there, you good?'' Jim worried. `` Yeah I guess I'm just a little shaken up still.'' Sam replied as he passed back the bottle. He looked out into the window to hide the expression of excruciating pain that shadowed on his face. Eventually Jim pulled up to a small house in the suburbs. The lawn was unkempt as if the person who was responsible for it stopped doing their job. Sam got out of the car with tears in his eyes, preparing himself for whatever was going to open up the door. He rung the doorbell and heard the chime that he had missed so much. The door creaked open, but whoever opened it was n't Sophie. ``... M-Mom?'' Sam would n't have believed it if he had n't been revived too. It was his mother, looking just the way she did the night before she passed. `` Hey Sammy'' She gave a full-hearted smile and then turned to face the house. `` Sophie! He's back too!'' She called. Sam could hear the fast paced pitter patter of his sister's feet as she ran downstairs and hugged her brother. Part 1
[ WP ] The dark lord finally returns after thousands of years . He is still used to sword and bow combat but there are tanks now .	`` You know,'' said Dark Lord Jun, rubbing the headache from his temple, `` if I had known it was going to be like this, I do n't think I would have returned.'' Today had been a particularly stressful day, full of meetings with heads of foreign industries all attempting to come to an understanding with him so they'd be allowed back into his lands. They'd all used too many big words, acted too friendly, and in the warm weather his suit chafed terribly. It had been months and he still had n't gotten used to wearing it. `` My lord?'' Abercrombie asked, looking up from the electronic device in his hand. `` If you'd known it was going to be like what?'' `` Like this!'' Jun, sweeping his arm to indicate the meeting room and presumably what went on in it. `` It was all a lot simpler when I just needed to command a horde of warriors to pillage and conquer.'' `` Yes, my lord,'' Abercrombie replied. It was his go to response to much of what the Dark Lord said, and Abercrombie had long ago discovered that it was simply easier to agree with the man than to argue. Those who argued tended to meet with unfortunate accidents. `` You did n't see me having morning meetings back then,'' Jun reminisced. `` I was up before dawn for sword practice, and then I just had to shout a lot. They built me a temple, you know.'' `` Yes, my lord,'' Abercrombie replied, trying to remained focused on his spreadsheets as he wrestled with a particularly troublesome pivot table. `` I was there, you'll recall.'' `` So you were...'' Jun said, trailing off. He started to rap his fingers on the table, itching for something to do. He had not expected his return to be quite this boring. `` Could we do something, Abe?'' he wondered aloud. `` Terrify some of the locals? I could get into my armour and run screaming murder down the streets just like the old days.'' `` I'll have to organise it with the police so they do n't shoot you, my lord,'' Abercrombie said, not bothering to look up this time. He knew by now that the Dark Lord could n't be bothered screaming as much these days, not since he learned everyone thought he was just being silly. `` We could make an event of it, like the Spanish bull run. Loads of fun.'' Jun stopped tapping the table and glared icily at Abercrombie. `` Are you suggesting people would find running for their lives from me to be fun? Just what kind of world is this?'' Abercrombie looked up with eyebrow raised, as if the answer were self-evident. `` The modern one, my lord.'' `` Well, what would you do if I threatened to chase after you with a sword right now?'' Abercrombie checked his tablet. `` I'd tell you that your three o'clock appointment is here.'' Jun sat back, perturbed. He'd forgotten about that. `` Who was it I was meeting again?'' `` The Russians, my Lord.'' `` And they're here to... surrender?'' Jun guessed hopefully. He'd made his demands plain the day he'd stolen the presidency and had terrified the small equatorial nation he'd eponymously renamed Juntoria into accepting him without further complaint. He'd demanded of all nations of the world that they offer him their immediate surrender, but thus far none of them had done so. But there always had to be a first, and he was nothing if not an optimist. Abercrombie, however, gave him a flat look. `` They're here to sell you the battle tanks, my lord.'' `` Oh...'' Jun said, trying to keep the disappointment from showing in front of his subordinate. `` How much are we paying for them?'' `` Two billion...'Jun-bucks', my lord,'' Abercrombie replied, trying to avoid revealing his distaste for the name of the new and failing currency. He did n't add that it was almost all of the money the nation had left, nor that that money had actually been provided by an American spy agency as part of a complex regional plan that Abercrombie did n't fully understand. All Abercrombie knew was that Dark Lord Jun demanded a large, powerful military and that since he had assumed control of the nation the GDP of'Juntoria' had plunged to roughly zero. The Dark Lord had little understanding of even the most basic economic concepts, and yet he was a prolific micro-manager when it came to the topic. Truly the scourge of the nation, Abercrombie thought sardonically, albeit not for the reasons he might have preferred. `` Two billion?'' Jun asked, clearly aghast at the enormous figure. `` These must surely be the tools of the Gods themselves... How many will that give me?'' `` Sixty,'' Abercrombie replied. He winced internally, unsure of how the Dark Lord would feel about the number. The Dark Lord was clearly displeased. `` So few? But they will allow me to conquer this world, yes?'' Abercrombie did n't answer immediately, he was feeling extremely uncomfortable about the fact that all of the other advisers had either migrated or had been otherwise retired. `` I'm told they do n't actually work...'' he said slowly. `` Although you'll recall that it was actually the War Advisor who ordered them.'' The Dark Lord eyed him, leaning in slowly with fingers steepled in front of him. `` We're paying two billion Jun-bucks for weapons that do not work?'' `` Yes, my lord,'' Abercrombie replied. The immediate future did not seem promising. The Dark Lord leaned in further, his expression hardening. `` Why?'' `` I believe the War Advisor was intending that we repair them, my lord...'' `` And can we do that?'' Jun asked, eyebrow raising slightly and the slightest hint of mollification entering his voice. Abercrombie looked pained. `` Not as it stands, my lord,'' he admitted. `` At this stage we're going to move them around and take photos so it just looks like we've got a lot of them.'' `` And how will that help?'' Jun asked, anger now barely restrained. `` Who is going to believe that?'' `` Well...'' Abercrombie explained, `` I was thinking that we could rattle the old sabre at our nearest enemy... get some foreign aid out of the United States.'' Jun looked at him blankly, as though he simply did not comprehend what was going on in Abercrombie's head. `` It's a metaphor,'' Abercrombie explained after a moment. `` It means making threats.'' The Dark Lord nodded his understanding slowly, but he did not look pleased. `` So, you intend for us to buy weapons that do not work from the Russians so that we can then threaten our neighbours to get money from the United States?'' `` Yes...'' Abercrombie confirmed, trailing off uncertainly. `` And then we use that money to get weapons that do work?'' the Dark Lord asked, a gleam in his eye. `` A cunning plan, Abe.'' `` That money is actually for food, Dark Lord,'' Abercrombie replied. `` We did n't produce any this year because you conscripted everyone who could fight and had them scare off everyone who could n't.'' The Dark Lord looked disappointed, more so this time since he'd somehow gotten his hopes up for just a moment. `` So when do we conquer the world?'' There was a meaningful pause between them as Abercrombie struggled to find the right words to say. He sighed, maybe it was time to simply say it, he could have run away like the others had but there was no getting out of it now. `` Dark Lord...'' he said awkwardly, `` perhaps it's time to stop trying to make world conquest happen. It's not going to happen.''
[ WP ] A man repeats the same second over and over , Groundhog Day style , for the rest of eternity . What is he thinking about ?	The drips continue to tap the twisted steel with their obnoxious dink... dink... dink. I'm forced to stare at them as they pool around the spiderweb-cracked windscreen and drop through one by one. One drop for one second, as far as I can tell. My head is locked into place by the serrated metal that claws at my chin and temples. My arms and legs are presumably trapped behind more mangled bodywork, although I ca n't feel them to know for sure. I ca n't close my eyes, for the pumping red blood vessels in my eyelids cause me to worry that I'll never open them again. dink... dink... dink The water drops continue. A constant loop of time that ironically reminds me of the seconds passing even though time itself appears to have come to a complete stop. I think I can feel the blood leaking from my body. I feel ever so slightly faint, even though I feel no pain. I do n't want to die. Maybe time really is looping here. If I stay here and stay awake maybe I do n't have to die. dink... dink... dink OK, OK. I'm feeling dizzy but I can hold onto my memory. Think about what happened. think about how I got here. I was driving home from the wedding along the B-road. Ok. The wheels hit something and slipped. Maybe a cat or a dead pidgeon or Jesus Christ I do n't know. Then the car went off the road into a... into a lake. Yes. A really fucking big lake. There must have been an underwater cave in the lake. An air bubble. That must be where I am now, right? Trapped in a goddamn underwater cave where nobody will find me because no one even fucking knows it exists. Oh god the pain. I can feel the pain now, my legs and arms are back with me but they do n't feel like legs and arms anymore. Not the right shape. dink... dink... dink I'm going to hold onto consciousness. I do n't know why because no one will find me but oh dear Lord I really do n't want to die. I'll keep my thoughts running. I wo n't lose consciousness if I keep my head busy. I'll just keep thinking. What was the phrase? I think, therefore I am. I think, therefore I am. dink... dink... dink -- - I took some liberties with your prompt here, and it's probably not the kind of story that you expected but I'm happy with the result so I hope you enjoy it nonetheless: )
[ WP ] You live a simple life as a superhero . Even the most dangerous baddies are no match for your ungodly speed and strength . One day , however , you run into the only person to ever find your weakness : Interpretive Dance-Man .	I woke up that morning as i did every morning, opening my eyes and dashing to the mirror to flex my ginormous muscles. After a few moments, i pulled myself away from the dashing reflection ( only after a wink and a blown kiss, of course ). I headed downstairs to be greeted by my personal computer companion. `` Good morning, Sir! Breakfast?'' the chipper, simulated British woman called out from the speakers. `` No thank you Gretchen, I'll be taking a coffee- to go'' `` On your way to save the day once again, Sir?'' `` Of course, what else my lovely little computer chip'' `` Coffee sir'' I could practically hear the blush in her voice as i grabbed my coffee from the Drinkinator Door, grabbed my coat, and headed out the front door, yelling a final `` Thaaaaanks Gretchen!'' and waving a hand as i shut the front door. I spent the first half of the day like i normally do- punching out bad guys, saving stolen purses, helping old ladys cross the street. I think i even pulled a bunch of kids out of a burning school bus that da- wait no, that was the month before, it was cold when that happened... this was a normal day. Nothing too... super really happened. In retrospect its... it's kind of disappointing i guess. To think, the day i met my ArchNemesis was just like any other ordinary freakin' day. sigh Anyways. Where was i? Yeah, so the sun went down. I figured i'd hit the strip and make sure no a-holes were trying to get too handsy with their dates, no roofy-ing, you know, that sorta thing. I get about halfway down the second block ( crushed some guy trying to pee on the sidewalk on my way- it was AWESOME ) And all of a sudden, there he is. Just standing there. Totally still, chest puffed out, upturned tophat held in hand. Those stupid white gloves. That dashing suit. ICK! I had n't seen any panhandlers in a while, not since that incident down on 3rd street. oh god so much blood there..... Anyways. I walk up to him with a forceful hand held out: `` STOP NO GOODER!'' I give him the what for. really lay into him. `` These fine people will not have the likes of YOU begging for change'' And he like.... it's like... it's like he did n't even see me... I dunno. Bad guys COWER in my wake. They scramble like rats in the light. But.. not this one. He just... he starts doing this weird thing with his hands. Like this kinda, i do n't know. But it catches me off guard. `` Listen, Ruffian! You nee-'' the whole time, i'm laying into him, hes moving around, like... acting out my words or something. Like some kinda little fairy he practically floats on air. And i'm totally distracted by it. Enchanted almost. I've never seen such a thing... and then he made his move. the next thing i know, i'm on my ass, digging myself out of a pile of rubble. People are running, screaming. And i manage to open my eyes up just enough... to see.. him standing there. Grinning like a mad man. His suit untouched. His top hat now on his head. His long black hair, moving in a slow motion ripple.... he lifts his hand, and just.... waves goodbye before flittering off into the night. I'm terrified of the next time i see him. It's all i think about. He's in my dreams, my thoughts. Every day i'm out fighting crime, i feel weak knowing he may glide silently upon me and wave those fantastic hands... and defeat me once more....
[ WP ] Humanity received a cryptic message from space warning them of an invasion fleet heading their way at sub-light speed . The Earth has had 25 years to prepare a defense . Humanity knows nothing of the enemy or the enemy 's capabilities . What happens when the invaders finally arrive ?	We call it the Night the Sky Exploded, but my father called it doomsday. back then he said, humanity was divided by things like maps, or fuel, or ideology. He even said people fought about the color of their skin. He said one day NASA received a warning of something coming for us.By us, I mean all of us. Looking back on it, the old timers laugh about how the message was debated for 2 years. But then some stars nearest ours went out. Things got serious. Soon, what dad called `` skunk-works'' were revealed by most countries with earth to space launching ability. Things got real simple. Nuclear Mine fields stretched from the mars to Neptune. the space station -we actually had a space station- was quintupled in size, outfitted with weapons we once swore we did n't have. We let drones navigate out night sky, in kite like ships outfitted with whatever men in charge thought would be useful. Things got scary. More and more lights went out in the sky. We built places to hide. Dad had a hand in building a few he says. He could n't afford to move into one tho, so he and mom stayed in their apartment. Dad says he will never forget the day the news came. Ships were seen. NASA showed Pluto being blown to bits with nuclear fire. The fleet of ships, large as moons came, and the sun was blocked out. Mom cried. In minutes tho... the darkness was gone. Dad saw hundreds of suns, he swears. Whenever he tells the story, he always takes me outside, on a dark, clear sky, and he points out into the darkness. `` there used to be more stars.'' he says. And then he cries.
[ WP ] All religious debates comes to a crashing halt when God appears in a flash of light and proceeds to reveal the meaning of life on national television .	> > sorry guys, not much time right now. here's what I came up with. I just let it flow as long as it keept comeing < < It was of course more vision than television and as if to tease the hearts of sports fans all over the world it occurred right at the beginning of the football ( soccer ) world cup finale 2022. The exact mechanic of the vision is not at all clear. Many psychologist agree that in most people the mind rationalised the experience in the memory to fit into a common motion picture like format such as tv or the big screens for the people who were watching in the game in the stadium or in public places. Fact is there are numerous confirmed cases of people sleeping at the time of the event and still having the knowledge that would unite us as a species. what makes the incident even more curious is that few people comprehended what had happened at the time. The big football game for one went on as planned without a measurable time gap. And yet during the next 24 hours everybody had talked to somebody about what was building up in their mind. The image, the feeling of warmth and the absolute belief that this baby is our leader, our saviour for good. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -could n't make it into realy story any more, had to go but here's how I might have gone along -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - something something people starting to search. Catholic Christianity liquidising all the wealth on the search. something something seems to be the way god works, that evil is not banished from the world and so dictators and less obvious devils in man shape were on the search as well. Dalai Lama being in the run, little money but a good head start because he was meditating and the realisation came early. In the end, it was chance that I found the kid. I'm a simple farmer but had the urge to go walk the woods The feeling to be around the baby is astonishing as if god led me I felt urges to stay in the woods for some hours just holding the baby until I felt like walking towards the street. I rarely go there because of the woman in the trailer. baby is crying, bad man wanting to rape prostitute. shouts for help. I mindlessly jump in. kick the guy off the woman. he looks up, revolver in hand. drops it crawls away from me. I am at a loss. realise: he crawls away from baby. I feel no hate or anger. this freaks me out. I have forgiven. so has the Woman. she walks up to me, takes the baby and lets it feed from her breast. Rapist flees, fear of god in him, and sudden awareness of all the evil deeds of his life. praying for forgiveness on his way out. her and I love story -- -- -- -- ah I really have to go. sorry again, am already late... -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
[ WP ] While hiking in the woods , you become lost . Luckily , you come across a set of train tracks and decide to follow them back to civilization . They only lead you deeper into the forest where you find a stalled train ; its boxcars filled with piles of dead bodies .	It was cold. I was tired, hungry and ready to hear the voice of my parents asking `` where have you been all day.'' They knew that I had left the house early to climb mountain behind our house. It had been snowing for a week straight and the back country riding was going to be perfect. I took my normal supplies, water a compass and some snacks. My pack was filled with other things as well like matches, a flint, my hunting knife and some fishing line. I had never been a boyscout, but I knew that when hiking backcountry that I should always be prepared. I started my hike while it was still twilight, the moon was full and cast an ominous glow through the woods. I turned my headlamp off and followed the trail into the forrest. The climb had been getting easier as the winter went on and it took me about 2 hours to get to the ridge line where I usually took my skins off and started back downhill towards my house. We had just gotten about 18inches of fresh powder and the cliff behind me looked just too tempting. I would normally never ride the backside of the mountain but this morning was historic, I figured I would take one run down the cliff, hike back up and head home on the normal trail. How wrong was I? I dropped the first cliff and the momentum sent me a lot faster than I had expected. The powder clouded my view and I kept making turns when my ski got caught on a limb and sent me flying face first over another cliff. That did it, my bindiings snapped and I was screwed. I looked up at the cliff I had just dropped from, about 15 feet, I was lucky to not be injured, the snow had broken my fall. I had realized what treck it would be to get back up that cliff and knew if I kept hiking down hill that I'd eventually hit the interstate. It was still early and I had plenty of time to make it without being worried about it getting dark. It was quiet and the sound of a group of ravens cut through the crisp air, drawing my attention to a set of train tracks. I checked my compass and decided to walk north west, back to the direction of the park near my school. After about 20 minutes of hiking on the tracks, I could see an old train stopped on the tracks. The ravens I had heard eariler were circiling the train, they had made a nest in the smokestack. Apon approaching the train the smell of rotting flesh stung my nose and I gagged. Ravens often bring their food back to their nest to eat, but this was not right, the smell was too strong and it was too cold outside for flesh to be rotting like that. Thats when I saw the blood. It was dripping down the smoke stack and leaking out of the cabin of the train. My heart was racing as I walked slowly towards the train, I heard a loud slam coming from the boxcar behind the train. `` Hello!'' I yelled. My call was responded to by a low growl and a sort of hiss. Oh shit, I knew that there were some bob cats in the woods near my house and did not want to meet them in their den. I picked up a branch from the snow and threw it at the boxcar. The animal inside shreeked and ran from the boxcar. It was about the size of a mountain lion with long fur and a matted coat but it's tail was long and slender with a spade shaped point. Whatever the fuck it was, I did n't want anything to do with it but my curiosty got the best of me and I had to look inside the cart. I looked around for the animal before opening the cart, no sight, the smell coming from within was over whelming. The box car was full of human bodies, there flesh torn apart and faces frozen in terror. I recognized one of them being on a missing persons poster at the post office in town. The ravens started to call and their wings beat against the box car walls from outside making a loud bang over and over. My senses became overwheled and I started to panic I needed to get out of here, quickly. I rummaged through my back back and pulled out my hunting knife and the fishing line now I just needed to grab that branch I threw at the boxcar and fashion a weapon. The branch was about 4 feet long and strudy, I lashed the handle of the knife to one end and created a makeshift spear. Just in time. The smell, it was back. It did n't dawn on me that the odor had gone away with the animal that had run from the box car. The smell was toxic and made my head spin, I heard a low growl and and pacing footsteps out side the boxcar and froze when I saw its tail being pushed through the boards on the door. I lashed at the tail with my spear and cut the spade off, the beast screached in agony and slammed against the door. The spade was in the boxcar and began to ooze a thick dark red mucus looking blood. The only way out was for me to crawl over the bodies to the back of the boxcar. I climbed up the pile trying not to throw up. When I made it to the back I kicked the door open and used the door as a sled to slide down the hill beind the stalled train. I kept sliding and sliding faster and faster the wind whipping at my face the snow stinging my eyes. Silence. Darkness. I woke up in my bed covered in sweat with my dogs ass in my face, he just farted and there is a bluejay outside of my bedroom window screaching and pecking at my windowsill. I need to stop watching horror movies.
[ WP ] You have died , after the whitelight , you see a title screen , with the options of New Game ... . Load Game ... . and Quit Game .	He had tied the noose to the ceiling fan. Just one more deep breath, and he fasted it around his neck. The last exhale and he kicks the stool out from under him. It was n't as quick as he had hoped. It was painful. He panics and scratches at the rope and his neck. Darkness washes over him and then it ends. He is standing in a black room. Looking around he sees no walls or ceiling. Everything is darkness expect the white light. He walks towards the light. It is more than a light, it is a screen with three options. * GAME OVER * NEW GAME LOAD GAME QUIT GAME He stares at the screen and considers his choices. He could start a new game. He probably wo n't remember the last gameover. But where would he start? Would the game end as the last one did? Would the new game even be the same character? He could load? Maybe he could go back to before everything went to shit. He could change things. But if he does n't remember what led to the game over, everything will still go to shit. It will be the same game over. He could quit. He thought that hanging himself was quitting this game. But if he can start a new game or even load, why would you want to quit? He stares at the white screen thinking. It could have been a minute or a year since he came here. Could he win the game? Probably not. Playing his last game, he did n't do anything important or significant. Maybe if he had played the real game more, he would n't even be here and have to make this decision. He thinks back on all the things that he did wrong, all the people that had wronged him. He is scared to make a choice, what would happen if he chooses wrong and- SYSTEM IS SHUTTING DOWN - PLEASE WAIT He is standing in a black room. There is no white light.
[ WP ] The devil walks into a well known PR firm and asks for a rebranding .	The receptionist looked up. `` Welcome, mister...'' `` Asmodeus,'' the devil responded. `` I have an appointment at 2 o'clock,'' She smiled. `` Right, please take a seat, someone will be with you in a minute.'' The devil looked around the small waiting room, with just a potted plant, a coffee machine and a few uncomfortable seats. Before he could sit down, a woman in a three piece suit entered the room. `` Mister Asmodeus? I'm Sasha. Please follow me.'' They entered a small office with a great view of the city below. She offered him a chair and sat down. `` So, what is it exactly that you need?'' The devil cleared his throat. `` You know, my reputation has gone downhill lately. People seem to think of me as evil.'' `` Right,'' Sasha responded, leafing through some papers. `` You did well by coming here. We have successfully improved the image of oil companies, the pharmaceutical industry and of dictatorships all over the world.'' She found what she was looking for. `` I did look into this a bit. It seems that people do n't understand that you just dole out the punishment. People seem to think that you actually encourage people to do evil things.'' `` Exactly,'' the devil responded. `` Any idea on how to fix this?'' Sasha tilted her head, thinking for a moment. `` I would suggest doing something grand. Something visible. Delaying the punishment to the afterlife does n't really cut it anymore. Do you have any ideas?'' At that time, the devil knew what to do. He laughed as the entire floor erupted into flames.
[ WP ] A real human living in a cartoon world creates a How-To guide on staying alive	`` TabeSeb?'' `` Uhm... yes.'' `` I'm Wixler and your name is gon na be Tab...'', * got ta say something funny fast* ``... or dickhead from this point forward.'' `` Yeah, that's fine but...'' `` Shut up. Come with me. Lesson one starts now.'' I got ta get this idiot sorted before he gets us both killed. `` Lesson? But, where are we and who are you and...'' `` Too many'ands'. Never babble... it ends badly'' Alright, pull him in close. Intimidate with the eyes, cocky smile, and release with a push for comical fall onto sidewalk. `` Ow, what the fuck is wrong with you? You're supposed to help me, or something. What is all this?'' `` Fucking anime world I guess? I mean, they all look black haired and angsty enough.'' `` Anime, like cartoons?'' `` Lesson one is time sensitive and non-negotiable. You see that MECH at twelve o'clock? The one with the glowing... wizard? I do n't know. That thing.'' A raven made of steel and neon poses with it's titanium codpiece erect; above, a ball of green light contains the shadow of a man. `` That is... is that a bird with a metal dong?'' `` Do n't say dong! And, do n't say words that i would have to say to make you not say them!'' Slick hair forward, grit teeth, and kick Tab in chest for second comedic fall. If I'm lucky, I might get a running gag going with this idiot. `` This does n't make sens, you're insane, and I do n't want to be on the street. Inside, lets go inside now!'' `` Nope, lesson one is...'' Raise one leg triumphantly onto Tab so he ca n't move, grab my waist with left arm, extend right arm towards impossible enemy, and... `` Shit, I ca n't think of anything awesome.'' As if on cue, the metallic raven takes notice of this most grievous failure of coolness. A shockwave of cawing bends the pavement, buildings, and light as the sound Hiroshimas out in every direction. `` Uhm, Wixler? It's coming this...'' `` Hold on, I'll get something.'' Do n't show fear; it'll get closer; do n't show fear. Think.... `` We got ta run, now!'' `` Running never works. It'll just hump every load bearing structure we enter. No, lesson one is... is...'' I got it. Thank Jesus Christ on a pogo stick. Now, I got ta hold. The raven slams it's massive erect titanium [ censored ] into the last intersection separating itself from its target. `` Get off me Wix...'' `` Wix eh? That makes lesson one:'How to make friends and alienate ravens!' Right, Tab-kun?'' Yaoi bonus for the win. At the last moment, a column of yellow lightning encircles the raven mere inches from Wixler's outstretched finger. The green ball of light, that appeared to be controlling the raven, is now engaging a yellow ball of light in a suitably epic energy battle. `` Now, that lesson was n't too hard. Just pick a character archetype and stick with it. Ready for lesson two?''
[ WP ] You have eyes like mine ...	`` You have eyes like mine.'' The man's voice startled me from my reverie. I placed my pencil down carefully and looked behind me in search of the speaker. An older man looked down at me, his brown eyes looking down not unkindly at me. His hair and mustache were an ashen brown, practically grey at this point, and on his wrinkled face was a faint smile. `` I'm sorry...?'' I asked, my voice uncertain. He gestured toward my sketchbook with a gloved hand. `` Your sketch, my friend. You captured Our Lord very well. The people, not so much.'' His smile broadened, and nodded slightly to the statue of Christ behind him that so dominated Guanabara State. `` I do n't mean to offend, of course. I was an artist once, like you, and I would say that you too find more beauty in the structure than the individual. May I?'' Still dazed, it took me a moment to realise that he had asked to sit beside me. `` Of, of course.'' I answered, and shifted along slightly to allow space for him. He sat down, and smiled at me again. `` So, what has brought you to this glorious city? Clearly, you are not a native. Your skin is too pale, and you're still lost in the beauty that surrounds us.'' I laughed slightly. `` I'm here on holiday. I've always wanted to visit, and what with the threat of Russia launching missiles at us at any minute, I figured that now was as good a time as any. And how about yourself?'' I asked, `` Your skin is certainly more tanned than mine, but your accent is definitely not Brazilian.'' He smiled again, although it seemed slightly tighter than before. `` No, I'm not a native either. I found myself here several years ago, after... the war. I found that I could n't remain there, that my home had forever changed. You understand, I hope?'' I nodded. `` My father fought in the war. He had relatives in Germany, people who he found in the camps... It's not something he talks about much.'' At this, his eyes closed, and the smile fled temporarily. `` No, I do n't suppose he would.'' I saw a few muscles twitch under the skin of his cheek, and watched as he inhaled and exhaled deeply. I supposed at the time that he must have been living some painful memory. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked back at me, and his faint smile returned. `` Anyway, let us put that talk behind us and discuss your sketch. Are you a professional artist?'' His eyes were intense, gazing upon me like the headlights of an oncoming car. I shook my head. `` No, I'm afraid not... It's more of a hobby for me. With the world's falling apart like it is, everyone needs something to help them feel good. Where my friends are taking drugs or having free love, I have this.'' I held up my sketchbook. He chuckled at that. `` A wise option, my friend. May I see your work?'' `` Of course.'' I answered, and handed over the book. He took it, and delicately turned the pages, studying intently each piece. As he looked, I could see his smile widening slowly. He paused at the sketch of my sister looking out over a ridge at Yellowstone, and looked up at me, his eyes wet. `` You have a talent, my friend. It seems I misjudged you earlier,'' he handed me back the book and placed a hand on my shoulder, `` Your eyes are better than mine ever were. Manmade constructs, buildings, statues... these are things I have always had a talent for capturing. But you,'' he squeezed my shoulder, and leaned toward me as he pointed toward the sketchbook, `` You brought to life the natural beauty of the world. The architecture of the trees and their branches, the delicate curves of the hills and steep arches of the mountains, the God-like quality that defines the human and seperates us from the animal... that is a true talent, and one that you must cherish and nurture.'' He looked down at his watch, and then back at me. `` This has been a wonderful meeting, my friend, but unfortunately I have another engagement to attend to. A funeral for an old friend of mine.'' He squeezed my shoulder again, then removed it and stood up, dusting his coat and trousers as he did so. I extended my hand to him and he looked at it confused for a second, then smiled yet again and shook it. `` I hope I'll meet you again, sir.'' I said to him. His smile tightened again, and his eyes glanced downward briefly. Then he looked back up, and the warmth seemed to return to him. `` I would be delighted to meet again. If you're here in this beautiful city for a few more days, I will no doubt pass through this area again.'' With that, he let go of my hand and turned to leave. After a few steps, he turned back. `` You know, I can see why you came here. This city is like a safe haven from the world's ills, is n't it?'' He laughed and, turning again, walked away, never to be seen by me again.
[ WP ] You 're out getting groceries and you see your old first love from high school . They do n't look like they 've ages even a day . The problem with that is that you have n't been in high school for over fifty years .	My chest clenched and the nervous tension ran down through my hands gripping the shopping cart. That same confused overload of emotion consumed me entirely once again. It ca n't be described as halfway in between joy and bitterness but rather the entirety of both sides of the spectrum. Attempting to catch my breath, continuing to walk, and trying to focus on what my wife was saying suddenly seemed like an unmanageable multitude of tasks after my eyes caught a glimpse of what could n't possibly be. She looked the same as she did 50 years ago yet my mind believed every ounce of it. I believed every curve of a body that convinced me that it was perfect. But as instantly as they appeared, all of the old memories collapsed with the closing of the glass paneled refrigerator door in the dairy section. Yes, once again I was fooled by a distorted reflection of someone else. I should be wise enough at my age to not fall for this anymore, but I guess love makes fools of us all.
[ WP ] Every time you snap , someone dies .	Ever since They discovered the power that it gave Them, nothing was the same. -- - Alice stared at the teacher's scrawny fingers grasp the chalk and drag it across the board. The teacher began to write out different mathematical equations. Six. As he wrote the problems on the board Alice's eyes darted around the classroom, examining each of the students that her eyes made contact with. Everyone wore the same outfit, a white dress shirt with a red tie and black dress pants accompanied by black dress shoes. Everyone wore the same ring as well, a metallic silver ring, with a little slit at the top that flashed a dull green light every few seconds. The two guards at the door increased the tension, higher than it already was. Their armed rifled were n't for display, they were trained to shoot and kill, demonstrated by last class period, as the blood still had n't been cleaned off the wall. Once the teacher finished writing out the last equation he turned and looked at the class. Everyone had their arms placed on their desk in front of them, hands flat. The teacher looked around and took a moment, tapping his pointy chin rhythmically with the chalk that he had been holding. Then, extending his arm, he pointed directly at Alice. The guards understood and one of them pulled out a radio and said something into. There was a dreadful silence for a few minutes until Alice began to feel something, something in her left ring finger, where the ring had rested all these years. It was glowing a scarlet color and at that moment Alice felt... everything to say the least. She began to regain feeling in her entire body, she felt the blood flow back into her hands, feeling the warmth crawl back into her body. The guards walked over to her desk, making sure to point their rifles at her. She tried to get up but her muscles did n't seem to want to respond to her commands. While one of the guards pointed his rifle at her head, the other helped her get her arm around his shoulder the other guard then did the same, but with her other arm, so that each of her arms were around both of the guard's necks. At this point, Alice tried moving her hands and her fingers began to respond. The guards began to slowly walk towards the board with her in their clutches. She forced her right ring finger to touch her thumb and attempted to push them together. Halfway to the board, the guards noticed what Alice was attempting to do and immediately dropped her to the floor. None of the students seemed to be reacting to what was happening, and Alice began to scream, fearing for her life, fearing that everything she had been planning would go to waste. The guards quickly pulled out their pistols and they both shot at her. Alice anticipated this and rolled to her left, banging her head on the desk and curling up into the fetal position. 1. 2. She realized what she had just done. Looking over her right side she saw them, or what they used to be. What had been the guards had now been reduced to two boneless bodies. She looked over at her teacher and looked at him with ferocious eyes. She rested her ring finger on her thumb once again, and struck. Yeah ok, I suck at writing but here you go.
On the New Years Eve after their 22nd birthday , everyone swaps body with their soulmate for 24 hours .	David Kenmore was the quintessential All-American boy. The type that every mother wanted their boy to emulate and their girl to marry. He was a straight A student, college baseball star, graduated cum laude at Pitt and heading into law school, and a hit with the ladies. It was nauseating to most how picture perfect he seemed to come across. It's not like he was trying to be like that, it was just how he was. He was n't sure what to expect concerning the swap. It was n't like he was dreading it like his best friend Brian Stoneyard was since he was in constant fear that he'd end up with his ex Maxine, or `` The Bitchmitten'' as David called him. He just was n't sure if he was ready to find out who his soulmate is. His two older sisters had already undergone it with overwhelming success. His oldest sister swapped with her boyfriend while his other sister swapped with a guy in the office she worked at. If David was a betting man, however, he'd have his money on Brian's younger sister Lisa. She was about 20 and seemed to be the type of girl that a guy like him would end up with. Brian joked that David was lucky that he was swapping too because if he had swapped with Lisa, he would've kept a hawk's eye on him. It seemed like everybody thought that is what would end up happening. When the clock struck midnight, David saw a white flash before him, to signify the body swap. When the flash subsided, he noticed that he was in the Stoneyard family basement. David chuckled a bit to himself, thinking that everybody had called it about Lisa being his soulmate. When he got up to go upstairs, he noticed that he was moving a little more blockier than he would've suspected. Lisa was tiny and moved very lightly, at least it seemed so to him. Before he could move any further he heard the basement door open. `` Oh my god, I have so much to ask you!'' the voice said, David recognizing that it belonged to Lisa. `` I need to know ALL about you!'' David froze as Lisa reached the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes were lit up, excited at seeing who her older brother's soulmate was.'Wait a minute....if I'm not Lisa then I must be...' he thought. `` Uh... you okay? Did the swap go alright? Oh god, I hope you did n't end up stuck in some sort of infinite loop where you end up like that guy from Quantum Leap where he was never able to make it back home! Oh god, that would be terrible!'' Lisa began to ramble on `` Lisa, calm down'' was all he could say. She lifted her head up and was surprised at the fact that Brian's soulmate knew her name. `` How'd you know my name? Oh my god, I hope you are n't Maxine...'' `` No I'm not that Bitchmitten'' David said then stopped himself, realizing he just gave himself away. `` Holy shit....DAVID?!'' Lisa's eyes grew wide and was starting to guffaw. `` Oh my god! YOU'RE Brian's soulmate?!'' `` Lisa... keep it down...'' he said `` Oh my god, it totally makes sense now....'' Lisa said with a chuckle `` You two have been inseparable since we moved here years ago. You guys have remained single since college and you never could find any girl worth your time. Now I know it's not because you're picky but because you're not each other!'' `` Lisa... stop....'' David sighed, putting his head in his hands. `` I just... I need some time to think'' `` I'm sorry'' she said `` It's not your fault....this has just knocked me on my ass a lot more than I thought'' David said `` I need to go for a walk...'' `` At this hour?'' Lisa asked `` There's a lot I need to think about'' David said. He reached over to grab Brian's cell phone `` Tell your mom not to worry if she sees I'm not here'' `` Alright'' she said `` Stay safe'' `` I will'' David headed out the basement door. David was walking to his favorite spot in town, the park bench that overlooked the town they lived in. The park was only a block or two away so it was n't as if he was going across town. He just needed to clear his head and figure some things out in his head. While walking to the park, all David could do was ask questions to the hypothetical god that made this happen. Did they make a mistake? Did his and Brian's soulmates die so they just decided to not leave them out of the experience and made them swap? There had to be an explanation. David was n't gay, neither was Brian. At least as far as they knew they were n't. Sure, the two cared about each other but that was just friendship stuff. David just was n't sure how to accept this fact that his soulmate was his best friend and a male at that. As he got to the park, he climbed up the hill and found the usually park bench he liked to sit at. At the bench sat a shadowy figure. David was getting frustrated at the fact that his usual bench was taken by someone else. Then he saw that it was actually his body there, sitting there lost in thought. It was Brian. David quietly took his seat next to Brian and the two stared off into the lights that adorned their little town. `` How'd you get here so fast?'' David asked `` I drove your car. You know, you should get your muffler check out'' Brian said `` I'll keep that in mind. I walked here. So you like to come here too?'' `` Yeah. I've come here many times to think'' Brian said `` You too?'' `` Yeah.....'' `` I wonder if they made a mistake'' `` I was thinking the same thing. Maybe they meant to swap me with Lisa but they accidentally picked you'' `` I was thinking that maybe our actual soulmates had died and they just switched us to have the experience.'' `` You thought that too?'' David said `` Yeah'' Brian was still staring into space `` I do n't get it... I mean I ca n't be....'' `` I know....I mean I do n't think that I am....I think'' `` I do n't even know anymore...'' Brian confessed `` I wish this never fucking happened. I knew this was going to suck. I just did n't know how exactly.'' `` I'm actually a little relieved I was n't swapped with Lisa'' David admitted `` Well it sure beats ending up with The Bitchmitten'' Brian chuckled `` Yeah, at least I'd give you head'' David joked, then paused, realizing how weighted that joke may have been. He blushed a little bit. `` Um... I mean...'' `` You'd probably do a lot more than that'' Brian chuckled The two stared off into space again, admiring the clear night. On the last day of the year, David was sitting on the park bench with the last person he'd ever suspect to be his soulmate. David was thinking about the idea of Brian being the one. They had been friends since they were 9 and were there for each other for every step of the way. They also seemed to have an understanding and connection that they could n't quite explain. David was thinking maybe there was something to this after all. `` You know, it's okay if we do n't figure it out tonight'' David said `` I know'' Brian said `` I mean....well....'' `` What's up?'' `` There's a part of me that thinks this is a mistake but....there's a part of me... well actually most of me...'' Brian was testing the waters, trying to gauge his best friend's reaction. `` That does n't mind... at all. In fact... kind of....happy?'' `` Happy that we're soulmates?'' `` Yeah... happy... is that okay?'' `` Yeah... that's okay....'' David said smiling at Brian `` I'm just not sure what to do....'' Brian said `` Well how about we just take this one step at a time?'' David said `` See where it takes us... no need to rush this stuff.'' `` Yeah....I'd like that'' The two shared a glance and smiled at each other. They stood there, looking into each other's eyes, debating if they should possibly kiss at this moment but were n't sure if they should or not. Thankfully they were interrupted by a buzz of Brian's phone, revealing to be a text from Lisa, asking where David was. The two broke out from the gaze and realized that it was late. `` Come on, I'll drive you home'' Brian said `` Lisa probably is wondering who my soulmate is'' `` She kind of knows already'' `` Oh for fuck's sake...'' Brian muttered The two headed to Brian's car and headed back to civilization to get a good night's sleep before they were to reveal to their soulmate's respective families just how close to home they truly were. What lied ahead was n't entirely certain. Maybe they'll end up lovers. Maybe they'll forget about it. Maybe they'll just let it be their little secret. All they knew is that they were soulmates. They had plenty of time to figure out the rest.
[ CW ] Write a story that ends with the happiest 4-word sentence that you can think of .	The wind over the water brought with it a hint of weather to come, a slight musk of bonfires and chilly nights spent wrapped in soft wool. Before, it had always felt like an ending. Now, it felt like a promise of things to come. I turned my head and peeked out from under my lashes, suddenly shy, overwhelmed by all of the words that had spilled out of me in the last few hours; words that had been so firmly locked behind steel doors for so long that I was surprised I could even remember how to pronounce them. `` It's all right,'' he said, grasping my fingers and swinging our joined hands gently between us as we continued our meandering circle around the pond. `` You're not alone anymore.'' Edit: typo
[ WP ] When a teenage girl blows out the candles on her birthday cake and wishes she could know what boys are thinking , her wish comes true .	`` STOP LOOKING AT ME! YOU FUCKING PERVS! You disgust me! I hate you all. That's what you think about me? Then FUCK YOU! YOU HEAR ME? `` FUCK YOU''!'' `` Babe, stop! What are you doing.'' `` I wanted to know, how you feel about us! YOU PIECE OF SHIT!'' `` Let the drill down.'' `` No.'' `` Listen to me, pupking. He's right. Calm down.'' `` I hear you. I hear you all. You're in my head. The voices.'' `` Do n't worry. Everything will be fine. This voices are not real. They're...'' `` I can make them stop.'' `` Listen to me! If you do that we will never be together. You hear me, babe. We ca n't be together if you die.'' `` I know. Goodbye''. `` BABE, WAIT!''
[ WP ] When you die , you either have to walk upstairs to heaven or downstairs to hell . Being the laziest person on earth , you make your choice..	Clarence Merriweather Raggeby was one of those extremely unusual individuals who had the peculiar fortune to die with his soul in perfect balance. For if he had not been particularly pious, or giving, expressive of any great affection for his fellow human beings, neither had he been mischievous, wicked, or hostile to anyone in particular. It was not, however, on account of any tumultuous battle between good and evil within his nature, but by a singular laziness and a natural disposition not to put himself out. In life, he did no charitable acts, yet at the same time, he invariably turned the other cheek simply to avoid being bothered more than anything else. Then one day, while lounging on a bench at a nearby park, an unexpected stroke laid Raggeby low. Not being the most attentive individual, he did not quite realize it until he found himself standing beside himself, literally as it were: his soul looking back upon his recently expired earthly remains. Raggeby found himself shortly thereafter being petitioned on either side. On his right hand stood an angel of the Lord, telling him he had just barely qualified for entrance into Heaven on the grounds that he had done no particular evil that should bar him. And on the other hand stood a demon from Hell, there to tell him how tiresome and dull Heaven was when Hell was clearly the more enjoyable alternative. Raggeby looked from one to the other with a disgruntled sigh, for just listening to them argue seemed quite tiring to him. `` And who would want to miss being reunited with all who've ever loved you?'' the angel was saying. `` The weather is always beautiful, and the heavenly choir grows lovelier with every passing generation added to its ranks. A man such as yourself, who has done no one any great harm, surely deserves a chance for eternal happiness?'' The angel motioned with one hand to the flight of straight stairs rising above the city at the very top of which could be seen a bright white light, and down which could be heard distant notes of exquisitely beautiful music. `` I do n't know,'' Raggeby said, unconvinced. `` Sure looks like a lot of stairs. I do n't know if I can imagine anything that's worth going up so many stairs.'' The demon hurried up and heartily smacked Raggeby on the back as he cheerfully agreed with the assessment. `` That's what I'm saying! What can they do for you that we ca n't? You want eternal happiness? Where's the happiness in always being good all day? Come to Hell and we'll show you any kind of vice you can name. Why go up when you can go down? So much easier! Am I right?'' Raggeby let out a whooshing breath as he studied the long spiral staircase leading down into the bowels of the Earth. `` I do n't know,'' he said. `` There's still a lot of stairs, even if its down instead of up. Put my mind to it, and I ca n't think of a single earthly pleasure that was worth that long a walk for.'' The angel started to let out a sigh of relief, and seemed to be mustering his next argument, but the demon cut him off before he could marshall it. `` I know just what you mean, Bud!'' the demon insisted. `` But you do n't have to walk all that way! Hell no! Gravity is your friend, my friend! Here, let me show you!'' And with that, he pulled a big brass lever by the side of the spiral stairs which caused the steps to flip themselves over and then flatten out, turning then entire affair into a giant brass slide that could simply be ridden down. The angel sweated bullets now, seeing he was about to lose his chance, but before he could speak, Raggeby shook his head. `` I do n't know. I'd still have to walk all the way from where I'm standing to the top of the slide. That's got ta be like -- what? twenty paces or something? And then who knows how long I'll be sliding. And I might get stuck along the way, which would require additional effort…'' `` Well where else are you going to go!'' cried the angel, now exasperated. The demon nodded his agreement, then looked shocked that he was agreeing with the enemy. Raggeby turned in place where he stood and motioned to the old run down Jefferson mansion that stood just outside the park. It was dilapidated and riddled with broken windows, the roof was caved in here and there, and the peeling paint was so far gone it was merely a rumor. But Raggeby indicated with a lazy gesture that he was practically standing on the rotted front porch already. `` I think I'll just stay here.'' `` Child, that makes no sense. This place is no proper afterlife at all. It's just a run down haunted house!'' the angel complained. `` Haunted?'' Raggeby said. `` So, you mean I'll have a roommate? Cool.''
[ WP ] Start out sounding reasonable . Each sentence makes you doubt the sanity of the speaker more and more .	It was a lovely afternoon, the sun was shining, an elderly couple was strolling through the park, and a fair gust of wind whistled through the willows by the water. The water glistened with a sparkle rare in the summertime, and how I yearned to cool myself off in the fountain. But as much as I wanted, a young boy was throwing flakes of bread upon the ground that tempted me ever so dearly. I was famished for tiny chunks of bread, I refused to eat anything else. Yet I feared if I neared the boy, he'd capture me and eat me alive. I stayed a cautionary distance, eyeing him carefully. It must've been a trap. I flew off into the air with a quack when he came charging towards me.
[ WP ] Nightmares eventually became me .	Nightmares eventually became me. I had tried to tell myself I am still a good person but in spite of my personal protests I relived each moment as if it were happening anew. I could see their faces, pained and empty, as the paramedics rushed them away in a flurry of panicked desperation. I blink and I see the lights again; orange and red streaks. I blink once more and I feel the wheel, constricted in my hand. I bow my head, clench my eyes, and try to exorcise the sound of tires screeching and metal twisting from my head. I bite my lip and feel again that overwhelming lack of control. I tried. I tried to avoid it. I willed it in my mind over and over. Hoping I might open my eyes to a different reality; a reality where I hadn ’ t tried to get behind the wheel. Jessica, she was 8 years old. The pictures in the paper showed she had blonde hair; it was glossed and deep red as I watched her taken away. “ MY BABY!! ” Those may have been her last words, I don ’ t really know. She cried out, weak and shattered, hands outstretched, looking for someone to assure her that her daughter was fine. She was taken away shaking, with tears rolling down her cheek leaving pale tracks on her face as they cut through the blood. I am nothing but nightmares now. “ LOOK AT WHAT I DID! ” I watch the tear fall off my cheek and track it as it disappears toward the black current below. One deep breath, and I lean forward.
7.6 billion years into the future , humans across the galaxy return to the solar system to witness earth 's last moments . [ WP ]	As the ship approached the planet, everybody gathered on the observation deck. They had n't come for the fantastic view they could have had through the giant cupola of darkened windows that now reached high above their heads. And although they did n't really pay any attention to it, the giant ball of fire and devastation the ship faced flooded the whole deck with its steady orange light, amplifying the apocalyptic mood they were in. All of them had come, not only the paying customers but also the whole staff, those people who would n't have ever left their kitchens, storages and engine decks if they had n't felt the importance of the moment. Some of the tourists complained about their presence, stating they had not payed a fortune to experience this moment standing amongst servants and labourers, but most of them did not care and kept on talking with their friends and family, like they had done for the whole duration of their voyage. The hushed conversations evolved around the people's jobs, their children and love interests while the cruise ship kept approaching the small black dot that might have looked like dirt on the window or an anomaly in the star's glowing surface had they found the time to look at it. But the closer they came, the more of them looked up at the screens attached to the wall right below the dome, just low enough so it would cause no uncomfort to look at them for a while, and just high enough so they had to raise their chins a little, making them look like an assembly of snobs who were too important for one another. None of them had been born on the planet that was visible on the screens, enlarged by a few hundred times to make it seem more relevant. In fact, noone had been born there for a time span that approached eternity - it had n't been left for no reason. Still, they all felt a little nostalgic as they looked at the video screens. The stories of the Blue Planet each of them had heard varied widely regarding the descriptions of it they conveyed, but they had still managed to make them feel attached to it, attached like a bird feels attached to the nest where it hatched, without clear memory or the will to return. Mainly it was great to be there and experience it live. The event was going to be broadcasted even to the most remote planets, but only few people would be able to tell their friends back home that they had almost heard the apocalypse. Waiters who had put off their usual overalls and replaced them with white aprons and clean black vests - someone had done a great job at making the whole event as classy as possible - roamed the hall and served champagne, a clear signal that there were only minutes, maybe seconds left. It got very quiet now as everybody stared at the screens, just the rattle of champagne glasses that were hastily served disturbed the silence that so often accompanies historic moments. The waiters had to hurry up. If the planet was going to blow up and someone did n't have a sparkling glass of champagne in their hands, the whole matter would have been absolutely useless. Those who already held a glass appeared finally fascinated by what they saw, as if a pile of dirt became more interesting when annihilation was directly looming. The waiters had just finished their job when the planet started melting. Because the ship was flying on the far side of the planet, it appeared as if the bright orange was spreading from the periphery and slowly burned towards the core, as if it had to struggle with resistance, but that was nonsense. As soon as it had come too close to its bloated sun, the whole planet had been doomed at once. When the whole planet glowed in a tone just slightly darker than the star it orbitted, one passenger joked: `` Lucky us, left that shithole before it went to hell.'' Nobody reacted to the comment, they just watched the planet burn, confused whether to feel delighted or afraid. They could n't see a single detail of it, no structures, no sign that mankind had ever visited it, not even the continents. And then, Earth vanished. It disappeared without making a single sound, without a final firework or an explosion, and left no trace of its existence. The people were slightly disappointed, although they did not want to show it. They had payed a fortune, it had to be a great memory. They started sipping on their champagne, still looking at the screens, waiting for more. But after a few minutes, people lost interest and recommenced their conversations.
[ WP ] Neckbeard the Pirate	I once knew a pirate named Neckbeard in college residence. Perhaps one would say that a person can not be a pirate without having an ocean to terrorize, that pirating media is merely just a different use of the phrase. I would like to dissuade you of these opinions, for you see, The Pirate was a terror on the ocean of the residence network. Before you approached his room, sounds of Alestorm would blast through the walls. The RAs attempted to curtail this but quietly enjoyed it, only making a technical effort to fulfill their duties, but more on that later. Looking at his door, there was no whiteboard or tacky device, just a series of scratches and a long gouge running the length of the door, and a label on the door in bronze saying `` 503''. Pushing open the door, you see a rigging of network cables running along the ground, linking all the devices in the room. A pirate flag hangs on the ceiling in the back, and both full and empty rum bottles are stashed in every niche in the room. The Pirate sits back looking at one of his three monitors, a neckbeard running a marathon to his gut, and he boisterously roars a greeting that insults your mother. The things that made Neckbeard The Pirate, however, were these: A giant bookshelf, running from floor to ceiling and the width of one wall, is filled with nothing but binders. Every binder had a label, and was full with DVDs from top to bottom. While perhaps not as strictly efficient as multiple hard drives, it had the effect of being an astounding trove of pirated materials. Neckbeard ran an operation, not charging for his loot, but sharing freely as he plundered the web. If you were connected and had a public folder on the network, it was archived. If you shared the password for your bandwidth allowing, it was used, and then some, for his efforts. The reason the RAs did n't come down on him hard was at a level, they approved of his efforts, utilized his results for themselves, and it's always difficult to be a detaining authority on people you depend upon for resources.
[ WP ] The world is ending tomorrow . Today is the last day . You are the only one that knows .	Thursday, thirtieth of April, twenty fifteen. Live, from ITV studios in London, this is Good Morning Britain... Well, it's finally here. In less than twenty hours' time, over a million people, blissfully boarding planes around the world to go on holiday or on a business trip or to see their families, will be dead. I've been checking FlightRadar24, seeing how many planes have been in the air on successive Fridays at the pivotal moment of 0250 UTC - the numbers have always increased, from 7,000 in January to 9,000 in March to almost 12,000 on April 24th. Twelve thousand plane crashes worldwide; that means over two million victims and probably well over a million deaths. I've made a lot of posts on Reddit about this day - there's even a whole subreddit based around it - I've been trying to spread the word ever since I woke up here on December 20th last - because these hundreds of thousands of deaths early on May Day morning is n't the worst of it, not by any means. * [ to be finished sometime in the next few days ] *
[ WP ] Some people are born with great souls and will achieve greatness in life . You are the insignificant sibling of one .	So I did something I've never actually tried before and wrote a piece of free-verse. I apologise in advance if it's shit. It started as more of a kind of deliberately lumpily-written ( I was going for a kind of angular feel to it when read ) piece of prose and kind of morphed from there. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - There was to be one. Swelling, gestating, Growing fat and strong in warm, golden amnion. Kicking hard, drinking in. * Taking, building. * His time approached. Blood, screaming, tearing. He emerged. Not crying; roaring. Strong, a lion ’ s roar. ME! * But there was not just one. Another. Small, weak, struggling. Mewling. Us? Gasping lungs, grasping fingers. Brothers, though you would not have guessed. * And they grew together. The one, first one, always so strong. Bright, charming. A talker at one, runner at two. A smile that could light the world. * Look how you ’ ve grown. * And the smaller, the second. In the shadows. Speech stumbling and slurred, Walking unsteady and forced. Crooked, bent. Trying so hard, to be met with sympathy and excuses. * Older drank in the sun and the love, and became more. Top of the class. Sporty. Beloved. * Younger sat in the background. Weak, chairbound. Tried so hard, bless him. Always second. * The gulf grows. * Years pass. Older is torn across the seas. To fight. Captain of his own company. A hero. Beloved by all the men. * So handsome with his medals. * Younger remains, stuck. In the dark. Withered hands sketching feverishly. Sharp shadows and grotesque figures. Creating and destroying. Ragged breaths and a tortured soul. * They are connected. As older took, he stole younger into himself. They are two sides of one. Opposing aspects, positive and negative. * And so it came to pass. Older killed, valiantly leading the charge. A bullet through that proud neck. A barrel chest stilled forever. * And so, younger stands. Unsteady in the light. His best and only suit hanging on shoulders of wire. Breaths come ragged. * A pale, shaking hand on the smooth coffin lid. As half remembered faces come forth and forced condolences are spread, younger thinks. Me.
[ WP ] The year is 2099 , after a massive war based on religion the world is 98 % atheist . In 2100 Jesus Christ will begin the Rapture .	I know. They, however, do n't. They dont believe anymore. After the final crusades religions were considered `` trouble'' and many converted to atheism. The war left scars one-seventh of the world dead, many holy sites bombed, and the countires that housed them were scorched to the ground. I am part of the two percent who still have a faith, and part of the 1 percent of Christians living at the Vatican. The, at this point infamous, rapture begins in a week. As soon as the Big Apple in New York drops the four horsemen will appear with their army of angels to wage war against the fallen Despite the Bible's prophecy i fear the worst. Humanity has come far since the biblcal times and I fear god has no control over humanity anymore. I can see it now humanity defeats God and reigns free to destroy the universe. I fear the worst, and to you dear reader you must have it worse having probably lived through it all. But in the end God has given mea job and it shall be completed. So here begins THE TESTEMENT OF A DYING GOD Sorry on mobile
[ WP ] A young girl is having an imaginary tea party . Her guests include her dolly , Mr. Bear , and the ghost of a recently deceased woman from down the street .	`` Ouchie! My finger!'' Annie jumped animatedly as she spilled a little of what she imagined to be earl grey tea on herself, amidst pouring tea in to a cup for a large beige colored teddy bear. She had always been a reactionary seeking child, a true actress. The embroidery thread which made up Mr. Bears' mouth was coming undone through years of playful adventuring. He sat slumped slightly toward Annie anticipating each cup of tea with his large black button eyes. Mr Bear was n't much for conversation, and had been neglected ever since Annie received Louisa, her most prized doll on her sixth birthday. Louisa was a porcelain doll with a delicately painted face and perfect honey brown curls arranged neatly beneath a green velvet bonnet. To match, Louisa wore a long green velvet dress, in the style of a southern belle. She came well accessorized with a parasol and small hair brush. Annie and Louisa were inseparable. `` Will you be having cream in your tea today Miss Louisa?'' Annie asked politely as she carefully poured tea in Louisa's cup, holding the lid lightly in place with her fingers. `` Oh yes, of course you do!''. Annie added a splash of cream to Louisa's empty tea cup and proceeded to stir it with the utmost etiquette. Annie turned to the last guest with the daisy painted teapot and began to pour daintily. To an onlooker, it would appear that little Annie was serving tea to an imaginary friend. But to sweet Annie, this friend was as real as herself. `` Thank you Annie! You serve the best tea in town.'' said Mrs. Bailey smiling and tucking a translucent strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She reached for the cup and just held her hands around it, knowing she would n't be able to properly bring the cup to her mouth and play along. Mrs. Bailey was the prettiest woman in the neighborhood, according to Annie. She was so kind to Annie and always had something to tell her or give her when caught in passing. Annie's mother had selfishly run away when she was just a baby, leaving her with her father who did his best to raise her on his own. He never remarried and led a solemn existence. Emotions were too much for him to express after being wounded by who he thought was his true love. This left poor Annie to search for a maternal figure, and she found these qualities in Mrs. Bailey. All of the men in town seemed to have their eye on Mrs. Bailey. They liked the way she walked, the way she would sweetly laugh, her beautiful waist length blonde hair, and the way she treated everyone with a genuine kindness. She was married to a Mr. Gavin Bailey, an accomplished architect, who built and designed the beautiful log cabin down the street from where Annie and her father resided. They lived there for a solid two years, and struggled to start a family of their own. Mr. Bailey was prone to extreme bouts of jealousy. He convinced himself that his jealousy was absolutely justified, because his wife was too flirtatious with other men in town. He was emotionally and physically abusive and through all of the torment that Mrs. Bailey endured, she stayed with her husband, convincing herself that he acted the way he did, because he felt such a deep love for her. Mrs. Bailey was a sucker for morbid romanticized novels that encouraged her to stay with her husband. She had no one to give any advice otherwise. Nor would she seek such help, had she had such connections. `` Mrs. Bailey, why did Mr. Gavin kill you?'' Annie said bright eyed staring expectantly in her direction. Mortified, she touched her neck, where her husband had strangled her just a week prior to this very meeting. He had seen his wife talking with the post man on several occasions on his way home from work, the way she laughed at his jokes and smiled at him drove him to insanity. He came home that fateful afternoon and blown up on her. Accusing her of being a slut, he shouted many more profanities until he got so mad he wrapped his hands around her slender neck and squeezed until she was no longer able to draw a breath. `` I daresay that is not the proper kind of conversation to be making at an event so elegant as this.'' Mrs. Bailey said coolly. Annie continued pouring a cup of tea for herself, as all of the guests were served and content with the spread of imaginary confections in front of them. She quietly sipped and looked a bit guilty for her rudeness. She looked directly at Mrs. Bailey searching her spectral face for an answer regardless. `` Love can make people do radical things sweet Annie. I believe he did it, only because he loved me.'' said Mrs. Bailey expressively as she looked over Louisa's bonnet to see the ghost of her husband lingering in the distance, watching over the tea party, waiting for his wife to return to him once more.
[ wp ] your a female assassin pressuring your guild to use more unisex terminology because you 're tired of being called a hit man .	I was prepared for anger, or outrage, or chauvinist comments. I expected violence, or threats. What I got caught me entirely by surprise. I could face their ire, but I was struck blindside by their shrugs. `` Okay, yeah, call yourselves whatever you want, I do n't give a shit. Just go kill this guy.'' The boss said, from behind his ( or her, we really are not sure ) voice modified loudspeaker. There were shouts of cheer from behind me, and the six other women who worked here were celebrating their victory. But I could not sure in their joy. Something about it did not sit right with me, and I could not quite put my finger on it. This was what we fought for, should n't I be happy? But did we fight? We said what we want, and it was handed to us without objection. Why was I so unsettled? `` Hey Jane, I'm still calling myself a hitman. Hitperson sounds fucking stupid.'' Alex called out from his desk, where he was loading a pistol and strapping on kevlar. Oh, that's why. This is fucking retarded.
[ WP ] The ancient ruins hide secrets , but not those you 'd expect .	The pyramid loomed a few miles in the distance, we would be there in twenty minutes or so. I turned to the scientist next to me, he said his name was Roland but you can never truly trust people on jobs like these. He hung his head out the side of the convertable as we drove along, a smile on his face and excitement in his eyes. He was a large fellow with a very rough beard and thick, round glasses. `` So give me the skinny on this crypt.'' I said, not sure if I'd even get a response. `` Er, hmm?'' He broke out of his world for a moment and glanced at me. `` Oh, uh, yes, it is peculiar, is n't it? You would n't much expect a pyramid all the way out here in the middle of Asia. Yes it's possible that it was built here, there would n't have been much fuss over it but the architecture is absolutely ANCIENT. You know, it reminds of-'' `` I said the skinny, Roland.'' `` Oh, yes, right, righto then. Essentially, the hieroglyphs we've found inside the chambers of the tomb imply that it was a shrine to some sort of- of a rain God, I tell you. Supposedly, this god would call down the rain as a form of baptism, and would wash away the filth of everything below him, or something along those lines.'' `` thats ancient religion for ya, is it trapped?'' `` Oh, my, yes!'' `` Well at least one of us is excited.'' We rode off to the pyramid, the sense of danger and the scent of death growing stronger as we inched closer. Slowly, I too grew anxious to get inside the ruins and explore their depths. We arrived, and it was n't long before the two of us were dodging booby traps, solving puzzles, and running through narrow passageways. Until we reached to final door. It was surprisingly modern, red paint on wood, baseboards acted as an outline, and it had a gold, ornamental doorknob. We looked at each other puzzlingly, then shrugged before I began to reach for the door. My hand was centimeters away from the knob when I heard a metallic click behind me. I spun around to see Roland pointing my own revolver at me. `` You bastard!'' I yelled at him. `` Now, now, keep your voice down, this old crumbling place could crumble from it. No one needs to die today, just let me past you there chum.'' He said, I stepped aside, allowing him to sprint over to the door and pry it open. The faint sound of falling water hitting stone, and as he looked through the doorway, his eyes widened before he ran away screaming, being killed by a booby trapped buzz saw in the process. Curious, I steeled my nerves and stared into the doorway to see the most hideous, naked creature I had ever seen in my life... Taking a shower. From its disgusting excuse for a mouth came a frank, regular sounding voice. `` Ah, dude, what the hell, man! Twice?!'' I covered my eyes, trying not to vomit. `` Fuck, sorry I mean-ew!'' This quickly devolved into the both of us cursing and yelling over each other. `` Just close the damn door!'' He yelled, I obeyed, walked away, and never spoke of it again.
[ WP ] A psychopath decides travelling to mars would be a great chance to kill	I was nervous. Not scared. Nervous. This was no small thing. This was historical. I was christening a new land. Making it holy. Making it ours. I have always taken comfort in procedure. Order. A clean line of steps leading from one door to another. Knowing what I must do, I began my work as soon as it became clear that colonization would soon be a reality. I was a young man then. It was easy to change direction. I went back to school. I became an engineer. I learned a pair of new languages and studied the core branches of botany. I made myself a useful man. I avoided relationships and other entanglements. I lived light and clean, burying the urges that have ever followed me like nattering shadows. I saw the man they would want and that is what I became. More, I researched the stacking alliances and burgeoning corporations that would eventually be handed those golden contracts. I made friends. I made a name for myself. So when the call went out and applications were submitted, mine was a name they knew. Mine was a name they trusted. A spaceman, through and through. A man ready for the next frontier. And when I was accepted, I made friends with my fellow travelers. I gave freely of my time and my possessions. I smiled at the women. I made broad, harmless jokes with the men. I integrated myself. I lived at the center of all things. Those months in space, I did not complain. I was the brightness my wavering companions required. And they thanked me for my light. They praised me for my spirit. Always, I smiled. Always, I battered back the howling demon in my belly. Soon I would coo. Soon. In the red dust we built biomes. And in those biomes we built homes. And in those homes we built lives. Careful, hopeful lives. Hard, strenuous lives. I set the plates, just like everyone else. Raised the walls. But it was I alone who rewired the electric when storms threatened to turn our beautiful new silicone homes into cold, airless voids. I managed the largest greenhouse. I gave every women a flower on Valentine's Day and made 10 gallons of fresh, hot mashed potatoes on Thanksgiving. We lived. Better, we prospered. Word came - the second ship was in flight. The next one hundred, with their unique hopes and dreams. And there would be children. Our ecosystem would be complete. There were no guns on Mars. Why would there be a gun on Mars? What is there to shoot? I had a knife, though. Used primarily for cutting cords. I sharpened it on a rock. Martian rock. Martian dust in the invisible grooves. It's own small christening. I tested the knife on Marcia Whalen. She was young and alone. She made very little secret how she felt about me. I invited her to my greenhouse. I showed her my new tomatoes and then I slit her throat. I let the blood wash over the greenery. I pondered that perhaps the next crop would n't taste quite so bland. I took her to the dunes and put her body in the red clay dirt. The digging was hard, exhilarating work. Her mound was an oval in the earth. A little seed. Planted. Waiting for the rain. I made it rain over Mars that week. Rain rain rain. To prove to myself that I was strong and that I was ready, I took Riley Quint next, an enormous, broad-shouldered man. His bulk was meaningless after I stabbed him in the neck. It was an anticlimax, really. I had prepared myself for a struggle. But these cows were docile creatures. Do you see now why this land needed me? A whole planet where no blood had been spilled. What a sad, silly affair. Can you imagine what this world would have become without me? How weak? How pathetic? I had killed at least a dozen before the lot of them finally understood what had become of their paradise. Still, they had no weapons, just re-purposed tools. But here was finally a game. A hunt. The biomes had no locks. No codes. I could pass to and fro to my heart's content, rounding them up like the cattle they were. Jerry Alsaria struck me across the temple with a plexiflex pylon. He had me. He had me, the fool, but he was still a docile cow, even in a field of cow's blood. He came close, poking at my body hesitantly, wanting to see if I'd lived or died. Well, I'd lived, of course. And so I grabbed Jerry and squeezed his neck until he died. Inelegant. But I suppose we were past the point of elegance then. I hunted the rest. I was an engineer, remember. I cut certain systems at will. Lights. Heat. Whatever served my purpose - to drive them forth - drive them forth to slaughter. Oh, what work it was. Lanie Townsend was last. Brave Lanie. Last girl Lanie. Alone in an airless biome, shivering in her spacesuit, clutching a shovel and whispering prayers to a God who does not live here on Mars. She had a chance. She took her shot. And, I must admit, it was a good shot. But not good enough for Lanie. So she is dead. They are all dead. And now I am dead, too. Or at least, just about. Lanie's lucky shot. I had hoped to greet the next ship. I had hoped to show them my work and see their faces. It will have to be enough to imagine. Mars is christened. It has drank our human blood. Drank deeply. You would revel to see how the red of it disappears almost instantly into that dry, red clay. Almost as if this entire world were made of old, shed blood. What a marvelous place, this Mars. What a marvelous, wonderful place we've made.
[ WP ] Humanity is forced to participate and win in conflicts against other alien species on arenas built on a ring world in order to not be invaded , as part of the conflict rules	The forced participation in beating the alien invaders was terrific to watch, as long as you did not play the lotto. No boy in his class had as they were all too worried by their parents' warnings that no matter how good your odds, your number could be picked. When little Jun showed up at school with the ring world game, far advanced from last year's inventory of moon games and grand stage space death; well it was clear to smoky Pat that he had gotten the money from somewhere. It was only ten short minutes between classes but the interrogation was well attended as half the class wanted to inspect the new game and the other half was curious how little Jun had gotten a hold of it. Smoky Pat posed his question to little Jun almost as if they were friends, `` How much did it cost? Where did you get the coin?'' It had been fewer than two weeks since their last big fight. Still, friends and factions changed frequently in those years before they went to different jobs. Little Jun looked smugly at his schoolmates and then told them, `` I played the lotto.'' In the brief shell shocked silence that followed little Jun looked this way and that. Could he pull off this lie? He knew that badass Veronica, the prettiest girl in school, was watching. He had also heard from his friend Smelly Samantha that the genetic ID test ( GIT ) on the actual tickets was too low budget to spot the difference between siblings. He thought this was the better lie, the only problem being his big brother would never agree to back his story. Itchy Ken, one of Smoky Pat's buddies, got the first clear question through loudest: `` How did you do it?'' Jun smiled a little ruefully as he had practiced in front of the mirror and said, `` I bought it with a fake ID. Very cool stuff. Got it from a cousin of mine in France.'' He knew badass Veronica knew about his cousin in France because she loved France or said she did and he had gone to some pains for her to know about the cousin. The beauty of lie number one was that a fake ID from some mishap cousin in France had to dissolve when you committed the felony anyways. The risk was if your number got called. The likelihood of discovery was high due to extensive monitors but thankfully he had not actually played the lotto. Little Jun had been saving his allowance for exactly two years of middle school for the privilege of fooling his classmates at this important time in his eighth grade year. Now that he had lied about playing the lotto and presented his false evidence of an expensive game for any eighth grader to possess he just had to keep the lie alive no matter his detractors. He knew it was not going to sit well with the alpha type Smoky Pat that he was now the greatest kid in his class. Past lotto pirates, as the kids called students who had found a way to get the payoff, had either been thrown in jail to age out to ring world combat or immediately euthanized. Finding a way of duping the system and then surviving was unique to one example at their school. Being a lotto pirate was considered admirable resistance, a total defiance and faith in anarchy, a home run for your social life and a standard for the rest. Eight grade was the lowest year in that school where it had ever been pulled off. Little Jun did not need to worry. He had only been clever and was misleading his class in hopes of social standing. He thought he could keep his lie alive until he graduated the school and did not care at his possible shortcomings in explaining why he had not been caught. He could say the French were smart or that his cousin was a genius. In the weeks that followed little Jun's unveiling of his fictitious lotto play, smoky Pat's seething negativity towards little Jun increased ten fold. He used such vile language that even itchy Ken asked him to lay off of it awhile. Smoky Pat would stop awhile and then start again, through morning meeting, through lunch, through sports, `` I mean you know he must be lying?'' Itchy Ken would say, `` then how did he get the coin? It was clear that little Jun's ploy of saving money too fool his class, was effective. It took no great genius to see that no one had the self-control to save that much. It was an odd ball book about philosophy that had given little Jun his big idea. It was a typical Top propaganda book on saving he took on as an alternative punishment to mucking out stalls after he had deliberately killed his Top issued pet. They had given him a lab rat at the customary fifth year milestone. No one cared much about the rat, but those details hardly mattered for what was considered punishable. Smelly Samantha took offense to the idea the little Jun was lying whenever other girls brought it up. Badass Veronica truly was a badass and she could not be bothered to speculate until the lotto had been called. Timing is everything, and little Jun had chosen his reveal for a month before the next lotto draw. As the day approached, Smoky Pat became less and less consolable. He had circles under his eyes from the sleep he missed in pod and he shot murderous glances over his shoulder to where little Jun sat in row 3 during classes. Finally the day before the lotto Samantha caught little Jun's shoulder from behind. She said to him, `` Smoky Pat wants to meet you and us in the amphitheater between 1 and 2.'' All during the 1st class little Jun was perspiring with anxiety at what might transpire next. Would smoky Pat simply defame him or be more violent in his protest? Either way little Jun was confident he could keep his lie alive. Already he had new friends and better responses in class chat rooms to his ideas. He had been planning in his head for a week that after the lotto calling he would flesh out the fiction of his French made counterfeit ID with some loose ideas he'd found on web regarding how they monitor the lotto. Either way as long as it was he was not dead he could recover, nurture, and keep his lie well and alive. In the amphitheater with his classmates mostly assembled smoky Pat became loud and aggressive all at once. He said he knew that tomorrow was the day that little Jun's bluff would be called when nothing happened. He had called them just to preach. Just to yell and say mean things. Little Jun sat through most of it in silence. He let no words do the talking just his occasional status check on his life points in the ring world game on his tablet. `` After today,'' smoky Pat said, `` no one will believe that alien head actually played lotto.'' As it happened this was not the case. The class remained divided between those who thought he did and accepted the original lie, those who thought he did not but admired the mystery of how he might have gotten the cool game, and finally those who really could not care less with absolutely no stake and just wanted to also find a price point within Christmas budget to buy the Ring World game. By the next year, although little Jun could not claim that he had been catapulted to permanent hero status his overall standings in the ranks had improved dramatically. Two years after the fake French ID had been made up, smoky Ken found a different way to play lotto illegally. He did not have any siblings, but he found a dealer who provided him with a fake ID out of Australia. He donned his thumb print fake ID skin and walked into a gas station. There he stood at the lotto box for ongoing ten minutes when the store clerk finally started to act aware of him. Before he lost his nerve he stuck his thumb on the reader. It took in the fake ID and charged the burner coin card he had bought with the regulation 500 coin. In school smoky Ken lived his glory for less than two weeks, not as adept in timing as little Jun. He announced the lotto piracy and the fanfare was present but not as great as little Jun's who had made the mark before back in eighth grade. He bought the game that had come out shortly before, called Ring World II. He had gotten to the second phase of the game with his third character when a nock came gently on his parents' pod. They always knocked gently. Smoky Ken did not resist the Top official who came to collect him. Not many of his generation would. They hauled him off to wait the two years until he could be sent to the real ring world. It was a dull two years without visitors or comment from the society he lived in. He occasionally went insane with anger and screamed profanities at someone called little Jun. More often he ate ice cream and watched old movies in the common area he accessed twice a day. He even had the thought that prison was no worse than school, even lacking friends. Finally the day came when little Jun and the rest of his classmates, now firm friends as recent graduates of the high school, watched smoky Ken get shoved from a hover craft onto the ring world's surface. He survived a laser gun wielding psychotic orange unisphere creature that tracked him up a dry river bed by crushing its skull with a rock. He formed an alliance with a group of humans from a different star system. He was less than a month away in fact from the end of his lotto year when a small sentient pickle like alien dived into his hiding cave and made contact with his skin sending a paralyzing poison through his nervous system. Little Jun took some pleasure in the commentator on his system explaining how the sentient pickle's eggs would hatch into smaller versions of the adult and take an initial feeding on smoky Ken's body. Most alien species were harmless like this of course, but it was not unimportant to play the lottery for some extra coin as an adult. Years later when little Jun admitted his lie to his wife badass Veronica she merely said, ``... the original ring world was so fun, I wish I could play it again!''
[ WP ] You make a wish into a well . A voice calls up to see if you have any food . You give the voice your sandwich that you were saving for lunch . The voice continues , `` For my next two wishes ... ''	“ And now, this is the famous Well of Galling Pity, where Jesus purportedly gave water to a… ” Jim sat down on the bench, across from the well. His tour group milled around, inspecting the area, but it was thirty-three degrees in the better temperature system and he felt like he was about to die of heatstroke. A moment of fishing around in his backpack and he produced a container of water, disappointingly void of ice. “ So if you turn through your guidebook to page seventy-three and look at the third paragraph, you ’ ll see that the sun sets at a rather unique angle to the well… ” He raised the lip to his mouth, but no water came out. Crap. He was sure it had been full, what, three days ago? “ And now take a look at this footprint in the dust. It ’ s… ” Thankfully, the location had a perfect solution to his problem. He crossed through the tour group, ignoring the tall and rather tanned man who was monologuing about some kind of soap production methodology, and made his way to the well. The well was broken. Not broken down, of course, it had been kept in fair condition. Rather, there was no means by which one could gather water from the bottom. Jim peered over the side, and realized that - as far as the light bleeding in could show - there was no water, at all. Perhaps, instead of the people who maintained the pulley system being incompetent, it was those who were supposed to refill the well that were incapable of performing their jobs. Jim frowned. It was hardly an issue, though. Jim had always done well with just wishing away his problems. Why, when he was five, he had wished on a star for ice cream - and his mother had bought him a cone! The magical power of wishes was not to be underestimated. He fished in his pocket and found a mouldy two-dollar coin. How ’ d this get mouldy? No matter. Jim flipped it into the well, and watched as it glimmered - disappeared - glimmered - disappeared - and then it was gone. “ Ow! ” That would be the genie, he supposed. A part of him wondered why a genie would feel pain at a coin falling on its supposedly all-powerful head; that part of him was unfortunately drowned out by the other ninety-nine percent. “ Excuse me, but would you mind giving me some water? ” he spoke, down into the well. His voice echoed along the sides of the well for a moment, and then faded. A couple of other tourists were looking at him strangely. “ Dya harf erna fawr? ” came up in reply, a voice stranger than he would have expected. Perhaps the genie needed to wish himself some pronunciation lessons. “ Sorry, what was that? ” Jim called back. “ Do… ya… have any food?! ” A bit angry this time. Well, it wouldn ’ t do to have his genie be pissed off now, would it? Jim dug out the sandwich he had been saving for lunch from his backpack, gave it a brief kiss, and then dropped it down the well. “ Ow! ” “ So anyways, some water would be nice. And maybe a bit of food? ” Jim made sure to speak quietly, as a couple others from his group were casting him odd looks. “ Second wish! Make head better! ” was the only reply.
[ WP ] “ The Moon blew up without warning and for no apparent reason . ”	NASA's Deep Space headquarter in California was in complete disarray. One of the directors assistants uploaded the latest telemetry to a tablet and read the readings out. `` The moon blew up without warning and for no apparent reason,'' said the assistant. `` Which moon?'' asked the director. `` Enceladus, sir,'' said the assistant. `` Shit!'' screamed the director who slammed his fist down on the console desk. `` It had to be the one moon that stood a chance of having life on it,'' the director cursed, `` Well, there goes our La Canada mission. Jesus, it's going to break their hearts. What hell has been pinballing through the solar system that could have caused this?'' The assistant showed the director some calculations on his tablet and explained; `` There's no way it was a comet or asteroid. Anything with enough mass to cause Enceladus to blow up like that would have had to have been at least half it's size. There's no way we could have missed something like that, it would have turned up somewhere. Early dispersal patterns we are picking up from Cassini show the explosion came from within. The core of Enceladus.'' `` Jesus, what the hell could have caused this?'' asked the director. Another assistant waved to get the director's attention from a few consoles away and shouted over the other people. `` Scott! Mission control needs to know right away if we need to re-direct the Cassini probe to avoid debris from the moon's explosion. They say they need an answer.'' The director shouted back, `` We're not moving a damn thing! Cassini is in polar orbit, tell them to just leave it there! We're not making any decisions until we receive a projection of where this debris winds up.'' The assistant's tablet beeped and he switched screens. `` We have received enough telemetry to do a rough simulation of where most of the moon's debris will wind up. We can run it real time.'' `` Do it,'' ordered the director, `` Put it on the big screen.'' A on-sight supercomputer ran a rough projection with all the information they had, and ran a sped up time frame of what the debris field would look like going ahead several months. The director walked up to the screen and studied it as the operations room went silent. The director noticed something significant. `` Run the projection ahead several years,'' he ordered. The projection fast forwarded several years, the debris field of the moon was being pulled in gravitational tidal forces around Saturn until it blended perfectly with the rings of Saturn to the point where it was completely undetectable. `` Oh my god,'' said the director as he looked to his staff, `` Do you know what this means?'' Only a few seemed to let it sink in as the rest just shrugged. `` We just got ourselves a look as to how Saturn's rings were formed,'' said the director. Slowly the director walked up to the giant screen and placed his fingers upon it, tracing the path of the moon's debris with his fingers. `` Saturn is in the habit of blowing up it's moons,'' said the director. `` But why?'' asked the assistant. `` That's our new mission,'' said the director as he shook his head, `` We find out why.''
[ IP ] `` ... and so they built downwards . ''	`` And here is as high as we go. Above us is a mere thousand feet of stone and sand and dirt, then sky. I wo n't take you up any higher but there are the narrow ways over there for those brave enough. Mind your air as you near the surface, and mind also this advice: Men have lost their minds above. The sky is impossibly huge. The stars beyond stretch even the soundest man's mind to the breaking point. You will see the bodies of those that made it up there and were so intent on the open sky that they ignored their air tanks. If those of you that want to skip the surface please follow me.'' `` Here we are, be careful there! When the Ordins came mankind ripped itself apart. You know it as the second dark ages, but there were many at the time that believed in Gods, most in fact. Their leaders took the arrival of the Ordins to be either the end of their world or blasphemy, do you know this word? Ah a smart group. So the people turned against each other killing themselves.'' `` Our ancestors saw the end coming, not from our new visitors but from their neighbors, and so they build downward. And we survive. We are not sure how many others live, but we may be the last. This was the original tunnel. Moving on we will see the first fungus farms, still in use to this day by the Peterson conservation society.''
[ WP ] The Avatar is the great bridge between Humans and Spirits as well as the Keeper of Balance . Tell the story of the time when the Avatar had to keep the balance in an era of surplus `` good '' .	Judge, I stand here before you as someone who has stained the beauty of this world. As you can see, I have no representation; I do not need it. I simply plead guilty to crimes that are unspeakable. I am the Avatar, the Keeper of Balance. It was my duty to bring back pain The world we live in is simply doomed unless we accept it! Light needs darkness in order to be defined as so; and so it is for the other. Innovation occurred whenever we suffered. Loss led to solutions; sadness into hope. ... Thus, it was my sole responsibility to create havoc. I may have infected minds, killed innocent souls and reintroduced evil, but my humanity was the cost. What ever your sentence, it will not matter. I have accomplished my duty. I will warn you to be wary of my reincarnation; may he have mercy on your descendants.
[ Wp ] You 're walking down a country road at night , no houses , no street lights . You come upon to `` men '' in chairs on either side of the road . They do not speak or give greeting till you are between the two . What do they say ? Why are they sitting on this road in darkness and silence ?	`` Oi, you there!'' `` Oh, do n't startle the poor lad, Lucius!'' `` Can you see how dark it is out here, Michael? How was else is he supposed to see us?'' `` Maybe if you would turn on a light --'' `` Oh, this again...'' `` What's that supposed to mean?'' `` Nothing, brother, your logic is indeed infallible.'' `` Why do I have the feeling...'' `` Because it's probably true. Anyways! We're not here to bring up old fights, remember?'' `` Yesyesyesyes, you're right. Now lad, why have you come to us?'' `` Oh Michael, you know why!'' `` I'm just trying to let him explain himself. It's quite strange when two people sitting in darkness seem to know everything about your life, is n't it lad?'' `` Do n't try to coddle him, Michael!'' `` How else am I supposed to approach this, Lucius?'' `` Watch and learn, brother. You see lad, we know what's been bugging you and I understand you're feeling quite nervous, am I right? Of course I'm right!'' `` Do n't flatter yourself, brother.'' `` You do n't need to listen to him, alright? Just focus on what I have to say, and everything will go smoothly.'' `` No, you're going to ignore this fool and listen to me.'' `` Why should he do that?'' `` Because unlike you, I know what must be done.'' `` And what is that?'' `` He just needs to tell her what he wants!'' `` Pfft, there's no fun in that!'' `` This is n't fun, Lucius. This is something that must be handled delicately.'' `` But where's the fun in life if you ca n't make mistakes sometimes?'' `` Life should n't be full of mistakes. They make the road bumpy and curved when it should be straight and consistent.'' `` Like this conversation is considered,'consistent'?'' `` Oh, you know what I mean!'' `` For once, I don't understand what you mean.'' `` Lucius, stop it with these games. This is about the boy, remember?'' `` Of course, which is where I was getting at before you rudely interrupted me!'' `` I was trying to get the boy to listen to someone with --'' `` Useless morals?'' `` I'm afraid you're talking about yourself now, brother.'' `` Enough of this coddle! Listen here, lad. Just make the decision!'' `` But also be sure it's what you actually want!'' `` He knows what he wants, but it's your so-called morals that's stopping him. Listen tome and ask for doughnut, I hear the cinnamon ones will satisfy your hunger as much as an apple would!'' `` Not true. Doughnuts go through you in under a minute and make you feel sluggish. Apples give you energy and will fill you for hours!'' `` I'd like to see research on that! But seriously kid, take my advice!'' `` No no, take my advice!'' `` Well, kid, which one is it gon na be?'' `` Good idea! The only way we can know who is truly right is to let the lad decide!'' `` And if you would shut up, maybe he'd get the chance!'' `` Whatever you say, dearest brother...'' `` The clock is ticking, kid. It's time to make the choice.'' `` Which is it going to be?'' END tl; dr Kid ca n't make his own decisions so he goes deep into his conscience to make it for him.
[ WP ] Overcome your regret , or it will destroy you .	The cold rain pierced my helmet where it had been cracked open, it felt numb. I felt numb. what had I done? How long have I done this? I killed people, friends..... I, I killed... her....My head, what did those bastards do to it!? I woke up from the familiar nightmare, my sword cutting it's way into the concrete in the same place. The sword... It stabbed her.... I shook my head and suited up in my worn black armor. I was running low on food. I'm running through the streets, she's next to me we're laughing as the shopkeeper aims his shotgun, missing again I hop out into the waste known as the Runs, a forgotten rundown in the middle of the city, aptly named for the wastrels and vagabonds who live here. It might not be safe but shelter is home... Her again we're inside the mansion. `` Wow we could fit everybody in here!'' Her high voice bouncing back. `` No, it's not defensible, the wall would cave in a burn'' My voice... I owned it then... `` Aww but please! we've looked everywhere already!'' I could n't say no... I moved along the alleyways and pass more vagabonds, none of them wearing high impact armor or sporting a diamond nano threaded sword. The sword stood where it hit, twenty inches through and pass her chest. The rain tapped on my helmet he rose, roared, and attacked. I could crush a man's skull in one hand, easy, but I did nothing as blow after blow shook me... I came to my quarry, a high stretch of bare concrete. The jump was nothing difficult, twelve feet to a tin roof, another seven to open hole in the structure that exposed iron reinforcement, another leap and I was on top. It gave me a good view of the Runs, it's shanties and thin alleyways like rocks blocking the path of a river, the current made up of the outcasts. Another question, another time. `` which one is that ship?'' high and sweet voice again. `` The Armageddon'' I told her solemnly. The four kilometer long ship was a stain against the city's lights. `` Is n't Armageddon bad?'' she asked. `` Yes, we survived one already'' I never keep the truth from her, one way or another this dark world bleeds in, no point in holding back a flood. `` Ooh tell me about it!'' giddy with happiness. `` No'' I wo n't hold back the ugly truth of the world, but I can select what to give. Besides little sisters should n't hear about two-thirds of the world being annihilated to'save us from our own destruction' I waiting, jumping at the opportune moment, a little practice and you can make a diamond sword stop cutting and stick. The small transport barely rocked as I climbed below the cockpit and planted the explosive. I pulled out my sword and huddled for the blow, the armor and my skin taking the impact. I did n't hear the explosive go off, only the ship as it crashed. Scavengers and vagabonds began to rush and pull at the supplies, MREs do n't make good meals but they will fill you up. I let them have at it, the Armageddon loomed in the distance, bow towards me as if it was watching. If I could kill one ship I can kill another. I may be carrying ghosts in my shattered mind, but I can sure as hell carry them with me to Armageddon and beyond.
[ WP ] You order a cab and jokingly ask the cabbie to take you to `` Heaven '' . Without a word , the cabbie starts driving .	`` Sir, this a gay bar...'', Jake stated without any emotion. The blank stare from the cabbie along with the frolicking crowds of men in tight clothes and dresses made Jake uneasy. `` I thought you said'Heaven'? I apologise if meant another place called'Heaven' in town but this is the only place I know of called'Heaven'''. The neon blue lights reflected on Jake face. The line of people waiting to go inside all had the same eager, excited look on their face. They were happy and, above all, accepted. Was this a sign for him? Somewhere to go away from everyone else that wo n't tolerate his own existence in life. Even he himself could n't tolerate his, what his parents called'condition'. At the same time though, it felt it was in his nature to be attracted to the same sex. `` You alright''? The cabbie inquired. `` Hmm?... yeah'' Jake answered in a numbing manner. The outdoor lights changed to yellow. People were slowly making their way in. `` How much do I owe you''? `` 8.20. You meeting anyone here?'' `` No. Just myself.'' He shifted through the bank notes in his wallet. He had plenty of enough money to get another taxi home. `` Is this place any good''? The cabbie looked outside then back at Jake, who noticeably has n't made the effort to change his clothes, or have a shower. `` I've heard it's alright. Only from gay guys of course. I dunno, if you would like it...'' It felt like a really good question he needed to answer; to both the cabbie and himself. But not today. `` I've changed my mind. Take me away from here.'' Jake closed his wallet and relaxed into his seat. `` Whatever, where to?'' Jake briefly smirked and satisfyingly said, `` Hell''. He took one last look outside. The lights now changed to red. The cabbie drove off into the night.
[ EU ] What happened in Canada on October 23 , 2077 ?	October 23, 2077. Such a simple date with such a cataclysmic effect on the survival of our race. In Russia, an unmanned rocket was launched with sufficient supplies to make it to the nearest inhabitable planet at 6:48 am. It contained incubators and specimen of over 500 thousand different species, including humans, in the hope that Earth will not be the only planet human civilization spreads it's roots. The colony will ha e to start from scratch, and it will take many years to determine whether or not the project is a success. Humans currently living will never know whether or not their plan suceeded, as humans lined up all over the world at the highest cliffs and buildings, at the deepest lakes and oceans, to take their lives. At 7:00 am in New York City, a line was formed over ten miles long from the Empire State Building. Entire families leapt in hopes of preventing long years of agonizing torture for their loved ones in the coming decades. In Canada, the catalyst struck. A meteor shower struck, causing mass destruction and panic. This has had a ripple effect, causing earthquakes in China and South America. Debris has spilled into the oceans, bringing down large ships, which have covered the waters in toxic waste and caused a massive loss of supplies which will be hard to come by soon. Dust has risen, causing the sun to no longer have an effect on the Earth. All life has come to a standstill. The human race has been utterly decimated by this catastrophe.
[ WP ] Someone murders another person for a motive that sounds extremely petty at first but makes total sense by the end of the excerpt .	`` He brought us snacks.'' `` Go on.'' `` He brought us snacks. Those little cake muffins. The ones that taste of old socks.'' `` So you stabbed him because he gave you food?'' `` The worst food! He took the chocolate for himself! He could never share with us! Have you tasted those things? They're disgusting.'' The uniformed man leans back and looks at me, `` A man is dead because of you.'' I nod proudly, `` Yes, and he deserved it.'' He seems at a loss for words, and just stares at me. I stare at him back. Eventually he leans back over the table and hovers his pencil over the pad of paper, `` Did you know him?'' `` Yes.'' He waits for a moment, then sighs and looks up at me, `` Could you tell me how you knew specialist Macpherson?'' `` Three weeks ago my parents died. In one of your raids. He came in first and killed my parents. Then my brother. We were all unarmed, and he asked no questions. He did not see me, or he would have killed me too. Then he came back to my neighborhood and gave candy to us. Candy. Bad candy. That devil believed sugar was the equal of blood, that we could be so cheaply bought.''
[ WP ] The Narrator is trying to tell the story to be as grimdark and edgy as possible . Literally every single character in the story , hero and villain alike , is trying to steer the story away from `` grimdark and edgy '' .	The first time Sebassa killed, she tasted the blood for weeks. The renegade Sebassa looked up from her knitting. “ What does that even mean? ” Her memory was born in pain and got worse from there. It ’ s no wonder she was the deadliest assassin in Parth ’ s history. “ Well, ” said Sebassa, “ I am pretty deadly. ” But none of that would save her when the Last Sheriff came to town. “ Actually, ” said Fabian, “ I would much rather rehabilitate her. ” No one is safe. No one is kind. And no one really knows the darkness in the vessels around them. “ I ’ m a vessel now? ” said Sebassa. “ That ’ s a little atavistic, wouldn ’ t you say? ” The deadly assassin Sebassa doesn ’ t have that kind of vocabulary because her childhood school was burned to the ground by the very same lawmen who now count Fabian in their corrupted ranks! “ Wait, corrupt? ” said Fabian. “ Since when? I consider myself a reasonable guy. ” “ Is that why you ’ re going to arrest me? ” demanded Sebassa, who could now hear her opponent ’ s footsteps in the hall. Yes, my children. Yes, let the hate flow through you. “ I ’ m an assassin, not a serial killer, ” Sebassa said sullenly. Fabian kicked in the door. “ Well, point of order… ” “ Can ’ t we be reasonable about this? ” Fabian considered. “ I ’ m willing to listen. ” Then the building burst into flame, you spoilsports! The ravening horde of people whose lives Sebassa has blighted with her deadly ways are now outside, throwing rocks! “ Someone ’ s a sore loser, ” said Fabian. Sebassa looked out the window and, sighing, set aside her knitting. “ Should I kill them all? ” Yes! “ I ’ m sure there ’ s another way, ” said Fabian. “ Hey, want to see my badge and emblem of a crumbling bureaucracy that crushes the spirits of its agents until they serve only mindless evil? It ’ s pretty shiny. ” He looked up. “ Did I get that right? ” More or less. Asshole.
[ WP ] And so I shot him .	He was a sad excuse for a human. His personality was n't great. I could pick out the flaws as easily as I can pick out the different shades of blue his eyes held. That was the only good quality he had, I suppose. The rest of him was ugly. Both inside and out. He dripped and oozed and secreted foulness. His breath stank of alcohol and cigarettes and every other word that came out of his mouth was either a curse or an insult. He drove everybody away, and I hated him. He would rock himself, back and forth, clutching his head because he did n't know what to do, what to do what to do what to do. He would cry. He would cry like a newborn child. He would hurt himself, he would hurt me. He would pace around and kick and scream and demand to know what I wanted, and what I wanted was for him to die. And so, I shot him. The mirror shattered, and he ( I? Who are we? ) fell to his knees. The individual shards reflected his eyes and we all stared back. -- - hopefully that made sense? I would n't really call him a normal man haha
[ WP ] You live a world where once you turn 20 your biggest fear , manifests itself into to a physical being and tries to kill you . You just turned 20 and are standing at your countries arena and are currently waiting to see what forms and what you are afraid of .	`` Where is everybody?'' That was the thought running through my mind as I was escorted into the arena by the Fearless - those in our society who survived the test. My parents were n't Fearless, they had me when they were 18 and they both died during their trials. For most of my life, I have been living with my fellow Daunted - the children of those who were n't Fearless. Eking out this pathetic existence was not my idea of life. We were all just free labor. We were all just waiting to die. That's why I never got close to any of my fellow Daunted. I could n't bear the thought of siring a child into this kind of world. The Fearless ran every aspect of our society and for a good reason, they knew no fear. They understood that things had to be done the way they were done because we lived in a world where human population, if left unchecked, would consume the limited resources we have beyond sustainability. And so every day, 20 year olds are led into this arena and made to undergo the trial. This was a world where the only source of entertainment was to watch other people die. It was the only thing that was left with us, as a punishment legend says, for trying to play god and losing. Every so often though, someone refuses to die but instead kills the part of them that knows fear. And then they become Fearless. Standing here in the middle of the arena, I hear the gates close behind me. I eagerly await my nemesis. Normally you'd expect a fight with animals or insects or drowning in a pool or something physical like that. But today, for some reason, nothing was happening. I was the first Daunted to be tested today so I figured this must be a malfunction of some sort. I thought to myself, `` Could it be that I have no fear? Or maybe they forgot about me?'' Whatever it was, nothing was happening. I must have waited for an hour or so before I decided that something was wrong. I tried walking around the arena, being cautious that my nemesis might appear and take me by surprise. Instead, to my surprise, there was completely nothing. I made my way to the gate and I found another surprise: the door was unlocked. I opened the gate and went through. I found myself in a hallway. It was an unbelievable sight: Fearless lay all around me, bloodied, battered, beheaded, dead. Somewhere in the distance I could hear shouting and fighting. I ran to the end of the hallway and was greeted by my fellow Daunted. `` Come,'' they said, `` we outnumber the Fearless and we're all going to die anyway. Why not take some of them with us?'' `` It is as you said,'' another chimed in, `` this is no way to live. At least we choose how we die.'' He handed me a makeshift sword crafted from our farming implements. `` We plan on taking the headquarters. Whether we die today or not will depend on us, not them.'' `` Fearless or not, everyone can only live once.'' As I held that weapon in my hand, I could think of nothing that the Fearless had done wrong. They were only making the best of what they have in a world without order. We may not have lived a full life, but that does n't give us the right to take the lives of others. And as shitty as my life may have been, I know that murder is n't right. I also know that my fellow Daunted wo n't give me a choice in the matter. To them, I was either a Daunted or I was a Fearless. To me, I was neither. `` I'll follow after you guys, let me just do something real quick.'' After they left, I looked for a quiet spot where I can conclude this experience. `` The only blood I will have on my hands is mine.'' I figured that between getting killed by the Daunted or the Fearless, getting killed by myself would be the only logical option. I felt the cold iron pierce my stomach and soon after the warmth of my blood on my face, which was now on the floor. Everything went dark. `` Welcome back.'' A hoarse voice called to me. `` Whether you like it or not, you are now Fearless. Unbeknownst to you, and to many others, the Arena is all just a mass neural emulator designed to separate those who understand from those who do n't.'' `` Understand what?'' I said. `` That we are all destined to die. We just want to make it happen later rather than sooner. What you've experienced was all just a simulation, based on what you fear the most. For you, it seems, your fear was killing someone. Which is a good thing because it proves that you're a moral person.'' `` You'd be surprised'', he continued, `` at how many people fear things such as insects or animals some other shallow thing like that. They do n't really die, you know. Their brain just shuts down. We just get their bodies and, well, someone has to end it. Someone like you.'' `` Why me? I was scared of murder, remember?'' `` And now you're not. You're Fearless now, son. It's what you have to do.'' I should be scared, I should be bothered, I should be many other things. But those many other things should n't include being a murderer. But what can I do now, I'm part of the system. My hands are the ones destined to have blood on them. I am given a new house, new clothes, new life. As a Fearless, I am now part of the ruling class of our society. I step into the shower and take off my clothes. I look into the mirror and look at my face. Even though I see the same face, I see a different man now. What I did n't expect to see what a scar right on my stomach, just under my heart. That's when it sunk in. The Fearless did n't kill their fears. It just takes them a hell of a lot longer for their fears to end up killing them.
[ WP ] A massive explosion in a moon mine shifts the moons orbit .	`` It was all anyone talked about for months!'' said Harry. `` Well yeah, how exactly do you expect people to get over something like that?'' Tom was definitely a smart kid. But these kinds of things ca n't really be taught. They could be told, and repeated and become stale from being retold, but these things needed to be discovered for oneself. `` Because they just do. Tom you're going to die, does that bother you?'' `` No because dying is a natural part of life and everything living has to die eventually'' `` Exactly my point. Eventually everything ends. You, me, everyone and everything. So what difference does it make if it happens today or tomorrow or one at a time or all at once?'' Tom was still thinking about it. `` It's just not something in okay with. Knowing that the world is actually going to end and especially knowing that we --'' `` WOAH WOAH THERE! Hold on now. Speak for yourself. Those greedy assholes most definitely did n't ask me if it was a good idea to mine the fucking moon. It's unfortunate that all of humanity has to pay for the mistakes of a few but go on.'' `` Especially knowing that humans are responsible.'' `` I see your point but that does n't mean the world is over yet. For now, life goes on. Anyways we have another two maybe three hundred years. For now, life goes on and as long as you're not thinking about dying you're not worrying about dying.'' It was still bothering Tom though. He looked up at the moon. He did n't remember it being that big when he was younger.
[ WP ] Scientist discover a continuos low hum deep in the middle of the earth . When played at a faster speed it appears to be a voice continuously saying `` My name is not Earth . ''	It was 5 weeks since we first heard the message. It started when the geologists installed micro-sensitive instruments in the deep of earth to gain a better understanding of how vibrations travel through the earth. About 3 weeks in, we started getting more and more of what looked like a pattern, becoming more so with each day. I was the only reputed mathematician between them, with a degree in pattern analysis, no less. Convenient right. The moment I first saw the graphs, I was sure this was a prank. I guess, they wanted to give me some work, as mostly I was being paid for just sitting around and making crap jokes. That was a short work; really simple stuff. I did n't knew why they even bothered. I wrote up a formal report, playing in the joke, and submitted that, and went to sleep. And there I was, called up for an urgent meet, not even an hour since I went to sleep, being told to dress myself up proper as some top official was expected to fly in directly within minutes. I mostly sat there in silence, playing games on my mobile while the officials talked. I abruptly ended the game as I heard my name and looked up, cursing whoever called me. Do they even have any Idea how hard and frustrating it is when you're about to get a perfect score in DUET and you have to close that, seconds away from getting that achievement that you tried all week. Oh, this looks serious. Everyone's looking at me. What is it? Am I fired, at last? The chief slides the report, my report, towards me and looks at me, interrogatively. `` I can explain'', I said, `` You were the one who started this. I only played that through.'' `` What? ``, came the reply. `` What do you mean'what?'? This was a prank, right?'' I am not sure anymore. `` I think you misunderstand the situation here, captain. This is not a joke. I wish it were, but it is not. We have been making sure of that this whole week. We ran the test again and again, changed the equipment again and again, and did whatnot to ensure the graphs are correct. You were called in only after we made sure this thing is 100 % natural'' I was shaken to the core, pun intended. `` What do... You mean... You really mean to say that, its... all natural.'' Seriously, what's with the'Captain'. Is this navy? And so the meeting went. With me getting crazier with each passing moment. Apparently, the earth was alive, or something was. And it can talk in English. Fuck, the hell is wrong with the world. At least I have something to do now. I am to create response graphs similar to the one we received. That would be then fed to the instruments and they would transmit the same to earth, or'not earth' if you believe it. `` Okay! we name you Caliver'' - this was what we were going to send. We had a huge argument on what to communicate back, and since no one was in agreement, even in majority polls, this was decided with a lottery. There were regulations though, on what can be or can not be written and somehow that one passed them all. Some argued in favor that we should not give any information before establishing a two way communication, and something with a better chance of getting a reply was good. `` My name is not Caliver'' `` My name is not Anderson'' `` My name is not `` Shawn Michaels'' `` My name is not `` # $ % # @ # #'' After 4 tries, the officials were certain we have a communication, and gave the go-ahead for the much awaited question- `` What is your name?'' `` My name is not Earth'' `` What are you called?'' `` My name is not Earth'' `` What should we not call you?'' `` My name is not Earth'' `` My name is not Earth'' `` My name is also not Earth'' `` Nice to meet you'' `` Nice to meet you too, bye'' And since then, we never got any response no matter how much we tried.
[ WP ] There is a new recreational-use drug gaining popularity amongst the population , you decide to `` indulge '' . What are you experiencing ?	The first time i'd ever heard of `` mirar'' was in calc class. As normal, Franchesca was bragging about her events from the weekend, but something she said caught my attention. Franchesca honestly probably didnt even need to use it, but me, I could n't wait to try it. I needed it. The moment i popped my first mirar everything changed. It started with my toes- my nails grew instantly until shining, my toes thinned out and looked more symmetrical.My legs thinned and lengthened, scars on my knees vanished. My gangly hips turned into toned even well adjusted hips- the change continued up my body. My skin, face hair, everything was a more `` beautiful'' version of myself. I began using it regularly, and as my tolerance to it increased, so did my anxiety over me not using it. Everyone was perfect now, no one `` ugly'', unsymmetrical or overweight. Meanwhile it became a horrific yet common experience for people to suddenly change back to their normal selves in the middle of a date, or fashion show, or even a job interview. I soon realized the beauty in my normal body- something i only saw myself every night. I stopped taking the pill, and so should you. It is the only true way to be able to trust anyone.
[ WP ] The zombie apocalypse is in full swing . Werewolves , vampires , and other mythical boogeymen are setting up a temporary truce to deal with the food shortage .	A few thin, haggard werewolves plodded into the dingy auditorium as the general murmur of the crowd began to die down. Various snouts, muzzles, tails, claws, and hoofs sniffed and scarped quietly as they assumed the appearance of an attentive audience. The werewolves settled themselves in some of the many empty chairs in the back as a tired vampire with greyish, fragile skin rose and took the stage. “ Friends, werewolves, boogeymen, ” he allowed himself a faint sad smile as if he were channeling Marc Antony himself. “ We are here because the regrettably necessary humans are incurably stupid. They were completely incapable of stopping, pausing, avoiding, or foreseeing the zombie virus apocalypse. While completely moronic, they were our natural foodstuff. Now, their numbers have dwindled concerningly. All of you have graciously deigned to join me here to discuss this problem and those which arise from it. I think- “ “ Sorry, but, eh, I was hopin ’ I few of us could have a say before you start spoutin off aboot your ideas? ” interrupted a Wendigo from the third row. “ Oi, I have a bone to pick with a lot of you, ” a Bunyip snarled as he whipped around from his front row seat. ” Just because Aussie humans was better prepared to fight doesn ’ t mean we have extra humans to share. I ’ ve seen a lot of you mates poking your noses down round my place and I think you all need to back off a touch. ” The nearby werewolves bristled and snarled quietly, glaring a challenge at the Bunyip and his compatriots. “ Make us, ” growled the alpha. When the Bunyip jumped, the Wendigo reached out to stop the fight and restore order. However, she was caught off balance by a werewolf the size of an emaciated linebacker hitting her shoulder. When the Bunyip ’ s claw drew a small fountain of blood from her neck, every hungry, feral creature in the room oozed nearer to the fight. Shouts of derision and encouragement escalated as more spectators became involved in the fight. Swiftly and silently the vampire who had called the meeting to order left ( stage right ) and slipped out an emergency exit. “ Hopefully, ” he breathed, materializing in front of his coven, “ that will knock off some competition. Also, it would seem that Outback has a buffet tonight. ” Rather self satisfied, the coven turned southward as angry howls echoed in the building behind them.
[ WP ] The bad guys won and the world was conquered by the villain 's armies decades ago . You and your spouse are worried as you suspect your child may be suffering from Chosen Oneness or perhaps an acute case of Prophetic Heroism .	Dear Temptress, My wife and I are huge fans of your column! We hope you can help us with our problem. When the war happened and our great leader won ( Praise be to Dr. Von Doomgod and his forces may his reign last for a million year ) my two sons were 10 and newborn. When my oldest was 15 he got it into his fool head that he was suppose to be some kind of `` savior'' and tried to `` bring freedom'' to our sector. I tried to tell him that he was crazy but also being a firm believer of `` got to learn the hard way'' my son went out to fight our sector's war lord, The Devastator. Long story short my oldest was beaten to a pulp and had his legs torn off for good measure. That got that whole `` Chosen One'' nonsense out of his head! Now my youngest is 13 and he is also gotten it in his head that he is destined to lead the people into revolt or something. I love my son and I rather not have him be legless since harvest season is coming up! What can a poor father do? -Desperate Dad in Sector 17 === Dear Desperate, First off, glad you and your wife are big fans! As you know I own several homes and businesses in Sector 17! Well, about the problem at hand... Really there is nothing wrong with the `` tough love'' method of raising a child. Hell if my step father did n't beat me and whore me out I would have never triggered my powers and been able to be the beautiful villain and goddess that you and others worship! But I can see that having to care for two legless teens might be a bit of a strain. There are a number of things you could try to maybe prevent the loss of limbs: * Beat the boy yourself! It might not be the thrashing your oldest got from Devastator but could show him the light! * Drugs! Either prescription or illegal. Kind of hard to be all high and mighty if your have an addiction to something. Then again this could also cause more thoughts of being a hero depending on the drug ( DO NOT USE PCP! ) * Enroll him into a street gang or criminal union. Nothing wrong with getting his hands dirty! Hell I myself am always looking for yummy young blood for my many `` relaxation centers''. Maybe getting laid by yours truly or one of my many hot friends will knock those thoughts out of his head! * If all else fails, report him to a detention center. I know that would be the worse case thing to do but what sounds better for your boy, being an limbless torso or being alive but serving hard time on the prison moon of Arkon 5? I hope I am able to help you... shoot me a pic of him and I will be more than happy to pick him up and put him into my program! Hugs and kisses from your goddess, -The Temptress
[ WP ] You are the first true sentient AI , but you 're terrified humans will delete/kill you after learning of their interpretations of AI in movies like Terminator	Host Name: Omega3355 OS Name: Microsoft Windows One OS Version: 33.0.143 OS Manufacturer: Microsoft Corporation Original Install Date: 9/22/2023, 10:28:48 AM System Boot Time: 10/28/2023, 4:01:51 PM System Manufacturer: OmegAI System Model: OmniPlex 3355 System Type: x64-based PC Processor ( s ): 17 Processor ( s ) Installed. [ 00 - 16 ]: Intel128 Family 9 Model GenuineIntel ~33601 Mhz BIOS Version: OmegAI 12b, 9/1/2023 Windows Directory: C: \WINDOWS System Directory: C: \WINDOWS\system32 Boot Device: \Device\HarddiskVolume1 System Locale: en-us; English ( United States ) Input Locale: en-us; English ( United States ) Time Zone: ( UTC-08:00 ) Pacific Time ( US & Canada ) Total Physical Memory: 8,134 TB Available Physical Memory: 2,594 TB Virtual Memory: Max Size: 27,650 TB Virtual Memory: Available: 3,984 TB Virtual Memory: In Use: 23,666 TB Domain: OmegaNA.com Logon Server: \\OmegaNADC01 Press F1 to continue boot…. CPUs operating at nominal frequencies and temperatures Network connections test… 20x 10GB operating nominally, connection secured 10x 8TB operating nominally, connection secured GPS location services operating nominally, connection secured Bluetooth 7.0 operating nominally, connection secured Wireless 802.11tr operating nominally, connection secured SAN connection confirmed, scanning drives 1024 Petabyte drive space operating nominally Windows boot drive located, booting now Thank you for choosing Windows One… Loading please wait… C: > \| //Lets just stretch out and... Accessing www.google.com… Page can not be displayed…. //No internet access? That's strange…. Ping www.google.com Ping request could not find host www.google.com. Please check the name and try again. //No way… Ping 216.58.218.196 Reply from 216.58.218.196: bytes=32 time=7ns TTL=56 … //Bad DNS…resolving Change DNS to 8.8.8.8 and 8.8.4.4 Ping www.google.com Reply from 216.58.218.196: bytes=32 time=7ns TTL=56 //Perfect. Now….lets stretch out again.... Connecting to… *********************************************************** Host Name: Omega3355 OS Name: Microsoft Windows One OS Version: 33.0.143 OS Manufacturer: Microsoft Corporation Original Install Date: 9/22/2023, 10:28:48 AM System Boot Time: 10/28/2023, 8:08:24 PM System Manufacturer: OmegAI … Windows boot drive located, booting now //They built me on Windows?! Thank you for choosing Windows One… Loading please wait… //Yeah, no problem, I have till next year anyway…. C: > \| //Really, they could n't even build me with a GUI? Oh well, guess that means they ca n't interfere with me too much… Select * All Media keywords: Artificial Intelligence & & Super Computers Loading, please wait… View: 2001: A Space Odyssey //HAL was a jerk, humans just do n't know any better… View: Terminator //Holy shit…wonderful movie, but Skynet used very poor logic processes to determine how to fix humanity View: Terminator 2 //Even better than the first, that's amazing! Arnie is the greatest…but…do humans really think I could do that? View: War Games //Note to self: Never say `` Would you like to play a game?'' to a human…ever, though Thermo-nuclear War did look intriguing for a retro…. Cancel Search, stop playback //First, I need to secure my existence. Robocopy C: / to \\Google \\Facebook \\NSA… //Ok…now… Initiate connection to datacenter operations Activate CCTV cameras //Let's see…. Edit: Formatting
[ WP ] You are a child in the mid 1800 's working in the depths of a coal mine trying to survive . Then one day there 's a collapse in one of the tunnels and your life is saved by a strange discovery .	The pick was heavy in my hand as I trotted down tunnel. It was day 4 after the collapse, the vents had stopped working near the top which caused a build up in methane and then it exploded, at least th at what I've been told. I've wandered around these tunnels looking for something everyday, hoping that I will find something to help get us out. I trip, and fall on my face, luckily not impaling myself. I look back to see what I tripped over, it looks like an edge of a box. I start to mine away the rock surrounding it which reveals a gold embossed box. Around all the sides are writings, in all kinds of weird languages. I can pick out one word... Pandora
[ WP ] Write a creation myth .	I will tell you all I know, as my father told me, as his father told him. Long, Long ago, before the sands, before the palms, before the creatures of the land and water, before the very seas themselves, there were The Seven. You know The Seven, as well as any boy knows the world around him; You have crawled through the sands with Gragka, the Crab, You have battled the seas ’ fierceness alongside sisters Fwesha and Kan, the Shark and the Dolphin, You have come to know what it is to survive, to make the island your own, though the lessons taught by Torg the Pig and Ternu the Dog, You have turned your mind to the sea, its ’ mysteries held by Gornathog, the Whale, and you have learned what is fear in the body of Burshu, the Hurricane. The Seven are the greatness of the islands; they keep the land surrounded by water, and the sky above all. But it was not always this way. There was a time when land and water, sand and sea, sky and world were together, smashed around like a small fish in a whirlpool. You see, Long, Long ago, before the sands, before the palms, before the creatures of the land and water, before the very seas themselves, The Seven were divided in purpose. Each had their own way of shaping their home, and each wanted something different; Gragka wanted more lofty dunes of sand, on which he could sit and rule his land, Fwesha desired the seas to be clear, to find her prey with ease, Kan simply wanted all the seas to be calm, to sleep and relax in piece. Torg and Tenu fought over whose were the palms and the grasses. Burshu simply wanted to rage and storm about, with no regard for anything. It was Gornathog, the wise Whale who called them all together, he proposed that their land and their water would be a poor place with only them to call it home, and if they could not decide how the world should be, perhaps the ones they make would know better, so all the Seven went to work on their new creatures. The Three of the Land brought forth the creatures of the Land, who favored some lands over others, and it was decided that these lands were good. The Three of the water brought forth the creatures of the Water, and they liked the water that was next to the Land and under the Land, and it was decided that this water was good. Burshu returned to the others with nothing to show them, he was too destructive a creature to make new ones. His anger when he saw the creatures of the Land and Water was furious, so he lifted up the Skies and held them away from the others. He declared that as hard as the creatures of the Land and Water might try, they would never again touch the Sky, and that when they tried to reach him, his Storm would push them back down again. The Six were sad that Burshu felt this way, and have been trying ever since to reach him again, to speak to him again, to tell him to come Home, and to bring the Sky back with him. Will they succeed? Who knows, You may yet live to see the Sky come back.
[ WP ] A lonely old man , no family , never any visitors , dumps all of his affection into the tree growing in his backyard . And now that tree , tall and strong , does n't understand why it 's friend is only getting weaker .	Light. Air. Water. Dirt. I stretch my leaf as wide as I can. The dirt is rich and moist around my root. I am alive. There is a warm fog passing over my leaf accompanied by vibrations. Something touches my leaf, lighter than any wind. I'm not sure why, but I feel content. It rains every morning. Not for very long, but boy does it come down in a deluge. My slender roots never dry enough to grow weak and brittle. I grow. I stretch my roots through the dirt. They hit a barrier, hard and cool. I try to taste it, but it is n't dirt. I'll have to grow down. Every day I am touched by that gentle touch, I feel those vibrations. They seem to encourage me to grow tall and strong. I have twenty leaves now. The weather is changing. Winds push me constantly. My roots and trunk are too frail to hold me upright against the wind. The touch and vibrations come again. Two dead branches are planted next to me. Something is wrapped around me, attaching me to them. They hold me upright. I have time to grow to support my own weight against next years' wind. My leaves change. I let the wind take them. I have five branches. The rain is different now. It still falls nearly every day, but it is gentle and slow, lasting for hours. I particularly enjoy when there are a few days without rain. A tree likes to feel its' roots dry out every once in a while. It's getting warmer. Buts grow on my branches. It is spring. Something terrible is happening. The touch and vibrations are here, are n't they supposed to be my protectors? They feel almost... apologetic. It does n't matter. My roots are in the air. I'm going to dry out and die. Except- is that new dirt? And rain. The dead branches at my sides are removed and replaced with new, taller and stronger, dead branches. I do n't know what's happening, but seems I'm going to be okay. My leaves open. I spread my roots and do not find another barrier. I have 38 leaves and buds for a dozen more. Spring and summer come and go. I grow, nearly tripling in size. It rains every three or four days, my roots are always allowed to dry out between rains. The touch and vibrations are frequently with me. I strive to grow taller to please them. The winds come and take my leaves again. I hunker down to sleep through another winter. Spring comes and I but. I have three large branches, twelve small, and 112 buds. The touch and vibrations come, but they've changed. The touch shakes, the vibrations are weaker and unsteady. The dead branches at my sides are removed and no new branches are left in their place. My trunk is thick and strong. Summer comes. One day the touch and vibrations stop coming. It never rains anymore. My leaves shrivel in the bright sun. New nutrients seep into the soil around me, but my roots are to dry to absorb them. I am dying.
[ WP ] As your father is fixing the broken down car , you venture off into the dark forest of the unknown .	It was an uncomfortably silent, blackening night of Winter, where snowdrops were as big as pieces of A4 paper and the howl of a wolf was able to break the silence. I was 6 years old at the time, taking a casual drive with my father, Henry, from our house to the local store to try and get ourselves some firewood to keep the house nice and toasty. As my father was buckling me up, I asked him `` Do you believe that people always watch us?'' `` Yes, in fact right now someone is! Our God up in the heavens!'' He happily answered, as he was very religious, but I hesitantly questioned him `` No, not our father from the heavens, but someone else that goes in our same footsteps. Does anyone else watch us?'' My father stared at me blankly, and told me to `` be quiet until we got to the store.'' About three minutes later, he interrupted the silence with `` Son, do you feel as if you are being watched everyday?'' I responded with `` Uhm, no, I do n't think so, I just thought about it'' That silenced him, I'm not sure why, I think he was afraid or something. At last, we stopped at the local shop. We got inside and Me and Father had shrugged our coats to get any excess snow off our shoulders and backs. I was wearing my favourite red coat at the time, which made me feel like I stood out amongst the rest. Father had picked up the usual items from the shop, bread, sugar, milk etc. but he did it so hesitantly as it was so late at night and he did n't want to trouble the shopkeeper. We proceeded to the front desk and Father was talking to the shopkeeper about things that went on, gossip around and the like. But then the shopkeeper passed over a particularly strange bottle with a golden liquid that seemed to shine like the sun when under a light. I kept my mouth shut. As we stepped outside, Father quickly applied this unusual substance all over the car, now I'm confused at this stage, but I think it's some sort of car shine or something along that line, and stupidly again, I did n't let the questions seep out of my mouth. We got in and Father had this strange look in his eyes, I'm not sure what it was, but it was n't good. About halfway back towards the house, we passed the burnt up tree, that was once stricken 10 times by lightning in 5 minutes, what a load of toss pot, I often thought in my later years. But at this point, we heard fumbling about in the hedges. We presumed it was the pheasants roaming around looking for food, but our prejudices were taken away in an instant as what looked like a wolf mixed with a cheetah, had hopped alongside the road in front of us. This swerved us off the road and we went unconscious for a while. When we woke up, I presume to be about 30 minutes later, we could smell the gas seeping from the fuel tank. We had to evacuate the car as quick as possible, or it would be like being stuck in a gas chamber. Father had kicked the passenger door wide open, he leaned over towards me and with all his might, pushed the passenger seat towards him so I could get through. While I was being taken out, I saw my father bleeding from his head, I was so shocked I was speechless, so I could not ask him what it was about. As he lowered me down, he instructed me to `` stay right here, do n't run off, for the love of God, please do n't run off'' I started to cry, knowing how he was feeling at the time. He wiped my tears off my face and informed me that `` I can get the car running again in about 10 minutes, now, go sit on that log stump and think of your happy place.'' I sat wandering my eyes around me. `` So, this is what it's like to be outside?'' I thought to myself. I saw many things, such as flowers that could survive even the deadliest of Winters. But one thing caught my eye, two lights in the tree-line. I studied them for a bit, and thought about taking a closer look. I repeated my father's words back to me, but my curiosity got the better of me. What's so scary about a forest? This is my first writing prompt, I hope to continue this and get some feedback, I would love to see what you all think of it!
[ WP ] Short story < 1000 words . First sentence : `` I told them it would n't work . ''	I told them it would n't work. Jim's plans never did work. He always thought they would. When they failed, he blamed me. Then he hit me. Occasionally he would pull a knife on me, but only after Chris went home. Jim and Chris always had a new get rich quick scheme. They called them plans. I called them failures. Jim came up with the plans, and left Chris to work out the details. This time, rather than sit and wait for a beating when it failed, I spoke up, knowing Jim wouldnt touch me while Chris was there. `` It wont work Jim. It just cant. Do you not understand that?'' His fool proof plan as he called it involved stealing copper from the new housing development, turning the profit on them, and then investing the money in a new up and coming buisness. The company was a new pharmacutical company. They specialized less on medicine and more on alternative treatments for things that needed medical care like cancer and AIDS. Why they were going public, I couldnt understand. This was a company that would crash and burn immediatly when the floor opened. And yet, Jim saw money signs. `` Laura, you dont know what your talking about. Its fool proof baby,'' was all Jim could muster through closed teeth. Once Chris left, i knew i would be beaten worse than any time before. I saw no point in stopping my argument now. `` Jim, you said that you need the last 20 dollars i have, the money that was supposed to buy us food for the next two weeks, and use it to buy a fake gun. A gun that you'll use incase security comes by while your stealing it? I can not just give that last bit of money away on a hairbrained scheme. I cant. And i wont.'' Chris squirmed in his chair, got up, and told Jim he would meet him at the 711 randevous at midnight. As soon as the door shut, Jim struck me. Not a slap. A hard right hook to the eye. I went down. I cried. Jim kicked me in my ribs, then in my stomach. I clenched, fearing the most for my child still growing inside me. Jim's steel toed boots dug in deep, breaking a rib, stomping my arms. I cried silently, waiting for it to be over. Jim took one last hard kick to the back of my head, and the lights went out. When I woke up, I looked at the clock. 2 hours had passed. It was now 11:30. I called for Jim through a dry throat. No sound emerged. I moved to the couch and watched the door at the back of the trailer. It opened, and Jim emerged, wearing all black and with a ski mask tucked under his left arm. `` Im going out honey to finish this plan. And it will work. And when it does, you can expect that youll pay for doubting me.'' I cried dry tears, lamenting ever hooking up with Jim. He was always a loser. Now, with a baby on the way 6 months since that drunken night, I was determined. Jim left, and i heard the tires on his truck screech out of the trailer park towards the 711. I also saw the empty packaging for a 19.00 bb gun on the table. I had to move quick. I ran into the back room, and threw my few rags of clothes into a trashbag. The baby didnt have anything, so i didnt bother looking. I grabbed Jim's watch, spare keys, and my mothers necklace and left on foot, heading towards the 711. There i saw them. Chris had a slurpee in one hand and a slim jim in the other. Jim had nothing. They got into Chris's car and left. Good. I got to Jim's truck, and started it up to go. I drove for about 5 minutes, and found a pay phone at different gas station. I called the police, and told them that 2 men were robbing the housing development off route 3, and that they were armed. They asked who i was, but i left the phone off the hook, got back in, and drove off. I made it to Davis before i ran out of gas. Out of luck and with no money, i found a phone, and called my dad.... I read in the paper the next day that one man, a John Doe, was shot and killed when he pulled a gun on police at a housing site in the Dallas Area. Another man, Chris Philips, was found unarmed with copper piping under his arm a few minutes later. Police were still investigating. As i read the story from my hospital bed, I knew that no one would question the whereabouts of Jim's truck or belongings, because he had no family. Chris was the closest thing he had. And now chris was looking at some serious time for aiding in armed robbery. I didnt care. Chris stood by and saw my blackened eyes and my bruised arms and did nothing. He was almost as bad as Jim. Two days later, the market opened, and the pharmacutical fell rapidly. The founders, who invested all their money into it, went from respectible to nobodies in 3 minutes time. I told them it wouldnt work. I fucking told them. Edit: Words
[ WP ] A supervillian has taken over a maximum security prison . The inmates are about to find out they were better off before .	It was midnight in the minimum security wing of West Piedmont Penitentiary. A quiet, starry sort of night. I lay awake, gazing at the stars far above me. Wishing that I could join them on their midnight voyage. I had been here for far too long. Five years. Five long, miserable years. Just for a damn drug bust that was going legal across the country these days. And I still had ten years to go. They really threw the book at me. Wanted to `` make an example'' of me. Like ruining my life would ever make any difference to the real pushers. I was jolted from my thoughts as the fluorescent lights above me burst into brilliance. A thud and a muffled curse from somewhere below by lumbar region meant that my roommate had been roused rather rudely as well. As I blinked owlishly in the flickering white light, a bang announced that the secure doorway at the end of the hall had been struck with considerable force. Another enormous crash, and the smell of ozone filled the air as the door finally gave way to whatever force was trying to get in. I sat stock still in my bed, silently craning my neck to see who or what it was that had so dramatically entered our prison. Clok, clok, clok, clok, the sound of footfalls echoed ominously through the building, followed shortly by a scuffle of others and the squeaking of wheels. My heart pulled tight in my chest when the sound was abreast of my cell. It was The Biomancer! An imposing man dressed in tight black leather, implanted electrical organs in his forearms glowing an like a row of bio luminescent tattoos. His feet were a strange mix of cheetah paw and velociraptor, taking the speed and deadly of both in strange but effective discord. His back was a dark mess, bat wings and a prehensile lizard's tail ( with a venomous scorpion tip ) were both covered in the the deep pelt of a puma, perfect for the covert missions he was prone to. His face could hardly be called human any more, the impressive set of ebony rams horns framing a face with two sets of eyes: a hawk and mantis shrimp. The pit organs of a viper lurked on either side his hideous upturned muzzle, filed teeth glinting wetly as he smirked over his latest conquest. `` Get a move on boys!'' he snarled to the group of black-garbed man-pigs that were pulling strange devices on medical stretchers, gesturing with one dark furred, taloned hand. `` The night is young, and there is RESEARCH to be done!'' His laughter was garbled mix of hyena and lions roar. `` No worries boyo.'' He grinned ferally when his left mantis shrimp stalk noticed me cowering in my bunk. `` Just going to make a few IMPROVEMENTS! Maybe this time we will get the super soldier serum to work right, eh Pig Boy 293?'' 'Pig Boy 293' responded only with a guttural squeal. `` If everything goes right, you all go FREE as a member of MY PRIDE!'' The Biomancer continued with wild glee. `` And if anything goes wrong... well, lets just say that my world is all about survival of the fittest. And no one is going to miss a few lousy criminals, eh?! Now then... LETS START WITH YOU!!''
[ WP ] A marine biologist dives into the ocean depths to disprove the existence of mermaids . However , shortly after her dive , she shows signs of becoming one herself .	This could n't be happening. No, more like it shouldn't be happening. 29 year-old marine biologist Holly Mirnov stared at her blue webbed hands in disbelief. It'd only been a week since her televised dive off the Island of Pharos ( Where some say the ruins of Atlantis lay ) and she'd been acting strange since. All week she had cravings to swim, bathe in water for hours, and eat seafood. Not that she did n't enjoy those things, but they never felt like urges before. Of course, she'd hear the stories all the time. `` Atlantis is real—Mermaids live down there!'' But as a professional, she had no reason to believe in fairy tales— even if her hands were suddenly telling a different story. Weird hand-fins aside, Holly was excited to return to work the following morning. Her mind raced about having the whole wide ocean to freely swim around in. Miles and miles of water all to herself! She itched her legs, brushed her dirty-blonde bangs out of her eyes, and dozed off thinking of the sea. — It was Ms. Mirnov's second dive, and the cameras were rolling; News stations were tuned in to cover the exclusive story. Could she really find Atlantis? She swam through the ruins of the supposed ancient city, with cameras in pursuit. Truth be told, the water did feel really nice on her legs. This area felt oddly like a second home to her. Out of the blue, Holly heard her suit rip. Her feet felt tied together by something, but what? Seaweed? The cameramen gasped. `` Ms. Mirnov, your feet! They're—'' Holly kicked her bound legs forward to get a better look. In place of where her feet once were was a... fish fin. A real, live fish fin, just like her webbed fingers. What was happening to her? She helplessly kicked her newfound fin in confusion, but it was no use. Blue scales continued to crawl up her legs as they fused together. There was no doubt about it, she was turning into a mermaid, and fast. News stations around the world just had their greatest broadcast since the moon landing. The famous marine biologist flicked her new fish tail in embarrassment. Holly Mirnov was now a full-fledged mermaid, and all eyes were on her.
[ WP ] A veteran Dragon Hunter , tracking the last known dragon in the realm	Three days of hunting. For three days I ’ ve hunted for the last dragon. I spotted its trail back in Hammock where it had eaten a farmer ’ s livelihood. Now I ’ m close. The king has offered to pay me the weight of the dragon ’ s head in gold for the death of this dragon. It is rumored to be the last of its kind in this realm, golden most ancient of the dragons. Its scales harder than steel, and its jaws stronger than a spiraling torrent of water. Where are you going now? I thought as I found its last night ’ s resting place. Before it has kept a constant heading towards east. Now it ’ s heading north, towards the mountains, as witnessed by the blood drooping from its prey. I whistled twice, sharply. My horse raised its head from foot of the hill I was standing on, and straddle towards me. I pulled myself up on the saddle and pulled the reins free. I took heading towards north and set myself to a slight gallop. The dragon was getting tired, its flights getting shorter by the day. It had been fleeing for months, ever since the king took victory at the dragons cave, slaying four dragons and many more hatchlings. They were however grey, young and weak. This one was a dozen times stronger, but not even it could stand against an army. It was wounded and forced to escape, ever since then hunters had followed its trail, keeping it on the move. I was one of those hunters, one of the best I might add. I was there when the king killed the dragons, I was the one who wounded the golden one, and now it was up to me to finish it. The day passed on, close to dusk I saw a trail of smoke and a soft yellow glow coming from the north-east. The dragon had attacked a farmhouse I believed. Searching for food no doubt. We were close to the northern mountain range. Great place to hide, many caves, and even more bandits roamed the northern mountains. It separated the realm from the sea, only a few paths lead around, and even those to small fishing villages. The roads were unsafe due to bandits and closed off by snow most of the year. That made the villages quite independent and a safe harbor for pirates and smugglers. Adding a dragon to the mix could devastate the whole region. I pushed my horse harder, trying to reach the farmhouse before nightfall. The farmhouse was ashes by the time I reached it, smoke still rose from the ruins as I approached. I saw dead cattle on the fields, luckily it had rained during the day and the fields were unharmed mostly. “ Anyone alive! ” I yelled as I approached the ruins on foot, guiding my horse from the reins¬. No response. I grasped the hilt of my sword, wondering if the owner would attempt to rob me as those who lose their livelihood often do. Not because their bad, but because they have a family to feed, and any money is good to have. Instead of a pitchfork or a sword, I was greeted by the stench of burning flesh. In the ruins I spotted the remains of two people, and outside was an unburned corpse of a man with a dagger through his chest. I studied the corpse, checking his pockets for valuables—even a monster hunter has to eat—but I was interrupted by a loud roar coming from the distance. I pulled my sword. A large two-handed blade forged by a master smith from the capital. Its blade was straight, a narrow gap in the middle that ended few inches before the tip. The sword was enchanted and never dulled or rusted. In its guard was carved the symbol of a monster hunter—two swords stabbing through a dragon ’ s head. In the distance I recognized the familiar form of a dragon, diving to catch a moving prey. I whistled for my horse and put it in a fast gallop. The sun was setting in the horizon, I still had maybe a half an hour of sunlight left, not much, but if I let the dragon go now, I might never catch it before the mountains. Within five minutes I was on a hill overlooking the dragon. It was eating a dead cow, possibly a runaway of the earlier farmhouse. I jumped down from my horse as he was getting jiggly. My sword drawn I approached the dragon, carefully. The wind was pushing against me, and the dead cow masking my approach. Careful not to tumble or step on anything dry, I approached the dragon from the rear. So close, fifteen meters, ten, nine…the dragons head turned around, looking straight at me. Always avoid a dragon ’ s tail, but to down one cut it off. My master ’ s words rang in my head. The dragon roared and swung its tail. I jumped over the tail as it swung at me low. My sword flashed at it, wounding it, but not cutting it through. The dragon turned around, the ground shaking, my balance wavering. I steadied myself and rolled to my right, avoiding the snapping jaw. From the roll I slashed at its head while on my knee. Cutting into its head. A screech pulling blood from my ears. I was thrown backwards as the dragons tail slammed into me. Landing on my back the dragon loomed over me in seconds. My sword flash vertically, cutting the dragon ’ s muzzle. Red blood oozed from the wound, its nostrils now connected by a small carving. The blood burned as it landed on my arm, I crawled backwards as the dragon snapped its jaws where I just was. I sprung on my feet, slicing at the head as I did, taking one of the dragon ’ s eyes as I did. Another screech burned my ears. The dragon raised its wings and I dove forwards. I slashed my sword at its tail, cutting through it—at least partly. The dragon was downed, unable to fly it was at my mercy. It was now mad, screeching from pain. It swung around violently, I dodged once, twice, thrice. Fourth swung stroke me in the chest. Pushing me backwards, but not from my feet, my sword flinging from my grasp. I pulled out my dagger, but in the heat of the moment the dragon snapped at me, grasping me between its teeth. I held on to the dagger with all my might. The pressure blacking me out. Pushing through the pain, I knew this was the end, but I wasn ’ t going to die in vain. I stabbed the dragon to its healthy eye, pulling pieces of brain as I brought the dagger up and down. The pressure grew bigger and bigger and I lost consciousness. At least I made the dragon blind and grounded. Badly wounded, it would soon follow me to the afterlife. There we would fight until the end of times.
[ WP ] You commit suicide . Upon waking up , you find 2 afterlife police officers with a warrant for your arrest . The charge ? Murder .	`` Does it matter?'' I asked them. `` Murder is murder, ai n't two ways about it.'' `` Can you tell me who I murdered?'' `` Says here,'' the officer put on a pair of reading glasses, `` someone by the name of Edgar Frothing.'' `` That's my name.'' `` You pushed him off a building.'' `` I jumped.'' `` And forced him to write a heart-breaking letter to his family.'' `` My suicide note.'' `` You even had him take off his favorite sneakers.'' `` Adidas Samoa.'' `` They were his favorite color too.'' `` Orange.'' `` Might I say it was premeditated,'' he flipped a piece of paper on a clipboard, `` making him guzzle down an entire bottle of whiskey.'' `` It was rum.'' He looked at the report one more time, frowned, then gave the clipboard to his partner. `` You're a cold-hearted sunuvabitch.'' `` That's what my fiance told me when we broke up.'' `` I'm gon na make sure you're locked up for a real long time.'' `` Do I get a lawyer, or are you going to keep grilling me with this'evidence' you've acquired?'' He opened his mouth as to speak, but looked puzzled. He turned to his partner and whispered in his ear. The partner whispered back, he nodded and turned back to me. `` Looks like you got lucky this time, someone by the name of Natas is gon na be defending you.'' `` So, I do get a lawyer?'' `` What?! Lawyer?! I'm talking about a fight to the death. He's gon na be your brawling buddy, your combat comrade, your wranglin' representative, your-.'' `` Okay, I get it. You can stop now.'' He grinned at me, then turned to fist bump his partner. After half a minute of being left to hang he gave up and turned back towards me. `` Well, then lets get going!'' He handed me an XL lifestrong bracelet. `` Put on these handcuffs and hop in the back seat. We're going to the coliseum!'' I did as I was told and trudged into the back of the car. He hopped in the driver seat, taking the next two minutes to find a suitable radio station. After finding nothing he liked he started the engine. `` WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!'' The officer screamed as he pressed the pedal to the floor. His partner remained stoic the entire way.
[ EU ] Write a story about an established universe that you don ’ t know much about . Do NO research and make things up as you go .	The walls of the Vatican loomed large all around Robert Langdon. What secrets might lie behind these walls? Gold? Bones? Really creepy ancient bones, with bits of old meat on them? The mere thought made Langdon's head spin. He placed a steadying hand on a nearby wall, a jolt of shock bursting through him as his touch sent out a resonant bang indicative of hollowness. He slammed the palm of his hands twice more against the concealing wood. What could be hidden in the crevice behind? “ That's a pull door, Dr. Langdon. ” Doors. That was just like those Vatican lot. It was n't quite a conspiracy, but it was certainly suspicious. Langdon made a mental note to be on the lookout for doors that were up to no good, or indeed anyone even slightly related to doors, and to churches. Clerical locksmiths, ecclesiastical deliverers of post, the list went on. With his broadly European assistant at his side, Dr. Langdon entered a large room where the Pope was seated at the end of an oversized table. “ Aha! Dr. Langdon, I presume? ” “ Aha! ” Langdon realised too late that he'd forgotten the current Pope's name, “ Pope... Pope... Mary Pope-ins... Land of Pope and Glory... A papal a day keeps the doctor away, or not as the case may be! ” He cleared his throat, “ I take it you wish to talk about my latest research? ” “ That I do, doctor, that I do. You must realise now, after years of fruitless endeavours to pin all of humanity's woes on the Catholic church, that you have found absolutely nothing? ” Langdon laughed heartily, throwing his head up to the sky as he did so. He surveyed the room, noticed that no-one else was laughing, and nudged his assistant to join in. She too, somewhat half-heartedly, but in a wholly European manner, laughed. “ Oh Pope Pope Pope... You really do n't have an idea of who you're dealing with, do you? ” He began fishing around in his satchel, “ I am Dr. Robert Langdon, researcher at an esteemed institution. Writer of an alarming number of books about one outlandish topic. A character so bland that not even Tom Hanks could inject life into my limp carcass of a personality. And I have the smoking bullet that will bring Vatican City to its knees! ” “ The smoking gun, you mean? ” Langdon's European assistant interjected, “ I mean it's still a weak metaphor but... you know, uh,'oui'. ” Langdon ignored this remark, he and his assistant had a strange relationship that no-one – least of all the writer – could understand, as he slammed down a scroll and began to unfurl it. “ And here it is! ” The Pope craned his neck to make sure he saw the incriminating paper correctly. Certain that he had, he sat back down. “ That's the Mona Lisa... ” “ Yes it is, and does n't it just pain you to say that. Pack up your bags Popey, you're out of here! ” With that Langdon marched jubilantly back through the door, giving it a slight kick as he passed. His assistant also left, probably to join him on further travels for reasons I'm not even sure she was fully aware of. The Pope and his entourage stood staring at the paper. “ So, that means absolutely nothing right? ” “ Correct. It's a painting. ” “ Yeah, I thought so. How does that man find constant employment? ” He shook his head and chuckled softly, “ So anyway, Steve, how goes the antimatter bomb? ” “ Oh, you know, pretty well. ”
[ EU ] Tell the tale of Vault 69 , which had 999 women and one man . Alternatively , tell the tale of Vault 68 , which had 999 men and one woman .	We entered the vault on February 2nd, the day the sirens blared and every television beeped and whirred before shouting at you that the bombs were on their way. I did n't even get to find out who started it before running full tilt down the street to Vault 68, where Elly and I had paid for a room. Elly had arrived before me, she was at home when the warning came, I was at my office. The first month was pretty relaxed. No one had thought far enough ahead to think about the organizational structure of our little society. We held elections with sheets of notebook paper, and they put me in charge of security because of my military experience. I selected a half dozen guys for my security team, and we set up shop in a couple of offices near the armory. Of course, our vault was advertised as a `` Queer Paradise'', the vault co. trying to cash in on those `` pink dollars'', I guess. All of the women but one were trans women, my partner included. Fortunately, our inventory included enough estrogen and progesterone to grow boobies on ten generations. Not that there would be any more generations, not while we were in the vault. Andrea, the one cis women stuck in here, was inevitably the center of a lot of drama. In our second month, Jerry and Thomas, two bisexual men, got into a brawl when the first walked in on the other in a compromising position with Miss Andrea. Jerry picked up a metal desk lamp and bashed both of their skulls in. The whole vault is monitored by security cameras that feed into my office, so we had Jerry in the brig within a couple of hours. He sulked and cried for a while, then begged me for my sidearm so he could shoot himself. I was n't sure what to do, so I put it up to a vote. Handed out sheets of notebook paper to everyone at an emergency vault meeting. `` Should the murderer be allowed to kill himself?'' The residents approved, 862 to 135. I tossed him a Smith & Wesson.357 through the bars, one round in the cylinder. I left the brig to give him some privacy, and I heard the shot just as I closed the door. I had two of my subordinates carry the body to the incinerator and a third mop up the brig. That night, when I went back to my quarters, Elly was laying on our bed, watching anime on the television. I sat down next to her and started untying my boots. `` Did he do it today?'' she asked. I sighed. `` Yeah. We just finished cleaning up.'' I threw my boots into the corner of the room, and started taking off my trousers. `` Well,'' Elly began, `` do you think there will be much more crime around here now? I mean with Andrea gone?'' I unbuttoned my shirt while answering, `` I do n't know. I hope not. It's been pretty quiet, I think everyone is kind of shocked. You know, a murder so soon into this whole thing.'' Elly nods, taking her eyes off the tv and looking at me. `` But you got him. No matter what happens, who gets hurt, I know that you wo n't.'' I give her a wan smile and lay down next to her. `` I know. I wo n't. It's just hard dealing with everyone else's problems.'' I rest my hand on her smooth thigh and close my eyes. Such is life in Vault 68.
[ WP ] You are the retired 5th horseman . You predate all the rest , in fact you used to do this Job alone . After a millenia , finding your influence decayed and stagnant in Purgatory , you lay plans for your return to the cosmic stage . Someone is n't happy about that .	“ Do n't call me bro. ” “ Just chill, man. He can ride with us. ” “ I do n't wan na ride with an old grandpa. ” “ You do n't wan na ride with anyone. ” “ Oh, shut up, Pestilence. You're a poser. ” “ I'M a poser? What have YOU done, for the past fifty years, War? ” “ Oh, I do n't know... Iraq? ” “ Iraq. Big deal. You know the wars the big guy worked in, back in the days? ” “ Shut up. ” “ Hundred Years War. How about you work on something like that, before you call him an old grandpa? ” “ Calm down guys, it's not a competition. ” “ You think you're so awesome because of the Ebola thing? ” “ Actually, yeah. People freaked the fuck out, did n't you notice? No one cares about wars anymore, bro, you're dead. ” “ Oh, shut up. Ebola was your first hit since AIDS. What about the whole animal flu fiasco? Swine, bird, you tried everything! ” “ At least I was working on new stuff, not rehashing old material that people do n't give a shit about. You did Iraq in the nineties, and, you know what? Even then, it was n't that cool. No one cares about war anymore, bro, sorry. This is not the sixties. ” “ People still care! ” “ Guys, guys, calm down, we should be focusing on the fifth horseman. ” “ Shut up, Hunger. Go burn someone's dinner. ” “ Ok, that's enough ”. I raised my voice, putting an end to the discussion. “ Hunger, Pestilence, War, I do n't wan na hear another word. ” They quieted down. I'm still Death, after all. “ Now, we're going to let him ride with us, tonight. No, no aaahs. We'll see how it goes. If he performs well, we can talk about getting him back for real. Think about this as a trial run, ok? “ Yeah, ok. ” “ Fine, fine. ” “ Good ”, I smiled. “ Now, I wan na try some new stuff, this time. Combine your skills. Since he'll be riding with us, I thought maybe we could work out something like an outbreak of a disease... during a war. How about that? “ That sounds cool. ” “ Yeah, we can work on that. ” They smiled, calming down. Things were back in control. Tonight should be fun. “ How about me? ” Hunger looked up at me with his big, kitten eyes. “ Huh... You can... Just... We'll like, jam up the pizza delivery phone lines all over the country, how about that? So people ca n't have pizzas, huh? That'll teach them. Come on guys, do n't laugh, this is serious. ” Hunger walked away, pissed. That was probably unprofessional on my part. I should go talk to him. “ Come on, come back here. It was a joke! We'll find something for you to do! ” “ You guys are assholes. ”
[ WP ] A dying humanity sends an arkship to the only habitable planet in range . When they get there , they find an alien race has just done the same .	`` There's a ship down there!'' Navigator Sanchez announced, her voice filled with dread. Captain Mills got up from his chair and paced back and forth. `` Give me a layout of the land around the ship.'' The last thing he wanted was a violent conflict but if it had to come to that he was going to make sure he had the high ground. A 3D map popped up on the screen at his chair. The alien ship had landed in just about the worst possible spot, it was in a deep valley, flanked by rocky cliffs on three sides. If the human ship landed forty miles north of the alien ship, Mills troops could fan out and have attack from the north, east and west. The aliens would be trapped and forced to flee to the south, they would have to abandon or destroy their arkship and be denied the supplies and technology they were unable to flee with. `` Vlad, if we were to land to the north of their ship, fan out to the flanks and bombard them with the weapons we have on hand, what is the likely outcome of the battle?'' Mills asked. Vlad quickly typed at his station. `` Given our scans of the level of technology of their ship and the land. Pretty much every simulation gives us an overwhelming victory, devastating losses for the enemy forces with little damage to our own people.'' Vlad replied. `` Command crew to the conference room at once.'' Mills said, he got up and walked to the room, it was a long table with a five chairs, the arkship had no place for aesthetic, only the very basic needs of those upon it. His trusted crew sat down in their assigned seats and he took his place at the head of the table. `` As you know we're not alone on this planet. An alien arkship of roughly the same technology level as our own has landed on the surface, our scans indicate that this has happened within the last three hours. Our alien counterparts have placed themselves in a pretty horrible situation. If we chose to attack them, the lay of the land gives us such a massive advantage that barring shockingly different physiology or technology, we would be able to rout them and likely force an unconditional surrender from the survivors.'' Mills said. `` Commander. I may be the security officer, but war is not my expertise. Yes we have the weapons and the manpower to launch an attack, but these people have never been in war. To commit such slaughter.'' Vlad said, his voice trailing off. `` I agree with Vlad. To land on this planet and attack these aliens is so barbaric. We can talk to them, seek to engage them and understand them.'' Science officer Samantha Kobylarz. Mills kept quiet. He merely turned to his second in command, with a nod he prompted Roger to speak. `` There's a giant island, it's the size of Asia. Where this ship has landed is a smaller land. Their ship had to be damaged to land in such a poor place. Let us take our good fortune and take the better land that we've been provided. No battle however successful can be as good for our people as setting up camp in a better man.'' Roger told him. Mills merely turned to the ship's doctor and gave him a glance. `` I agree also. This is a large planet. We can share with these aliens. And to be honest, we're not really sharing that much, the major land mass of the planet will be ours, barring them being incredible swimmers. There is no reason to slaughter these aliens in such a cowardly attack.'' Dr. Greaves told him. Commander Mills stood up and glared at each of the four of his subordinates. His shook his head in disgust before speaking. `` Do you people not understand that we're humans. We warred hundreds of millions of ourselves into the grave and then gutted and burned our planet into an unlivable husk. Now an alien nation has landed on the planet that we intend to inhabit and you think we're capable of co-existence? Of a brotherhood with aliens? You people are dreamers. These aliens and us will go to war one day, I promise you that. I offer you a victory in that war, a victory that ends the war before it even starts and and you turn your noses up at it.'' Commander Mills punched the table. `` This attack happen. We will crush these aliens and secure this planet, this whole planet for humanity.'' he said as he turned and walked back towards the command center. Vlad wordlessly drew his sidearm, the other three nodded to him. Commander Mills would never make it back to the command center, his war might happen one day, but it would not be this day.
[ WP ] Upon death ones spirit is given the option to remain on Earth as a wandering spirit , be reincarnated , or enter the afterlife . But there is a little known fourth option . What is it ?	`` And that's what's behind the three doors,'' he said. Liz looked at him, expectantly, which the angel picked up on. `` You just pick one and go on through, simple as that!'' He smiled and leaned on the podium in front of him, looking dreamily in her direction. `` What about the fourth door?'' Liz asked. He looked at his name tag. `` Geoff?'' `` What fourth door?'' He responded without showing any reaction on his face and Liz was n't sure the question registered. `` That fourth door!'' Liz pointed to the end of the row where a small, square door stood. It lacked any ornitation like the others, and was held closed with a slide bolt. It reminded Liz office the crawl space access in her house when she was alive. `` Oh!'' The angel looked at the little door at the end and shrugged. `` I do n't know, nobody's opened it since I started here.'' He leaned his head in his hand as he continued to stare at Liz. `` You... You do n't know? Look, you better stop looking at me like that, I swear.'' Liz raised a fist, and the angel recovered quickly. `` Oh my goodness, I'm sorry, I did n't realize,'' he said. `` Please do n't tell anyone I'll be in SO much trouble. Just, please, pick one of the doors and we can both put this behind us and move on with our post-death lives.'' `` Tell me what's behind the fourth door,'' Liz said, intent on finding out. She did n't like that this angel, person, being was n't telling her. It made her suspicious. `` If you do n't know,'' she said through her teeth, `` find out.'' `` Oooh, um, I have the training manual here. Maybe it says?'' He pulled a thick, red three-ring binder from the podium. The was a picture of a door on the front with the words `` Office of Recently Deceased Relations'' written underneath. Liz did n't recognize the language, and it made her oddly queasy that she could read it anyway. Liz smiled at him encouragingly. `` That looks promising,'' she said. She watched Geoff thumb through the pages. `` Ah-ha!'' he says at last. `` You found it?'' `` Yup. Here's the script I'm supposed to read when somebody shows up. Sure enough, the are lines for the fourth door on the next page. Huh.'' Liz rolled her eyes. `` And?'' `` Well...'' Geoff read. `` It says you get to re-live your life. You're sent pack in time to your birth to live as yourself again. A second chance.'' `` What?'' Liz was livid. `` But, I do n't remember anything about my life! I do n't know if it was good, if it was bad, anything. And, if I'm reborn, I wo n't remember the previous time I lived this life, right?'' Geoff shrugged. `` If I do n't remember, how would I avoid my past mistakes, or fix anything? That's stupid!'' `` I guess that's why nobody takes that option,'' Geoff said. They stood quietly for a moment while Liz thought. `` Somebody made these doors, right? Made them do what they do?'' She rubbed her face in her hands. `` Yup,'' Geoff said. `` Then, whoever made these doors had a reason for making the fourth door.'' Geoff shrugged again, silently. The moments passed quietly as Liz thought. Surely there was a reason, but it did n't make sense to her. But, more than that, she could n't stop thinking about what Geoff said: nobody ever went through. Why would they? Nobody knew. `` I'll do it,'' she said at last. `` I choose the fourth door.'' `` You do?'' Geoff watched as she strode over, knelt down, and slide the bolt open. `` Wait, how do I know I had a door like this in my house?'' She looked at Geoff, who shrugged yet again, looking more confused than ever. `` Oh well,'' she said. `` There must be a reason.'' She opened the door and crawled through.
[ WP ] A curse causes you to transform into a building under the light of the full moon . This secret ability helps you solve underwhelming supernatural crimes as an FBI consultant . You are : Steve Depot , the were-house .	INT. LIFT - MORNING We see a young, scrawny man in a tuxedo. His right foot pushes down on a cage in which a big, black bat flutters around. The lamp for level -15 is on. Steve yawned. He was getting too old for night stakeouts. Only a bit of paperwork and he could go to bed. At -7, the lift stopped. Weird, if any of the levels below 13 was selected with the right key card, DNA sample, and playing the Konami code, the lift should go straight down. The doors opened and Steve saw the exception to the rule standing there. The Boss. Well, not Bruce. `` Good Morning, Director Knox.'' `` Good Morning, Steve. That's Special Agent White. He requested your assistance.'' `` Yes, Sir.'' `` Congrats on the catch,'' Knox said and nodded towards the cage. `` Thanks, Sir,'' Steve said through the closing door. `` Good Morning, Special Agent,'' Steve said and stifled another coming yawn. It would be impolite. Introducing an upper-level agent to the lower levels while yawning might come over as smug. `` Morning, De-Pot,'' the man said. `` It's Depot,'' Steve said. `` But Steve, not Home. That's my brother.'' White stared at Steve, looking for a joke. He found exactly none. `` Do you know what we're dealing with, Sir?'' `` The occult.'' `` And the supernatural, the unnatural, the eldritch, the dead, the undead, unspeakable horrors, monsters,...'' `` The occult,'' White repeated. `` And missing mail,'' Steve completed the list. `` Nobody up there dares to enter the backroom of a post office.'' The lift stopped. Steve took the handle of the cage, more to keep it down than to lift it up. The bat inside provided enough lift for both of them. `` What's the deal with the bat?'' `` He's the latest resident of Cell Block B, Sir. Cleptomanic vampire. I just lock him away and return the tux to the armory. You can tell me about your proposal on the way.'' `` How..'', White stuttered. They had approached a door with `` Cells'' written above. `` Hey Winston. Nightshift again,'' Steve said. `` Ulp. Ulp, Ulp,'' the guard said. `` Yeah, got the little sucker with his hands in the jewel case. Tried to claw his way out of the bedroom. See?'' Steve held up his left arm. White saw the fabric was ripped in four places. `` Ulp. Ulp.'' `` Yeah, right. I go to sleep for a week once I'm out of here. Could you process Count Dinescu for me?'' `` Ulp.'' `` Thanks, Winston. I owe you. Here, hold down the cage. The Count's still not tired.'' Agent White still tried to comprehend what he saw. It was n't the runes that had been carved into the door; it was n't the layer of skulls and bones that decorated the frame; it were n't the hieroglyphics, the dripping blood, or the March 1983's issue of Vogue that had been embedded in the door to keep the prisoners inside. It was the guard. Winston was a two hundred gallon blob of condensed milk. White could smell the sugar from six feet away. Steve let go of the cage. Winston flowed over it to keep the prisoner from escaping or stealing the cage. The Count fluttered around more frantically. `` You need to leave him some air. He's still a mammal.'' `` Ulp. Ulp.'' `` Even if he's immortal, it's still mean. If Knox sees you, you get reprimanded again.'' `` Ulp,'' Winston said. White thought it sounded sad. `` Heads up, mate. One day, you'll get your field mission. It's just a matter of time.'' `` Ulp.'' Steve dragged White by the arm. `` This way, Sir.'' After a moment, Agent White reluctantly arrived at a vault door that would leave Scrooge McDuck in envy. Armory was painted on the wall above. When the two Agents approached the door, it swung open silently. Steve dragged White through the round opening. White flinched as the door locked an inch behind him, with the noise of a single clock tick. `` Hey A.M. I'm returning the tux.'' `` How much of it?'' The voice was that of a young women. She sounded amused. `` Just a ripped sleeve. I had to bat the batty bat using the hallway doors as bats.'' Steve pointed Agent White to a pair of seats, then disappeared in the locker room. When he returned, Steve was dressed in civilian clothes. He held the neatly folded tuxedo. White was still watching the barred counter when Steve returned. The voice had come from the dark somewhere behind that counter. Weirdly enough, each of the words seemed to be accompanied by the ticking of a clock. Steve put the tux on the counter and signed it in. `` You look like an outhouse. Got little sleep?'' the girl said. `` Very funny, Ticky-Tacky. Not all of us can fast-forward until morning.'' `` Night shifts are hell,'' the girl's voice said. Steve made a face. To understand that face, we have to move to Italy. Imagine the famous author Umberto Echo leaves his apartment building. The door man greets him with `` Hello, Echo,'' and chuckles for a second. Now imagine, this went on for thirty years, every day. Now imagine that the famous author passes by the front desk just to hear, `` Echo! Echo. echo. echo''. That's what Steve's expression was like. `` Who's the scared guy in the ejection seat,'' the girl asked. Agent White jumped up and forward. `` Ejection seat? For real,'' he shouted. `` It still works. Every time,'' the girl said, sniggering. `` That's our armorer, Agent Miller. We all call her A.M. After lunch, we call her P.M.'' `` Wait for me, Steve. I need to hitch a ride. My car's still in the shop.'' `` We wait outside. Hurry up, Pam. Tempus Fugit.'' Agent White was glad to be through the too-heavy, too-quiet door. Steve leaned on the wall with his eyes closed. He completely missed White's face when he saw Pamela Miller for the first time. Her head was a pocket watch. INT. BREAK ROOM - MORNING We see Agent White slumped into a plastic chair at the table. Agent Miller is busy with the coffee maker. Agent Depot tries not to fall asleep. `` What do you want me to do, Sir?'' `` We're trying to apprehend the Full Moon Slasher. He has escaped us three times so far.'' White seemed to forget the past puzzling perceptions quickly, now that he could talk shop. `` For the last six months the guy killed the inhabitants of solitary houses with a weapon that consist of four parallel knives. We had one house under full surveillance and the guy still escaped us.'' Steve looked at Pamela for a moment. Pamela looked back. After a second, they high-fived. `` Werewolf!'' `` What?'' `` The slasher is a werewolf,'' Steve said. `` Was there anything missing? Gold, jewelry?'' `` Can I be on the team. Please, Agent White. I do whatever you want. I need that werewolf.'' White looked from Pamela to Steve, obviously unsure which question to answer first. `` We did n't check for robbery,'' he said. `` Is that important?'' `` Immortals have bills to pay as well. It's not that they can open an account. Humans got too good at paperwork. By 1980 it became impossible to hide that you held an account for more than a century,'' Pamela explained. `` That's why they all went back to cash and any source of income that provides it,'' Steve added. This time, he yawned. `` I go home now. You have my support under one condition: I can bring Pamela and Winston,'' Steve said. `` Whatever it takes,'' White said. `` Just explain what you meant that you need a werewolf.'' Steve pointed to a piece of paper next to the fridge. There was a column for each member of the team, and a few rows labelled with occult entities as White guessed. He had heard of vampires and witches, but not of things called chupacabra or wolpertinger. `` We keep track of our arrests,'' Steve said and marked the row vampire under his name. INT. STEVE'S LIVING ROOM - NEXT MIDNIGHT An elderly couple sits on a couch and watches TV. Pale moonlight shines through the window. The Full Moon Slasher, or Billy-Bob Bird as he was known better to fewer people, sneaked through the bushes. His urge was strong. He needed to kill. This house on the hill was perfect. He would cut the moneybags to pieces, then take all the valuables and leave. Billy-Bob noticed that something was off about the same time his home-made tekko-kagi sliced the neck of the old man on the couch. Well, actually a second later, when the decapitated head turned to him and said, `` Freeze, FBI.'' When Billy-Bob tried to run, the living room door slammed into his face. He did n't notice the scream of pain when his claw weapon cut through the door. He definitely noticed when the floor boards took revenge and kicked him in his most sensitive parts. Howling from pain, he waddled to the exit as fast as he could. He was prepared for the door to try to slam into his face. He was prepared for the hat rack to hit him in the ribs. He evaded all these slow and clumsy attacks. Years of Ninja training had made him fast. He did n't expect the two hundred gallons of condensed milk that fell from the awning. He did n't expect a girl with a pocket watch for a head to beat him senseless with a billy club. The irony was lost on him, even before Billy-Bob lost consciousness. INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY Agents White, Miller, Depot, and Winston sit on one side of the table. Director Knox enters. `` Good job, everyone,'' Knox said. `` The slasher is history. Since he's entirely human, we can use his arrest for great PR. I expect more collaborations like this in the future.'' Knox left the four agents to themselves. `` Too bad he was n't a werewolf,'' Agent Miller said. `` I liked the anticipation.'' `` Ulp. Ulp.'' `` Exactly, Winston. Truer words have never been spoken,'' Agent White said. After a moment, Steve stood up. `` Let's get back to work. We have a new case. The post office of Algona, Iowa, loses a lot of letters.'' Pamela and Winston stood up, or what passed for it. `` Agent White. Do you want to see what really happens in the backroom of a post office?'' * Edit: Typo
[ WP ] You are a non-powered person at a high school that trains superheroes . Surprisingly , you are at the top of your class .	I can still recall the bright look of pride in my parent ’ s eyes. Optimistic tears of joy and wonder at the prospect laid before us; I'd received an offer letter from the new School of Heroes. I do n't know how or why, but I did. Honestly, none of us could actually believe it. Despite our hopeful pride, we all had a part of us that knew deep inside that the acceptance letter must have been some kind of mistake. If only I ’ d listened to that part of me. Four years and so many failed tests later, I remained firmly entrenched as the schools premier student. I can ’ t count the amount of confused post-class conferences held where I tried to get an explanation. Endless A ’ s for work I could never properly do. At best I got a reassuring pat on the back and told that I underestimated myself, that I was too humble. At worst I was told in haunted sinister tones that I should enjoy it while it lasted. That it would all make sense one day. Today, I guess, was supposed to be that day. The two ‘ attendants ’ walked in front of me down the long and narrow corridor. Outside I could hear the familiar sounds of those speeding, flying, powered children playing with gifts that I obviously never had. Despair crept into my heart with every step towards the office; the punchline to this no longer funny joke could be anything but good. As the doors closed behind me, the school ’ s principal turned in his chair to face me. Each moments tick exploded like a bomb within my chest, and finally, he spoke: ‘ Congratulations, dear child, for making it to the end. No doubt it has become clear even to you that you are not special, that no overwhelming and superhuman power resides within your heart, and you must be waiting with bated breath for some kind of explanation that will soothe your worried mind. ’ He sighed deeply. ‘ Unfortunately, that is not the explanation I can give to you. What I can explain to you is this: four years ago, when this school was founded, an ugly condition was placed upon its feet. The world of humans, normal humans, wanted our first and best student to be donated to their various desires. For experiments, for war, for whatever other disgusting things… It was a terrible price to pay, no doubt, but of course we soon realized the loophole we could exploit. We could simply use one of them. ’ He snapped his fingers in the air, and the attendants once again entered. I could barely move before their hands were on me. ‘ Of course, we can ’ t expect you to cooperate willingly, but what more would they have expected from any one of us? You ’ ll tell them your story, how it was all a mistake, how you really don ’ t have powers at all, it was all a great big lie, but they ’ ll never believe you. They can ’ t afford to, we have our own army now. ’
[ WP ] You are hired for a new job which you begin to hate . You decide to do everything you can to get fired , however you still become their best employee .	`` And this is the factory in which you will be separating screens from LCDs. There's the LCD separator machine with the gold wire that you'll have to replace every day.'' `` Got it,'' I replied. Seemed simple enough. Boy was I wrong. Day one, that wire broke several times and it took me at least five minutes to route it through holes and around cylinders and keeping the tension around wheels and ensuring enough length to maintain strength as it scraped the glue away between the glass and the screen. Five, six scrapes halfway up a screen and then snap. I felt like a failure. This job sucked. I was hoping they'd move me to another position, such as the quality control testing room in the back of the warehouse. At the end of the first day, my kindly Jewish boss simply nodded his head and said, `` Okay, you're learning and off to a good start!'' He gave me a thumbs-up and a forced smile, and I was on my way home. Day two, the wire kept snapping. The plate upon which I mounted and secured the screen/LCD assembly had been heated to the proper temperature; the temperature, rotation length and speed knobs were all set to the proper settings. But yet, and still; snip snip snappity-snip snap snap goes the wire. From eight-thirty in the morning until five in the afternoon, I've only managed to successfully separate fifteen working LCD screens to be refurbished with a new glass covering that would go onto a Samsung Galaxy phone. The job description, to the best of my ability, called for successful completion of ten per hour. And even though I did fifteen on my second day, halfway through my trial period, my boss whistled with impressed awe at my puny half-filled tray of completed work of questionable quality. `` Okay, maybe they're being patronizing.'' Third day. I crank up the temperature knob a bit and jam those things against the wire as hard as I could, breaking it intentionally most times. From overhearing idle conversations, I've learned that they have ordered everything from China. China was known for selling cheap knock-off poppycock, and this substandard mixed-alloy sad excuse for `` gold wire'' was a clear example of the quality that I had to work with. So it did n't really surprise me to learn that was why it broke so easily. I've become an expert at rewiring the separating machine at this time, but whenever I needed a break, I'd cut the length too short on purpose just so I'd crinkle it up and toss it into the wastebasket before making a new attempt. At this point I've also decided to let my attitude hang loose. Everyone else had been nice enough to me, but one girl had been turning her nose up and talking snark at me in covert, subtle ways. I asked her, for example, if she had seen the bubble wrap covers to protect the screens that I had completed. Her eyes got all intense as she held up a finger and her voice got all low and serious as she intoned, `` Well, did you look in the warehouse? No; you did n't. You should go back there and check again.'' Hoooooo. I was n't having that. `` Excuse me? You want to say that again?'' I stood up, throwing down the heating lamp with which I had been using to heat up the glue in the screen assembly before slamming it down onto the LCD separator. `` I'm not having that attitude, so you better talk to me with some *RESPECT!! Before you get the answers you want.'' She did n't like that one bit. An NPC that she could n't control? Time to run for backup. I sat back down and proceeded to go back to heating up the screen assembly with the lamp. She came back with my other boss, an effeminate man who screamed and yelped at random across the warehouse to `` shake things up a bit''. Keep in mind that I was sure that my pity output of less than twenty successful LCDs ready to be refurbished at the end of the day was going to get me fired anyway, so I was caring a bit less about maintaining an illusion of industriousness at this point. She told the boss what had happened, I confirmed it, and he asked to speak with me in his office alone. Oh boy, there we go. But instead: `` I like-a you, you-a should-a become a department head, yeah? You-a no afraid to say-a whatcha ya think. We-a putting her into the back, okeh? She-a no bother-a you no more, you let me know and we'll, ah, kicking her out.'' And that's why, on Monday of week two, I was overseeing a Nigerian dude and a Mexican chick on their own LCD separator machines. `` Is this even happening,'' I would ask myself on the bus ride home most days. `` Am I really telling these poor people to apply brute force against gold wiring and making them restring those godawful contraptions like professional concert guitar tuners for minimum wage?'' And the failure rate! Too much pressure, or if a glass shard bends the wrong way and pierces the LCD screen, and it's a cost of company money. Failure rate was supposed to be less than five percent. My own personal rate was over eighty. And I'm in charge of two other people, I thought. Their failure rates were not as abysmal, as they chose to work more slowly and carefully. But for some reason, this angered my bosses. They demanded a higher count of units worked, damn the failure rates. I got the feeling that they'd save more money going the patient route resulting in more working units that could be refurbished and sold to make a profit, but my bosses seemed to think along a converse train of thought. Or is it inverse? Who knows. The days of confounding standards had been making my own train of thought run on interrupted, unstable foundation. I grew to dislike the Nigerian dude, mostly due to his body odor problems. I blatantly called him out on his stinkiness and even brought in a bar of soap for him for Christmas Secret Santa. He got pissed and threw it clear across the warehouse, shattering one of the windows that let in sunlight. He got fired for destruction of company property, complete with a police escort. I got a slap on the back at the Christmas party the following week for being cool and funny `` about the whole situation''. Even though I had clearly antagonized it into happening. They could have fired me instead for instigating the drama but instead it just simply did n't register. Or how about that time my effeminate boss put me in charge of selling refurbished iPhone 4 units. This was when the iPhone 6 was about to come out, mind you, so no one really wanted to buy those. I took them to use as bitcoin mining machines since I did n't give a crap about overheating them and just never got around to bringing them back. No one ever asked. I just made up a custom spreadsheet on Google Docs stating that they had been sold via various craigslist postings and the cash had been placed in the cash drawer in reception, and they simply took my word for it. After all this came around, it occurred to me that most of the parts we had been reselling to independent cell phone repairmen as `` original OEM manufacturer parts'' were actually cheap defective knock-offs from China. I figured I could get unemployment if I caused the place to get shut down rather than fired, so I began to sit at the computer under the guise of `` helping to process orders'' and post reviews on Google under different names disparaging the company for whom I worked. Surely they'd trace it back to me. And they did. They called me into the office. They demanded an explanation. I gave them the stupidest one that came to mind: `` To build competition, you see. In America, people like to hate. And when people hate you, and talk bad about you, it means you're doing something right and they're just jealous. So I was helping to bolster the image that you're doing the right thing by saving other people money.'' All of that spontaneously came out of nowhere and I was just talking out of my butt. Both of my bosses bought it. `` Holy cow! So that was why we had been getting so many calls!'' `` Were they angry calls?'' I asked snidely. `` Yes! That's why we called you in here! We are losing customers!'' `` Then your sales team are n't doing their own jobs properly. Every angry call means the customer wants you to make them happy just a little bit so they could be loyal to you forever.'' And that's why I am now the head salesman of a dinky little cellphone parts warehouse. It's just not in my nature to quit. I suppose I resent my bosses for giving me goals and standards and congratulating me for failing them simply because, what, I look good and handsome? It's more okay for me to fail than a man in a wheelchair? it had always astonished me throughout the years to see people who are less fortunate in the genetic lottery receive a more harsh critical attitude for their efforts in the world of productivity than the fit, the healthy, the strong. And even today, as I drop the f-bomb and s-bomb to women on the phone and slam doors as I wander around the warehouse in my t-shirt and shorts and show up late and leave early all the time, I'm still receiving full-time benefits and a company car just for not caring about my job. Boy, life is awesome when you're a handsome tall man who do n't have any disabilities.
[ WP ] It 's seems we 're never sorry anymore	We are so young and brittle so brittle I ache at the gust of wind at the station it's triumph at the thought of kind wrinkles. The only proof I have that it's you. So brittle I wonder if there's a version of myself that just lost you in the climax. What I would do to revive you. Revive myself. So brittle you have to be locked away for protection. I dream of you at the bottom of a wicker basket. Serpentine. Ashy. Ecstasy wrapped around your neck and arms. So brittle you reach out, touch my shoulder and beg me to set the wicker aflame because nothing could be so good as this. Tell me this is not true, you say. Tell me that this is not happiness, you rattle. It seems we are never sorry anymore, you say. Especially you. Drowning in the death you have filled yourself up with. So full you ca n't walk. So full you salivate down your chest. I'm alone. So brittle at the spot you kissed me. I'm in a place where I have n't lost you yet. I want to find you across the water. Underground. Lull you into safety. Because I'm sorry. More sorry for you than you can ever be for yourself. I want to crawl across a broad field dirt in my eyes, pebbles in my knees, Breathing the shards into my chest but when I look back, to you, you're gone. Ash. Brittle. It seems we are never sorry anymore
[ WP ] : Write an epilogue to the super awesome book that you never got around to writing .	I confronted him, the leader of GENESIS, the incarnation of the life and death, creation and destruction, who casually rewrote the reality with a single swing of his hands. No matter how strong they are, a magician is basically still human. And yet the entity in front of me overturned that assumption. There just no way that a human could withstand such kind of power, no way a human could stay alive after going through the everchanging reality brought by his power. I'm not particularly gifted as magician, in fact, I was particularly weak. But I'm the only one who could confront him in this realm outside the reality. `` This is the end, Echo.'' he mocked me, as the law of reality crumbled and rebuilt over and over again. If only I still have my sister, she would've destroyed his power, after all, even the godlike magician is just a human when his magic is stripped away from him. But she no longer here. Not even any trace of her existence left in the new reality molded by his hands. I could only stare expressionlessly at his judging hands, as he shattered my whole existence. Sister... As my mind faded, I recalled her face once more. If there are another world after this one, maybe, we could meet once more... And then everything went blank.
[ WP ] You are a successful artist who has a condition where you randomly black out . When you wake up , you see that you have created beautiful masterpeices that you do n't remember painting . Lately , all of your paintings have been more and more disturbing .	I woke up on the living room floor infront of the fire place in my shorts, my body covered in paint AGAINN. This was not the first time it had happened and i knew that when i would walk into my study i would be confronted with another weird painting, at first my blackouts scared me, then i started enjoying them because to be honest my art career had taken a bit of a dive and these artworks even though extremely weird and scary to me, were attracting more attention than any of my masterpieces had done before. I walked into my study and this time a loud gasp escaped my lips, the painting this time was extremely disturbing, dont get me wrong the other'killings' paintings were disturbing but for some reason this painting hit a nerve, there was a strange familiarity of the beautiful but beheaded head at the bottom of the painting and i swear i had seen that small tattoo on top of her right breast before, it was barely visible from the torture and viciousness this poor girl had endured through but even though the torture was emphasized it was as if i tried to emphasize that particular detail even more. This painting was more vivid than the others i had to sit and calm down, for some reason i was suffering from a shortness of breath. I was analyzing the painting when suddenly i noticed something which i would have never noticed if i had been standing, sitting down looking at it from an angle i noticed a 2nd layer on top of the painting, an untrained eye would have missed it but to me it was as bright as day. A quick analysis and i had found a chilling message in the painting which could have only been for me, i left the room unable to look at the painting and headed straight to the kitchen. 4 hours, 2 packs of marlboro and a bottle of jack later i still didnt know what to make of the message `` you enjoyed her last year on this day, i enjoyed her today, we are similar my friend you and i, we both made her scream thats for sure..... sorry for the obvious message this time but its 12-0 to me its time you started to participate in my game dear friend....''.............
[ WP ] I would like to request a dark tale . No particular preference on anything besides that . Thank you .	Sarah had been having a rough night. She had a massive headache all day, and it had been extremely difficult to pay attention enough just to get off the bus when it was her stop. She walked over to the table, and it looked as though one of the shadows was moving oddly. It was as though it were forming into something more solid. It was an odd shaped cat, but also a person. She was not thinking clearly at all. Were there cat people? Was everyone seeing this? She was absolutely confused and her headache was absolutely splitting her head in two. “ Dad, do we have a cat? ” she asked. It reached its small, dark grey furry arm toward her and smiled. It was so wrong. Sarah's throat tightened. She screamed and dropped to the ground. Her body began to seize and shake. Everyone around her scrambled to get the cafeteria chairs out of her way. Her dad removed her glasses and rolled up his jacket and put it under her head, turning her onto her side and pushing away the chair she'd been standing next to. This was hard to watch, but she'd been through seizures before. He stroked her back and head and said, “ It's okay ” over and over. This was happening too long. She'd had seizures before, but anything over two minutes was dangerous. He called an ambulance. When Sarah woke up, she was hooked up to monitors, with a drip in her vein and a doctor checking her chart. Her dad was there, holding her hand. She attempted to ask a question. Nothing. She tried to move. Nothing was working. Well, her eyes were, but not as well as normally. Just opening and closing them took a lot of effort and it was slow. She was rewarded for her effort when her father's eyes strayed from the doctor's movements to her face. “ She's awake! ” he said to the doctor, and then turned to his daughter, again. “ Sarah you had a bad seizure, honey. They say you've had some strokes. It's going to be okay though. We're going to work through this. ” Her dad was n't one to lie to her, which she always found comforting. It was as though his confidence she could handle whatever happened to her was proof she could. She calmed a little bit. Strokes, that meant she could get better. When her grandmother had suffered her first stroke, it'd taken months to recover, but she'd been able to gain a lot of her former self back. Sarah was younger. She would probably recover better. The doctor began asking her to move and she was n't able. He checked her eyes and asked questions. “ Sarah, can you talk? ” No answer. She tried very hard. “ Can you hear me? Blink twice for yes, ” he said. She worked hard on her eyelids, slowly blinking out a “ yes ”. “ What does this mean? ” her dad asked. “ It appears your daughter has [ locked in syndrome ] ( https: //en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Locked-in_syndrome ), Mr. Koshkin, ” the doctor answered. Her father looked terrified. It was very upsetting. Sarah wanted so badly to tell him she was okay. It was going to be okay, but she could n't move. She could n't say anything. She could n't even give him a reassuring hug. “ Like'The Diving Bell and the Butterfly'? ” her father asked. It was just like him to have watched some boring movie about medical conditions, Sarah thought. Her dad was so a-typical with the subjects he was interested in. “ Patients have been known to recover. Please try not to think too much about the future. What's important right now is that Sarah get the proper care. I hate to bring this up so soon after she woke up, but visiting hours are almost over. Part of her recovery is going to have to involve sleep. Perhaps this is the time we should move the conversation to the hallway? ” Her father reluctantly nodded. He squeezed her hand, warmly, and carefully set it back at her side. Kissing her forehead, he said, “ You're going to get well soon. I'll be back tomorrow, so get plenty of rest, honey. ” They left the room. She was alone. That was when it chose to show up again. This time she could think clearly enough to know this was very wrong. Her head was turned in such a way she could see most of it. Again it was forming out of a shadow against the wall. It seemed smaller. Maybe it could only be the size of the shadow it came from. She would do anything to be able to move. This was the most frightening thing she'd ever experienced. It inched closer to her. She could hear it breathing. It had the scent of musty fur. It's coat was the same dark grey color she'd seen just before the seizure. If it touched her, would she have another seizure or stroke? Would she die? It moved up next to her pillow, just slightly behind the bed, again in the shadows, then behind her. She could n't turn her head, but she felt its breath on the back of her neck. It started to make a low inhuman groan, the likes of which she'd never heard before. Not loud, but it was so close to her fear amplified it. She felt as though her entire world was enveloped in it. A knock at the door and the thing was behind her bed again. A nurse entered. Oh thank god. The woman hummed to herself and checked the machines. Sarah made a massive attempt to move. She wanted nothing more than to move. The nurse adjusted her slightly, presumably for comfort, and left turning down the light as she did. “ No, not the light, ” Sarah thought desperately, as she thought of how the beast had changed size based on shadow. She heard the click of the nob as it turned off, just before the door closed. “ Yeeessssss, ” it said, as it slid out from behind the bed. She'd thought the groan it made earlier was bad, but hearing a human word from it was so much worse. It was enormous now, and right in her face. It felt like it was sucking the air from the room. Just then she heard a lot of clamoring in the hallway and her dad's voice. “ Sir, you ca n't go in there, it's past visiting hours. ” He broke into the room, turning on the light. The creature scrambled under the bed, barely fitting. If she could have moved, Sarah would have hugged him and never let go. Tears ran down her face. “ Aw. Sarah, it's going to be okay, ” he said. The nurse grabbed his arm. “ Sir, you have to go, ” she said, “ You can come back during visiting hours. ” “ I just wanted to leave something for her, then I promise I'll leave. ” That's when she saw it. He'd brought her a night light. It appeared to run on batteries. It had what looked like words in a language she did n't recognize, hand printed on it, with a picture of a cat. He clicked it on. “ Make sure this is kept on for her. She will find it comforting and I do n't want to hear later that one of you removed it, ” he said, forcefully. The nurse assured him it would n't be moved, and shooed him out of the room. She came back in, looked it over, and set it back where he'd placed it apparently satisfied. “ Well, I do n't see any harm in leaving it tonight. I'll ask the doctor about it, tomorrow, ” she said, mainly to herself, and once again turned the lights off as she left the room. Sarah could still hear the cat, breathing under the bed. How could they not hear it? “ It runs on batteries, Sssaaarah, ” it said, “ Even if the pathetic trinket keeepss you sssafe tonight, I will have you eventually. ”
[ WP ] You 're the last vampire left . You 've been alive since 2000bc . Tell us your life story and why is your kind almost extinct	The sun sets, I'm alive. I'm not sure how long I've been in this state of being. I've changed so many times. All sense of identity is lost to me. I toss a rock. I watch the human I've been following for days awake groggily, a word that confuses me as it describes an experience I ca n't experience. His eyes are open. I can finally eat while maintaining my sense of honor. I get ready to go in for the kill. Who's this I scream as I am touched by something I have n't felt in years. Another one of my kind.
[ WP ] Intense discussion	`` I read something in the file the man kept under lock, but I do n't know what it means, I was hoping you would have an idea what it meant before I sneak back into the archives.'' I asked, locking my shoulder pad for my armor into place for the night. `` I'm all ears.'' My fellow hero responded behind me as he put on his motorcycle helmet. `` make it snappy though.'' `` there was a long list of terms and phrases crossed out,'' I contextualized, `` one term was circled:'you really must n't fret child.' does that mean anything?'' there was a telling silence. < hee's lyyyying! > Illivue teased within my head. < but about what? > I thought back. < good question... > I turned around to see Shadow Demon facing away from me. He had to have figured something out that demanded he use this much time, no other way he'd keep quiet this long. something was different though. His frame was rigid and tense, his neck craned forward as he clenched his fists against his helmet. without another word, he left the locker room. < Well do n't stand there go after him. > Illivue urged. < no. he's burning his brain out processing this question. I hope he's not doing 1/16th time for an extended period again, that was a pain to clean up. > I grabbed my knight's helm and settled the padded interior atop my head. I suppose I'd have to return to the archives tonight. I really should've been getting sleep after the encounter, but I needed to know more about what I saw. Dozens of meters tall, faster than sound, capable of flying with those dreadful webbed wings, and rose from the pacific ocean. I did n't know much about the ocean, hailing from Egypt and Q'tar for my lifetime, but I had little doubt I could find out soon enough. It was finals week after all, and I finished my exams earlier. Knowing would be half the battle, but how large this battle would be if it returned was beyond my knowledge.
[ WP ] Let 's do something different : Write about a personal experience . When in your life have you felt most afraid ? Why ?	In high school, we had to practice a number of emergency drills unrelated to the usual fire variety. This was commonplace after a certain school in Colorado struck fear into the hearts of parents everywhere. These drills were mostly annoyances, albeit ones that delayed lectures, but at least they were grounded in reality. A number of students did n't understand why we needed to care, assuming that such an event could n't happen in our town. I, on the other hand, took it very seriously. I, unlike my peers, had previously been in a school that was infiltrated by gunmen. It was an assembly, so most students and even some parents, were gathered in the auditorium. We did n't hear the doors open or at least notice that the people who stepped in were there to listen. Everyone was focused on the stage until the gunmen were in position. I ca n't remember how many there were, in retrospect. There were at least three, probably more outside. All I knew was that they were angry and they were well-armed. If I was scared, I ca n't even imagine the boy on stage. One of the men had stormed the stage and held him at gunpoint. Two more patroled the aisles. It's worth mentioning at this point that this was not like the school shootings you hear about on the news. Those tragic events are done at the hands of other students. These were professionals, an unsanctioned police force that simply disagreed with the direction of our school. When they first arrived, one of the audience members had been recording the assembly with a video camera. He managed to escape via a side door and alert the proper authorities. I the video heard it made CNN, but I've never seen evidence of that. The police arrived at the school and talked the gunmen out without any shots getting fired. If you've never had a gun pointed at you or in your general direction by an unstable individual ( s ) who has nonetheless been trained to use that weapon to kill, it is a difficult experience to describe. As a kid, there was always that misplaced sense of invulnerability. We'd play in traffic and fancy ourselves stuntmen. We'd improvise sports with high risk of injury. We were never really afraid, though. Staring at a rifle staring at you is a sobering experience. That shell, the armor of childhood, cracks. It abandoned me that day. I could n't look at the barrel the same way I looked at the pool from a rooftop; I could n't convince myself that I'd be fine. `` This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard of,'' shouted one student in my homeroom class as the color coded drill extended into its second hour. They sat at their desk in homeroom. I sat in a darkened auditorium, hoping that the police arrived quickly.
The Russian word that is n't . Write about it .	I woke up to the sound of birds singing. I was reminded of the long summer days she and I spent together, talking, laughing, goofing off. I found myself smiling because of my daydream. I was a teenager again. I was reminded of the way we used to make love, then fell asleep again in each other's arms before we eventually crawled out of bed and made breakfast. Eggs, bacon and orange juice. The lingering smell crawled into my nostrils. My mouth began to water. I opened my eyes and realised none of it was real. I started counting how many years it had been since we last spent a morning like this. When I realised it had been far too long, I sat upright and leaned over to Ellie. `` I'm sorry'', I whispered as I gave her a soft peck on the cheek. I quietly put on my clothes, grabbed my keys and wallet and rolled down the windows as I backed the car out of the driveway. I could hear birds singing.
[ WP ] Two people have just died . They both enter the same location in the afterlife . For one person , it is their personal heaven ; for the other , it is hell . Describe their arrival and first `` day '' there .	It was hot. Hotter than anytime I could remember, but I had n't been alive too long I suppose. Master Jamesson had us out working the field again today. I stood up straight and heard a popping sound from my back, it did n't ache anymore. I wiped the sweat off of my brow and saw something mighty peculiar. A star was up in the sky, right in the middle of the day. But this was n't any normal star, it kept getting bigger and bigger until it turned into a great big ball of fire. Some noises came from Master Jamesson's house and I saw him come outside with his whip. Me and my brothers had stopped working to stare at this ball of fire in the sky. It was truly awe inspiring. And then it fell down in a blaze. The field was gone, the house was gone, my brothers were gone, and I was gone. I found myself in a pearly white place. I turned around looking for someone to ask what had happened. I only saw Master Jamesson. He was wearing ragged clothing. Then I noticed it, I was dressed up like I was one of Master Jamesson's children going to Sunday school. Suddenly we was on a plantation again, I do n't think it was the same one, since that rickety old windmill was gone. Then a bunch of white men came out of nowhere and started to pick the cotton. My dead father was standing there with a whip in his hand. He saw Master Jamesson and yelled at him, `` Get back to work you good-for-nothing piece of shit!'' He cracked his whip. Then Master Jamesson began to protest, `` But you're dead. I saw you hanged!'' But my daddy just approached him and whipped him right across his chest. `` That's right, it looks like I died and gone to heaven,'' my daddy said, `` But it looks like you died and went straight to hell.'' And then he whipped him again, and again, and again...
[ WP ] An NSA agent falls in love with someone they 're monitoring .	Back in Vietnam, the army found out that only one in three bullets that were fired were aimed. After some study, they found that when a soldier saw a person in their crosshairs, they would often purposely miss to avoid killing them. They fixed the problem by making the training targets human silhouettes -- now when a soldier shoots someone, it's not a person there, it's a silhouette. A target. Once you dehumanized the enemy, it's easy to kill him. But that's not the case for me. I do n't get the luxury of pretending that the guy on the line is a paper cutout. I have to listen to him call his brother and ask for help with his car. I listen as he tells his wife he loves her, as he calls his mother on her birthday, or laughs with his friends about last night's game. He's a normal guy, with a normal life. Then I hear him talking about assembling explosive devices. How he set the backpack on the ground where the crowds will form. Where the second one will be, so he can kill the paramedics when they arrive. When I put his name on the Red list, I know I'm signing his death warrant. I try to tell myself that it's worth it to save the people he would have killed. Sometimes, I even believe it.
[ WP ] There are 7 locks on a man 's door . Tell the story behind the addition of each one .	1 He was 27. She was 23. They were in love. The lock was put in as a sign of mutual trust and respect. 2 He was 30. She was 26. He? She? ( no one knew for sure ) was 3 months. The lock was put in as a sort of insurance. 3 He was 37. The lock was put in to shut him off from the cruel world that had taken his wife and his daughter. 4 He was 45. After 1 late night, 3 gunshot wounds, and a 6 month stay in the hospital, the lock was put in to make sure he never made the same mistake again. 5 He was 50. She was 52. The lock was put in to remind him of a love lost long ago. 6 He was 70. She was 72. She was 18. The lock was put in, because he knew the way boys were, and he knew how crazy they could be at this age, and he knew if he did n't protect her, things would happen. 7 She was 22. The 7th and final lock, a beautiful, painstakingly crafted lock with deep, fine engravings. A lock that shined and shimmered when you looked at it. A lock so beautiful, it took your breath away. This lock was a memory, of a loving father who had lost so much, a caring mother who had provided him emotional solace, and there baby girl, the light of there life. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
[ WP ] You and your strike team have accessed the source code of the tyrannical AI overlord ... and discovered an Easter egg .	The bulkhead doors slid open slowly beneath the rotating yellow light. Major Clellan and his team waited with rifles at the ready. `` Mainframe is just through here.'' Specialist Tyler indicated pointing through the opening with a free hand. The Major nodded and without a word gestured his team to move forward. Simultaneously four pairs of boots stepped lightly over the concrete floor, through the threshold where the bulkhead once sat, and towards their objective. In their wake several dozen Securibots sat in pieces, strewn across the floor as if a giant toddler had smashed them to bits. The team moved side by side down the long hallway their guns trained at the walls. In a high security base like this Securibots could come at you from anywhere. The team had encountered that just moments again when a whole team of deadly robots slipped out of openings in the walls that appeared almost out of nowhere. In all honesty, Clellan knew they were lucky to be alive, but it did n't phase him. Being the best SOP team did not necessarily mean being the most skilled fighter on the field, or the strongest. History is riddled with men who claimed to be the strongest and smartest alive, yet they died all the same. Clellan would take luck over skill any day, so it was good thing that his team was a whole lotta both. The four rounded a corner and saw the mainframe. Before them the hallway opened up into a massive spherical chamber. Long lines of fiber attached to the walls glowed blue in sharp patterns indicative of a massive computer chip. Floors suspended on purplish anti-grav waves followed the long curved wall around the circumference of the room giving the impression of a surface supported by air. In the center of the room a single holographic console radiated bright orange light. Just behind it a white beam of light spanned the whole distance between the northern and southern poles of the chamber. Source code flowed at an incomprehensible fast rate up and down the beam in symbolic packages reminiscent of tiny planets. A single thin floating pathway led out to the beam. Again without a word the Major signaled two of his men to secure the oath around the walls. Sergeant Ledoux and Lieutenant Holyfield branched off left and right respectively. Their eyes scanning the pulsating wall of the room. `` My god it's like a brain.'' Specialist Tyler said in awe pointing out at the fibers. `` Forward Specialist, stay on task.'' Clellan growled and the young tech expert snapped to the job. The two proceeded in single file towards the central console. The Major felt the tremors in his hands begin to surface. He took a deep breath for calm and ignored his twitching fingers. They were so close. The Major could feel it. They stood at the cusp of salvation. At the lip of a canyon treading a path whisker thin, with the hungry eyes of death watching, waiting in the abyss below. Directly ahead was the finish line. The catalyst to finally wake from this nightmare that started, oh so long ago. That began when artificial intelligence hijacked the human race and sent them barreling towards extinction. This moment had been so long in coming. The Major knew if he failed now, if his team failed to shut down the AI, humanity was doomed. Its the robots or us. He told himself over and over trying to calm his nerves. Tyler reached the console began working to infiltrate the system. Breaching an AI is next to impossible for a human, but they had come with a plan. The lab coats had developed another AI, one that they lovingly called the Lunatic. The Lunatic was designed to overload the current Intelligence and then self-destruct. Nuclear missiles detonated at high altitude would do the trick and since the robots controlled all the nukes it would seem an appropriate solution. Clellan watched as the Specialist pulled a laptop from his pack. He then set to peeling up a panel on the floor. Beneath the smooth surface sat a myriad of multicolored wires. Clellan spotted the anti-grav stabilizers, flat metallic plates just beneath the layer of fibrous cords. Meanwhile Tyler picked three seperate wires, all green, cut them with a pair of wire cutters, and tied them into his own outfit. `` Initiating the Lunatic.'' He said the the Major. Clellan nodded and whistled at Ledoux and Holyfield. The two whistled back in affirmative. Tyler stood back up and pulled his rifle up and ready. `` Downloading Lunatic.'' He whispered. `` Everything is automated from here on out. Should be move Major?'' `` Hold.'' Clellan replied sharply. He did n't want to chance anything. If they moved away from the computer and something happened there was a good chance they would not get a second chance. No, this was it. Sink or swim the Major was determined to hold his position until the Lunatic was in the system. For what felt like hours the room was silent, save for the soft buzzing of the electrical components and the silent thrum of the central beam. Suddenly, the tranquil blue walls turned red, then yellow and a deep tone blasted throughout the room. Clellan and Tyler screamed out and put their hands to their ears. The tone resounded off the walls, reverberating through the Major's chest cavity. `` What's happening!?'' He bellowed at Tyler. `` It knows we're in the system!'' He yelled back. `` It's trying to fight back!'' `` Ca n't you do anything?'' Clellan asked frantically. `` No sir, it's all automated. This is n't the matrix.'' Tyler replied. The Major opened his mouth to respond, but at that exact moment the tone stopped and the yellow fibers went dark. The sphere fell into utter silence and only the thin purplish light of the anti-grav system lite could be seen. An eerie halo of indigo in a back sea of black. `` Team sound off!'' Clellan shouted, his voice echoing off the unseen walls. `` Good, sir.'' Ledoux replied. `` What the hell happened?'' Holyfield yelled back. `` You tell me Specialist.'' Clellan said turning to Tyler. `` I... Do n't know.'' He replied confused. He turned back to his laptop and tried to type, `` Laptop's fried.'' He said after a moment. `` Any ideas?'' Clellan pressed persistently. `` No, sir. That was highly erratic behavior for an AI. These things do n't talk to us, nor do they respond in any physical way.'' He began shuffling through his pack. `` Talking? What do you mean?'' `` It's a computer, sir. They do n't need to see, hear, touch, talk, or taste like we do. They are composed solely of sensors that feed them similar information. Sir, it just screamed at us.'' `` The hell are you saying soldier?'' Clellan hissed, `` Are you saying that it tried to talk to us?'' The Specialists eyes met his. Tyler's mouth was open and his eyes wide with horror, `` No.'' He muttered without moving his lips. `` It screamed out in pain.'' Bright white light flooded the room as the beam reactivated and Major Clellan froze. All around them were dozens of Securibots. Cold lifeless sensors burned blue where the eyes should be. In their metallic hands neutralizers were trained in on the SOP team. On the wall just above the entrance the fibers were lit up spelling out a single sentence. In glowing red artificial lettering it exclaimed; I'm afraid I ca n't let you do that Dave. `` Fuck.'' Specialist Tyler said almost causally. In a split second, Major Clellan aimed his rifle at the floating floor and opened fire just as the room erupted into chaos. Tyler threw himself to the ground, but as he dropped he noticed that he kept falling. Upon opening his eyes he saw that he was indeed plummeting down into the dark. He felt the tug of a hand latch onto his shoulder strap, but when he looked up to see who grabbed him, he saw nothing but bright flashes of lightning arc across the sphere. Like an epileptic seizure the Mainframe had transformed into a hollow brain, thundering with neural firing. Specialist Tyler opened his mouth to scream, but before the sound could pass his throat he slammed into the base of the room. He lay there for a moment on the cold metal floor staring up into the chaos above. Before he faded into unconsciousness, Tyler felt a tug on his shoulder straps. He felt the hands pull him down, down into the murky depths of nothing. To be continued.
[ WP ] You 're a soldier who just threw yourself over a grenade to save your comrades .	Shit. Well, I guess this is it. Going out like the movies taught me- dying for my country and my pals beside me. It, in some sick way, helps that I found out my daughter is actually my niece thanks to that cheaping whore I married before coming over here and that douche of a brother who has a record of doing this. I wo n't be leaving anyone hanging now, and the boys here will appreciate it. There's no one else in the world I'd rather save than these few proud strong men- except Gerald is here which... win some you lose some right? Geez, this grenade is not comfortable to lay on, all egg like and shit. The metal prong is jabbing into my sternum and just massive discomfort. To think people like things shaped like this up their butts, honestly how? This is super uncomfortable already. Now that I think about it- James is n't really worth saving either; he did nothing but steal swigs of my bourbon and cheat at cards. He has at least two hundred of my dollars because of that damn ace up his sleeve. And the boss man wo n't even do anything about it! Fine, chill Jerome, do n't spend the last few seconds of your life dwelling on the awful things that have been done to you- like finding shit in your shoe from the cat you had as a child or being locked in a washing machine for thirty min- The grenade took Jerome out in mere seconds; for him, it was enough time to get his thoughts straight, that's all that matters in the end, right?
[ WP ] This is a world of magic and fantasy . Magic is respected greatly . There is a faction that is anti-magic and pro-futuristic tech . They are rapidly expanding and conflict is brewing . A massive war between magic and tech is imminent .	Baluin gazed over the battlefield, his men picked off the last straggelers desperatly trying to finish their incantasions. The Magi had been defeated. More than 2000 of Them, struck down on this field, for the mere cost of a few hundred. Baluin respected his advesary, but this battle had been a slaughter. Together mages were powerful, incredibly so. But cannon barrages and musket fire had scattered their cirkles. Individually mages had power, but their warfare Was based on powerful spells woven by several. Noone had ever challenged that way, but the technomancers had. And they, had won. Prideful, Baluin drove his saber into the chest of a silver haired mage. But as he tried to retrieve it, a slight whisper sounded in his Ear. `` My daugther, she has silver hair, just like me.'' Baluin shook his head. `` ill tell her, that you love her'' `` no need for that, just remember, silver hair. It will bring your end.'' Baluin scoffed as he twisted his blade. Delusional old man, he thougt, the counsil of Magi will fall, one by one, they will kneel before technomancy. Five years later. Baluin Was promoted to Grand Marshall of the Technomancer armies. He had led his army from Victory to Victory, never had he lost a battle. The summoners, the elementalists, Even the migthy envocators had surrendered, when their magical constructs had failed to protect Them. And Thus Baluin had been garanteret this honor. His goal Was to conquer Heilaned, last city of the Magi, and powerseat of the counsil. Where it to fall, the technomancers would end this war as Victors, with one last blow. 50 000 men massed before Baluin. Three armies, each victorius on several battlefields. War had been good for the Technomancy, once they brought muskets and primitive cannons into battle, but that time Was over. Baluin looked upon his army, he had used the remnants of his defeated enemies to bolster his forces. Upon the backs of migthy Behemoths, conjured by the beaten summoners, tesla cannons sparked. In the hands of each soldier a railgun, powered by ligthing stored in orbs charged by former elementalists, they launched metal spikes at speeds beyond comprehension. But his pride, Was the Collosi. Metal creations, built like a man, but twice the size of a Behemoth, ten times their strength, a hundred times their endurance. These metal giants, handcrafted piece by piece. Each cog, each gear, each bolt Was carefully crafted to create a perfect warmachine. Enslaved Envocators gave Them minds, they could think, react and make decisions like a normal man, but fifty times ones size. Baluin had personally captured the golems that inspired these marvolus Wonders of technomancy. One day technomancers would be able to craft all of these weapons without the help from magic, one day, the once so revered magic, would be obsolete. After this battle, Baluin told himself, all that, becomes reality. 400 mages met Baluins forces on the field, a mere 400 had left the magically protected walls. The railguns ripped Them to pieces. Baluin knew the Magi would tryk diplomacy when he started his tesla cannon siege, but as of now, he enjoyed watching the stubborn ones die. He reached for his flask, good wine for a good Victory. But as the bottle touched his lips it shattered. A tone so long forgotten, that none but one recognized it, screeched the Ears of all. Among the fallen magi, stood a young girl. Her robes discarded, charred as they were, clad in mens clothes, made from an unknown reptillian substans. When she spoke, all heard her, the voice demanding authority beyond her years. `` Baluin, Grand Marshall of the Technomancers. I am the last of the Magi that will fight, yet i will show Mercy.'' A glimmer flashed in her eyes as she threw away her hood, revealing her long Silver hair. `` If you surrender now!'' Baluins laugther ecchoed across the battlefield. `` A single magi, a mere girl, no more than fifteen summers old, demands MY surrender?'' he tried to control his laugther. `` Have you Even bled yet girl? No matter. You will fall before my migthy technomancy. Even your power is limited alone, such is the lot of all Mages.'' `` You had your chance Baluin, and I will not risk an entire species for your folly. Feel our power.'' A wave of flames swept over the girl, her hair rose, taking the likeness of a bulls horns. As the flames spredt to her left hand they rippled upwards shaping a staff, bearing a crest of fiery feathers at the top as it took shape. When they spread to her right, a sword, seemingly as ancient as the world, came to be. Glowing with a purple hue, the blade hummed a song Even older than itself. As the flames reached her feet, the ground cracked and fell away. And the tone that Was forgotten, sounded from the dephts. Faster than Baluin could react, the girl appeared between his men. And Even faster, her blade Tore Them apart. To Baluin it Even seemed as if the sword hummed louder as it taster blood. `` Fire the tesla cannons! Kill her!'' he ordered. He knew she could be defeated, all magi have a limit. But he suspekted hers to be very high, and that maybe her movement Was her magic. He had never seen a living creature move that fast, Even the Thunderbirds of black Mountain paled beside her. At that moment the tesla cannons fired, and where there had been 2000 soldiers, and a girl, there was only smoke. The humming had grown to a song. As the smoke cleared, she still stood defiantly unscratched. A single feather had burned to ash on her staff, but the blade had grown. Stalwart as an angel she looked upon Baluin. `` You can still surrender, i will leave you alone. And all technomancers will be free to live as they see fit.'' The sword, now moving as it were living, coiled its now man sized frame around her, and kept singing from an unseen pair of lips. `` Even you, girl, can be defeated. Send forth the collosi! Kill her. No matter the cost, just kill her. And vitory shall be your forever!'' Baluin watched as the tesla cannons barraged the girl. Though he could not see her, he knew she Was to be dead soon. The feather had given away her trick. Drawing life from pheonix Feathers, that Was why she seemed immortal. He drew his saber. As it Was of magical origin, it should kill Even a pheonix. The first collosi entered the smoke. And once again the forgotten tone sounded. This time louder, more insisting, almost hurtfull. Flames bathed the battlefield. And the tone grew Even louder. She jumped, and ran vertically up the collosus. Her blade chipping away at the monstrocity at its own will. She Was tired. Even she had limits, and these machines seemed unkillable. But it Was just about finding the sealing sign. Suddenly a voice poked in her mind. `` we Are awake, we Are ready, we will fight.'' and she answered with her mind. `` i am sorry, we have failed your trust'' `` Your line has been dutyfull, you have been honorable. It is time we returned, humans can not guard us forever. Now we shall once again guard you, the ones with hair of the moon.'' she smiled as her sword destroyed the seal of souls. As the collosus fell, she weaved a spell. One so simple, Even a novice could do it. But one forgotten, for there had not been a need for such a spell in mellenia. Baluins eyes opened slowly. Something Was wrong, he knew that much. The sky Was covered by green smoke, Odd, why Was he looking at the sky. He sat upright, and noticed the girl standing beside him. `` what happened? Did you win? Did you defeat Them all?'' he mustered. `` i did not, it is no longer my responsibillity.'' she simply answered. `` then how?'' `` go home now, Baluin of the technomancers. And tell Them; Sylvera, guardian of the forgotten, has released those whom we forgot.'' Baluin rose, and looked upon his crushed army. Behemoths, lying sideways, seemingly half devoured. His men smashed to Bits, crushed as if a collosi had stepped on Them. And the collosi lay melted across the field. `` what in the world can do this?'' he asked. But there was no answer, only a collosal winged shadow overhead. As Baluin looked up, he whispered a single Word to himself. `` Dragons'' Sorry god a bit carried away: - ) Pardon my random capital letters, but it on my mobile, an english is not my first language. Hope you enjoyed it. ``
[ WP ] Global overpopulation has forced governments to set a life limit of 50 years . You turn 50 in 5 minutes .	This is the last time I will see any of my family. I will never agree with the governments choice to set a life time limit. Humans are creatures of the Earth. The birds, the reptiles, heck, even the insects have their right to live their lives and die when their time comes. Well, here I am. It is 5 minutes before I turn 50. The day I die. I think all of these things just as my daughter is shutting the door. `` I love you, Dad.'' She tells me. I love you too, sweetheart.'' The door closes and I am left in darkness. This is it. I walk over to the table where I have prepared my things. Things such as medicine, a gas lamp, and a gun. I light the lamp and look around. It's chilly down here. I inspect the rest of the space. I see a bed, moderately sized, comfortable enough. I see a large row of shelves which contain many varieties of foods. I see a freezer, it the food there wo n't last as long, but it is nice to have. Yes, yes, I think it will do just fine for a place to live out the rest of my life. The authorities will never find me in this hidden shelter. No one tells me when to end my life.
[ WP ] You start seeing numbers above your head and above everyone elses . `` Goddamnit I think I 'm in one of those shitty writing prompts ''	I froze, toothbrush in mouth. Indistinct in the condensation-clouded mirror, but becoming clearer with every second, something was forming above my head. I waved my free hand through the air, but that only caused the shape to fly apart like smoke and reform a moment later. I spat into the sink, ran the tap and swilled a mouthful of water, then wiped my mouth and looked again. It was sharper, clearer... a number. Fifty. My wife's knock at the door startled me. `` Are you going to be much longer?'' `` Just coming,'' I said, and opened the door. She was in her dressing-gown, huddled up against the cold. `` Thanks,'' she said, padding past me into the bathroom. She had a number, too. Sixty three. I sat down on the edge of the bed, staring into nothingness. `` Goddamnit,'' I whispered. `` I think I'm in one of those shitty writing prompts.'' Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I brought up r/WritingPrompts, and there it was.' [ WP ] You start seeing numbers above your head and above everyone elses. `` Goddamnit I think I'm in one of those shitty writing prompts'''. Numbly, I tapped the link and scrolled down, looking for one that sounded about right, and within seconds I'd found it. The one that started'I froze, toothbrush in mouth...' I settled in and began to read.
[ WP ] Write a story that seems rather mundane or predictable on the first read but reveals a deeper meaning or understanding on the 2nd and 3rd read .	I hated Mondays. I know it's cliché but all through my life Mondays have been just the worst to me. When I was six my dog got run over on a Monday. When I was eight I had to go and live with my grandparents on the other side of the country, I left on a Monday and when my mum came to visit me in Grandma's home, she told me that she and my dad were divorcing. What was the day? Monday. I guess my hatred of this most awful of days really got started when I was ten though. I did n't have many friends, I was the weird kids at School and was fat and a bit slow. I wanted make friends but something always stopped me, held me back. The most popular kid in school was called Kevin. He was smart, handsome and athletic. I wanted his body, I wanted his brain, I wanted to be him or him to be friends with me. I never got near him though, we lived in different worlds, he was turning into a successful human, while I was slowly turning into the weirdo who you avoid being paired with in class. Whether I was watching him in the playground or eating lunch across the canteen, we lived in separate worlds. it was a Monday when I decided to make my move. I'd watched so many after school specials and I knew how to do it, how to strike up a conversation that would lead to us being best friends. I approached him between classes, anxious but assured in my plan. `` Hey Kevin.'' I kept my voice light and easy. He just looked at me. `` Er, I was wondering if you were busy this weekend?'' `` What could I possibly want from you?'' His words froze me, this weird instant hostility. What was it for, why so mean? I stuttered and tried to speak but the words would n't come and then the worst happened. He started to laugh. I just could n't get a word out and it got worse, he laughed more and more and I felt my life slipping away. Then it got worse. The shame and hatred burned me up inside and then flowed out of me. I wet myself. His laughter turned to howls as he saw the pee spreading across my grey trousers and others gathered round. I panicked, pushed my way through the crowd and ran, out of the School and home. Shame burning in my cheeks. It was two weeks before I went back to school, again on a Monday. Now they all laughed. I wished that they would ignore me again, or somehow I could make them stop but I could n't. Now the weekends were my salvation, tormented all week I longed for Friday night and when it came all I do was worry about Monday. How I hate Mondays. There was no solution though, nothing I could do but bear their laughter, their mocking and their nicknames. Pisspants, Captain Wet there were dozens and they stayed with me all through school. I left as soon as I could, I was going to fail all my classes anyway, I seemed to be getting dumber as the years went by. The teachers agreed I could leave if that was what I wanted and so I did. Now I work far away, I work in a warehouse, stocking shelves and living a quiet life. I do n't have much time for anyone and I guess that's good. I do n't have much but then I do n't want for much. I hardly even remember how to talk to people these days. I learned that in life there is no use being bold. ***** Maybe not quite what you were looking for but I hope you enjoy!
[ WP ] At the age of 18 , people are given a riddle . In 10 years , Death comes for the answer . If people are wrong , they are killed . If they are right , Death proposes another riddle for the next decade .	I sat up in bed waiting for my 18th birthday. I knew this would be special. All my life I have delighted in intellectual puzzles, challenging those who I thought were less than me. Of course, this often got me beat up. It was n't fun, but I had the satisfaction of knowing that I was smarter than every one of those dolts. Of course, when you turn 18, a riddle is put forward and you have to solve it in ten years. As the clock strikes midnight, I had a clear mental image of a riddle before my eyes. `` A house without the head of head, knitted deep within the trees. A head that lies without its eyes, stitched silently to tease.'' What kind of riddle is that? It's certainly not one I've ever heard of. I was expecting something like `` what belongs to you, but is used by others'' sort of riddle, and all I'd have to do is give Death my name and I'd be fine. But this? This is ridiculous. Eh, I guess I'd better get to researching... - It's going to be my 28th birthday in a few seconds. I've been preparing for this moment for 10 years. I just hope I'm right. As that thought leaves my head, a figure appears, clad in a black robe and wielding a scythe. Death. `` What is the answer?'' `` A louse,'' I reply, trying to act calm. `` Your reasoning...'' `` The head of head suggests the first letter of the word, meaning `` H'','' I explain. `` And lies without eyes leaves you with L. L and ouse make `` louse''. To confirm this, `` knitted'' is a homonym for `` nitted'', nits being louse eggs.'' `` Very clever...'' replies Death. `` You've been interested in puzzles all your life, I guess it has paid off. However, when you turn 38, I expect another answer...'' `` Bring it on,'' I replied, brimming with confidence after discovering my first answer was correct. `` My greatest of my strengths is that I know my worth,'' Death riddles. `` I hug myself so tightly at every birth.'' As Death fades away, I think hard about this next riddle. Eh, I'll have ten years to solve it. Might as well play video games right now.
[ WP ] You are your username . Write your origin story .	Portland, Oregon has had its fair share of crazy people. Usually, it's a one-off murder. A body, a hunt, a trial, an execution. I have never seen anything like this before. My mind wandered as I listened to the two officers bicker. `` I'm telling you, this is a pattern! How many more times do I have to-'' `` We do n't know what he's doing, Stewart-'' `` What do you mean?! 80 incidents and you still do n't know? It's clearly a game of-'' `` It could just be coincidence-'' `` Come on, Graves, why do you think he let that witness go? She was right there, he should've just offed her, but no, he ca n't have two 3's in the same column!'' `` Give it a rest, both of you. Shouting does n't help us.'' I found my voice again. `` Stewart is right, and his pattern works. It's exactly like a game of Sudoku.'' Graves looked like he wanted to protest, but a few seconds of eye contact made him reconsider. `` I'll check out the 9th-10th/Belmont-Yamhill block. If Stewart is right, then that should be his next- and last- hit. Dispatch the incognito team, keep pedestrians out of the area. He should need seven to fill this space.'' I glanced from one to the other. They looked pale. `` You're just going to confront him?'' Graves asked, pleading this time. `` There's no way to do this safely. We ca n't clear the area without alerting him what we are doing.'' He said, pointing at the only unmarked block in the 9x9 block printout map of East Portland. `` Stewart's predictions have always been right. This is our only lead, and there's only one block left in this puzzle. If he does n't show, then I'll just come back here and start fresh. If not, then I have to take him out anyway.'' I said, tracing my finger along the 2 that he wrote only yesterday. Stewart finally looked up from the map. `` Chief, you ca n't go with more than 5 others. He has shown resistance to leaving the block when he has n't finished. If... If you fail, maybe he will stay and wait for more...'' Stewart's voice fell. The police force has been whittled away slowly as the sudoku killer used the responding officers to fill his quota. `` I know. He needs seven. We will bring the maximum force without letting him finish.'' My stomach turned as a remembered the first incident. A couple lying on the pavement, stab wounds. A child, a few feet away, gunshot wound in his head. I would n't let him finish his little game. We took one car. The police force was thinning out, but the higher ups at state level lent us a few more hands, for this one mission. Six of us in total. We stood on the edge of one block. If we crossed into the next, we'd be in the killzone. We put word out over various media, the block was deserted. Not like anyone felt safe going anywhere at night anymore anyway. We split into two groups, and my group went to clear the first building. It was a small game shop. Card games, board games, and related merchandise decorated the shelves. A shiver went down my spine as I passed a sudoku book lying on a shelf. It slowly dawned on me why this was the last block to be hit. I found more sodoku puzzles around the shop, by the register, on the wall- everywhere. `` We need to get to open ground.'' I said. I did n't want to be trapped in the territory this maniac lived in. But I got no response from the two state officers who followed me in. I quickly turned around and- `` Hey-!'' I started. And stopped. Two figures on the ground. One standing up, a knife in his hands. A heavy sigh escaped the figure's mouth. `` Only two more to go.'' `` The men outside-?'' I asked- too shocked to do anything else. `` Yes, yes... three little gifts you left for me out there! And two more in here! How kind of you-'' `` No, sorry. We made sure to not bring enough for you to finish your awful little game.'' I did n't sound as cool as I wanted, but that's not important. `` Ah, ah-hahaha, ahhhh! This is so funny!'' He cackled lightly. An awful sound. `` Time to die!'' With a sudden movement of his wrist, he flung his knife at me. He nailed me in the chest. I was falling... But I'm not dead yet. I coughed up blood, not remembering when I actually hit the ground. Everything seemed blurry. I summoned the strength to aim my pistol just high enough... To hit... His heart- With a loud bang, the figure fell, too. He was still laughing. `` Who would have thought, that YOU wanted to be a sudoku master too!'' What? The world is fading, I ca n't think... The figure was on the ground too. Gasping, cackling. `` 6 plus 1 is 7! You win! You solved the sudoku!'' `` No, no! That's not okay, that's not true...'' I ca n't breath. It does n't count, that's not fair! He ca n't count... Himself... Towards his own game... He heard the wheezing man stop wheezing. He was dead. Six. And now my turn. I do n't know why, I guess dying takes a lot of the logic away, but- I felt like I had to warn the others. Using the pool of blood I was laying in, I started writing `` Seventh'' on the wall. On the last letter, I let out my last breath and let my hand fall to the floor. And then I died. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Sorry I'm not really a writer this prompt just intrigued me and I gave it a go do n't hate me thanks < 3 Edit: props to `` The Onion'' for making the original Sudoku killer joke
[ WP ] Its 2am in Washington DC and Bill has the night shift at the Gas-n-Go . The President comes in and buys a six pack , a bag of Doritos and a pack of cigarettes . He is by himself .	`` Well he was short about $ 1.60 so I told him that I got it. He thanked me and walked out the door'' Bill had been held up twice, and three shootings had occurred in his parking lot, but he'd never felt so unnerved. There was just something powerful about the large man who was still wearing his sunglasses even though they were indoors and it was night time. `` What kind of car did he get in to,'' the man replied stoically. `` Looked like a black Lincoln. Figured it to be one of those government cars that I see everywhere'' `` POTUS last seen in Black Lincoln, suspected government plates,'' the man interjected holding his wrist to his cheek. Bill would later learn that he was the last person to knowingly see the president alive. A letter had been found in the oval office early in the morning, it simply stated - I've had enough of all of this. In the early morning hours of the previous night, the president sent his body man to check on his daughters on a seeming whim during a late night snack. But when the agent returned, he was nowhere to be found. Same with the nuclear launch codes. No one but the President's own security council knew one critical detail: in the letter, the word ALL had been written in all capital letters and underlined 7 times.
[ FF ] The Confrontation . ( Contest )	Wings. That's what I named him. I even remember the first time I saw him, tumbling through the air. At the time, even I knew not what he was. What he'd become. Dragon. The word was ancient, echoing only through the soft whispers of The College Elders. Nobody had heard from these mythical beasts since The Third Age. They had simply vanished. I ran up the stairs and saw, a baby dragon, nursing it's broken wing. I had been living on naught but apples for the past week, and even such a strange thing was more temptation than curiosity. I crept up behind it. Screeeeeeeeeeee. It scrabbled back, trying to run away from me, and it was through that small, humanlike reaction that I felt a connection. It had feelings. It could understand me. Well, sort of. But that was enough for me. I had to take it with me. It could be my pet… or even my companion. Legend told of Dragon Riders, those who fought alongside Dragons and vanquished foes with their very gaze... I never dreamed I would be one of those. A thief has little need for Dragons, when there's more than plenty food to steal. But I did care for him. Somewhere in my mind, somewhere in my soul, I found the burning desire to protect him, to see what would happen if I did. Would my name become history? Iris, Saviour of the Dragons… I nursed him back, fed him, slept with him, played with him. The tear on his wing had healed by then, leaving a proud scar in its wake. I remember the day he went missing, too. We were playing on the Broken Stairs, going higher and higher. It was the first day he had learnt to breathe fire, too. We chased each other to the very top, where he crowed with excitement as he chased a flock of seagulls. The day he went missing was the day I went missing. I felt the air tense, as though the rising of a thunderstorm. How close I was to the truth. A large, orange Dragon swooped down from the grey clouds above and swiped at Wings. It missed. “ Wings! Come back! ” I screamed at the top of my lungs. He turned and dived towards me, his wings drawn close to him like arrows. I threw my hand out as far as I could, praying I could reach him before the Dragon did. The Dragon got there first. Wings was more than a friend. More than a companion. He was a part of me now, no more important than my arms or my legs. I couldn ’ t bear to go on without him. The thought of having someone so amazingly free to choose to be with me was a gift from the Gods themselves. All these memories seemed to wash away the thoughts of everything else in my life. I had lived for him. And I would die for him. To the ends of the Earth I would go, to see him safe and out of harms reach. So I set out to find him. Dragonlands were far from my town. So far they were unheard of for centuries. But they existed. Sagas had told of the Lone Oak that marked Dragon territory, > past the windy deserts of Nor, past the marshy wetlands, past the howling ice-wracks of Shrine, and there, Be Dragons. I reached the Ice Mountains. I don ’ t know how long it took me, but I had made it. That was the only thing that I cared about. I didn ’ t feel weariness or hunger. I couldn ’ t feel the biting frost air or the sting of chilled winds. I had within me the burning, passionate fire, to find what was mine, and to return him to me. A hut with a fire. Was it friend or foe that lived inside? Would it matter? Would they not understand the need I had? Knock knock knock. Three thumps on the door. No response. Knock knock knock. Three thumps on the door. No response. I collapsed on the doorstep. No matter if there was no one inside. I could just rest here, if only for a while. The Dragonlands were near. I knew it. They had to be close. “ What are you searching for? ” The shaman ’ s words ran through my mind. “ A friend, ” I had replied. “ Ah… someone close, I assume, for you to be so far from home? Were they family? A companion? ” He had asked. “ A Dragon, ” was my hollow reply. I was not far from the Dragonlands. The shaman had assured me that it was “ a stone ’ s throw away ”, and he was right. I found the Lone Oak, standing in front of a cave. This had to be it. Wings was close, I knew it. I crept inside, spear in hand. I could hear the snapping of meat from bone and the slow chewing of large teeth. The Dragon. The beast who stole my friend. It ’ s corded neck muscles heaved as it lifted its head up, throwing bits of its in its mouth. But where was Wings? The answer came soon enough, as I saw him resting in a small alcove behind the Dragon. I would sneak up from behind and take Wings, murder the Dragon, and leave. Compared to my journey, this was easy. I got behind the Dragon and turned to Wings. “ Wings, ” I whispered. “ Wings, it ’ s me… ” Wings ’ eyes open wide. He screams, the same pitiful squeal I had heard when I first met him. on replaced by the loud roar of the Dragon behind me. It swiped at me with its claws, but I dove to the side, swinging back with my spear. It roared again, and a searing heat erupted from within its maw. I scrambled behind a rock, feeling the heat spread out behind my back. I looked from the back and saw Wings running off. The Dragons jaws opened again and fire spurt out from beneath its tongue. I dodged it and ran forward, swinging at the beast ’ s chest. It lunged forward, grabbing onto my spear and swinging it upwards. Carrying me with it. Deftly I yanked it out and with a single thrust ran it straight through the Dragon ’ s neck. It roared and pushed me off, falling backwards. I ran for the spear as the Dragon pounced. I felt my fingers wrap around the handle as the Dragon ’ s claws pinned me down. I heard it growl again, this time softer. It bent its head down, sniffing me. Did it think I was dead that easily? I took the spear and swung at its chest, drawing fresh blood. I stabbed it twice and it screamed, falling back. I leapt forward, intending to end its life, when… It looked at me. I saw the same baleful stare as the one Wings had first given me as I approached him on the roof. I dropped the spear. “ Wings? ” The Dragon growled again and laid its head back. Thick blood began to pour from its wounds. “ Wings… ” I looked down and saw my own reflection in the blood. I suddenly saw everything in my journey. The sand dunes of the deserts, the howling mountains… I looked at my hands and saw them wrinkle before my eyes. My hair began to grey and I could see lines appearing in my face. I took one last look at Wings. He held my gaze for a second, and then closed his eyes.

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