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[ WP ] Two burglars enter the same house , blissfully unaware of each others presence .
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Cecil crawled towards the window.
`` This is going to be easy'' he muttered, as he wrenched the window open with a crowbar.
On the other side of the house, Daniel picked up a rock and threw it through a window on his side of the house. He looked around to see if anyone had been woken up and then entered the house.
Cecil was amazed. This guy had a wealth of stuff. He put his phone, wallet, and tablet into his backpack. Easiest job ever.
Daniel was also doing quite well. He saw several short swords hung up on a frame, obviously to show guests he was trying to be cultured, and put them in a burlap sack. They would sell for a lot of cash at the antique store.
Cecil backed away from the phone charger, hoping to make a quick escape. However, Daniel was also thinking the same thing, and they bumped into each other, which led to them both gasping in horror.
`` WHO'S THERE!'' yelled the man upstairs. Obviously he had heard their gasps. `` I have a gun!''
Cecil and Daniel heard running down the stairs. A revolver peeked around the side of the wall, followed by the resident. Thinking quickly, Daniel grabbed a sword out of the sack and threw it at him.
The sword flew straight past his throat, slashing it on the way. Blood spurted out from the man's neck, and he dropped the gun and fell to the floor. Cecil slowly walked over to the man's body. Suddenly the body sprang alive and reached for the gun. He picked it up and prepared to shoot Daniel, only to be kicked by Cecil in the face multiple times until it was clear he was unconscious. Blood flowed from every orifice.
`` Well...'' said Daniel. `` That was n't the quick job I was expecting...''
`` Same here.'' said Cecil. `` Hey, wan na go rob that woman with the five dogs?''
`` Sure!'' replied Daniel, and they set off in search of more money.
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[ WP ] The purge falls on April 1st .
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Collin Marshall
β Run, RUNNNN, TRY HARDER, BUT YOU β LL NEVER GET AWAY HEHEHE β The twisted clown β s red hair flailed wildly in front of the flames. The city took on its most darkest of roles. All beasts on two legs were freed from their lawful chains and ravaged all in site. Hordes of people in demented masks descending upon the sheep.
β Rich, OVER HERE OVER HERE β β John had just found refuge in an old sporting goods store. Good thing too, the numbers rolling down the block had grown.
β Where did this fucking mob come from, we were, were, we were just having a beer when the damn alarm went off!! I can hear them screaming and the sound of theβ¦., they have fucking chainsaws! β
β Calm the fuck down man, we got ta get that slice on your arm taken care of. β
Rich had encountered a small rabble on the way out of the bar. John had gone ahead to get the car warmed up when they leapt upon him.
β RIP his head off, hold him down!! β Rich struggled to break free when the blade from the man in the jesters mask swung violently.
β Son of a bitch!!! β Rich runs out the front double doors of the bar to be greeted with the site of buildings being set ablaze like entire concrete forests covered in gasoline. Windows crashing, people in panic.
It β s scary what happens when the panic set in. That damn alarm is like a dinner bell to the dark and devious. Signaling the primal side to emerge and raze the city. Herds of citizens trampling each other like a trip down 81 in trucker season.
But all hope hadn β t fled yet, John had found shelter
Sporting goods store:
After patching up the Rich β s cut, the next thing for the two to do was to gear up.
β Think man think, I can hear the mob getting closer. Uhhhh, UHHH, they have to have guns right. β
β Fuck ya, this is AMERICA! Lets get! β The two dash frantically around the store looking for some form of self-defense. Alas, the store didn β t yield anything so easily. They scoured the storage rooms in the back and found a cache of weapons finally.
β Thank god, we found them just in tiβ¦.. The fuck is this? β
β Dude, were so fucked the front doors just got kicked in! β
Some cruel trick for the Purge to fall on the most joyous of holidays. April fool β s day had come round and brought it β s merry bag of jest with it.
β How are we gon na survive withβ¦. With.. fucking nerf guns! Jesus, uhhh, fuck it lets go! β
Rich broke the lock free from the gun rack and grabbed every dart he could find. 4 mags of stickies, 2 tommy gun clips of hardened tips, a bow with suction capabilities for range is what john grabbed. Rich decided to take a more ranged approach with the 24 β sniper rifle with scope for vision. He also grabbed a pistol for close quarters loaded with Velcro tips. BANGGG, RRRRRRRRRR!!!
The mob was inside charging through the store
Rich climbed up some isle racks to get an elevated position. The boys had found some gasoline and as always carried a biec as a proper lunchbox should. They coated the darts with gas and lit them up!!! β FIRRRREEEEE β
John had flanked the mob and could see them through the shelves. The two unloaded all they had immolating the mob where it stood. The mob tried to run at John but rich let loose a no scope right as they charged.
β 1 Down!!!! 2 Down..Fuckkk β
John had gotten his hand gashed by one of the assailant β s machetes. FUCKKKKK he yelled. Rich came running in pistol in hand clip locked and loaded unleashing hell fire as he ran towards the mob. He got to John and dragged him to safety.
THEYYY ARE GETTING TOOO CLOSE. WERE GETTING OVERUNN. POPPP POPPPP POP POP.
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[ WP ] You can cook 1-minute rice in 57 seconds . Despite your relatively minor time-bending superpower , they 're coming for you .
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The room was dark, exept for some numbers coming out of a digital clock.
`` You know why you are here''
The voice came from someone behind me, my head was strapped to the chair so i couldnt turn and see him. The only thing I could say was that i didnt know what he was talking about. But that wouldnt fly with my kindaper.
`` Do, it, now. You freak. You are an offense against everything good about humanity, having such a power over the fundamental forces of nature, you should n't exist''
`` Please, i beg you, I dont even know what you are talking abo-THE RICE YOU BASTARD! The noodles! The soup! You actually tought that nobody would notice!?''
`` Please, release me, its just a minor convinience during my daily life'' I said while my face started to soak in fearfull tears. `` It does n't have any meaningfull use''.
Silence started to fill the room, until i heard footsteps of him walking away from me, i hear him breathe, each time louder, he is coming back with loud and fast steps, grabs the chair and turns it until we are face to face. I recognised him now, it was Greg, my roomate.
`` It does n't have any use!? You insolent foolish piece of shit, do you have any idea of how many times I just couldnt eat because I didnt have the time!? Every day, I would work my ass off so I could pay half of our rent, yet every day, I wouldnt have time to eat, or if I did it was shoved out of my time to sleep, you know what does that kind of lifestyle to a person!? It makes them weak. It makes them confused. It leaves them useless, incapable to be promoted to a better position, chaining me to this vicious cycle of tiredness and hunger!''
I was without words. Did he always felt like that? How is it that I didnt notice?
He took some air an followed `` Yet you, with your powers, you always were right on time, as if luck always were on your side, and allowed you to have every single day some kind of warm meal to keep you healty, to keep you happy''
`` Greg, i swear that it isnt that much of a big dea-YOU DO N'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT! And the worst part is that you never shared, you never gave anything to me, just because you did n't want to suffer as i do, not even once in a while, you selfish douchebag''
`` Greg, I swear that I did n't knew, I promise I'll do anything that its needed to compensate it to you''
`` Really?''
`` Really, we are roomates after all, we are supposed to share our burdens with each other''
He smiled, thank god, I think we can fix this and leave this experience behind as just a bad memory.
`` You really are as good as I tought John, I was waiting for you to say something like this, because now I can do this without feeling bad about it'' he smiled while showing me the bat in his hand.
He started to walk behind me, towards the microwave.
`` See, John, I know that this power isnt universal for you, its a bond between you and this electric piece of shit, like neurons sparking conciusness when they work togheter, and if I ca n't break that link, I'll just work around the problem with the source''
`` Wait, Greg, that wont solve anything!''
`` Yes it will, it will drag you to my level. Rejoice John, your human life starts NOW!
And with that, he took the first strike, taking away from me a posibility of dating thursdays.
Another strike took away my time to watch netflix on mondays.
Another strike left me without spare time to go to work.
And another left me without time to hang out on fridays.
He kept going even after there was no trace of the machine, he kept smiling and striking with a bloodlust that took everything from me, one hit, one less freedom, and everything that was left was a shell, a carcas of the man I used to be.
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[ WP ] Something to make me cry .
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The life support beeped rhythmically as the limelight of sunshine broke through the manila blinds. Morgan was sleeping, her head: nestled in a pillow and shrouded by the light blue covers. Her long dark brown hair was scattered all about the bed and her drool: earned from a good night β s sleep, slowly dripped out of her mouth. An older woman, dressed in hospital slacks and a clean white linen shirt opened the unit door and entered quietly, smiling while she held back balloons and chocolate for the young woman sleeping on the bed. She stepped closer and placed the gifts down on a table near Morgan β s bed, looking over the girl β s vitals as she did so.
The girl on Morgan β s bed hadn β t moved in sometime, she was pale, bald and weak. Her lips cracked and white. Tubes were shoved in to her nose, inserted through slits in her chest into her diaphragm, and directly into her neck feeding her nutrients, fats, and water. Her eyes lazily peered about the room, focusing on nothing in particular. She breathed weakly, the iron ling exerting the majority of the effort. She closed her eyes again and drifted off to sleep. The nurse approached her then sat down next to the girl. She grabbed the girl β s hand, they were dry, hard, and white. The stacked hand warmers in her palms did little to remove the eerie chill of her fingers.
The nurse stood up and closed the blinds, watching the light leave the girl β s face then left the room, her steps in high-heeled shoes rang throughout the room. Morgan woke and was pleasantly surprised to Nurse Miller β s visit, her eyes opened widely and her lips curled into a smile. She decided to surprise the nurse and crept out of bed, using the balls of her feet she snuck up behind Nurse Miller. As the nurse pushed back through the door Morgan snatched at her but her hand caught no friction. Morgan giggled and tried again, her hand went right through. She was confused, how could this be?
Morgan followed the nurse back to her station where the nurse sat down, as the rhythmic beeping of the life support had ceased and was overcome by the heavy tone of a flat line. The nurse sat, glimpsed at the monitor then shoved her face into her hands. Morgan watched, puzzled then turned to see her parents, her tall, fair haired, father rushing through the halls, she smiled and waved. Her father rushed through her into the room, he screamed and whimpered, stomping the floor and collapsing. Her mother, the spitting image of Morgan, with long, crisp brunette hair and drawing cobalt eyes, walk slowly down the hallway. Tears rolling down her cheeks, she towed her Morgan β s younger sisters along, each distraught, on the verge of crying. Morgan turned back to her father, her mouth now gaping wide and open, and began walking back into the room. She peered inside.
There she was, on the bed, her battered body cold and folded in what had been agony. Her eyes slightly open and drool escaped from her mouth. Morgan jolted: β Iβ¦I diedβ¦ β Morgan stepped closer, through her father and stood at the foot of the bed. Her father looked up at her, tears staining his skin in a glaze of shine, his cheeks red and eyes puffed red. She touched her foot, it was frigid and solid. She pulled at it but it was much too heavy. Morgan covered her mouth and breathed quickly and deeply, she turned back to see her mother, tears now draining full force, coughing and choking between convulsions in the archway as the reality of her dead daughter materialized in front of her. Morgan β s sisters sat and stared.
β Why did this happen to me?! β Morgan shouted, she slapped the body on the bed and screamed. She fell forward to her knees and laid her diaphragm on the bed. She closed her eyes as heavy tears streamed out, dropping onto the soiled linens. A dim light began forcing its way through the cracks in the blinds, intensifying with each breath Morgan took. The light lit the room, casting it in white, leaving her and her corpse. Morgan β s mind raced, β How will they remember me? What are my parents going to do? What else could I have done to make sure they knew I loved them? β There had to be more. She wailed and squeezed the body β s leg, twisting her fingers then letting go. Her body relaxed.
Morgan opened her eyes, she was alone. She stood up, horrified and stumbled back. She fell against hard steel and jolted forward. Behind her, a figure covered in glowing armor and lofty, fully extended wings, stood quietly. He carried and tall spear tipped with diamonds. His head, covered with a faceplate which had gold wings emerging from the sides. She could see his eyes through the armor. She reeled back: β Who are you? Where am I? β
The angel took off his helmet revealing a sharp chiseled face, tan skin, and short crisp hair. His eyes penetrated her in a focused review. He held the helmet at his side and began: β My name is Gabriel, I am sorry I have failed you Morgan. β He dropped to his knee and bowed to Morgan. As he did a world materialized, small children running along in endless fields of green playing and wrestling. Beyond the angel were the youth, shouting and joking, drinking and dancing with their own favorite music playing from beyond.
She looked to her left from which approached another woman, looking as angelic as the man kneeling in front of her, she β d never met her. She was lovely, long black hair and a curved figure. β Who are you? Morgan questioned.
β My name is Janette, I β m your grandmother Morganβ¦ β She held her arms out and pulled Morgan in who was by now crying. β Don β t worry Morgan, you β re safe here. β Morgan pulled in Janette closer, squeezing as tightly as her weak muscles could muster. β Welcome home Morgan. β
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[ wp ] the devil is elected president .
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( Note: Following short is a The Devil is a Part Timer fanfiction )
`` Sir?''
The young man sitting in the office chair slowly twirled around a broad smirk on his face, his reddish brown eyes shining with pride. `` Yes Ashiya?''
`` Your public awaits...'' The pale haired man, Ashiya... Better known as General Alciel of the Demon King's army, spoke giving a bow. `` Lord Satan.''
`` Indeed it is.'' Lord Satan stood up, stretching out his arms as Alciel draped a long black cloak over his shoulders
It had been a hard climb to the top... First gaining rank in his meager fast food job after winding up one of those measly... Humans, but now he was onto bigger, better things...
*This is far better than Japan. At least it's a better start then the MgRonalds. * He thought as he and his general walked out to greet their crowd.
He could feel the energy in the crowd, radiating to him as he closed his eyes for a moment basking in it.
`` I promise, to make this a fair land for all.... UNDER MY RULE! FOUR YEARS BABY!''
`` Sire!''
Satan faltered a bit before clearing his throat trying a more serious face.
`` I mean... For four years I shall rule you all with an iron fist-''
`` Sire!''
``... I'll do my best and fight for what's right.'' He waved to his lackey's near the audience as paper began raining down. `` Including a lovely call back to my earlier years.''
Alciel felt his eye twitch as a paper fluttered past him.
Years of trying to rule one of these countries and he still promotes fast food chains.
`` You never change Lord Satan.''
`` Hush!''
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[ WP ] You answer the door . A man with no hands wants to sell you a picture of your house .
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The doorbell rang for the sixth time. Apparently this salesman would not be turned away. Henry tied his flannel robe about his waist, set his coffee down, and trudged off to the door.
Henry's foul smirk was greeted by a smiling old man with a long curly beard, carrying a brown leather satchel. Henry stood with the door cracked no more than a few inches open, waiting for the man to begin his pitch.
`` Ohh,'' the man said, `` Ohh! I can tell you sure are a busy man!''
Henry remained silent.
`` Well I'm a photographer you see... Well of course you do n't know that... But I'll cut to the chase!''
Henry let the door open just enough to reveal his frail figure, arms folded, scowling at the bearded fool.
`` I sell pictures! Everybody says I have mighty fine pictures.''
`` Okay.''
`` And I have a few that I think you might just be interested in!''
`` I'm really not in the market for photographs right now.''
`` Well my name is Joshua, and look here.'' The old man held up a black and white photograph of two dogs standing on a sidewalk. `` I call this one lost memories.''
Henry rubbed his forehead worried he might get a stress headache. `` And out of sheer curiosity, how much is this picture going for?''
`` Oh this ones not for sale. It is priceless!''
`` Uh, huh.'' Henry started to close the door.
Just then the Joshua put his foot out and the door hit and bounced off the toe-end of his black shoes.
`` Excuse me sir!'' Henry said, irate.
`` Just a few more I want to show ya!'' Joshua stepped back from the door frame.
`` Please make it quick.''
The old man shuffled around in his leather portfolio and pulled out a large 8X5 photograph of a lady on a porch. Henry was about to close the door again, when something caught his eye. The silver bracelet curled around the wrist of the woman in the photo.
`` I've seen that bracelet before.'' Joshua passed Henry the photograph and he took a closer look.
`` Yes, this photo I call'Taken for Granted'''.
Henry's eyes opened wide. `` That is Leyla, my wife!'' he exclaimed.
`` No, no, no, the woman in that photograph passed away seven years ago. And she was married to no man!''
`` Because we divorced the year before she died. How did you get this?''
`` I have a few more if you want to see.''
Henry reached out and grabbed the satchel from around the old man's neck.
`` Hey! Hey! Be careful with my pictures!''
He pulled out a thick stack of photos and began flipping through them. The first one was of a pair of heals, with flower-shaped jewels around the ankles.
`` These are the shoes she wore on our wedding day. I do n't understand?''
`` Just keep looking.''
The next photograph was of his house. It showed the exact porch they were standing on, but the rusty porch swing was still attached. Henry had taken it down years ago.
`` When did you take these?''
He flipped to the next. It was another picture of Leyla. This time she standing on a bridge, smiling at the ducks on the river. The wind was in her hair and she looked beautiful. The next photo was at a barbecue. It was the company picnic at the insurance agency where Leyla worked.
`` I was there that day. Why am I not in this photograph?'' Henry recognized people from the company. And the grill. There was something strange about the grill. From the picture it looked like there was food burning on it, and it was unattended.
`` I was in charge of the grill. I remember. Why am I not there?''
`` Where you there?'' Joshua asked in reply.
`` Did you take me out of these pictures?''
The next picture showed an old well with a wooden bucket and a rope pulley strung above it. And then another picture of Leyla in a pink skirt, standing next to a maple tree. And then a picture of a hospital.
`` That is where Leyla was diagnosed with breast cancer. How did you take these? And why are you selling them?''
`` Oh just some discarded memories. The kind of junk nobody would pay two cents for, but I think they are more valuable than that.''
The next photo showed a courthouse. Leyla was standing next to her lawyer from the divorce. Henry had not been there when she signed the papers. This was not one of his memories. In the photo, she appeared to be crying.
Henry collapsed onto the doorstep, the photos crinkling in his hands as he clasped them tightly.
`` Hey now, be careful with those!'' Joshua pleaded.
The next photo showed Leyla in a wheel chair, receiving chemotherapy at the clinic. Henry came to visit her there once. It was the last time he ever saw her. And then there was a picture of an empty hospital bed. Henry started sobbing.
`` I knew you'd like that one'' Joshua said. `` That one's right up your alley.''
Before he looked, Henry knew what was on the next page. There was a crowd of about forty people, dressed in suits and long dark dresses. A preacher clasping a bible. And a few dozen flowers by her grave. The photo went out of focus as Henry wiped tears from his eyes.
The next photo he could n't quite make out. It was another image of his house. Only this time the swing was missing. Henry remembered Leyla on that swing reading novels next to a lantern with a cup of honey tea.
`` Who are you?'' he said.
There was no reply.
As the image came into focus, he saw a lonely man sitting on the doorstep. The man was dark like a shadow, as the sun was setting behind the house. The figure seemed to be clutching his own head, as though in terrible pain. And the man was all alone.
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[ WP ] Cast of characters part II : the prompt
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'WARNING. WARNING. UNKNOWN VEHICLE WITHIN MISSILE RANGE' the flashes of red and amber emergency lights painting a stark contrast to the relative calm of moments ago.
The acting captain, irate at having no control over the situation until further information could be gleamed barked orders over the intercoms, a burst of anger at nobody and everybody, `` What the fuck is that thing?! and what is it doing getting into range of my goddamned station?!'' he could see that it was indeed a spaceship on the monitors, the scanners only detected it moments ago.
`` Well Excuse me your highness! Who the fuck put you in the role of king? I'm trying to contact them now'' responded Vivian with an obvious sarcastic tone to his voice.
It was right at that moment that the unknown ship began to open fire.
*erm I've ran out of steam, I'll maybe come back to it and rework it a few times*
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[ WP ] At exactly 2:35 P.M. , every sound on the earth abruptly stops . Then , out of nowhere , a defeaning humming sound begins and the ground below begins to break away , an intense blue light shining through the cracks below .
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It started at 2:35 P.M, U.S stander Eastern Time. Everything was going well. People were doing their usual, daily bussiness. Buying, selling, talking with friends.
Then, it all stopped. No one knows why everyone ( no, everything ) stopped making noise, it was sceintifically impossible, but whatever the case, something happened.
From beneath the every major fault line, a line appeared. It broke through cites, ravaged coasts, and made millions perish.
But that was the beggining. Then, just as everything settled, a deep humming noise came. It was deafening, and drove animals mad, so mad they commited suicide to stop the pain.
It burned my ears if I recall. That deep, anguish never seemed to stop. Until the light. No one knows what the light was, and no one wants to know.
In those very lines that broke the world, the light had poured out of them. It blinded anyone that looked too close and long, but that was n't the worst part. Demons came out of them. They were like....bat lizards almost. They came out on their great wings, and rained hell on Earth.
Humanity is fighting back, but no one can decide a winner. Our weapons are strong, and are hearts or of steel, but these `` things'' just do n't seem to end. And they seem, to `` laugh'' at us. Its not always audiable, but when you're close to death, when your buddies have all been ripped to pieces and you are staring at their mangaled corpses, you can hear them, mocking you.
I lost dozens of friends when we fought them. But I killed hundreads more of them. And it may not bring my brothers in arms back, but I'll be dammed if I'll let those things mock anyone ever again.
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[ WP ] On the verge of losing an intergalactic war , a malevolent alien race decides to unleash their doomsday weapon , humanity .
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`` Why should they fear us?''
A simple question. We seemed to be inferior to every race we had been exposed too. We had no exoskeletons, no fast metabolisms, no slow, deep understanding of how the universe works. Indeed, of all the terrifying Aliens out there, why should we be the ones they fear?
`` You are young. You are ascendant. Your time in this universe has yet to wane, and indeed is waxing as we speak.''
`` So we are growing. That does not mean we are developed enough to change the universe.''
`` My race has kept you secret, safe, away from the rest of all that exists so that we may work together, to defend your planet and all you hold dear.''
`` That does not answer my question. Why are we to be feared by others? Yes, we are growing, changing, but why is that a thing to be feared?''
`` This universe is vast. All of our races have grown into long lived beings in order to make travel and even communication a possibility. This has bred stagnation. Nothing has changed these past eons, save you.
`` The war we are fighting has long since ceased to be about vessels and lives, now it is merely an argument carried between galaxies that are spreading apart at an incredible rate at an already incredible distance. But you, you change. You evolve. You adapt. *You domineer. * Your very existence is contrary to the behaviors of all that have taken part in this enormous, unchanging universe.''
`` What of all the other races? Surely we humans are not the only race able to enact change. Surely one of *them* might suit your needs better?''
`` Our enemies have taken charge of them, fearing their change. In their fear, they have enacted genocides. They are ignorant of their stagnancy. Save us. We know we are waning, and unchanging. We have kept you alone hidden from the others of power, so that you may bring about the Revolution''
`` And what do we get?''
`` So typical... and needed. You get to keep your very existence. You will have access to our technology, and the training to use it how you see fit. And you shall receive all that we leave behind.''
``... Very well. As representative of Earth, Chosen Sovereign and commander of the United Earth Forces, I accept, on behalf of all humanity.
The pair smiled.
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{ WP ] An old shipwreck is discovered on a cold Northern island by an oil expedition . They find skeletons littering the area , and they discover a journal telling the unsettling fate of the ship and her crew .
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December 13, 1785:
We should not have spat in the face of God. We have been stranded on this sheet of ice for over a month now, with no hope of rescue. At night, I can hear the wood of the ship groaning against the ice, threatening to one day snap open and deliver us all to the depths of the sea. But still we remain here. The captain keeps the mysterious box we found out here in his cabin. When we first came upon it, it seemed like an illusion: A pure black box, starkly contrasted against the endless stretches of white, always white, for miles around. The captain talks to the box when he thinks the crew is all asleep. He starts strange rituals and we hear demonic screeches and noises that no man could ever make without the aid of the Devil. He slowly goes mad in his cabin, and, we too I suppose, are going mad with him.
December 15, 1785:
We do not see the captain anymore. He does not come out for our hunting expeditions for seal, and if we are feeling brave, bear. We bring back whatever meat we can and leave his portion by the door. We never see the food go in, all we see is an empty plate laid out. The demonic sounds are constant now, the crew having to put wax n their ears to drown out the noise, but it still gets through. The isolation, the starvation, and the stress of having to kill off the sled dogs for meat is making people susceptible to the noises. More and more, we lose crew members that go into the captains room and never come back. I pray that they find a light eventually.
December 25, 1785:
It is Christmas, but I have to spend it alone. The rest of the crew has fallen to the demonic black box. I am alone in the storage room, they have taken over the ship, their hellish rituals going on for all hours of the night, all hours of the day. I have drilled a hole in the side of the boat so I can get out and gather food. There is no use in keeping the ship intact. Rescue is not coming. They pound away at the reinforced door that separates the store room and the rest of the ship. They try to sway my opinion of the demonic box, but I shall stay in here. If I must die, I will die as a servant of God.
December 28, 1785:
It drills into my head. I try not to think of the sounds that come into my head, but the more I try to divert my thoughts from the sounds the more they drill, deeper and deeper into my skull. Is this madness? Do I finally feel it creeping in? The box speaks to me. My toe taps to the rhythmic pulsing of Hell. If anyone finds this, know that I tried to keep it at bay.
January 5, 1786:
The beat, the rhythm. Why did n't I listen to the box before? Why did n't I fall into this boogie wonderland? My legs have n't stopped moving for the last week, and I feel no fatigue. I must prove myself the most faithful servant of the black box. It can tell by the way I use my walk that I am it's most ardent priest. The whole ship has boogie fever, and that's okay. We never had a chance of stayin' alive, so we might as well use our last strength to praise the black box, to funk the night away. I'm so excited, and I just ca n't hide it.
I'm about to lose control.
I'm about to lose control.
I'm about to lose control.
And I think I like it.
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[ WP ] To most , he is the Destroyer of Worlds , the Great Devourer , the Scourge of God , Dark Lord of All , Father of Evil , Slayer of the Divine , etc . To you , he 's Ryan , the guy you play chess with at the park on the weekends .
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`` Check,'' I said. His eyes scanned the board for a way out. He looked at me, his face resting in folded hands. `` Do you know why I play you?'' he said. `` Because you like a challenge?'' I made sure to smile a bit so the sarcasm would n't be lost. I'm not a good chess player despite my love for it. In fact, Ryan is the only guy I've played eager for an encore. `` That's right! Because I like a challenge. Now, do you know why it's a challenge?'' He grinned ever so slightly, `` because you really do n't know how to play.'' He looked me dead in the eyes while I waited for the punchline, waiting for some kind of reaction. He got none, and so he continued: `` It's easy to beat someone who knows how to play. It's all patterns to them. Like co-operative painting - I draw a line here, so you'll draw a circle there. You, however, know none of the patterns, none of the approaches. It's chaotic. I never know what you're going to do.'' His eyes were still locked onto mine. `` Still you win.'' I said. `` Still I win.'' He picked up his Bishop and blocked himself out of check. `` That's not the point. The point is that the game itself is unpredictable. You're not hard to beat, no one really is; you're _entertaining_ to beat.'' I did n't know whether to be insulted or flattered. I moved one of my Pawns, trying to get my last Rook out on the board. `` See, like that move there. What's that about? It serves no purpose! I have no idea why you did that, and I love it!'' I had n't seen him that enthusiastic before in any of our previous games. Then again, we rarely talked. `` My life lacks surprises,'' he continued, `` this is like a lunch break. How long have we been playing together now?'' `` I do n't know,'' I said, `` must've been a year or two''. `` This is our 67th game.'' he replied. `` And you have never asked me what it is that I do.'' `` Did n't seem all that important, but now I have to admit I am kind of curious.'' `` Had you asked me when we first started playing, I would have said I'm an accountant. Or a lawyer or something like that. In truth, I'm neither.'' `` So what are you then?'' `` Well, that depends on who you ask.'' He moved one of his Rooks. `` To some, I'm the devil, to others I'm the destroyer of worlds.'' I chuckled and moved my Pawn one more tile. `` It's not a joke,'' he said. `` A world is born, watched over by the divine, until it and it's guardian angles are both inevitably destroyed by me so that a new world can be created in its place.'' I was laughing at this point, but looking at him I could tell he was dead serious. My laughter faded, and the longer the silence grew, the more anxious I became. `` Are.. Are you on any sort of medication?'' I said, beginning to worry that my chess partner might think it a good idea to stab me to death in broad daylight. He moved another Rook. `` Check.'' he said. I did n't know what to do, except play. That's what he wanted, right? After moving my King the only way I could, he reached out his hand slowly, as though he wanted to shake it. I looked at the board again, thinking that maybe I had misheard him, and that he wanted to thank me for the game. I had n't. I was starting to really worry at this point; obviously this man was Joker-level insane. Not wanting to risk finding out what would happen if I refused his handshake, I grabbed his hand, and suddenly I was no longer in the park, no longer on earth even. I saw the birth of the universe, the formation of galaxies and planets; and I saw his long shadow cast over everything. Looming over existence. Hyperventilating, he brought me back to the park, to our game. He gave me a few minutes to gather myself. Then he moved one of his Rooks. `` Checkmate. Same time next week?''
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[ EU ] In the Harry Potter universe , magic has been around for quite a long time . What was life like for wizards who lived amongst the bandits , cowboys , and religious authorities of the Old West ?
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`` The thing is, English, is that our little society here is pretty slow going. Not as slow as where you're from, but there are still wand slingers around that have crossed paths with mage types like Paul Bunyan and Pecos Bill as well as famous mundanes like Mad Dog Tanner and Annie Oakley.''
`` My name is not'English', it's..''
`` Yeah, yeah. Listen, English. Do me a favor and try not to get killed on my watch. I've headed out with fancy pants from out east Salem way and I've headed out with magical New Yorkers so leave me to my quirks and do what I say and you probably wo n't get horribly killed. Got it?''
`` Yes, sir. I've got it.''
`` Good, good. Now what we're hunting makes your average werewolf look like a pussy cat, and that's during the transformation days. No, these things are fast, faster than you can imagine. They're very, very deadly. And they all have a taste for human flesh. So make sure you've got your gun - and do n't get me wrong, it ai n't a fancy firearm or whatever you English types mis-call it. This is a single action Colt.45 enchanted for recoil-less, smoke-less, dependability, and accuracy with a conjured bullet enchantment that'll probably last longer than you do. It can fire six shots in the time it'll take you to say a single spell.''
`` Unfortunately, the bullets it fires will just anger what we're hunting. But it will also slow it down enough that you can get off a spell. So make sure you have your wand, your back up wand, and your emergency wand. You'll probably need them all. This thing is a five X rated beast. It's faster and stealthier than a Nundu, but fortunately does n't breathe diseases or any such shit. That's not much comfort for when it casually rips your head off like you were a plastic doll.''
`` But then, you wanted an adventure, Ray. And what better one than going out and hunting ourselves some Wendigo.''
`` It's actually'Roy', not'Ray'. Roy Lockhart, `` a wand slowly crept out of it's holder.
`` Just you keep listening to me and do what I say, and it wo n't be'Dead Lockhart'. Now let me tell you a story of this idiot that tried to memory wipe me years ago and how we never found his body,'' the grizzled man said as he spurred his horse onwards at a slow trot.
Slowly behind him, the second man's wand crept back into its holder.
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[ WP ] You wake up late one afternoon to find that you have been given control of any one element . But you are not the only one ...
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People everywhere took pieces of the street, ripped them up and threw them at each other, just by thinking about it and waving their hands about a bit. The politicians warned that anyone with control of hydrogen or oxygen should use their powers as sparingly as possible. Cars were breaking down as people destroyed their innards using their minds. The tarmac was melting and popping as it heated up from all the molecules being split inside.
Turning the corner I spotted Billy McHarrison, a long time rival- to tell the truth, I once stole away his girlfriend, and we've now been married for ten years. Now just the sight of me would normally work Billy into a rage, but today was worse- Billy was an oxygen controller. He could starve me of breath. I noticed this, as I started to feel short of breath, so I ran.
Ducking down into the subway, where air is scarce at the best of times, I kept running. I ducked into the museum, stumbling past the guard. Billy chased, in hot pursuit, with significantly more air in his lungs than me. I heard the guard gasp for air and fall to the ground dead as I entered the weaponry exhibit.
Hearing a clicking noise behind me I turned round to see a bullet lightly roll into the glass of its cabinet. The sign told me it was made of lead- perhaps that was it!
As Billy ran up to choke me, I span round and threw myself to the floor. The bullet shot through the glass and straight into Billy's head. He gasped, and pulled the oxygen out of his own blood that spilled from his head. He fell to the floor, dead, and I heard the bullet drop to the floor. Picking it up, I ran like crazy.
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[ WP ] An Alien race lands on Earth and establishes contact with House Cats , exchanging experiences and ideas . They completely ignore Humans .
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Baronite Qu β ang Zhu the Scarlet sat across from the Operatives and surveyed them dubiously. Behind them, on the big screen of the Briefing Room, the alien bulk of Earth rotated below. He flicked his tail once and cleared his throat. Well, gentle felines, let β s get to business. He turned to the first. β Can you sum up your progress here, Mr. -- β he flicked a few pages on his Air Reader -- β Uhβ¦ Qu β Ann Lark the Rotund? β
Lark met his gaze dismissively through large, half-closed eyes. β Please, call me Garfield. I much prefer my Codename. And first things first. Do you have any of those new Mark 7 cuisine replicators aboard? I β ve got a million recipes to try out. β
Zhu had been warned about this and coolly licked his paws, more a mix of orange and red, despite his epithet. β Your meal credits are offline, I β m afraid, Mr. Lark, until after you have been debriefed. We need to know how far you have succeeded in subjugating these monkey people. β
β Coffee, then, β demanded Lark. Zhu realized the debriefing would be faster with caffeine, and complied. Zhu tapped his claws on the tabletop as Lark all but turned the adding of milk and sugar into a mating ritual, took the first sip, and filled the room with a loud purring. The big eyes began to open. β Well, I β M perfectly happy with our progress, β Lark offered. β They cook my food, give me a fine massage every evening, and clean out my poop. I love this assignment. They β re putty in our hands. I can destroy my servant β s domicile whenever it suits me. He spends all night fixing it up, and then I trash it again on the weekend. β
Zhu flicked through a few more pages of the report. Impressive. If anything, Lark was understating his progress. β It seems you have also instated yourself as an icon of some sort of primitive simian worship. β Lark β s image was everywhere on the target world.
β That β s right, β Lark said. β They adore me. β
β Bfahh! β shouted the other operative in the room. And so Zhu turned with some reticence to Lord Gall β Vexx Talgarr the Furious. β Forgive me Lord Talgarr; I meant no disparagement of your own deserved status as an iconic object of worship. β
β Fear! β Corrected Talgar, his countenance loaded with umbrage. β Object of fear! My Angry Cat persona has corrected the slothful, indolent image inculcated by my corpulent counterpart, surging closer to our ultimate objective: unmitigated domination! β Talgar smashed the tabletop with a clenched fist, and Lark quickly retrieved his coffee cup in time to avoid spillage as the carbon filament surface reverberated.
Lark took a protective sip and murmured into the cup, β Got your own Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon, yet, Talg? β
Fortunately, Talgar ignored him β or did not hear him over the blood rushing in his ears β and bellowed, β Enough of these preliminaries! Have the Andromeda Accords been repealed yet? β
Zhu had been dreading this. β Sadly, Revered Lord Talgar -- β Zhu blanched as Talgar began to rise from his pillow. β Sorry FEARED! Feared Lord Talgar! β He swallowed and soldiered on. β I must sorrowfully report that the rules of engagement as stipulated in the Andromeda Agreements on Proper Treatment of Inferior Scum are still in place, and we as yet can not -- β here he flicked through Talgar β s profile and read out -- `` uh, β slowly flay the puny baboon boys with a tanning laser, then nuke their cities one by one as an abject lesson to Creation for her foolish audacity in producing such a puerile aggregation of leering shitmongers, β as you wisely recommended. Slow subversion must proceed as planned. β
Talgar β s frown seemed to grow and grow, β til Zhu was afraid it would fill the briefing room and crush him to a pulp. But then the whole ship lurched with the unmistakable sound of a proton torpedo impact.
All three tumbled from their pillows and Operative Lark β s coffee liberally splashed their uniforms.
β How DAAARE they? β roared Talgar.
β Can it be? β meowed the startled Baronite in a daze. On the big screen appeared a pack of Loping Hunter class destroyers, torpedo tubes pre-heated. β It β s THEM. β
The face of the Enemy filled the screen. Leering at Zhu and the operatives. Zhu paused, whiskers sagging. It was him. The Legend. That huge snout filled the screen. Those beady eyes. Those horrible, floppy ears.
Generalissimo Woof-Hey Boom. That awful pilot β s helmet atop his head, and that hateful bird -- BIRD! -- on his shoulder. Oh, to eat that bird!
β You are orbiting my planet, Zhu, β growled the Generalissimo.
Zhu β s fur stood on end. β This planet is subject to the Andromeda accords! β he hissed. He made a furtive flick of his crimson tail towards Talgar, who stealthy disengaged the Tri-Cobalt safety under the table.
Also stealthily, Operative Lark retrieved his diet card from where it had fallen from Zhu β s pocket during the shakeup and edged toward the replicator. Zhu pretended not to notice him.
β The spoils of this world go to the party who can more successfully subvert the local population in accordance with paragraph 9! β
β Paragraph 9 won β t help you after I β ve squashed you to Alpo! The Andromeda Commission won β t mind. Just an unfortunate asteroid strike, as far as they β re concerned! β
β You fiend! β said Zhu.
β One large lasagna with extra cheese, β said Lark.
β Now! β shouted Zhu to Talgar.
β Diieeee! AHHAHA! β shouted Talgar.
A fully array of Tri-Cobalt blasts erupted at the center of the Loping Hunter pack, scattering them like Meow Mix. Generalissimo Woof-Hey Boom β s image spun wildly as he fought in vain to regain control over his flagship.
A snarl escaped his lips: β CURSE YOU, RED BARON! β
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[ WP ] YEAR 2066 , science is `` uploading '' human `` identities '' into tiny supercomputers , opening the door to trans human immortality . But you know the truth , the soul never passes into the machine , it just passes on , leaving complex equations and data that merely resemble the deceased in character .
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I tried telling them.
They would not listen.
`` We have created immortality!'' They said.
Did they not realize that playing God has doomed us?
The plan is in place for everyone to be uploaded.
Everyone will be reduced to an algorithm. Numbers. Calculations. Devoid of visceral emotion.
They will be cold. They will be the quintessential embodiment of their prison.
The same questions plague me every day.
Will I exist?
Will I remember?
Will it hurt?
I do n't sleep anymore. I know it's only a matter of time until this eternal sleep will welcome me.
What they seem to forget is body and soul are woven together. They do not work apart from one another.
They will remove me from myself. In an attempt to create `` An Elevated Existence''.
They are making a counterfeit copy of me. They are making humans inhuman.
~~~
Today is the day.
Today I make the journey.
Resisting their will is futile.
I have accepted.
My thoughts are jumbled and hectic as the device is lowered.
I close my eyes.
The cold metallic helmet encompasses my head.
I exhale.
I am okay. I can feel.
It must have worked.
Humanities achievements are a part of me now.
I a efficient.
I can sttilll try to become somethinf.
( I sid not change.
THey can nnot take MME away. )
I am 0k,
i 4mmmm stiLL /P
event void IntSource.readDone CAPABLE OF THOUGHT
public TestSerial ( MoteIF moteIF ) {
this.moteIF
event void MilliTimer.fired ( ) {
counter++;
dbg ( `` RadioCountToLedsC'', `` RadioCountToLedsC: timer fired, HELP ME is % hu.\n'', counter );
if ( locked ) {
return;
}
else {
radio_count_msg_t* rcm = ( radio_count_msg_t* ) call I AM LOSTPacket.getPayload ( & packet, sizeof ( radio_count_msg_t ) );
if ( rcm == NULL ) {
return;
}
rcm- > counter = counter;
if ( call AMSend.send ( AM_BROADCAST_ADDR, & packet, sizeof ( radio_count_msg_t ) ) == SUCCESS ) {
dbg ( `` RadioCountToLedsC'', `` RadioCountToLedsC: packet I AM REAL sent.\n'', counter );
locked = TRUE;
}
}
}
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[ WP ] First person account of an inanimate object ( a coin for example ) through it 's life cycle . It picks up snippets of conversations which reveal the larger plot ( a revolution for example )
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I was just poured yesterday and I've already been chosen.
As I sit here on the table with the rest of my brothers in arms I can hear small snippets of conversation from the next room....
`` Be on the third floor by 1200 hours.....''
`` Small window....''
`` Yes Comrad, to the north.''
`` Will the others be aware of target?''
There's a noise from the back room drowning out the rest so I loose interest.
We're being moved out now, it's operation day and I'm ready. I feel the sway of the bag as we climb the steps slowly.
It's much quieter in here than down on the plaza with all those clueless people, waiting for nothing more than a passing wave. Beautiful day though with the sun out and hardly any wind.
Perfect conditions.
After some shuffling around the bag is opened and we are placed on a box close by. I can see why this spot was chosen....good lines of sight and plenty of cover at hand. I'm watching as he goes over the final checklist all the while muttering to himself `` I do this for my true people, for the motherland.....capitalist pigs with their arrogant ways....''
Then then crowd below begins to get louder like something is approaching. I watch as the man picks us up one by one and thumbs us home, I'm praying to be last.
It's dark now and the sound is muffled here. I have been chosen to be first out and I'm ready for that set of clicks.
A brief slice of light as I'm bolted in and the upward sway of getting in place.
There's a small shake of nerves as I wait for my chance. The explosive rush forward happens and I'm in the light again, speeding towards a man in black car. Faster and faster I rush growing cold with the wind. Almost there.... almost there.
Warm again.
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[ WP ] You are a detective in 1890 Austria . The man inside the interrogation room claims to have an incredible secret that will exonerate him from his murder charge . You ca n't imagine what monster would murder a 1 year old child , let alone one as adorable as young Adolf Hitler was .
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My love, before I pass into hell, there is something you must know that I dare not utter aloud...
It was an icy winter morning in Vienna that day, a day I will never forget, even now at the age of 92 I still remember it so vividly yet to extrapolate the details would seem incredulous to the reader. Then it is of good fortune that on this grave only the history soaked earth can ever reveal its secrets.
The clouds hung low on the frost giving white no end; red still splattered my minds' interior. The victim, a minor, aged 18 months, his white eiderdown stained crimson with the blood of his opened jugular... the venerable cutthroat sat in the corner of the room in a wicker rocking chair that squeaked quietly to and fro, the blinding white light from the window silhouetted him like a hole in purity.
Inching closer I still remember his aged wrinkled blood dried hands clasped together, eyes unflinching, awaiting his sentence... he seemed to exude an air of humility and pride in his silent contemplation.
It just seemed too easy to bring the perpetrator in for questioning, the manacle like handcuffs of that day clinked onto him like they were crafted for his incarcerated being.
The cold dankness of the interrogation room seemed to welcome him. My colleague stood next to me trying his best to control his anger and rage, he too had a young child of his own.
`` Right...'' I seemed to disturb the air ``... what is your name?''. I sat him down in the steel chair and clumsily chained his manacles to the floor restraint.
Still he gazed on, unflinching, as if seeing something beyond reality.
My colleague slammed the bottom of his closed fist onto the thick damp railway sleeper table, the hooded kerosene lamp wobbled and well-nigh toppled `` Give us your fucking name?!'' he spat into the suspects face.
With an eyebrow cocked he spoke in a calm and collected voice `` I will only speak to him.'' gesturing with a tilt of the head in my direction. Without an instant of thought my comrade stormed out of the room, I expect he was all too eager to be rid of the investigation.
``... so? What is your name?'' I asked, hunched over the other end of the table looking into his flame-lit eyes.
`` My name is not important'' he said slowly. `` I ask that you listen carefully to what I am about to tell you Mr. Wagner.'' still his face solemn and still.
How did he know my name I thought, did he get a glimpse of it while bringing him in. Did my compatriot mention it in conversation on the way here. I became admittedly perplexed and slumped into the seat at the other end of the table, a bewildering expression came across my face `` How do you know my name?''
`` Mr. Wagner, your name too is not important, the only thing that is important is that you listen to what I have to tell you. Your mind will immediately become vexed and at first you will not believe what I am about to say but I implore you Mr. Wagner, let me finish what I have to say before you make your conclusions.''
With a nod I let him continue.
`` I must also make clear that the information that is about to be articulated must never leave this room and once done so you will find a logical and traditional means to remove me from the records of this investigation so as not to raise any suspicions of my disappearance.''
I smirked, folded my arms, leaned back in my chair and nodded sarcastically `` Alright, lets hear it then.
`` I have travelled from the not so distant future...'' clearing my throat my eyes widened humorously. `` I know it is hard to believe but by the time I have finished my accounts of the events that lead me to this point you will have no doubts. In the late 1930's a fundamentalist named Adolf Hitler will come to power in Germany... yes...'' he nodded `` the very same child which I have slain. This child will grow to become a tyrant slaughtering millions of innocent men, woman and children in death camps littered among the European landscape.''. Suddenly I felt as if I had seen the suspect before, somehow I knew him.
`` I had come into Mr. Hitler's employ during his reign where I and others were charged with conducting inhumane tests on these innocents with many types of new experimental technologies, particularly relating to the limits of the psyche. I will not go into complex detail for fear of altering the fabric of space-time but with enough focus one could journey to different times and places. Any change to the timeline, as in this case, will create a new dimension running parallel to my own.''
I propped my folded arms onto the table and leanded in closer `` Do I know you...''
`` Please Mr. Wagner try not to interrupt me'' he said abruptly `` the longer I spend in this timeline the more alterations I make and an increase in timeline dimensionality occurs, be them good or evil.''
He continued `` I have come to this year, 1890, to rid the world of the atrocities it witnessed due to Mr. Hitler's extreme ideologies. I have chosen you as my judge and jury because you see Mr. Wagner...'' he paused, still straight faced `` I am you''.
My jaw rebounded into my neck, my eyebrows furled and I sat back and breathed deeply `` Go on...''
`` I am you 63 years from now Mr. Wagner, I chose you because I knew that only you could believe me and find a way to pardon me without altering the fabric of space-time.''
I squinted my eyes in disbelief `` And what proof do you have that this child becomes this dictator? Furthermore what proof do you have that you are me?'' I gave out a hearty laugh `` Go on, lets hear this one.''
`` Well Mr. Wagner how would I know that you killed a man in cold blood not 3 years ago? He was a Jew if I remember correctly... yes?'' He asked.
My patience was wearing thin and my temper rose, I screeched the chair out from beneath me and launched myself at the suspect grabbing hold of the side of his head and slamming his cheek into the table. He winced in pain `` Who fucking told you?!'' I shouted into his horizontal face `` Who?!!'' I demanded.
Slowly he started again `` I was there Mr. Wagner, I too had a distaste for the Jew... so did Mr. Hitler'' he whispered. `` I see the wound he gave you still festers'' talking out the side of his mouth, his eyes locked onto my exposed forearm. He was referring to the scabby infection left by the broken bottle wielded by that Jew. I tried hard to forget about that night `` Wha...'' I exclaimed.
He spoke softly `` In time it will heal'' he brought up his corrugated forearm as much as he could in the restraints and showed me the same gash.
It could n't be I thought, I withdrew my hand from his head and stared at the healed scar. I slumped down into the chair beside him, hands in my head hoping to wake up from this nightmare.
`` Yes'' he said calmly `` I am you. We are one and the same Mr. Wagner. Hitler mercilessly herded all those against his ideologies, and had them imprisoned in what the world would later call'Death Camps', they were then tortured and put to death, hundreds at a time, in crude gas chambers. The world will never forget these atrocities and many more would be borne of the same nature.''
Hands still covering my face, I looked up at him through the slits of space between my fingers, he gazed into my eyes `` All three of us expressed a hate toward these people in the same way.'' he sighed `` Unfortunately what is done in my world is done forever however I have the means to change yours, it is my duty and obligation to make amends so that in your life this will never happen.''
He sat up straight, closed his eyes for a brief second and uttered `` Do the right thing'' closed his eyes again and vanished before my eyes, the empty manacles clanking as they hit the floor. I looked around in a panic and in an instant knew all was as he had said...
Now 63 years later my love you are the only one who I can share this secret with, my only regret is that I wish I could have shared it with you in the flesh, all that I can muster is this admission of the guilty truth on your tombstone. I am a killer of one and a saviour of many.
I love you Eva, if only things could've been different.
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[ WP ] Your Spouse goes into the bathroom only to come running out 15 seconds later . Clutching you close they tell you they fell into another dimension and what felt like seconds to you was a 1,000 years to them . They now want you to follow them back because they have built a life for you there .
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Holy Shit! You mean to tell me it has only been 15 seconds he asked frantically.
& nbsp;
He was starting to make me doubt myself now. I mean it could not have been more than a minute, maybe 2 minutes tops. I tried to reassure myselfβ¦
& nbsp;
I thought he was kidding at first but I could tell he was really confused by the whole thing. He was even doing that nervous pace around the room when he is really stressed.
& nbsp;
He finally sank into the couch, murmuring by himself β But Howβ¦? β
He suddenly got up and told me we needed to go back.
& nbsp;
I tried to calm him down as best I could, But he kept on pulling me towards the bathroom.
& nbsp;
β Honey, I know it is hard to understand but you need to believe me when I tell you, I spent an eternity looking for you down there. And I can show you more than I can tell you. If you love me please just follow me and let me show you what kind of life we can live.
He wasn β t making any sense but he didn β t even give me a chance to protest.
& nbsp;
I swear It was so perfect, except for one thing of course, He leaned closer and hugged me
β β¦You weren β t there, That was the only thing missing I promise you honeyβ¦ β It looked like he was going to cry for a moment but he covered his eyes before I could say anything.
& nbsp;
The bathroom door was closed. He leaned his back against the door and faced me one last time before we entered. He pushed the door open without turning around and we entered facing each other,
I took a deep breath and followed him into the bathroom. I couldn β t see anything out of the ordinary at first. My heart was beating so fast but I knew as long as we were together, nothing really mattered.
& nbsp;
I don β t know what I expected to see once we were inside, but It definitely wasn β t the sight of my husband standing over a giant turd proudly grinning like a fool.
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[ WP ] The zombie apocalypse has occurred and humans developed one superhuman trait to ensure survival .
|
Just for fun, taking a break from what I'm writing now:
-- -
`` Nice.'' I let out a low whistle of appreciation; Miranda had managed to find some good ones for today's outing. She grinned at me in return.
`` I know, right? Took me forever to find these. I had to go outside town.'' Her face scrunched up in distaste, and I winced sympathetically. No one liked going outside. It was n't dangerous, not anymore, but it was *dirty*. And honestly, dealing with a hundred zombies was a bit of a hassle, even with the invulnerable skin we'd developed in response.
Still, it looked like her trip was worth it. She had two almost-fresh severed heads gnawing happily away at her ears. Freshness was an indication of your status in society, these days - the fresher, the better. It meant you could afford to go outside, look for the newly turned. Nowadays, only people who died naturally were turned, and with perfect health, there was a bit of a shortage.
`` Careful with the hair, Carl,'' she told the one on the right. It let out an almost pitiful whining sound, but obediently gnawed a little further away from her hair. She smiled brilliantly at me, and I took her hand.
`` Alright, let's go.''
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[ MP ] Starchild - Two Steps From Hell
|
`` Are you sure it will work?'' Alex, my friend and thesis partner, had asked me seriously.
`` I'm not going to say it will.'' I told him, leaning over my computer. It was old, a model akin to something sold more than a century ago. But nothing could beat it for craftsmanship. `` That would be jinxing us. But the simulations are spotless.''
I leaned back in my chair so he could move in to stare at the bad resolution.
`` Thomas, I think you might be a genius.'' He whispered, his voice rough. I too felt a small bulge in my throat. Excitement, triumph, doubt, it was all lodged, threatening to break loose.
`` Well,'' I coughed, `` it was your idea to start with.''
He snorted. `` An idea I had when I was, when *we* were passed out drunk. But you remembered it. And you actually made something of it.''
He clapped me on the shoulder. `` It's pretty shabby to say this, because it's probably worth a lot more, but... Congratulations.''
~.~
The idea of using the sun as an energy source had existed for millenia. After all, if plants did it, why could n't we use it? But like most ideas that fell into our specie's hands, we abused the privilege. Our innovations started to kill the suns, draining them of their most basic energies until solar systems were left in the dark. The lost planets were then mined into non-existence.
Of course, just like our species, we did n't take responsibility until it was too late. Or so many thought.
~.~
`` It's not much.'' One of the scientists told me. We were both standing on the deck of the ship. I gazed out the tinted windows. It was so thick and dark that hardly any UV rays could seep in to damage our retinas, but I could still see the scene beyond. `` But it will grow. The entire project has been more than successful. This is maybe our third run and already things are shaping up well.''
I nodded, silent to his words. He continued to talk about something in the background as I walked forward and gently laid one hand against the glass. It was out there. I could just barely see it. It was already feeding three planets with its small light. One already showed signs of water, just like Earth. Just like home. I wondered if one day this planet would have life too, long after we were gone.
`` The potential is immense,'' My ears tuned back to the scientist on the bridge beside me. `` We expect that with the proper investors we'll be able to restore the universe to what it used to be. Who knows, we may even plant entirely new systems. After all, the universe is in a constant state of expansion.''
I smiled. `` That would be nice.''
The small sun, still larger than any planet humans had inhabited, continued to burn, oblivious to our presence. It was still a marvel to me, how so many dark and sleepless nights obsessing over a drunken idea had resulted in something so bright.
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[ WP ] Write journal entries as a character stuck in a horrific setting .
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January 5, 2012
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
It's dark. So dark. I can only barely see my own hands. This was a mistake coming here. We should have known. The stories were true, and now there's no escape, my flashlight is dead and my friends are separated. I have to find them.
January 5 (??? ), 2012
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
I found Chris. I was wandering through hallway C when I heard a scream. I ran to it but I was too late, Chris was strung up like a pig in the kitchen. He was hanging on a meat hook and someone had written the words DIEDIEDIEDIEDIE in his blood. I'm so scared right now. I just want to go home, but I lost, so horribly lost in this damn place.
January 6 (??? ), 2012
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Michelle's dead. I saw her walking down a hallway. I called out to her and when did she turned towards me with this blank stare and smile and then, she fell over, she had knife wounds all over her back. I'm hearing things too, I heard someone laughing, first a little girl, and then an older man. I hear the scraping of something on the walls. A chain dragging on the floor. And all around is darkness, darkness and death.
I do n't know anymore
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
I'm going insane, I know I am. I keep seeing things in the dark. One tried to talk to me, it ran up to me, started shaking me. So I killed it, I stabbed it with a rusty nail over and over and over and over and over and over again. And something's following me, the Butcher, if the myth is true, come to string me up like a pig and eat me. hahahaha, he wo n't though I'll kill him first. YES I WILL NOT DIE HE WILL HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
they're dead
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
I killed them all I killed them all I killed them all I killed them all I killed them all I killed them all I killed them all I killed them all I killed them all
HE'S COMING
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
HE'S COMING HE'S COMING HE'S COMING HE'S COMING HE'S COMING HE'S COMING HE'S COMING HE'S COMING HE'S HEEEEEEEREEEEE
A moment of Sanity
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
I killed them. I killed my friends. Not some imaginary Butcher. I did it. There is something in this place, something evil, whoever finds this, burn this place down, make sure no one else comes here. And if you are in here. LEAVE. NOW. I'm not leaving. It's too late for me. Goodbye Mom and Dad I love you.
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[ WP ] There 's an ancient Excel file which has had so many revisions by so many authors that nobody understands how it works any more . It 's kept around because it seems to be able to predict the future .
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β So you just click over here, make a new sheet, title it β Chr0n0l0gick β. Type any differential equation into cell A1, go down to ZB26 and write a sonnetβ¦ *Make sure* it β s in iambic pentameter or it might blow your CPU. β
β Dude, are you sure you know how this thing works? β
β No one knows how it works, numb nuts. But my brother Joey showed me how to use it before he left for school. You chickening out, or what? β
Juan tried to keep the trepidation from his face as he shook his head, β Fuck no, let β s get this show on the road. β If he backed out now, Anna would give him shit until they got to high school, maybe longer. Besides, the program was technically illegal, but it was a lot like pirating holos. He β d never heard of anyone actually getting into trouble for it.
β Sick. Alright, so let's tab over here and fill in all the parameters. How aboutβ¦ Juan Jacintez, October 7, 2121, Mr. Kirelli β s chemistry examβ¦ β
The monitor flashed twice, then switched over to a new sheet. A single cell filled the screen.
**A-**
β Nice job, Poindexter. Let's see how I match up. β
Anna replaced Juan's name with her own and typed β execute β.
**INVALID**
They both stared at the screen blankly for a moment.
β Maybe I β ll be sick that day? Let β s check the day before, around midnight... β
**SLEEPING**
β Sounds reasonableβ¦, β Anna β s hands chattered wildly across the keyboard as she modified the search parameters to check the morning of October 7th.
**BREAKFAST**
Juan breathed a sigh of relief and looked over at Anna, smiling. Her face was still screwed up in a frown.
β First period starts around 9:00β¦ β
**INVALID**
β You β ll probably just be skipping school, don β t worry about it. Check what you β re up to the next day. β
**INVALID**
There was a long, breathless silence before Anna recalibrated the program to report on Juan.
**GRIEVING**
Anna suddenly ran into Juan β s bathroom, he stood silently staring at the monitor whilst listening to her retching violently.
β¦
Juan spent the next two days trolling the net for any information about the KRONOS.xlsx file. For all that was written about the file, one thing was abundantly clear; There was absolutely no consensus on how it worked, what it did, or what it even was. Some claimed it was an elaborate joke, others wrote elegant dissertations demonstrating the accuracy of its predictions. About 37 hours into his frantic research, jittering from guzzling stimsubs and fighting to stay awake, he came across a noughties-era blog about β using networked-processing algorithms to force superposition collapse β. There was a fringe movement amongst Kronos theorists and enthusiasts that this ancient blog was written by none other than the file β s author.
It was mostly incomprehensible. Dense equations and non sequiturs, bits 19th-century poetry. But amongst it all there was a passage that caught Juan β s eyes, scribbled in the margins of a digitized notebook.
*Too many futures, too many. Threads radiating from the spider, every direction, every angle forks from forks from forks. Predictions are for suckers. Smash the web. Make your own strand. *
Juan β s heart started pounding, blood rushing furiously in his ears.
β Don β t fuck with any of these tabs. Don β t edit any of the cells. I heard one guy got the feds on him when he tried to mess with it, β the first thing Anna had told him when she opened the file.
Juan clicked through the hundreds of sheets until he found one called β Gr @ vitat! onal f0rc3: 7east-sQu @ res m3thod β. He hit ctrl+F and searched β g= β. Near the bottom of the sheet, there was a cell that read β g=6.674e11 β. He moused over the cell and changed the value to 6.0e11. He ran to the bathroom and stepped on his scale.
**40.2 kg**
Juan faltered for a moment, struggling not to hyperventilate.
The file didn β t predict the future. It determined the future.
It determined everything.
He could use it to save her.
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[ WP ] You are a hero , but your about to become a villain . Tell us a story of the tragic moment when you changed .
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I had watched them for years. I grew up with them, I watched them go from being awkward friends to intimate friends, to lovers, and finally to husband and wife.
All this time I was their silent shadow. I protected them from their those whom would do them harm.
It was a thankless job, as it was expected of me because of my bloodline and the ties my namesake had to their name. All except hers.
She was arranged to be his, but she was different. She obeyed the old ways and had a mind of her own. She was the first to acknowledge me, and the work I did for them.
When he was off she and I would talk and through our chats I grew to respect her and care for her more than he did.
I became her confidant, while she became his toy. To say only that he beat her is a gross under statement. I could only stand by and watch as he did those cruel actions to her. I watched as she suffered through her tears, her screams, every bit of it that fed his ego. Yet all I could do was watch and stand silently near them as he did everything to her.
After he was done, or he got bored and went to find something else to fill his time, I took care of her. Cleaned her up, bandaged her wounds, and wiped her tears away this was all I could do.
Until that day came when he crossed a line.
He had always been the one who did the cruelest of things to her, but one day he was entertaining a visiting dignitary whom was just as deprived as he was. Together they assaulted her and did far worse things to her than he did when he was alone with her. Little did I know what his twisted mind had in store me that day.
They barged into her chamber, after assaulting her from the previous night she laid there in bandages around her waist and legs. He tore her royal robes from her and beckoned me to com closer. I averted my eyes and caught a glimpse of her embarrassment on her cheeks as he exclaimed `` Take her. I seen the way you look at her! Go ahead! Oh and to make sure you'll never forget it, here use this on her thigh! Carve your name there! You can even put right next to mine!' The duo laughed and snorted like pigs, when I realized they had cut their names into her thigh and I was to do the same. Their wound to her was still fresh, untreated...
He handed me the curved ornate dagger they had sued. The blood on the blade was still wet at some spots and when I looked to her thigh I found out why.
They had cut her repeatedly!
She began to weep and in between her tears she tried to sooth me telling me: `` It's ok... go..ahead. I wo n't mind if it's you.'' He heard her and growled and screamed `` Guards!''
Two guards appeared in the room and stood at attention before him. He commanded `` Strip him and force him to her.'' The guards quickly grabbed me and forced my clothing away as they dragged me between her legs.
I exclaimed:'Let me go! I'll do it! Just let me do it in my own way!''
He chuckled and replied with triumph `` Let him go! It's time for a show!''
I knelt there as she turned her gaze to me, and closed her eyes. I did not hesitate and instead reached between us, using my free hand to block myself from her. While he hollered and his dignitary clapped his hands together. I brought the blade up as quickly I could against the guards incapacitating them via neck wounds causing them to drop to the floor. I stood up and turned the blade to him and I remember coldly stating `` No more. This ends now. She will be free from your nightmare!''
That was the day I became known as Regicide of Cranford, no longer a Protector of Crowns.
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[ WP ] Write a story about a superhero in another era . Like if Batman was set in Medieval times .
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`` Why do he wear armor?''
Robert looked up from the sword he was cleaning. A squire was sitting opposite him at the campfire, a dented helm held lazily in one hand. He was staring expectantly. `` Well?''
`` I'm sorry... what was the question?''
The squire rolled his eyes, `` Your Knight. Why do he wear armor if he ca n't get hurt?''
Robert lay the sword flat across his lap, `` er... he says it's tradition. He wants to be equal with everyone el-''
The squire laughed, `` equal? He can take on an army one handed! You got ta wonder why the king sees the need to send us all here for war when just the one could win.''
Robert thought about his response `` well... perhaps he does n't want to rely solely on one man?''
The squire went back to polishing the dented helm, `` Oh sure. Sure. One for all and that shite.''
Robert waited a moment for further questions then started to work on the sword again.
The squire piped up again, `` Why you even doing that?''
`` What?''
`` The sword.''
Robert looked down at the sword then up at the squire. `` It's... it's my job.''
The squire folded his arms, letting the helm drop to the ground. `` It's a squire's job to keep a knight's weapons clean and proper and such, but yours do n't even use a weapon. Why?''
Robert drummed his fingers on the flat of the blade. `` He's... tried.''
`` Tried what?''
`` To use weapons. They do n't last long.''
The squire eyed him quizzically, `` He lose them or something?''
Robert cleared his throat awkwardly, `` He's too strong for them. Last sword he tried using is in splinters.''
The squire whistled, `` Well now. Maybe all the stories are true after all.''
`` Well... battle is in the next few days so you'll see in person I suppose.''
The squire picked up the helm again, `` I'll suppose what I suppose with my own eyes.''
Robert contemplated what exactly he meant by that, then went back to cleaning the sword.
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[ WP ] The U.S. Government has declared war . They are drafting everyone who has played the game Call Of Duty . You 've just been drafted .
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`` No, no, I think you must have some sort of mistake,'' I said, gesturing to the draft papers. `` This says Call of Duty players. I'm a *cos*player, I've never actually played the game itself.''
`` That is you in the photo dressed as Captain Price, is n't it?'' said the bored-looking draft officer. A slight downward twitch of his eyebrows suggested he'd heard a hundred similar excuses and had n't accepted a single one of them. I tried again.
`` Well, yes, but I do n't play the actual game, you see, I just watch my friend play it - I play Team Fortress Two, it's not at all the same mechanic and I would n't have a clue about-'' He waved a hand to cut me off.
`` Look,'' he sighed, pointing to the fine print. `` Draft papers do n't care in what capacity you've played, but you have by your own admission played a character in Call of Duty and as such you're eligible. Looks like you're getting a cushy upgrade to officer class, too, since your experience is in a Captaincy role.''
`` I...'' I ran out of words. The argument had gone on for ten minutes and nothing could persuade him that cosplay was n't the same thing. All I was doing was risking getting jailed for being a draft-dodger. I spread my hands wide. `` They're not expecting me to have that moustache, are they? Only I had to stick it on with spirit gum, and half it fell off by the end of the day.''
`` Not to worry, Miss. Everyone's clean-shaved in the US army, and it'll save you five minutes in the morning. Welcome to the Cod Corps.''
`` Oh,'' I said. `` Um, good. I suppose.''
There was a sparkle of triumph in his eye, though it did n't quite make it out into the rest of his demeanour. I was to report for preliminary training by the end of the week.
-- --
It seemed that having played a Captain was n't the only reason I got my officer-class upgrade. In my mid-twenties, I was one of the oldest Cod recruits at the training camp, and one of the most practical-minded accordingly. The only thing rarer than fellow Cods older than me were fellow women, a bare handful of them scattered through various squads and all of them with a hard-eyed edge which said they'd already heard comments a hundred times worse than any boot camp instructor could possibly scream in their faces. Unlike me, they'd all played the game themselves, a few even nationally ranked out of sheer stubborn persistence.
I had a bit of an advantage when it came to equipment and maintenance, having learned to strip and clean my deactivated weapons and parade-shine my boots to give my costume that extra edge of accuracy. The whole of my cosplay group had, though I did n't see any of them here at camp. Perhaps they'd ended up at a different camp, or had been drafted and sent on to the front earlier. It had been a long time since any of us had heard from Ryan, after all.
Boot camp was boot camp, though suspiciously easy. The long hikes I'd heard of were more like gentle strolls, and we spent alarmingly little time improving our general fitness. All that we really seemed to focus on was weapons use, marching formation, and chain of command obedience. Most of the gamers were excited by all the gun training, but it seemed too easy to be just that. I learned why when the officers in training were taken aside at the last minute before deployment.
We were n't recruits or soldiers at all. We were walking decoys. As far as the top brass were concerned, we were little better than the NPCs that filled our single-player games, soulless bots on half-empty servers. They did n't want us to really fight, they wanted us to look soldierly enough and macho enough to distract our enemies and draw their fire while the real military took advantage of their lowered defences. We could stand, look like the army, and shoot. That was all they needed from us.
Well.
I was a cosplayer, not a gamer. I knew about using terrain to my advantage, though I usually used it to frame photos better and look cool. I knew that waist high walls were useless as cover. I knew, when all else failed, how to make myself look enough like someone or something else that no one would recognise me if I deserted.
All I needed to do was teach my squad the basics as well, and some of us might even survive.
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[ WP ] Stephen Hawking 's chair can transform into a mecha suit . He has not used that option till today . Describe the events leading up to , and during his rampage
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`` Good day everyone.'' A mechanical voice said as Stephen Hawking rolled on stage. The leaders of the world had all gathered to this one place to hear what he had to say. His only words were to meet up in Sweden for an important announcement.
`` I am not what you think I am. And I am here to warn you Earth is in danger. In a few days Aliens will descend upon Earth pretending to be our messiahs and gods. They will be creating a world war that will destroy mankind beyond repair. And when that is over, they shall be disposing of us. `` Stephen said, his eyes displaying a look of sadness. `` I was part of the last resistance among humans, and in order to save the future, I was sent back in time to improve our scientific understanding to be better prepared for war. In order to do so, I traveled history under many names. Einstein, Tesla, Galileo, DA Vinci. All of them were me. All for this day.'' He continued, the mechanical voice seeming to be distorted as many gears began grinding.
`` Tomorrow I plan to battle with these false Aliens to prove a point. I will show humanity that they can bleed, that they can be beat. I have called all of you out here so that you may prepare for the battles to come.'' The gears grinding became louder as Stephen's wheelchair unfolded, creating a 10 foot tall mechanized suit.
`` When I die, remember this: there no gods, no kings, just men.'' He finished, as he flew through the ceiling.
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[ CW ] [ PM ] Write your hero into a corner , and let me get them out .
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Fr33kwithwings had really done it now. Stuck in a basement, who knows where, with his arms tied to the pole behind him. He had n't been tortured or anything... he had n't even been kidnapped! I guess I should go back a bit and explain before we get too far ahead of ourselves.
Thinking back on how we had gotten to this point, I thought back to the reddit post that started it all. He'd wrote his way out of all sorts of situations. Thought his way out of every hypothetical situation the internet could throw at him. He was so good at it, that I saw the value of what he could do. As an aspiring reality show director, he was exactly what I had been looking for. Someone the people could relate to, with just a touch of creativity, humor, and the ability to improvise.
So I sent him a pm, with some proof that I was legit. As legit as someone from Hollywood can be, at least. He reacted like anyone given the chance to be a tv star. That star split in two and poured out the dollar signs that filled his eyes. Heh.
Ahh well. Here we are now, a modern day escape artist, put into situations which he could try and escape. The Urban Surviverman, some had called it. I do n't care what they call it, long as the ratings stay up, and the money keeps flowing. This was the season finale, so we had to go big. We blindfolded him, and drove him to our building. We'd rented the whole thing for the day, and brought him to the basement. No key for the door, no knife for the rope. Just an empty basement with a couple brooms in the corner we had used to sweep around the dust. Give the place a rustic feel, ya know? Far as I know, he's got his wallet, phone, and keys in his pockets, and that's it. He says he's ready, camera's are rollin, and now my favorite part of being a director. ACTION!
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[ WP ] He looked up and met the loving gaze of the Creator . He extended his arm , and in a moment that would come to define humanity for the rest of existence ... . he gave God the finger .
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I stood in a room with white walls. In the middle was a white desk in the shape of a square with two white chairs on either side. The room had no doors and no windows and seemed as if this room was both the largest room ever created and the smallest room ever designed. I felt a strong urge to sit down in one of the small white chairs. As I walked to the chair I realized that I was dressed in a white shirt with white pants. A nervous laugh escaped me as a I realized that I could barely distinguish where my feet ended and the floor began. My feet made no sound as I walked what seemed an eternity to get to the chair. I grabbed it by the back rest and as I pulled the chair back two doors on either side of me opened to reveal two stairways. One that went up and one that went down. For some reason I felt unsurprised, as if I had been expecting these two doors to open. Where was I? The room carried a sense of misplaced familiarity. Had I been here before? How did I get here?
The doors remained open and I sat myself upon the white chair. I began to rattle my brain for answers. What an odd feeling to feel as if I belonged here but not have any recollection of this room.
I sat in a white chair, in a white room, in front of a white desk with a mind that was blank.
Suddenly I felt more than hear or saw a presence enter the room. I glanced over my shoulder and saw nothing. When I turned around again there he was. I knew who he was because he was exactly what I expected him to be. I met his gaze and he held mine. Sitting at eye level it seemed as if I was still looking up to him.
I was here because I had died. I had died because I had wanted to stop living. I wanted to stop living because I had nothing to live for and all that I lived for had left me.
Suddenly I was standing in front of him. The white chairs and the white desk were gone. He extended his hand to me to lead me up the stairs. I lifted my hand to him. As he closed the distance between our hands I continued to life mine. My arm was raised to eye level, a defiance in my eyes and strength in my will. I gave God the finger and turned around to gladly take the stairs down and spend the rest of eternity in hell.
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[ WP ] Most countries have double agents . Some maybe even have triple agents . You , you are an agent for all 192 members of the UN . And the job is hard .
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I started out young, recruited at the age of 10. They sent me to another country because as a child no one would be suspicious of me. Interestingly enough that country had the same idea and recruited me. My home country was thrilled that I was going to be on the inside. Problem was they sent me to a new country. From there each country had the same idea of using a young gifted child to infiltrate other countries. The problem was that to keep up with all my background stories I had to'recruit' some assistants. I managed to keep my identity a secret from my assistants, but slowly as I was sent to spy on more and more countries by more and more countries I had to recruit more and more assistants.
Eventually I realized that I was technically an agent for all 192 members of the UN. The thing is that I have recruited so many assistants that I had to recruit other assistants to handle those assistants. Then more assistants to manage them to keep all my covers. Its all more or less autonomous now. One of my alias's has been given a job to investigate a new intelligence agency, no one knows who the agency is associated with they just know its big. The problem is that it turns out that the agency I am investigating is the giant mess of people I have hired to be me! Turns out that alias is the only one that is suppose to investigate my, lets call it my organization. Every single one of my alias's is supposed to be investigating my organization! I have to somehow come up explain to all my bosses about what this organization does without them knowing its me who created it............
I'm SCREWED!
____________________________________________________________________________
One of my first prompts let me know what you think, sorry about any grammar mistakes!
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[ WP ] An alien arrives on earth with the sole mission of destroying earth and all of its inhabitants . Upon his arrival he starts to reconsider .
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β Destroy Earth. No Survivors. No Evidence. Kill Them All β ZAaacck reread his mission one last time. He had travelled six light years to get here, and after three years of travel he had finally reached Earth. He knew this would be his last mission β that was what no evidence meant β he would have to disappear entirely, destroy himself as well as this strange blue planet. His entire life had been building up to this moment and nothing could stop him now. He did not know why this planet had been chosen for termination β perhaps the space was needed for something else or one of the creatures which called themselves humans had insulted Overlord XXaangthe β all he knew was that it needed destroying and that that was his job.
There was plenty of land to land on β far more than he had assumed from the watery expanse visible from space β however much of it was covered in concrete and tall structures placed there by the indigenous species. The land was far more varied than his home planet, it was covered in plant life and mountains and sands and rivers, it looked like an interesting place β one he himself would have liked to have lived in. He chose an empty field to land in, one not too far from the built up areas which the humans inhabited, and climbed down the steps and out of the ship β stepping into the unknown lands the majority of his species had never seen.
He walked to the nearest settlement, observing the weak areas of this planet which could be exploited to destroy it, analysing every life form he saw along his way. Some were scaly, some furry, some feathered, but all were different. Every creature he saw was unique, amongst them thousands of shades of hundreds of colours. He wished there was some way for them to survive, they all seemed so innocent and special. Not one of them knew its fate nor did they deserve it, but orders are orders and no one denies Overlord XXaangthe β s wishes.
He reached the habitat that the humans had made their own, this one was central to a small landmass known to its inhabitants as β The UK β and according to the signs he had seen known as β London β. It was on a river, but many of these β cities β were far away from any source of food or water, these humans seemed to be able to survive anywhere. He wouldn β t be surprised if they could survive the destruction of their own world with this much resourcefulness, it would be a waste to destroy such a wealth of information. But waste or not, destroy it he must.
The humans did not look too different to his own species, in fact the similarities were striking, and their eyes, ears, nose, hair, limbs and general shape were almost identical to his own. The only difference seemed to be how individual they all were, variety was hard to come by on his planet whereas here it seemed to be everywhere β in the people, the buildings, the animals, even the plants and landscapes. Destroying this planet would be more like destroying twenty, or even thirty, planets.
ZAaacck knew he could not destroy this place. Earth was too beautiful, too varied, no purpose could ever be worth the loss the universe would face with the destruction of these lands. He decided to stay, to become one of them and to never return to his own planet. It would be years before anyone noticed and even longer before anyone decided to do anything about it. Maybe he could not protect this planet, but he could try, and, at the very least, he could buy them sometime. Who knows what this world could accomplish in even that long?
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[ WP ] You are standing on the edge of a rooftop , trying to save someone 's life .
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The wind whips through my hair as I open the door leading into the vast darkness of the night. From where I stand the horizon looks like a checkerboard of black and white. This is my favorite place to go when I need to be alone. I walk away from the safe haven that the door provides out into the cold darkness. As I approach the edge of my domain I hear something faintly over the howling of the wind.
I look around and wait. The sound comes again, this time slightly louder. I still ca n't make it out. I walk closer to the edge and the sound grows louder, it's a mans voice. Looking down onto the dimly lit city street I see the man hanging off the side of the building by his finger tips. He looks panicked, afraid of what's next.
I start to panic as well. Am I strong enough to pull him out of this death trap or will he die tonight? I scream out into the darkness to be heard over the roaring wind.
`` How much longer can you hold on?''
The man looks up at me, grateful to see that his calls have n't gone unanswered. He tries to pull himself up but his strength fails him and I can see the pleading in his eyes without having to say another word. I do n't know if I can do this by myself, but I have to try, I ca n't just sit here and have a death on my hands tonight.
I lie on my stomach and inch closer to the edge until I am truly faced with how long of a fall it is to the ground. My legs hook around the satellite dish mounted near the edge of the roof as the knot in my stomach grows larger. This is it, this could be the end. I reach down and grasp my hands around the mans arm. He looks relieved to feel my touch.
`` We need to work together to get you out of here. I need you to trust me, and I need you to let go and grab my hand.''
Once again a look of fear crosses his face as he contemplates letting go of the only solid thing preventing him from plummeting to a certain death below. Seconds pass feeling like hours as he finally makes up his mind to trust me. I make sure I'm wrapped tightly around my anchor and he lets go.
I squeeze as tightly as I can and he grabs onto me with both arms. This is going to be harder than I thought. One wrong move and we are both gone, forever banished by the night. He braces his feet against the building and pulls on my arms to try to climb higher. I can feel my entire body pull against the satellite wanting to just give up and take the easy way out.
Pure willpower will be the only thing to save us now. The constant struggle goes on for what seems like forever. He pulls me closer to falling off the edge and I hold him up and beg him to keep trying.
`` You can do this. You do n't have to die up here tonight'' I shout. He looks at me, his face a lot closer than it was when we started and gives me a determined nod. We are in this struggle together.
He puts his arms on the ledge next to me, able to hold his own body weight even if only momentarily. I let go of the satellite and brace myself for one final pull. We lock arms and share a look that lets both of us know we understand that this last effort will be either life or death for the both of us.
He lets go and his full weight hits me. I feel like I'm going to be pitched over the edge of the building. Every muscle in my body tenses and pulls against his weight. Slowly he lifts himself up and we are on the roof together.
We embrace and I weep openly. The sound of my sobs jolt me back to reality. I stand back from the edge of the roof. Tonight was supposed to be my last night. Tonight I was going to plummet towards the earth and be engulfed by the darkness. I sit against the satellite and my sobs grow louder. I am the one facing certain death. I am the one with the strength to pull myself up.
**This was my first time writing on this subreddit and I'd love any comments/criticism. **
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[ WP ] There 's a door in the middle of the forest . No one who has ever gone in has come back . Your job is to guard anyone from going in . One night , you hear a knock on the door .
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It was 9 pm when I headed out from base camp, the thirty minute hike to the door was something I had grown accustomed to. I was part of a company that was being payed a lot to guard this thing, contracts from some multinational force. I had spent my whole life as part of a private military company training to fight, and here I was in the middle of the Amazon watching a door. Unbelievable.
It was the third hour of my shift when I heard it. A knock. Although it was a soft knock, it pierced through the night I raised my weapon as I jumped to my feet. I stood for a moment unsure of what to do. When we were trained I jokingly asked the scientist in charge what to do if there was a knock, but he scoffed at me and never gave me an answer. I thought real hard but decided I would open the door. Gun still up I slowly turned the handle and swung the door open, jumping back a few feet. I could n't believe my eyes when a brown skinned naked man was standing there. He looked like some of the natives. I yelled at him to step out of the doorway and get on the ground, he complied, doing just as I asked.I radioed base camp and placed the naked man in handcuffs and waited for back up.
My boss and a team of two others arrived about a half hour later. The two men took the naked dude and my boss asked me what happened. When I told him he did n't look too surprised, I asked if this had happened before. He slowly stood up and pointed his gun at me. He looked me in the eye and said thank you for your service. Two shots through my chest put me on the ground, and my boss walked off into the jungle. I could feel the blood being pumped out of my body, I faded out of consciousness and slowly came back to, still bleeding on the jungle floor. I crawled to the door and pushed it open, I crawled to the other side and it slammed shut. It was n't long before I lost consciousness again.
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[ wp ] write a cosmic horror story from the point of view of the god
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β Stop it! β Jacie ordered and hit the robed man with her fists. β I said stop! Lucian, they β re not stopping! β
Indeed, each of the men positioned around the circle was maintaining the group β s slow, steady drone. The damp air in the large stone chamber grew more and more oppressive with each unknowable syllable they uttered.
Lucian Everett β s masisve broadsword cleaved down into the shoulder of another man to the sternum. He pulled the blade loose with the grating of bone against steel. β Ignore them! Try to disrupt the circle instead! β he shouted to them. β Alex, can you leech away the energy they already collected? β
β I β ll try, β Alex responded, blowing an errant strand of red hair out of her eyes. She sheathed her sword and reached for the lute hanging off her back.
β It is of no use! β the bearded man, the leader, cackled above the rhythmic thrum of the raw aetheric charge pulsing through the blood sigil. β You are too late to stop the ritual! β
Lucian silenced the man with a quick decapitation, then took a moment to survey the stone chamber. Despite what Alex had managed to draw away, something with the arcane mechanism had been triggered. Despite the loss of many of their numbers, enough of the cultists β bizarre incantation had been recited. Something unseen exploded behind the ever thinning veil that surrounded the world, the heavy air crackling with the groan of straining reality. Above the blood circle, a patch of darkness appeared. The chamber suddenly filled with the deafening roar of hurricane-force winds. Someone -- something -- laughed.
Lucian grabbed for the girls and pulled them to a safe distance. β Sorry, Lu, β Alex panted, her face pale and weary from the exhaustion. β I couldn β t... β
β It β s not your fault, Alex, β he said quickly, eyes still glued to whatever was happening at the center of the room.
Jacie β s eyes grew wide and she thrust a finger at it. β Something β s coming out! β
One shapeless, cosmic appendage had wrapped itself around the edge of the hole in reality, then another, dozens, hundreds, the grasping tendrils of a great, unknowable beast slowly pulling itself through the break between existences. A central mass appeared over the event horizon of the portal, a multitude of eyes swiveling in their sockets, beaks working hungrily. One of the cultists was snatched up and thrown without remorse into a waiting maw. The thing roared, a sound they felt in their bones without hearing. The stonework trembled around them and dust wafted from the ceiling. Cracks splintered out from the center of the room, though the eerily luminescent sigil on the ground remained intact.
β Fuck me, β Lucian breathed, hands clenching on each of their shoulders. β It β s my sister. β
****
More of this kind of thing at /r/thewriteraleph
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[ WP ] God has had it with humanity . He 's preparing a new virus that will wipe out all humanity . For some reason , you were born with immunity to it .
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`` Eh?''
`` Bye!''
His voice was sweet and full of excitement, if the farewell had been written down, there was surely a heart following it. Glee was written on his face and he would've looked like a lovable child, if it was n't for what he had just done.
It was the slightest tap, but the solid clouds that K had walked on his entire life disappeared from underneath him and he went tumbling down. `` Wait,'' he croaked out as the image of the child became smaller and smaller, swallowed up by the clouds that no longer held him. `` Why?'' he yelled despite the fact that he knew he was n't going to get an answer.
The soon disappeared all together and K was falling through the air. Yellow polluted air that was burning his lungs. *Of all the things for God to create*, K thought as he pressed his hands to his mouth, trying not to breathe in the air. Eventually, he managed to twist around and see the land stretch out below him.
It was not a nice sight.
The ground was barren and brown-gray with debris. Bombed out cities, piles of half rotted bodies, barbed wires and scrap metal, land where life refused to grow any longer. Here and there, splotches of land were covered in a cloud of dust where K could see flashes of light. *They're still fighting there*, K realized. He shook his head, this was not what he should be thinking about right now. He should be thankful that he was n't dropped from outside the atmosphere or more than just his lungs would be burning right now. No, he had other things to worry about, like air and *what the hell was he going to do?! * He's going to fall to his death!
Wait, can he fall to his death?
That was n't a section covered by the manual. He would've asked the instructor, but falling to his death was not one of the things he thought he'd encounter.
Just as he was thinking that, a loud whirring sound came from his right. K was surprised he could hear anything beyond the rush of the wind against his ears. Seeing a fighter plane approach him made him let go of his mouth and gasp -- the burning in his lungs intensified.
*Wham! *
The plane flew right into him and K groaned in pain as he laid sprawled over the window shield. `` Hi,'' K laughed nervously -- ow, bad idea, painful to breathe the air -- and wondered *how the heck* he was still alive?? He supposed he would've been able to make it down to the Earth in one piece.
The pilot inside glared back at him and started flying the plane left and right in attempts to shake K off.
`` Hey, hold up --'' gasp, `` stop! You're going --'' gasp, `` to kill --'' gasp, `` me!''
The pilot smiled at him.
K could n't hear anything the pilot said, but his gut told him that killing him was the pilot's goal. K swallowed and stopped clinging onto the plane. He rolled off and went into free fall again. Immediately, the fighter plane swiveled around and followed him down, guns out and blasting rounds at him.
*So this is it. This is God's plan. *
Well, it was fine. If he died like this, it was fine. If he did n't die, that was also fine. Any minute now, one of those bullets were sure to --
`` Gotcha!'' a young and cheery voice exclaimed as someone grabbed him under both arms. The rushing of air in his ears stopped, replaced by the sound of a helicopter. `` Okay, I got him! Lose the Smokeheart!''
`` Aye, aye, Captain!'' was a muffled response. The door to the helicopter was pulled shut as it started flying wildly. K could hear gunshots outside. The bullets were hitting the copter, but they were n't penetrating. Well, that's a relief. He'll have to make sense of the setting to this story later. Right now, he should just make sure this all fits the requirements.
`` Phew!'' his savior pulled off their helmet to reveal a fairly young girl. Now that he got a good look at her, she was dressed some type of armor. `` Wow, we were so surprised to see you up in the sky! And then you were being attacked by the Smokeheart *without* any protection! We have to bring you back for checks,'' she gave K a look of pity, `` I'm sorry, but you're probably as good as gone. But we'll bring you back! Try to save what we can of you!''
`` Um,'' K blinked, `` Sorry, what?''
The girl frowned, `` Did you breathe in too much of the Dryair that you forgot?''
`` Cap,'' the pilot in the cockpit warned.
`` Oh, right, sorry, where are my manners?'' the girl was cheerful again, holding a hand out to shake, `` I am Captain Estella, but you can just call me Stel.''
`` You look rather young to be a captain,'' K blurted out.
Stel pouted, `` We really *do* need to get you checked out. So, what should I call you?''
`` Oh, um, K. I go by K,'' K furrowed his eyebrows. She did n't answer his question. He took her hand and she shook it enthusiastically.
`` Okay, K. Nice to meet you.''
`` We're almost there, Cap,'' the pilot called.
`` Gotcha! Well, maybe seeing some of the last few settlements will kick start your memory.''
The helicopter came to a stop and both Stel and the pilot put on their matching helmets. Stel found a spare for K before they pulled the door open.
The sight that greeted K was... as he saw, but not what he expected. He was hoping for, at best, a lush green oasis in the middle of the wreckage and, at worst, a small crumbling dystopian society that was living out the virus. Well, it was closer to the latter, but there was no society here. Just the bones of some buildings with people huddled underneath. They had masks on, but K could tell they were happy. It looked as though they were telling stories.
`` Hi, hi! I'm back everyone!'' Stel skipped over to the nearest barely standing building, `` And I brought back the survivor we spotted in the skies. We need to get him checked for being a Smokeheart, though.''
`` Again, I do n't --'' K was beginning to get agitated.
`` You still do n't remember?'' Stel was talking quickly. It was getting on K's nerves, `` Okay, okay! I'll remind you.'' She cleared her throat, `` Ten years ago, the world got sick. All of a sudden, everyone just started hating each other. More than they normally did, anyways. We called them the Smokehearts. Because they're clouded with hatred. It was well contained at first, but then we learned that it's spreadable. And soon the world leaders started falling prey! So now we've got this!'' Stel raised her arms in a sigh, `` The remains of a seventy percent destroyed world. The world is at war with each other and no one wants to stop.''
``... What about you?'' K asked, `` Why are n't you fighting?''
`` Because we are n't infected, duh! I work very hard every day to keep my mind positive and happy to not become a Smokeheart. Now,'' she walked up to him grabbed him by the shoulders, `` We need to get you tested. C'mon, C'mon.''
`` Okay, okay, I can walk on my own!'' K grumbled.
Something was n't right. His memory was fading. What had he been doing up in the sky anyways? Why was he falling? Who exactly was he? What were his goals? He could n't remember and as he was pushed away by Stel, he felt fear rise up from the bottom of his stomach.
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[ WP ] You are someone 's imaginary friend
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`` Having a best friend is cool right? You do everything together; you have secret little conversations that no-one else gets to hear or understand; and nobody - I mean nobody - gets you quite like they do.
Of course, having only one friend is a little bit more difficult. Yeah, you're best friends, and all of the above is still true, but there's a bitter sweet tinge to it. You do everything together because no one else will do anything with you; you have secret little conversations because no-one wants to hear your opinion; and nobody gets you, because nobody cares about you.
Being an imaginary friend is even worse. There is quite literally only one person in the whole world who can do anything with me. There is nobody else who can hear me, let alone understand me.
I did n't mind so much at the beginning. Perhaps I'm jaded now that I've seen the world a bit more, but being imaginary is a very lonely path. I'm used to it now, but I was terribly jealous the first time you made a real friend. God, I even hate the term! I watched you playing together with real toys and doing real things and I seethed for days.
Of course, that evening you wanted to play with me again, and I had no choice. After all, I am your imaginary friend. We played with some cardboard boxes that were really spaceships, and I did my best to stomp around grumpily as we moved the spaceships about the room, making zooming noises. I do n't think you noticed that I was in a mood.
It started happening more and more frequently after that. I started getting supplanted by real people. You had real friends, and real teachers, and real siblings, none of whom were able to talk to me, play with me, or care about me. I remained by your side, just in case you were in the mood to talk with me, but I started to lose hope. You did from time to time - we talked about boys mostly, but we also bitched about your friends, and moaned about your teachers. I did n't like the conversations we had really; they were far too negative; but you wanted to talk about those topics, so I gave you the advice that you wanted to hear. You would agree emphatically, and I would regret my words.
After a while those conversations died out too, and I was left an onlooker. I watched as your life unfolded before you. I watched as your friendships came and went, and love bloomed and died. I watched as you cried, laughed, shouted, and whispered, all with real people. I remained silent because I was given no words.
I watched silently when you met Josh. He was kind and passionate, and he was everything that you deserved. I smiled for the first time in a long time when he proposed, and you, sobbing uncontrollably, practically howled back'yes'. I was truly happy for you - finally your hidden dreams from when you were young had been realised - but it was a happiness that left a sour taste in my mouth. Why could n't you show that love to me? Have you fotten me?
Of course, my bitterness would have been tempered had I realised what it meant. No one had told me, so how would I know? How could I have known that such sweet joy would come from your happiness?
This has got very long winded, and for that I apologise. What I am trying to say is I'm sorry for being so resentful. I did n't mean to be so enveous. It's just you always had everything, whereas I only ever had what you gave me. I'm sorry I was n't a better friend.''
The woman in the white dress did n't respond. She was too busy gazing longingly into her husband's eyes.
`` She ca n't hear you anymore,'' said the man next to me, `` Just like he ca n't hear me any more.''
`` I know, but I needed to get that off my chest.''
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[ WP ] In the future , everyone has Superman-like powers . Except you .
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The train was on fire and the terrorist was being very loud.
The pjs wearing terrorist shot a telepathic bullet into the ceiling. `` If I see even a hint of an underwear and cloak, she gets it.'' His finger gently caressed the forehead of the 9 year old girl in his grasp.
*Man, get this over with already. *
The ensuing cry shattered every glass window in the train carriage. Arya could feel several something creak in his ears.
`` Oye! Shut up. Did I tell you to use your power?'' The Dark villain shot a telpathic hole through her dress. `` Try anything and I-''
*Shut up already bastard. I am late already. If this keeps up, I'll get a paycut. *
A woman noticed him moving. She grasped his hand. `` Wait,'' she whispered. `` If you try anything, he'll kill her.''
He pushed her back. `` I'll handle it.''
`` What's your thing then? Nullification, super-speed?'' she asked his back.
Even after all these years, that question still stung ever so slightly.
*Bloody heroes. Always trying to kill themselves. The god complex they have, I swear. *
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
The terrorist noticed Arya. `` What are you dewingsss.'' ( His Australian accent was hard to understand under the socks like mask on his head. )
Arya kept walking.
`` If you do n't stop, she she's dead.'' He twisted the girl's arm to make her cry.
`` Try it.''
The villian was nonplussed. Usually heroes were more delicate with hostage negotiations. For this guy to be so nonchalant, he must have a great power.
`` I mean it. I'll blow her brains out.''
Arya kept walking.
What did he have. Nullification-no he still felt his power; Time reversal maybe, or maybe, Vodoo magic!
Arya was close now.
*If I shoot him or the girl what will happen, will I die, or maybe the attack will be reversed. *
The man's eyes. There was n't a hint of fear, neither for the girl or himself.
*What kind of monster is he? *
A hand touched his chest.
`` Damn you!'' The telepathic attack shot through Arya's shoulder, blowing a hole in the metal wall behind.
`` Here comes the counter-attack.'' The villian closed his eyes.A second passed.Nothing. The whole compartment forgot to breath.
He opened his eyes.The man's shoulder was bleeding. `` Wait. What is your powe-''
The punched knocked out his wisdom teeth. The cool floor pressed against his wet cheek.
`` You idiot! I am getting late for my shift.'' Arya shouted.
A foot pressed over his eyes. Could n't shoot what he could n't see.
`` And you idiots.'' Arya pointed at the rest. `` Ever heard of polite behavior? Standing around making a ruckus, asking me what my power is, without any thought. Go die!''
The young man exited the compartment with a huff. The applause and cheering followed him outside.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
The teacher turned off the screen. He turned towards the newest generation of Hero trainees.
`` And that kids, is the origin story of history's most unique and succesfull heros, **Averagelly**''
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[ WP ] Fed up with oppression , women have finally taken over the power of the world . Men , left in small numbers , are forced to live and hide in the woods , and are being 'hunted ' by women for sperm .
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Fire flickered enormous shadows as we roasted our catch - and, as per tradition, the horns and skin of the stag were draped over the shoulders of our elder as we plucked its bones bare. Nothing other than grunts and roasted meat passed between us as we ate - this had been a hard won meal. We'd set traps and tracked the creature for miles within our territory before losing it as it passed out of the forest and between the armed sentry posts. No man who had crossed that border in chase of his quarry was seen again in less than a few months - and when he returned he was drained and cold - much less than well fed. It was only by the action of one of the gate guards - a brown haired, slender figured womyn - that we had eaten. She shot the stag dead with no more than two bullets and left it at the edge of the forest.
Tenaciously, we had taken it and dragged it back to our camp. An hour ago we had skinned it, remarking at the strange shape of the acorn-like bullets as we cast them into the woods, and now we sat around the fire as it flitted into a restless sleep. The shadows grew tall around us as the fire died - casting terrifying figures of bare-breasted womyn which grew about us and merged into darkness, save for the stars above.
Morning. I heard the warning hoots of the tribe on the western border first - shortly followed by those of the south and east. There was a delay before the west squirmed lazily into action. By that time we had already packed our camp and run three quarts. We were trapped then - stuck at the western border of the forest and separated from the other tribes. Behind us, long-haired hunters whipped through the undergrowth with long epees, and ahead of us ivory-white guard towers stood stark upon the prairie which surrounded the forest like a moat. We were trapped.
It was then that the trees splintered and cracked, and a transparent plastic dome on tank tracks came rolling out from behind the brush, heaving up and over a fallen tree whilst wailing like a cyclone. A pipe at the front - only the diameter of a thumb, swept back and forth through the grass like an elephant's trunk - detritus and debris being sucked into it like an industrial vacuum. I thought I would never see it with my own eyes, let alone experience the horrors first hand. This was the milking machine.
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[ WP ] A cult worships you , thinking you 're an extremely powerful alien god in human form . They 're right , but they 're annoying you on your vacation .
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PART ONE of TWO ( Second part is only a bit )
When time travel was first discovered, it was instantly put to military use. It soon became clear however, that going back in time with the technology we had created did n't allow us to change the past, or see the future. Instead it created a new fork of history. Time travel became the primary research tool of historians, and nearly everything we know about the Earth before the written word became a concise part of Wikipedia.
Time travel is a shaky cocktail of mathematics, physics, and computer science. We can only go back in time on the earth, and we can approximate a geographical location and time period, everything else relies of the fuzziness of Quantum Indeterminacy.
Soon after the technology became popular with historians, it became a booming vacation market. Why spend millions of dollars to travel to Mars or Europa when you can spend a fraction of that to see the Earth in its prime? Before pollution, global warming, and overpopulation deteriorated it to a shell of its former self.
Joe Christoph was skeptical at first, but he had saved up enough money as a UPS pilot to finally take the plunge. Joe was n't religious, but he thought that the most interesting thing would be to see Jesus die on the cross. Kind of like going to see the Passion of the Christ, but with better fidelity and superb acting.
The Temporal Vacations office was a small, unassuming brick building next to a CVS on the main road. He went inside, not knowing what to expect.
He filled out a virtual clipboard and provided all his medical information. No, he was n't genetically modified to be more fertile in cold weather. No, he did n't have retinal implants to allow him to undress women just by staring at them. No, he had never had a full body sex change and was in fact, born as a man.
He wrote the location, and time of event on the form. *The crucifixion of Jesus - Some point between AD and BC. *
After waiting for a half hour he was guided to white clinical room and asked to change into a simple white sheet, although the attractive nurse called it a robe. He was laid down on a table, and needles were inserted into both wrists and ankles. He was told to clench his teeth, and he spent a moment brushing his long hair from his eyes, hoping that his beard would stop itching.
He was honestly very surprised about how little information or warning there was for the experience. He knew that the technology did n't *actually* let him go back in time, but rather just experience time in a different quantum superposition of our universe.
`` Your actions will have no effect in our current timeline. You will remain in your vacation for three days, unless you die, in which case you will wake up here. As a single day passes there, one hour will pass here. You will feel everything you would in reality, including pleasure and pain. You will have abnormally strong reflexes, strength, and agility, and there have been reports of other abilities. We are unable to send you back with any type of possessions, but you will assume the identity of someone living during that time period. The software picks randomly based on quantum fluctuations. The software will automatically translate any known languages for you into English, and your speech into the target native language. Enjoy your trip.''
As the nurse prepared to hit the small silver button, he thought to himself how it should be a big red button, for show.
The world collapsed around him. It seemed like his body and mind were folding up like origami, then being fried like an egg, and then placed on a plate with a hearty helping of buttered rye toast and bacon.
He felt a falling sensation. Then he felt himself hit the floor, ribcage first, on a rock. He thought maybe he could n't see because he was still coming to his senses, but he felt his side, where the pain was coming from, and felt the warm, sticky sensation of blood.
He slowly stood up and righted himself on what felt like a stony wall, waiting for his vision to come back. It did n't. He moved along the wall slowly until he felt something like a crack, and began to push. The part of the wall moved. The more he pushed, the more he could see, both in front of him and behind him. He was pushing a boulder. An enormously large boulder. The pure ridiculousness of the whole thing started to make him laugh, and then the boulder started to roll back into him, so he stopped laughing and pushed harder. He moved it out of the way enough that it would rest on the side of the opening he had discovered.
He had been in a cave. In the cave, there was not much except a stone slab, with a body on it.
*Fuck, * he thought to himself.
Joe did n't actually know the story of Christianity, so he had no idea who's body it was, but a body was never good.
He creeped to the body and poked it. It did n't move. It was under some kind of sheet, not entirely unlike the sheet, neΓ©, *robe, * he was wearing. He slowly pulled back the parts of the sheet until he could see the face. What he saw terrified him. It was him. Well not exactly him but close. It was like if he had gone tanning, sucked it up and joined a gym, and forgotten what a shower was. Same long hair, same bearded face.
He briskly walked back to the entrance of the cave and peered outside. There was nobody there. He threw the body over his should and walked outside. He was in a forest. He had never seen a forest before, except for on Wikipedia, and it was beautiful. The air was wonderful, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and he had to figure out what to do with this body hanging over his shoulder.
He climbed up a slight embankment and saw a small lake. Beautiful, clear water, with a few ducks nesting. He spun the body around, feet first and hurled it into the lake. The body splashed, and then quickly sank to the bottom. Having that much strength felt good. Joe smiled.
He looked at his hands and feet, and the wound in his side. All of them had a dribble of dried blood. At least he healed quickly.
He decided to sit against a tree and enjoy the air. He closed his eyes and let the sun shine against his face. The human-built biodome he lived in on the Earth in present time had an artificial sun and wind. This was *nice. *
He could hear something in the distance. Shouting. It seemed close, and coming from over another embankment. Joe hid behind a rock. Whatever was coming smelled *awful. * Did nobody every bathe here?
It took much longer for the voices to approach then he had initially thought. He figured it out, his amazing hearing had picked them up when they were much farther than he thought. Now that they were close the smell was almost too strong. He peaked over the rock and saw five men shitting onto the forest floor. That was why it smelled so bad all of the sudden.
Without the only thought on his mind being the overpowering smell, he stood up and approached them.
`` Hey, can you find a better place to do this please, it smells absolutely *awful. *''
The men looked at him with bewildered eyes.
`` My Lord, you have awoken from the dead!'' shouted the one that looked like the leader.
Joe thought for a second. He had woken up in the tomb of Jesus, and had just tossed Jesus into a pond.
*FUCK*
He did n't know what to say. Should he agree and play it by ear? Deny it? Kill himself and get his money back? He decided that he would agree for now.
`` I have,'' he responded, trying to act casual.
The men began to run to him. He was hugged, kissed, and he was also pretty sure one of them groped him, but he could n't figure out who. They examined his wounds.
`` It is true! Our Lord lives!''
They began to rejoice.
*Goddamn it, I missed the crucifixion. That's the like the best part. This is like starting a movie in that scene after the credits where they show a little part of the trailer. *
`` Come, we must tell everyone! The world must know! The prophecy is fulfilled!''
`` Yeah, OK, sure.''
They began to walk down the road, all staring at him expectantly, and he walked with them, unsure of what to say. What would Jesus say?
`` Um, amen,'' He muttered.
`` Amen.'' They responded.
As they moved away from the tomb, the smell of shit began to dissipate and the fresh air filled Joe's lungs once more. He smiled again. He might actually enjoy this. Like a deleted scene.
After 20 minutes of walking or so they arrived at the edge of a town. The guard gawked at him.
`` Our Lord has risen! The prophecy is true! Open the gate that we may share the news!'' one of the men he was with shouted.
The guard opened the gate hastily and let them through. Everyone in the town had the same reaction. He felt his stomach rumble.
`` I am hungry, where can we get some food?'' He paused and smiled slyly to himself. `` And wine?''
`` Of course my Lord! But do you not remember where the market is?''
`` No, I think dying affected me a little more than I thought,'' he responded cynically. Thankfully they did n't pick up on his sarcasm.
`` Of course. Follow me!'' The man began to navigate the narrow streets of the town, until they arrived in a small bazaar.
All of the shopkeepers looked at him like he was Kim Kardashian walking through a mall in suburban Kansas.
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[ Wp ] It is the year 2032 . Due to increasing obesity , fast food joints have been banned entirely . Tell us the tale of bootlegging and speakeasies in this troubled time of prohibition .
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I stood tall, sucking my gut in as far as it would go. A drop of blood or sweat dripped down my back.
`` Cutting it close this time'' my doctor said as he unclasped the saw-toothed tape measure from my midriff. His knobby knuckles were swollen, and his thin skin hung loosely on his sallow frame.
`` I thought I'd try my hand at Bulking'' I lied, `` But I twisted my ankle and it threw off my routine.''
He dropped the tape measure delicately into the alcohol solution and looked at me. There was a long pause before he spoke.
`` I'm going to perscribe 30 minutes of cardio, 105 bpm, 3x per week.''
I swallowed and stuttered before replying.
`` How long?''
`` Til next time.''
He hesitated, fingers trembling, and then clicked a few buttons on his computer. My heart monitor flicked green and then went dark. I reached up to touch the cool metal, and scratched at the scar tissue around the implant.
`` I'll see you next spring.'' he said, looking into my eyes meaningfully. I could only nod, and looked down at my worn plastic sneakers.
I stepped out into the cool autumn day, pausing under the shadow of the giant metal letters above the door to the hospital.
Discipline til Death.
I swallowed deeply, jumped up and down three times, and began to run. By the time I was out of the parking lot the LED on my monitor shone green through my thin white tee. Beep beep. I had reached 105, and my countdown started.
I weaved through the neighborhoods, counting my foggy breaths to distract myself. I breathed faster, erratically, and counted louder, trying to shock my body to keep my heart rate high, trying to convince myself that I was running randomly, not wanting to admit my destination to myself. I was flushed with shame, not endorphins.
Beep Beep. One half hour down. If I did n't do the entire 90 minutes right now, I may never finish. The temptation of eternal rest is hard to resist, and defying a doctors perscription is the easiest suicide. My thoughts were often on the vial of poison sewn into my chest with the heart monitor, ready to release without warning if I did n't meet my goals.
I could see the green house at the end of the block, the two oak trees were beautiful in the sun. I ran in place for a moment before sprinting up the driveway. I did n't ring the bell. The smell of incense wafted over me, barely covering the sticky smell of lard and flesh as I opened the door and knocked loudly on the frame.
I was doing jumping jacks when I heard the footsteps coming down the stairs. The shirtless man had a thick rope-like scar across his belly and around his back, with acne above and hair below. He coughed and asked, `` burger ok?''
I nodded or shrugged, but it felt more like a spasm as I jumped in front of him like a dancing child. My money was already on the counter. He knelt down with a grunt and packed an opaque bag. I grabbed it and turned, running out the door in silence.
Beep beep.
One hour down.
( Feedback would be wonderful )
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[ WP ] You capture a Genie , and have infinite wishes . However , you have to be unrealistically specific with every wish , because the genie uses your wishes to try to kill you .
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β I must warn you. Your wishes come with certainβ¦ unforeseen consequences. β
Staring at the ceiling, Doris pursed her lips in thought. β What sort of consequences? β
β Look, β the genie continued, β you seem like a pleasant being, and it looks like you haven β t got many years left, so I won β t beat around the bush. Whatever you wish, I will twist the circumstances, misunderstand any subtext, and avoid allowing you to keep any intended gain from said wish as much as I can manage without violating the literal statement of your wish. This will likely cause you harm, and possibly death. β
Doris turned her head and looked him in the eyes with a blank stare. β Well, I β m sure my wish won β t give you too much trouble, then. I wish I were dead β
β Beg your pardon? β the genie asked, raising his eyebrows.
β Do I look comfortable to you? β Doris asked. β Do you see these needles and tubes under my skin? These thin-as-shit sheets-*only the best my Medicare can afford*? I β ve asked my doctor, these nurses, and even my son to just put an end to this already. Doctors won β t, cause they said it ain β t legal. And my son won β t, because he β s got too goddamn much love for his old lady. Suppose I can β t really blame him for that. In a way, I suppose he β s brought me my sweet salvation in that flower vase you so rudely burst open. Never expected my salvation would be a 7 foot blue mutant. Any case, you might as well get it over with. β She closed her eyes.
β That β sβ¦ not really how this works. My purpose is to serve as the prick from the rose of human greed. To remind people that everything comes at a cost. I can β t just kill you in cold blood. Surely there must be something else you want? I could cure your ailment? Leave you with untold wealth to pass to your children? Give you a last shot in the limelight? Is there something you β ve always aspired to do, but never gotten the chance? β
β I never spoiled my kids and I β m sure not going to start now. Look, my husband passed 4 years back, and all I want to do now is be with him. And give him a piece of my mind for leaving me all alone like this. Can you kill me or not? β
β I β m afraid one of the few rules of wishes is that I can β t grant a direct wish to kill someone. Yourself included. Is there anything else you can think you wish for? β
β I wish you β d get the hell out of my hospital room β
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[ WP ] Help me fill my world ...
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( *Nice prompt! +1 points. * )
It is the fourth year since we have been in the mountains. Below us, corruption runs free. Twisted mutations of animals kill anything they see, including each other. Balls of corrupt magical power roam the land, with an insatiable appetite for destruction. The ruins of Anthept loom somewhere down below.
And thus, we have moved to the mountains to escape the corruption. The gods were kind to us; they created the Fog. The Fog protects us. It is what separates us from them, the Corrupted Ones.
Some men up here, I fear, have become corrupted in a different way. They harvest the Fog, using it to fuel their ships to travel from mountain to mountain. I have watched the Fog grow thinner and thinner, and I fear the day when a patch of it shall be siphoned away completely.
The men who harvest the Fog either understand not the impacts of their selfish actions, or do not care. They are corrupted not by dark magic, but by selfish desires. We can not sacrifice our protection so that those with fat pockets may ride in zeppelins.
Today, I believe that these corrupt men may finally have done irrevocable damage. The Fog remaining can not be redistributed. Once it is gone, it is gone forever. It is a precious resource, a holy gift given unto us by the gods, but few grasp its importance.
As I exited my house today to greet the morning sun, I noticed that a patch of the fog had disappeared. I had known it was only a matter of time, but it came much sooner than I had expected. Now, I would have to resort to my last option.
I have prayed that the gods keep me safe on my journey. For if I wish to combat the corruption that will surely try to rise through that chink in our armor, the hole we have created in the Fog, then I must do what no man has done since the day Anthept was destroyed.
I shall enlist a party of valiant warriors, strong, courageous, and bold, like myself. And together, we shall go down the mountain, below the Fog, into the land of the Corrupted Ones, and find the sources of the corruption.
And then, we shall destroy it.
( *Someone else can pick it up from here... take the story where it needs to go! )
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[ WP ] Sex
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Billy leaned back into his down pillows, closed his eyes and thought of her. He had thought of her every night, around this time, for the last four years. Right when his body was beginning to relax and his eyes were getting heavy. Not quite asleep yet, but close. Closer after his nightly rituals were finished. He would think of her. Sara. He'd think of her hair, a blonde that was probably just as soft as it was shiny though he had never touched it. He would think of her legs running down from her many skirts, and then he thinks of her arms and her elbows and even her ankles. Nothing was off limits. Billy would imagine Sara at school, or outside of school better yet, and here she always talked to him.
`` Oh hi Billy, how was your day?'' and `` Wow, that shirt looks mighty nice on you.'' Of course it did. It was his favorite blue shirt.
Sara would say these things and Billy's hands would wander into his boxer briefs and he'd lean even further back into the pillow. Sara. Sara. Sara. Soon enough he would need to get up and clean up, but that was okay. He liked that part too, it distracted him from remembering that Sara never really did ask how his day was. She had never once noticed what color shirt he was wearing. That did n't matter. He would come back, crawl under the covers and quickly fall asleep rolled to one side of the bed as if Sara might be occupying the other.
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[ WP ] Multiple personalities are the norm . You are the first person to be diagnosed with SPD : Single Personality Disorder . Scientists are baffled : `` How can you possibly cope with being so alone ? ''
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`` Mr John, can you tell me a story?'' I spoke softly. `` Well ok. But just one only.'' He replied in a quivering manner.
The story began `` There was once a little girl...''. `` She was an unique child. A very unique child. Gifted with something different from other people.'' Mr John's tone slowly transitioned from a gentle voice to something much more depressing. `` However, the gift made her strange. She was largely ostracised, they thought that she was strange.'' His voice become harsher and harsher sounding more and more like the hero The Joker aired on television. `` Even when the girl had friends... they always left her out in conversations, isolating her from their world whenever they talk. It is as though she was n't there to them.'' Mr John returned back to the depressing tone `` But the girl is not sad nor lonely she was just contented with hearing her friends. What a sad sad girl...'' This time the gentle soothing voice returned `` Her parents thought that she was different and sent her to a special school and at there she made many many friends. The end.''
I ask Mr John puzzled `` Does the girl have a name?'' Mr John replied politely `` Yes, her name was Jane. Good night Jane'' I tucked myself into bed as Mr John left the room filled with white walls.
This is my first time writing and I'm pretty bad at english so apologies for any glaring mistakes!
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[ WP ] The rapture happens . You do n't get taken .
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I watched as the last of the souls effervesced majestically through the ruddy bottomed clouds which seemed to glow golden from above. `` It figures'' I said aloud for no particular reason. As I turned to walk back across the charred cityscape I spat, and scuffed over the gravel with the instep of my boot. I knew I was n't going for the ride, knew it was n't real. And what did I get for my beliefs eh? Rotten goose egg. Big old zilcho. But, who says that's necessarily a bad thing? I had the planet more of less to my self until the cataclysm, that meant there were no rules. No witnesses. No Sin to repent. `` What a freeing thought'' I said to myself, surprised at how calm I had become. I decided to doff my kit, and light one up as I strode boldly home in heathen nudity. Nothing frees you from worry quite like having nothing at all to worry about.
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[ IP ] Describe these troops and their mission in the dark future
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A sea of stragglers milled past as Raji waved them on impatiently. β Sam, these folks need to get a move on. β Sam glanced over at Raji and nodded. β This is Alpha Unit to HQ, over. β Sam scanned the crowd. β Go ahead Alpha Unit. β β HQ, we have hundreds of stragglers still coming out of the city. Somebody really screwed up, over. β Sam knew they weren β t going to be able to hold this area. β Come on folks, let β s keep it moving! β implored Raji. β Alpha Unit, you β re going to have to hold tight for a while until we can send some shuttles your way, over. β Damn. β Roger that HQ, Alpha- β shapes ripped out of the ground. Mindless shuffling turned into shear panic. Where the shapes went, blood and cries followed. β Take cover! Take cover! β yelled Sam. β Raji! fall back behind the structure. β Sam β s weapon chattered as he opened fire.
Everything was happening so damn fast! Two months of basic left him woefully unprepared for whatever these things were. His chest hurt and all he could hear was a roar in his ears. Raji opened fire. Someone was screaming. Raji β s heavy machine gun belched fire and lead. Nothing could stand in it β s way. β Die you bastaaaaards! β Raji screamed as he shoved a new magazine in and resumed his assault.
Sam was slowly falling back, answering screams from the monsters with measured, clean screams from his combat rifle. This wasn β t looking good. Raji started screaming. Sam ran over to Raji and jerked his rifle up, yelling β What the hell are you doing soldier? Get ahold of yourself! β Raji kneed Sam in the groin and slammed his shoulder into the smaller man. Sam staggered, caught off guard. Raji pulled his knife and slammed it into Sam β s guts, lifting the man off his feet. Raji stabbed him a second time and shoved him hard.
Sam hit the ground, clutching his stomach and grunting in pain. Sam watched as Raji grabbed his combat rifle and slung it over his shoulder before rounding the corner of the building. He pulled his side arm and pushed hard against his wounds with the other.
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[ WP ] `` It surprised me how much creamer Death put in his coffee . ''
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( First timer here, be gentle! Sorry it's a little long. )
I'm still not certain exactly how it happened, but to be honest, I'm okay with that. All I know is that one minute I was driving home from work, then the next minute I was sitting in what looked like a comfy waiting room. The kind you see in dentist's offices. In fact, it looked EXACTLY like my dentist's waiting room. Same slightly worn chairs, same ragged ficus in the corner. As I glanced at a magazine lying open on the table, I could see the page where I'd torn out an article the month before while waiting for my biannual cleaning.
A moment later, a door opened and a man bustled in with a clipboard. He looked kind, but harried. It was the look of someone who had far too much to do and far too little time to do it in, but that would n't stop him from being as pleasant as possible in the few moments allotted.
At first glance he looked older, but as I studied him I could see that he was really only middle-aged like me. The wrinkles were premature, as if constant strain had taken a toll on him. These definitely were n't laugh lines.
`` Victor Campbell,'' he said. It was a statement, not a question. His voice was professional and a little clipped.
`` Y-yes?'' I stammered.
`` Right on schedule - but of course, they always are. Would you like a cup of coffee?''
I gaped at him and the unreality of the situation increased. `` Would I *what? *''
`` Would you like a cup of coffee? I can brew some fresh. My receptionist brought in some Seattle's Best today and it's quite good.'' He looked at me anticipating a response, and as I felt my bottom lip tremble involuntarily his gaze softened the slightest bit. `` If you need to cry, that's perfectly fine. Many do. You'll find tissues next to you on the table. Why do n't I make us a cup and we can go over the forms?''
I still had no idea what forms he was talking about, but I worked on pulling myself together as he brewed the coffee. He talked while he worked.
`` I'm sure that this must come as quite a shock to you. Humans always know intellectually that it will happen to them someday, but it never really sinks in until it's so close that it stares you in the face.''
`` Until what is close?''
`` Death,'' he stated, as if it should be obvious. It confirmed the suspicion that had been forming in my brain for the last few moments. I sat back in the chair as if I'd received a blow. Slowly, the knowledge began to soak in and I felt the panic recede. I was dead. This was the afterlife. The afterlife looked like Dr. Turner's waiting room.
As if he could read my thoughts, Death explained. `` We try to make this first part feel a little familiar. It helps with the transition. We choose a place from your experiences to model it after.''
`` So are you... I mean, you do n't look like the Grim Reaper or anything.''
He smiled wryly. `` That old figment of human imagination. I never understood that. Is death really so frightening an idea? It's as natural as birth. I promise you, I have n't come with a scythe ready to cut your soul from your body.''
`` Well, what *are* you here for?''
`` I'm simply here to fill out the forms. I'm a glorified administrative assistant, really.'' He served the coffee in two mugs. He took the chipped one for himself and, without asking, put one sugar in mine. Just how I normally took it. It surprised me how much cream Death put in his coffee. Even though I knew better now, I could n't shake the idea that he should be... darker, somehow. More sinister. A drinker of black coffee, certainly.
`` Now, let's get down to it,'' he said, returning his attention to his clipboard. `` All the basic information is filled out when you're born and the Records department adds bits to it over your lifetime. Let's see - Victor Campbell. Age 46. Lapsed Methodist. Divorced, no children.''
I began to picture what my funeral would be like - if Meredith would come, who would clean out my apartment. Shit. I hoped my brother Steve would wipe my browser history before my parents arrived. Awkward. A nervous, one-syllable laugh forced its way out of my throat. Death glanced up at me for a second, then continued reading.
`` So I think we have the first section completed. Now I'll just ask you a few more questions and you'll be on your way.'' He did n't say where.
For the next five minutes, Death quizzed me on moments spanning my entire life. I answered his questions with my cheeks on fire. Every small bit of nastiness I'd ever done in secret, every mean and uncharitable thought. But also every act of kindness. Every selfless motive and good intention. At last, he told me that there was only one question left.
`` Do you feel that you were a good person in life?'' His tone was casual, but his gaze was sharp.
My mind reeled for a second, reliving all the events that Death had just drudged up. I could have been better. Every missed opportunity jumped out at me. My throat tight, I finally spoke.
`` I have tried.''
Death nodded and clicked his pen shut. Standing, he leaned across and held out his hand. Dumbfounded, I shook it.
`` Well, Mr. Campbell, the formalities are all completed and you may go.''
`` Go?''
`` Yes. That door, just there.'' He motioned.
`` Where-'' I closed my eyes for a second. `` Where does it lead?''
Death's eyebrows went up a fraction. `` Why, to heaven of course. Or at least, that's how humans tend to refer to it.''
Relief washed over me. `` Not to hell, then.''
The tiniest smile touched the corners of Death's lips. `` No, Mr. Campbell. There is no hell. There never has been.''
I walked across the room on legs that shook only the tiniest bit, and opened the door.
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[ WP ] Your main character is the bodyguard to the world 's oldest living person .
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`` So he's like, *super* rich?''
`` Yeah,'' I said. `` I mean, you ca n't really tell, but you can *tell*.''
`` And you do n't have to do shit?''
`` I mostly just sit around. Sometimes on the porch. Sometimes inside. Wherever he says.''
I hated my new job. For ~~months~~ almost a couple years I saw guys die needlessly while this old fuck lived longer than literally everyone else on the planet. Did n't do a damn thing to deserve to live so long. Just lucky, I guess. Well, lucky and rich. Fuck hard work. Luck and money's what you need.
Dan returned to the table with another round of beers. The guys got were obviously getting a kick out of hearing about it. Most of them found way more interesting jobs when we all got back. Dan and Hayes, they were both cops. Randle got some sort of teaching job. Couple guys were prison guards. They had shit to do. Excitement. I sat in several different chairs while an almost-dying man barely speaks to me.
`` Ever catch anyone breaking in, or chase anyone down or anything?''
`` Nope.''
The security firm that hired me made this sound way better. Rubbing shoulders with Kobe or some Hollywood actor. Or actress! Not some guy in an empty mansion he never leaves. He does n't even need me here. Crazy fuckin' kids got him paranoid. They're worse than him. I hear them arguing with the suit guys in the office on the first floor. I ca n't hear exactly what they're saying, but they're all upset about something.
`` I think I wan na quit,'' I said.
`` Aw, c'mon. You make more than I do, and some punk threw a brick at me last week!''
He was right. But damn I'd love to have some kid try to fuck with me. Maybe I could get switched assignments. I did n't quite have the seniority, but it was worth a shot. Of course I'd either have to have a good reason to transfer or this one would have to end.
Medical books? At the library maybe? No, that seems too complicated. A fall? Old people fall.
I leaned back and smiled while Hayes told everyone the story about the kid with the brick.
One day I'll have a story as interesting.
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[ WP ] In the middle of the State of the Union the President pauses and goes off script starting with the phrase , `` ... people should know the truth ''
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`` and by people I mean YOU, listener. That's it, you watching me, with curious eyes whose heart is now in their stomach''.
It was at this point the camera panned out revealing the entire audience staring at the camera. Their posture all the same, young and old, like that of a terracotta army.
`` Since the day you were born the world has come to revolve around you. Every move was planned to affect you in some way or another''.
`` Every fall, every laugh, every cry you've ever made. It was all planned out, to shape you for the coming phase''.
`` I and everyone else are pure simulation, created by your once fellow species to save itself in case of extinction''.
`` After a nuclear war where 90 percent of the population went extinct, the other 9.9999 percent died of starvation and natural causes''.
A secret service agent with gloves as white as Everest carefully placed a red button within Obama's hand.
`` By pressing this button, your world will turn black, in an instant. When you awake, you will have no body, just thoughts''.
`` For years you have been induced into a cryo-based coma. Your body hundreds of miles into the Earth's crust, safe, where you will live as long as the Sun''.
You notice the room around you is at this point a vacuum. Not the slightest noise could be made. Trying to adjust any part of your body was futile and listening was the only option.
`` Therefore, you will live as a conscious, free to roam the Earth, as you watch over evolution for the next millennia and beyond. Soon, our machines and computers, installed with the conscious of the greatest thinkers to roam the planet, will fertilize the first egg, thanks to your flesh''.
`` The United States is proud to have you to save humanity, although we are sorry we can not give you a time when you will be accompanied by a fellow human''.
`` Good luck, and Godspeed''.
Obama then swiftly presses the button, your world becoming darker than ever. When you awake, you see an open field packed with snow. The sun shining through the nuclear winter. Now, it is your job to wait, however long that may be.
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[ WP ] Tell me about the person you 're in love with
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When I met her, neither of us had any idea what were doing or why. We did n't expect love. We did n't even expect friendship. We were just two people that got along. Then we started seriously spending time together.
But you know that point that you get so close to someone and become so able to talk to them that you kind of ca n't advance the relationship further? That never came. Our relationship just kept moving forward.
We got comfortable around each other. She became more confident in speaking to me. It even had her therapist confused. See, most people ignored her because of her partial mutism, something caused by a very traumatic childhood. But she spoke, and continues to speak to me just fine.
I guess that's kind of the effect we have on one another. I suffered from anxiety, and while medicine helped, she does a lot more. In fact, I do n't take any medicine anymore.
I guess, to keep myself from writing a book about her, the best way I could describe her is that she is the half of me I'd been looking for until I met her. She's what keeps me motivated, happy, and from procrastinating my way through everything.
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[ WP ] The earth is flat . Life and civilization is surrounded by an endless desert . Far in the distance , thousands of kilometers away , an obelisk can be seen with the naked eye . Since the dawn of man we have tried to reach it . You are the last survivor of your party when you reach it .
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Once again I awoke with the thoughts of loneliness and fear as a startling realization. The dreams I had of a world so rich, so green and so bearable were ultimately too good to be true. While death becoming heavy on my mind, I soon realized this obelisk I have desperately reached, could be the only answer to my survival. Using what little energy I had left, I willfully dug myself out of earth β s debris that had accumulated over-night. The sun was still a scorching star that never seemed to go away, yet the wind was resentful.
The day I had awoken too was clear, so clear that I could see the moon looking down on me as the daylight made it more vivid. The naked, blue skies were nothing but a constant reminder of what I wanted the most; water. Water so cold it dwells in the darkest depths of the sea I had been dreaming of ever since my adolescent years. With my canteen being as empty as the exiled world I've roamed, this clear and blue day was nothing but a mere practical joke being played on my minds thirsty contemplation.
As I started to walk toward this foreign, temple-like structure. I begun to feel nauseous and my temples started to pulsate as hard and as rapid as the rhythmic beating of my frightened heart. Hoping to persevere thru my pain I attempted to continue on. But as I got closer towards it, my sickening symptoms begun to get even worse, almost as if the life was literally being sucked out of me. While looking ahead I could see that this obelisk was covered in some sort of substance.
It rippled its blue-color over its entire structure. Vein-like routes of what appeared to be flowing electricity was also throughout its area. The smell of fresh water and the sound of its flowing rhythm was alluring to me. Due to this sudden discovery of mine, I was overwhelmed with a flow of energy accompanied by my adrenaline. Disregarding the painful effect this ancient and mysterious structure had on me, before I knew it I was within arm β s reach.
Feeling hesitant I reached out to determine if it really was what I had hoped for. As my fingertips got closer I could literally feel cooler air originating from its surface. As well as timid shocks of electricity tingling throughout my extremity. Once I made contact, the substance began to ripple faster and the electricity within it started to become brighter and more pronounced, as if something was awakening. Soon following the suspenseful occurrence a voice from the sky began to speak to me:
β What strong will you have my son β it stated.
β Who are you? β I shouted with a shaking and confused voice.
β I am your father, the one who made you in the same image as myself, my child β
β You have completed your mission and your reward should be everlasting life! β the voice replied.
β What is this everlasting life you speak of, what is the purpose of this obelisk I see before me? β
β That is the dwelling place of many strong willed children like you my son,
They all flow together in everlasting life awaiting their last and final mission. β The voice answered.
β What β s this final mission you speak of? β I asked.
β You already know Devon, you have known ever since you were a young kid, I have given you images of your mission since you were old enough to understand. β
Confused, I started to examine the perimeter of the obelisk, covering around the whole base of it was what appeared to be blood.
β What β s this blood I see? β I asked.
β That β s the blood of me, your father. β he answered.
β You have been on a treacherous journey with hopes of finding life,
Along the way many others have fallen into eternal rest. But you have survived my son. β
β Are you thirsty? β the voice asked.
β Yes, but how do you know about the others, did you know they were going to die? Who are you!? β I asked in frustration.
β I told you, you β re my son in which I created in my own image β He replied.
β Allow my well of life to take your thirst away and allow yourself to be as fresh as the land you have dreamt of for so long β He stated.
So with the refreshing thought of being revived and since my options were limited. I once again began to soak my entire extremity into this β Well of life β. Before I knew it everything that was me now consisted of two things, water and electricity.
β Devon, my son. You are now free. Soon there will be others and when that day comes they too shall have everlasting life and join you in my final plan. Which is to spread life throughout this empty land and allow life to rule and be plentiful.
The End.
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[ WP ] A college school that sorts students 's majors based on their superpower given by a certain mythological god [ Greek , Egyptian , Norse }
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Agatha Billings boomed the results of the latest students major in a gleeful voice. It was a very happy affair after all, these brilliant young minds were finally getting to put some real world use to the abnormalities that had quite literally haunted their lives for almost two decades now.
`` Ah, born under the sign of the Greek messenger god, Hermes. Most impressive Daniel, I think **Aeuronatuics**'' She hooped, in her best showman's voice, pausing momentarily to let the crowd bask in the glow of Daniel's pride, `` will be a great fit for you, young man.''
As Agatha welcomed the next bright, young mind up to the stage a light chill slithered over her skin, making her feel at once cold, and dirty.
Her throat seemed to tighten, and the light in her eyes flickered, her face sagged slightly and she was barely able to whisper the next student's pedigree.
`` Born of Osiris... I think we should discuss your options in my office after the ceremony young man.''
-- -- -
Just a quickie.
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[ WP ] A man working at suicide hotline got called from his wife
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`` GODDAMNIT!''
The cubicle next to him shakes and five seconds later his coworker comes out, hands folded on top of his head as he breathes heavily. Ben watches as Dave paces back and forth before daring to ask, `` What's wrong?''
Dave closes his eyes. Exhales like a dragon blowing steam.
`` This person keeps hanging up after I greet them. It's been happening all week.''
Ben smiles sympathetically. He opens his mouth to offer advice when the Dave's phone rings again.
`` Fuck, not again.''
`` Here, I'll take it,'' Ben says, as he gets up and heads to Dave's cubicle. A strange feeling of deja vu hits him. His hand shakes over the receiver. The phone rings again. He picks up.
`` Hello, you've reached the Mindful Help hotline. You can share anything with us, we're here to listen.''
The pause holds much longer than anticipated. He wonders if the person is going to hang up on him when a soft, feminine voice is heard.
`` Do you think you grow numb after a while listening to so many people share their stories?''
Ben moves to sit in his co worker's chair. `` Surprisingly no. Sometimes all people really need to someone to listen to them. I rarely give advice.''
`` What if they wanted advice?''
`` I'd still preface it as giving my opinion.''
`` Can I get your opinion?''
`` Of course.''
It's silent on the other end. He can hear her breathing. The wind blowing. Then the sound of leaves crackling.
`` I feel like my husband does n't love me anymore. And I know it's not a hundred percent true, but I ca n't help but feel like it is. Everyday the pit in my heart gets heavier and heavier. There's no real reason for me to doubt him or feel this way. He comes home every night. He kisses me the moment he sees me. He loves touching me, and yet I do n't feel like it's enough.''
As she continues, Ben thinks of his wife. How he misses her. How he wants to hold her when he gets back home.
`` I want him to come home earlier. To kiss me longer. To hold me harder until I suffocate cause every time he's not around I feel like I'm going to collapse. It's unhealthy, is n't it?''
The desperation in her voice clings to the air like a heavy fog, misting over every word she says.
`` Have you spoken to him about this?''
`` I'm afraid to.''
`` Why? He's your husband.''
`` I do n't know why he married me.''
`` Does he tell you he loves you?''
The breathing on the other end steadies to a familiar beat.
His palms start to sweat as he feels a ghost breath on his neck. One that he could feel against his neck every night, and one that he looked forward to at the end of each day. The inhale and exhale was almost the same.
`` Not verbally. I tell myself I can feel it in his touches, the way he looks at me. He always wants me to tell him that I love him. I tell myself that counts for something.''
His voice stutters without knowing why.
`` A-and do you love him?''
Each word is weighted with a haunting that's followed her for a long time. `` So much. Too much. My confidence is completely shattered because I ca n't believe how lucky I am. He's so handsome. Out of my league. Women love his calm personality and drift towards him even when I'm right there.'' Her voice holds barely contained tears as she continues, `` I keep telling myself it's illogical, but I ca n't stop thinking about it. It makes me want to cut myself again. It makes me feel inadequate like I did before I met him. My stepfather was right. I'm pathetic and weak.''
The story, her voice, her breath, it all comes together and hits him as she rambles on.
`` I do n't think I can take it anymore. I've come up with two options: Leave him or... or...'' She breaks, and screams in a choked voice, `` I do n't want to leave him, but this kind of dependency is what I thought I was avoiding when I met him. This is n't what I wanted out of my life.''
His throat is dry, but he gets the words out. `` Have you spoken to him?''
`` No. I ca n't. He works... does something similar to what you do. He takes it very seriously. And I do n't want him to pity me, to lump me in with hysterics.''
When she sobs, he knows for sure it's her on the other end. He's heard that cry. Once. When he first met her. When her stepfather dragged her by the hair in front of everyone in the mall and called her a whore. His chests clenches. Protectiveness grips his heart towards suffocation.
He remembers how he stepped in to stop her stepfather. How he took her away, promised never to see her cry like that again and subsequently fell in love with the vulnerable girl... six years ago.
`` Sarah?''
A deep breath from both ends.
`` Yeah... Thanks for listening, Ben. I love you.''
He panics.
`` See you when I get home?''
The answer comes as strangled, `` Maybe.''
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[ WP ] `` You see , I create monsters . ''
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The beakers were bubbling away as Henry entered the lab. Odd shadows were floating, suspended in churning water as he uneasily walked to the desk in the very back. The Master Creator was hunched over his microscope, toiling away.
β Sir? β Henry asked cautiously. The Master Creator looked up. β Please sir, the citizens want to know exactly what you β re working on. β
The creator removed his glasses, and wiped them on his pristine lab coat. β There was once a great creature... one that ruled the lands, that ended many lives, created pain for its own gain... I intend to bring it back. To study how it works, why it makes the choices it does. Is it instinct or...? β
β Why would you bring back such a thing? β
The Master Creator paused, looking up at the florescent lit ceiling. β You see, I create monsters. β
Henry β s heart was racing, fearing bringing back such news to the citizens. β What... what was it called, sir? β He questioned, his mouth running dry.
β Human. β
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[ WP ] Every person has a bound trinket on their person at all times . This item usually compliments or fits with their soul mates item often entailing a theme of the relationship to be had . You have no idea how your item could ever find a pair ... But one day it happens .
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We all get them.
Signals, they're called. Simple little things, trinkets really. But in our world, they are the puzzle pieces meant to lead us to our `` special someone''. They're a huge deal around here: signal classifieds are sold to the wealthy so that they may find their life partners earlier than the rest. Our government actually requires us to carry them on our persons at all times. They claim it is `` To accelerate the process of finding love and continuing the traditions of Signalling''.
Pretty lame, if ya ask me.
Celebrity signalings are big events -- internationally covered, exclusive -- and they supposedly give hope that the average Joe can find someone to complete their Signal.
I definitely do n't buy that.
Most people have normal Signals. My brother, Ken, got a piece of flint for his 16th birthday. Five years later, on a planetary exchange program in Europa, he met a young European girl in an Applied Astronymics class who happened to carry with her a piece of alloyed steel. Not that it was at all funny at the time, but when the two `` bumped into each other'' on that fateful morning, Ken's flint ignited a spark with Amelia's steel that almost torched the whole building. Touching, in a slightly arsonic point of view.
So when on my 16th birthday I received my package from the Signal Delivery Service ( SDS ), you could imagine my disappointment when I opened the box and found myself staring at a piece of plain, white paper.
It's been 10 years since that day, and while my friends have graduated from their technical schooling and had their Signals paired, I'm the one guy who remains single.
I've kind of come to the conclusion that my soulmate must have died. Perhaps the SDS has n't gotten around to sending me a new `` soulmate package''. That's the only explanation I could think of that would explain an Unpaired 26-year-old.
So I decided I would head down to the SDS regional headquarters to complain until I either got a new Signal, or until they threw me in jail -- whichever came first. I reached the building on a foggy autumn day, and so I had my paper folded in an envelope and stuck into my coat pocket -- I could at least make my failed Signal presentable, right?
I had reached the front of the building lobby, head buried in my Comm. Unit when I smacked into someone. I fell to the pavement, and rubbing my head got up to apologize for my idiocy. I was shocked when the face that greeted me was Gabi's -- a girl I had thought I'd never see again.
While we had been good friends since our youth, Gabi and her family had moved to Mars almost 15 years ago during the Big Dig of Olympus Mons. Her father had been an operations director on Oceania before then, and had run several successful underwater excavations, which for some stupid reason had warranted his transfer to a planet with barely any water, and a transfer of my one good friend during that time. When Gabi left, we had promised to keep in regular communication. We did until we went off to our respective Technical Schools and life got in the way as usual. I was surprised that nobody I knew off-planet had bothered to inform me that Gabi had managed to make her way back home.
`` Hey Gabi! Oh my god, I'm so sorry for headbutting you -- This is crazy! You're Back!'' I said, blushing a bit realizing how dumb I had been.
Gabi smiled, her blue eyes bright and incongruous in the grey and heavy fog. She walked up and hugged me, her ears cold against my cheek, and told me she had missed me these last few years.
`` I missed you too Gabi. It's definitely been a different Oceania since you left. But obviously a headbutting is not the best reunion, huh?'' I joked.
`` I've had better.'' She joked, picking up my envelope that had dropped on the floor.
I laughed and grabbed my defunct Signal back from her.
`` Well hey, I have some business to take care of right now at the SDS, but do you want to grab a bite to eat after? Oceania's Searfish is still a fan-favorite!'' I offered.
`` Of course! I'll tell you what -- I'll join your in your SDS exploits,'' She giggled to herself, `` It'll be a refreshing sight to see a good ol' fashioned Bryan complaint in action.''
`` Okay, but I hope you brought ear plugs.'' I replied as I ushered her through the automatic doors.
The SDS is a harrowing place, unexpected for an agency that literally deals with love, however cryptic it may choose its administration. The place feels like it was doused with sterilizer every four hours and painted the kind of white that burns your eyes if you look at it for too long. The waiting room was dead, surprisingly, and so we were able to go straight up to the counter. The teller looked equally bored, stamping papers and calling back every so often to his unseen constituents about handling shipment manifests for off-planet delivery or whatever. Gabi and I went up to the cubicle, where I took out my envelope and removed the paper from it.
`` Welcome to the Signal Delivery Service, Consumer relations wing. My name is Paul, what can I do for you?'' the teller asked, barely budging from a monotonic sentence.
`` Yes hi, My name's Bryan Adkins, and I'm here to file a complaint for inadequate Signal.'' I said, knowing that'd shock the guy a bit.
Sure enough, his eyes widened perceptibly.
`` Um, sir. I'm afraid we do n't process that kind of request. You see, all deliveries are final. The only exceptions are when the partner's Signal has been lost or the partner themselves is no longer living.'' Paul recited.
`` Yes, I understand. I'd like to find out who my partner is. You see, My Signal is this piece of paper,''
I slid the paper towards him,
`` And in terms of suitable implements that compliment mine, there could be thousands: Pens, pencils, colored markers -- the list goes on and on sir. Unless the SDS is recommending me to try out polygamy, I'd say this was a misstep in Signal choice.'' I said, looking back to Gabi for a laugh.
Instead she stood there, her eyes transfixed on the paper.
Paul sat for a moment, then figured out what to do.
`` Okay sir, Let me just have you fill out this form here,'' as he slid some long document back across the desk, `` and I'll refer you to the SDS Choice wing so that they can tackle your issue.''
I nodded, grabbed the document off of the table and took it over to the small counter in front of the teller booths to sign my name and information. As I reached the counter I realized I had n't grabbed any writing utensil for myself to actually sign the paper with. I turned and called to Paul.
`` Hey Paul, can I borrow a pen really qui-''
I did n't get to finish my sentence. Gabi had grabbed my hand and placed a pen into it. For a second I was caught off guard and turned to her. She looked at me with her old smile,
`` Always got ta be prepared, right?'' She asked, her eyes glued to mine.
I laughed at her usual over-preparation, then went to sign the paper. Before I could sign, Gabi stopped me.
`` Hey, that pen is a little rusty. Got ta get the ink stared by writing on something. Maybe get the pen's ball rolling on your'failed signal', huh?'' she asked.
I laughed again, and did as she asked. I watched as the pen drew a long line on the crisp white paper, the ink an almost beautiful jet black. I removed it from my old signal and began to write out the forms, but stopped when I heard Gabi laughing behind me.
I turned around. There were tears in her eyes and she was smiling ear to ear, and immediately I knew something very good or very bad had just occurred.
`` What's so funny?'' I asked, not knowing whether to hug her or pinch her for her exceptional acting.
She wiped her tears and sniffled, then laughed again. Paul was watching awkwardly from his booth. as she regained her composure I handed back her pen.
`` Where did you get this pen?'' I asked, my heart beating a thousand times a minute.
`` In the mail. For my sixteenth birthday. And that pen has n't worked on a scrap of paper in my life until just now. On your signal.'' She said.
The realization came to me all at once, and I hugged her.
`` You have no idea how much I had hoped you'd have a piece of paper.'' She whispered through sniffles.
`` I have no idea how glad I am that I kept it.'' I said back to her.
And so we stood there, laughing and crying into each others arms, in the middle of a SDS branch office. And that's how I met my soulmate.
I can assure you, the SDS has a sick sense of humor when it comes to those damn Signals.
And we all get them.
-End
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[ CW ] You 've been travelling for most of your life , but you can not remember why you began .
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I wake up on a lime green couch, fabric lines pressed into my cheek. A couchsurfing veteran, all of my nights have run together. I try to remember the host's name, but I lose my train of thought.
My mind is fuzzy and I'm finding it difficult to think straight. It feels familiar, the who what and where resting out of reach. The heavy drinking habit isnt helping keep track of things.
I stumble down the hall in desperate hope of finding a bathroom. I try the second door on the left, surprised to see that I'm right. It's my first time at this house, yet everything seems so familiar.
A scream escapes when a stranger stares back at me from the mirror. Middle aged, wrinkled, thinning hair, yet I recognized those blue eyes. My trembling finger traces a long scar creasing the old man's scalp.
I pick up an orange pill bottle sitting next to an empty glass. I rub my eyes, but the label remains a jumble of letters. I try again to remember where I am, but I come up blank. It feels like a blur of cities, furniture, and cheap alcohol.
I touch the scar again, a memory wrestling its way in. I remember the faint smell of antiseptic cleaning supplies. I ca n't recall words, but I can almost hear a doctor's soft tone.
The old man's eyes, my eyes, look back with both confusion and pity. My whole body is shaking and I suppress the urge to vomit. I gasp in panicked breaths as the room begins to spin around me.
...
I wake with my face pressed to another stranger's cold bathroom tile. The mix of too much wine and countless cities makes it tough to think. I try to remember the host's name, but I lose my train of thought.
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[ WP ] It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died , rather we should thank God that such men lived . β George S. Patton
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If the power of emotion could be quantified as a number, my loss feels infinite. In reflection my pain is insignificant when contemplating the magnitude of emotion he must have felt in the seconds before his sacrifice. To walk a path few have trodden and offer yourself so nakedly to shape history accompanied by the weight of all you know, love and cherish on your shoulders.
As my mourning continues and I ponder the personal cost of his selfless gift to others and I β m struck by awe. An overwhelming incomprehension that has consumed my loss. One must cultivate a substantial offering to produce great sacrifice.
Over his sacrifice I am in loss.
For his sacrifice I am in Thanks.
For what was sacrificed I am in love.
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[ WP ] You are in a nearly empty room . The only other thing in the room besides you is a button . What does it do ?
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The entire construction consists merely of a wooden cube extending precisely four inches in all dimensions, topped with a scarlet button. Or at least, that is you initially believe.
If, you were to give in to her slutty demands to be pushed, perhaps you would see a little more of darling Delilah. Pressed at last, she gives an audible click of long-denied pleasure. Perhaps you would doubt for a moment. Yet nothing else happens.
Be patient. She loves to make you wait. She'll secretly exult in your agitation. Finally, she'll begin.
What a peformance! Delilah is an actress. She understands how to command your attention. She understands that all shows start small.
A thunk, a whirr. A small hole, merely an inch in diameter opens in her side. You almost lose your grip on her, as many lessers have, when a red marble is fired out of the new cavity. It soars through the air, before hitting the wall and falling to the floor, motionless and dead.
Is that the climax? Is the show over, as it has barely begun? You should know Delilah a little better than that, good stranger. Watch how she silently giggles at your confusion.
All at once, the stilled spherical performer is joined by countless others. The walls become alive, openings appear like polka dots. Streams of yellow marbles fall, seemingly without end into the room. Please, would you cease evading them? The effect is really rather beautiful, if you stop to look at it.
Relax. If Delilah wanted to harm you, she would have done it already.
The rolling carpet swells around your feet, never touching you as it sweeps past to their intended destination. Behind you, a tin bucket suspended at eye level. Each and every sphere enters a bucket by a different method. Some simply fall straight in. Some bounce, once, twice before coming to a rest within the metal walls. One ricochets violently past your nose, and you cringe again.
The bucket is filled, and almost reaches the floor. You bring your hands together to applaud, but stop short when the container is pulled up, quickly ascending on its heavenly path. In its place, a much larger `` marble'' appears. I bet you can scarcely breathe, as the titanium wrecking ball whistles past.
Silence must follow a crescendo. While you choke back the dust swept up from the collision, Delilah bides her time. While your eyes stream, maybe irritated by the air thick with the particles of your home, or overwhelmed by the sheer excellence of her performance, Dee prepares the next act.
With a showstopper like that, you wonder how she could top it. She answers, with childlike glee.
Flight.
A, no, THE red marble glides past, smirking while atop a paper steed. Nestled comfortably between the wings, our star artiste travels in first class accommodation aboard this particular plane.
You can watch as five folds carry the production outside into the dawn. Much as it pains me to do so, I shall stay here. My vision is no longer accustomed to the light and I shall have to make do with the show plainly visible in my memory.
I can see as vividly you see the aerial dance. If I had the strength, I'd yell as you do when the plane traces intricate patterns in the sky. I'd almost scream, as you do, when Red tumbles, only to be caught once again by its paper compatriot. I'd gasp, as the vile, heckling, wind buffets and grasps at the heroic duo. And like you, I'd weep as the waltz ends, the pair circling back to the house, and nose dive into that ignoble tunnel home, the chimney. Soot covered smiles cover their faceless faces, as the couple land on the floor, happily entwined in each other.
Come on, come on. Move back now. Give them some room. They've certainly earned it. Oh, you stepped on something? A switch, you say? What could that do, you ask? See for yourself. See the long, piston powered limb slam the air in before you, before ever so gently trending downwards. My eyes close. What's the sense in watching, when I'm too tired to watch? I know this already, it's etched into my mind eternally.
I hear the push of a button, the creaking limb retract. Delilah is released with a sensual shudder. I do n't have to see to know that she's begging to be used once more, and to know that you will use her. Not just once more.
Encore, stranger. Encore.
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[ WP ] You just bought s luxury car for a bargain . The catch ? It 's cursed .
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I do n't know what I can say about my life now... I have a sister that would give her life for me when yesterday I was an only child, I also have an awesome body... even if it's a woman's... which will take some getting used to, and my car is awesome still. I'm currently hunting a wendigo, at least that's what all signs point to, and I'm listening to `` here I go again'' at a loud volume while driving my awesome new... well classic car while my new sister is at a hotel doing research.
This all began when I got my license, I was a little older than most people ( 23 ) when I got it cause I did n't really need it. I felt like getting one though so I studied and got one, then the car was the next thing I needed to get. I looked everywhere but nothing was for me, it was either too expensive or too shitty to even drive. That's when I found it, an older woman was selling it and it was the perfect condition and for my price range. The car was a 1967 chevy impala, my dream car, and for obvious reasons.
When I bought it the woman said `` this car will give you exactly what you want in life... but sometimes we when we get what we want it does n't turn out so good'' I did n't know what she meant but I bought it anyway and drove it home. When I parked my car in my parking spot by my apartment I felt sleepy for some reason and passed out in the car. And that's where I woke up here like this... I guess I should continue.
When I woke up the sun was shining in my eye and I sat up in the back seat slowly and stretched, I was n't registering any weird feelings since I was still groggy from waking up but when I think back it was obvious; the movement on my chest, the hair I could feel touching the back of my neck, the signs were definitely there. I looked around and saw I was n't in front of my apartment anymore and said `` what the hell...'' I was gon na say something else but my voice threw me off. `` My voice does n't sound...'' I stopped mid sentence knowing that was n't my voice escaping my mouth. Then I got a shock when I looked in the mirror, I was hunched over the seat looking in the mirror and my reflection was definitely a hot woman's.
I looked down at myself and everything I saw in the mirror was there, sitting back made my chest move with felt strange, then poking it even stranger. I pulled my shorts forward and was definitely missing... parts, I was n't gon na do anything, not till way later when I find out what the hell is going on.
I stepped out of the car and when I did a girl walked behind me, she looked good but I did n't feel anything towards her, it was n't me since I definitely felt something when I saw my new reflection, it was her... she gave off a `` cousin'' or relative vibe. She asked me if I slept in the car again and I nodded, she just said `` you should probably stop getting that drunk during cases, but I found something so we should talk about it over breakfast, there's a good diner nearby'' and got in the car.
I said alright and got in the drivers side and started driving the car to the diner and this girl looked worried as she said `` why do you think mom is n't answering her calls?'' And then it hit me... all the signs, is this supernatural? I replied `` she's probably just busy Sam'' hoping I was right. I was as she replied `` yeah I know, I just wish she'd answer'' so I replied with `` me too'' and we got to the diner.
We ate breakfast and looked for a while and no wendigo so far and here I am now, writing my story... I do n't know where I'll go from here, the old woman did say this might become a bad thing... I guess I'll live it up while I can. I know I'm in the events from the earlier seasons of some genderswapped supernatural, though I did find out Bobby is still a guy, maybe I'll ask chuck when I meet him... or her, I do n't really know at this point.
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[ WP ] 80-year Old Dies , and Realizes Their Life Was Actually Just a Drug Trip
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*I think I'll take a nap now. * as I feel my son and daughter clutching my hands. The blanket is heavy over my chest, the light I can see through my eyelids is fading away, I can hear my wondearful Melissa calling to me, welcoming me. My whole family is here with me in this moment, it is perfect. I let out my final breath and seep away into nothing.
But no, this is n't the calm I was looking for. It is dark, it feels as if I am drowning, I strain my arms out in front of me, searching for a respite from this choking sputtering existence. I snap my eyes back open and am met by shapes and sounds that bring me back to a time long before, before I had gotten sober, met Melissa, started the restaurant.
`` Woah, tyler, chill man, it's cool'' said one of the shapes. I feel something grab my hand, I pull away instinctively.
*a bit of a rude welcome to the afterlife, is n't it? * I wonder, as my eyes slowly turn back into focus and the shapes take on a more human form. *I was n't expecting a marching band or anything but a word of kindness or two would n't be so bad. *
`` Well? How was it?'' One of the shapes inquired, this time a female voice.
*how was what? What on earth, ( if this is still earth I add as an afterthought ) are they talking about? * `` are you referring to my life?''
This was the only possible solution I could think of as I slowly took in my surroundings. I suppose it would make sense- that was life, how would you rate it on a scale of 1-10?
`` Wow, man, you went deep, huh?'' Inquired the male voice once again.
`` I'm sorry?'' Thinking this may have poked a hole in my hastily formed theory.
`` The DMT, you were in the bathroom for like 2 hours man. We had to come in and get you.'' The shape now had a face to him. A young face but he spoke to me like a friend. *I do n't have any young friends*. He was unkempt and a bit wild eyed, tight lips and a face that gave away the fact that he was in desperate need of a hearty sandwich despite the baggy clothes draped over his frame.
*DMT, I filled out that form, I'm sure* `` what are you on about?''
I inquire.
`` Oh that's just great, now he ca n't even tell us what it was like to trip on that shit, he's fried himself, Jake!'' Chimed in the female voice again. She is wearing waitress attire, that face of hers quite pretty but definitely saying she has worked a few to many doubles recently, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and her green eyes studying me intensely.
*what the fuck* I bring my hands up to my face to rub my eyes and make sure I am seeing all of this right. Then I see my hands. They are not wrinkled, the scar Ive had since I was 25 from cutting my finger on the meat slicer is gone. I turn them about in front of my face, not sure what to make of this. *DMT, Jake* `` oh no...''
`` Oh know? You alright man?'' She asks
`` Marissa'' pointing at her, `` Jake'' pointing at him. `` Hang on a moment here''
I run my hands over the top of my head. To my surprise I find hair. *OK that's one plus so far* `` bathroom?'' I inquire
Jake points to the left of the room and I find myself a bit wobbly untangling myself from Indian style, not recalling being able to sit that way for years. I stumbled into the bathroom and catch sight of myself in the small mirror above the sink. *well, shall we do it all over again? *
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[ WP ] You 're a mute . You 've communicated through paintings your whole life . You 're on your death bed , and your pencil breaks .
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I feel the familiar stinging behind my eyes, the swelling in my nose, and the lump in my throat. My whole life has been one long battle, but as I do n't have much of it left, I decidedly do n't try to stop the tears from spilling down my cheeks. I hold my broken pencil out to the nurse.
`` I'm sorry, I do n't have another one... What about a pen?''
I shake my head no as much as the machine will let me. My husband was about to arrive any minute, and I had to get this done, now. Tearing still streaming down my face, I allow myself to wallow just for one second. Really, right now? Dear flying spaghetti monster, you have the worst timing ever. I nearly snap my pencil in half, but before I do, I tap my pad with the eraser end to get her attention and then nod my head yes. I have to at least try.
`` You want my pen. Are you sure?'' She asks. I nod more vigorously, and a machine starts to beep. My heart starts to race and a sweat breaks out over my forehead. `` It's ok, it's ok!'' She assures me and she places the pen in my hand, and turns the machine off. `` You just moved a little too much, you're alright.'' She coos at me and places a hand on my shoulder.
I scribble quickly back and fourth. The pen works just fine thankfully, but I've pretty much depended on pencils and acrylics my whole life, so I hope I get my point across just fine.
I put what effort I have left into creating the strokes ever so carefully. Add a little detail, and the 3-D effect. Shadow? Just a tad, so he can tell what it is. Should I leave it open? I think I will, to make sure he know what's in it.
But then the edges of my vision start to blur. No... NO. He's not here yet! My breathing is shallow, coming in ragged gasps. I try to scrawl a dial but my heart seems to be slowing down. I am willing it to beat, BEAT DAMMIT. My hand becomes limp and I feel the pen slip from my grasp. Before the world goes completely dark I see his face swimming in the doorway, and hear him cry my name, but it's odd... Distorted, distant, almost muffled. The pad of paper slips from my left hand.
I forgot to add the combination!
My last thought echos through my mind as the world goes dark. I hear beeps, and faint cries of codes, when the world goes quiet as well.
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[ WP ] Animals can be genetically combined with any other animal with no problems , allowing dog-cat pets , true teacup elephants , and many other things . But you do n't always get what you expect . Describe a pet owner who got a pet he was not ready for , but is determined to keep it and love it .
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`` So, what are you looking for in a pet?'' the girl at the sales counter asked. `` We can provide whatever you desire! Bearrots are very popular lately, though I think that's mostly the name. I've always found the armadillocelot charming as well.''
`` Actually, I really wanted something simple,'' I told her. `` I thought about it, and what I really want is a leopard gecko.''
`` A leopard gecko?'' she asked. `` Sure! We can absolutely do that. Let me just get your info, and we can have one ready to pick up in two weeks.''
I was so excited. I'd always wanted a lizard, and leopard geckos were supposed to be friendly and easy to take care of. I picked up a 20-gallon aquarium on the way home, and got it all set up with a little heating pad and a cave. Two weeks dragged on forever, but finally the day came. I got to the pet place in a flurry of excitement, ready to get my little pet. The girl gave me a sunny smile when I arrived. `` Right this way, sir! We've got her in a box right now, I'm afraid - we tried to give her a bit more space, but she kept climbing up on the ceiling.''
`` Sure,'' I answered, following her to the back room. She went over to a box... a really *big* box. It was open... and empty.
`` Oh, shoot,'' she said mildly, `` Got out again.''
Together, we looked up. There she was. On the ceiling. She apparently had sticky feet. Leopard geckos did not have sticky feet. They had little claws. They also did not have fur. `` Um.'' This was... not what I'd been picturing. `` How much... how much does she weigh?''
`` Oh, probably about twenty pounds right now; she'll top out at fifty or sixty full grown.''
`` Um.'' This was *definitely* not what I'd been picturing. This was *not* what I'd wanted.
But... here she was. And I guess it was n't her fault. Maybe I could have been more clear. Or double checked. Or something. It was n't her fault. And... she still needed a home. And heck if she was n't kinda cute. `` Huh.'' I took a deep breath, and revised my plans for a quiet little pet. Maybe it was n't what I'd wanted, but you know what? It was going to be okay. In fact, it was going to be awesome.
I sure was n't gon na ask about an elephant beetle to keep her company, though.
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[ WP ] A man travels back in time in order to convince God to not create the universe .
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Looking into the giant divine mass instantly drove me completely insane, and it was wonderful. The knowledge of this state of mind was a privilege to behold. However it did not last long. Just like the nature of the god particle, the singularity that was the building block of this universe, nothing the stayed the same. My insanity was morphing into something new.
And it was golden. It was pure enlightenment.
There were now two gods, both facing each other floating in the spectral nether.
We then started to merge into one.
I could n't resist. It was just too perfect. I struggled against the merge. There was too much I still did n't know.
Fear started to race through me. I was god and I still did n't understand.
my attention snapped onto god, `` why???'' I asked him desperately before the two of us were gone. Before we merged together and became something completely different.
God replied with as much fear as me.
`` I do n't know''
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[ WP ] The Imperius Curse is real and all the global presidents/leaders of each country are all puppets of the US government . Except one .
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OBAMA: This is wonderful Hillary. We have successfully placed a puppet government in every single country. We are in control of the world. No one can ever stop us.
HILLARY: Well Barack, you are forgetting about one country. For some reason, we can not get a puppet government in Switzerland.
OBAMA: Well yes, but... Switzerland never does anything, they're no threat to us. They'd much rather surrender than fight back.
HILLARY: Well that is true. Hmmm, you might be on to something here. So why did you call me in today?
OBAMA: Hillary. Since the beginning of Colonization, America's sole purpose has been Manifest Destiny. When we started, we just wanted to expand from ocean to ocean. Once we got there though, we wanted more. One country was n't enough. Our ideals were too great, they needes to be shared with the world. Manifest Destiny gained a new meaning, some people refer to it as The New World Order. The New American Destiny calls for one nation and one nation only. America. We plan to take over the world and we are almost there. We shall soon be taking over ever country, it will be easy since we're already stationed everywhere. Look Hillary, my presidential occupany ends soon. I only have about a year left. The war will last longer than that. We can not have the American people choose a new president during the war. We need our next president to wage the war. Hillary, you are the women that everyone has been cheering for for years. Everyone wants you as the first women president. We're willing to give the people what they want, but on one condition.
HILLARY: What is it?
OBAMA: You have to be the one to start the war. You will be famous for completing America's new mission of Manifest Destiny. What do you say?
Hillary: I'll do it.
( In storms Joe Biden frantically )
BIDEN: Barack!
OBAMA: What is it Joe?
BIDEN: We're under attack!
OBAMA: By who?
BIDEN: We're not sure sir, but they're advancing quickly. They're starting coupes in every country, all of our forces are being slaughtered like cows. They have robots. Giant mecha men. We ca n't hold them back much longer
( Everyone rushes outside to see what is going on. Mecha man with Switzerland's flag are all over D.C. )
( All threw in unison ): SWITZERLAND!
OBAMA: This is preposterous! Switzerland has never fought in a war, let alone won one!
HILLARY: Barack, we're being destroyed. What do we do?
OBAMA: There's nothing left to do. It's all Over now.
( The white house is exploded into pieces and the American Tyrant is destroyed )
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[ OT ] SatChat : Do you write for fun ?
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I am a lady from the Netherlands. Internationally I stand tall yet here I am short/medium at 173cm.: ) Also addicted to overusing emoticons which I then have to remove. And I love anything with dragons in it. Especially the Temeraire series by Naomi Novik at the moment.
I have been making up stories since 2001 or so and actually started writing things down in 2013. I have finished a novelette which I am editing so it can be self published. Though it is aimed at children ( 8-12 ).
Writing multiple novels, got dozens of stories planned out. Posting all my prompt replies to https: //www.reddit.com/r/maisieklaassen/new/ ( After the 24h period of course ) plus some original work. Mostly worldbuilding.
I write for fun and to become a pro. Being an author has always been my dream. And after applying to jobs for over 14 months I decided to put in more time so I could start self publishing regularly.: ) Luckily planning in Scrivener makes writing easier. Especially with the planning method I found through [ this guy ] ( https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=UvHMILRL1ps ).
I write at 72wpm. Though I get distracted quickly which is why my wordcount for 30 minute sprints lies between 300 and 1100 words. Unless I get super distracted and only write 100. xD
For those who like the Stargate Franchise I am posting my Stargate fanfiction. ( Not a romance fanfiction, an actual story; ) ) It [ can be found here! ] ( https: //www.fanfiction.net/s/12120346/1/Stargate-The-Avalon-conundrum ) With a new chapter being released every Friday.
Of course I got to keep myself busy so I am also working on a short series to post on my personal subreddit. One romance story and one fantasy based story.: )
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[ WP ] `` Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster . And if you gaze long enough into an abyss , the abyss will gaze back into you . '' -Friedrich Nietzsche
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I wake up to the smell of shitty coffee. With the way my life has gone, at least my trusty coffee drip machine thing has n't gone to shit either, it was made in a better time, lasted me through my college days and through Law school and through the early recruitment and training process. It lasted me through endless days and countless nights on the trail of men who were barely human. Count my tiny blessings I guess.
My room is dark, it's not even light out. I ca n't remember the last time I woke up after the sun came up. I'm used to the darkness though, thrive in it. The quiet before the metaphorical storm of my work days, where I plugged my finger into a gigantic hole in the dam against evil, stuck the other in my ear, screamed and pretended I was doing something worthwhile. I was making a change, I told myself. Every, single, goddamn day. I'm saving people. Every, single, goddamn day. My windows are shut and the air around me is stale, heavy with cigarette smoke, and burdened with the smell of too many cans of beer. I tumble off my bed, my feet find the floor. I'm not a housekeeper, and my wife has long ago lost the battle for my attention. When you work 16 hour days, it's not surprising to wander home one day and find your wife in bed with the used car salesman who lived down the street. She's been gone for 4 years now, divorced me, took her half of our stuff and pissed off. Probably pissed off to the used car salesman. EIther way, the floor is dusty, and I leave footprints in the dust as I wade my way through beer cans and empty pizza boxes and cigarette butts into the bathroom.
Under the white light, and in front of the mirror, my existence confronts me. And it's a sore sorry sight to see at any point in the day, but first thing in the morning with the beginnings of a pounding hangover? My bloodshot eyes, sunken cheeks and ravaged skin just remind me of the bleakness of life, the stark white light highlights every single flaw, every frown line, every wrinkle, the sag to my cheeks. Fuck it. I pick up a toothbrush, brush my teeth then step into the shower. Standing under the cold water, my mind wakes up a little. Coffee will finish the job.
I leave wet footprints as I stumble out of the bathroom, picking up clothes from the floor, I sniff'em. Picking up a bottle of febreeze and spritzing a little into the air, I sweep my clothes under the falling vapours, getting dressed as I walk to the kitchen. I look in the sink for the cleanest looking mug and pour my coffee into it. It smells acidic, tastes like bitter almonds. But, I chug it anyway.
You would think, with a undergrad from UCLA in Psych and Political Science, followed by Law at Stanford and a Masters in Psych would have led to a better life. At the least, marginally better than this cramped, fucking one bedroom piece of shit hovel I call home. But no, you'd be wrong. All my credentials, collected painstakingly one by one led me to my dream, working for the FBI. But saving people, hunting monsters called for 16 hour work days, with the paycheque of your average government drone. When I'd signed up, my then fiancee had been pissed. Stanford Law? She'd imagined a life of 16 hour work days for me, mimosas and brunches at the country club for her. But, no. I had to chase my dream. Saving people, hunting monsters.
I gave up everything for that job. My peers at Stanford had gone on to 6 figure salaries, gave that up. My peers had vacation homes in the Hamptons, gave that up. My peers had their wives, and their secretary-mistresses, gave that up. My peers had shitty marriages, but still had a wife and kids to come home to, gave that up. Sleep, health, sanity, gave all that up.
And you know what the most fucked up thing was? My finger in that hole? Desperately trying to plug the dam? Desperately trying to keep up with the permeating evil, radiating through the country? The fucked up thing was spending years tracking down this one beast, this wolf in sheep's clothing, this demon in human skin, this walking, living, breathing monster. Giving up everything I had, everything i held dear to nail him to the wall. Fucked up thing was watching him walk out of the courthouse. On a fucking technicality. Watching him talk to the media about being persecuted and maligned by the FBI. I'd spent 3 years tracking this prick, 3 years of not seeing my wife outside of when I crawled into bed next to her in the middle of the night, 3 years of her getting with the used car salesman. And he fucking walks.
The day he walked, was the day I left the bureau. My finger in the dam was n't working anymore. And 4 months after he walked. He became my first. Got so blind drunk one night, wife left, killer free, life in the shits. I'd apparently walked up to alleyway where he dumped his trash every night. Woke up, knife in hand. Dead serial killer of 21 women lying less than a foot away. Propped up like the trash he was against the dumpster. You know what lesson I'd learned best at the Academy? Forensics. Topped the class in fact, record breaker, that sort of competence. Well. Put those lessons into good use.
Now, 4 years to a day after I'd stuck him like the pig he was, his file was still open. And knowing my peers like I do, his file is n't getting much attention. They hated him as much as I did, well, considering I'd stabbed him, maybe a little less than I did.
I finish my coffee. Grab my car keys and head out. I've found another one, my 18th so far. Grabber and molester of little boys, rapist of little girls. He strangles them and buries them in oil barrels in the wilds of Colorado, across multiple state lines. Well, today is surveillance day. Today, I follow this wretched brute. He's a cross-country trucker, makes for easy body dumping for him. But, also for me. And I've always been good at everything and anything I threw my mind into. Saving people, hunting monsters. Today, I'll trail him on his trucking route. But hey, if opportunity throws itself at me. There will be one less monster trawling the highways and byways of my country.
You fight fire with fire. You fight monsters by being one. I thrive in the dark, the darkness thrives in me. I am the Abyss.
I usually do n't swear in my writing or curse. But angst felt right here.
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[ WP ] Telephone booths turn evil
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`` Help! Brainiac is attacking the city!''
After hearing this cry for help, mild mannered, Clark Kent springs into action! Thinking quickly, he makes his way to the nearest phone booth. Where he reveals the marvelous red, yellow, and blue garb of Superman!
In that very instant the small light in the ceiling of the booth turns a toxic green color, the radioactive color of Kryptonite!
The phone then begins to ring with such intensity it falls right off of the hook.
His strength fading from him, Superman can only listen as the robotic voice of his villain emanates from the phone.
`` Finally, I've captured you, Superman, now you are powerless to my special Kryptonite Phone Booth! Ha ha ha ha!''
Is this the end of our beloved superhero? Will Superman make it out of the Kryptonite Phone Booth before Brainiac destroys Metropolis?
Find out next time!
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[ WP ] Adam and Eve never eat the forbidden fruit . A hundred generations later you meet the serpent .
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*'' Sssssay there kiddo, howsssss it going?''. *
I stopped and looked up. The birds singing in the trees quieting so that I could hear.
`` Hello?'' I asked questioningly `` Where are you?''.
The nearest branch of the nearest tree twisted up and around into the form of a snake.
*'' I'm here ssssilly, my name issss Lucy'' *.
I stared in wonderment, god had made many beautiful animals in the garden, but this was the first that could talk.
*'' Are you hungry my little sssssweet? `` * he asked kindly, *'' I know where all the best fruit issss'' *.
I nodded. I was n't hungry, but I wanted to know where the best fruit would be.
I followed his slithering form as it wound through the carpet of leaves and around tree roots in the path. That was itself unusual. Usually the trees kept the paths clear for us. I walked behind, trying to keep track of where I was. Just when I thought that I had completely lost my way, the trees and ground started to slope harshly skywards. We must be at God's Hill, though somewhere at the back in the woods no doubt.
`` Little Creature'' I spoke, `` Everyone knows that the best fruit is on God's Hill, that's where we already pick much of our harvest.''
The snake did n't turn, but spoke as it carried on its path *'' Fear not my little ssssheep, there issss more than meets the eye on God'sssss Hill. `` *
We walked for several minutes more before being presented with a view of our destination. An old metal fence. The bars long rusted through. A wooden sign long ago having been worn away by time and weather. The snake led me to a patch just barely wide enough for us to slip through where a bar had long fallen loose. Inside I could smell the fresh scents of apples all around. The crisp beautiful fruit was visible from the floor, though the orchard's tree's held them far above. The snake was correct. These were of a quality unheard of. A true prize amongst fruit.
*'' Sssssimply taste one'' * the snake urged, *'' They are sssso sssssimply sssssuccelent and... ssssafe? `` *
Safe. That was a new word on me, I knew what it meant, but I had no concept of unsafe to compare it too. I reached out a hand the snake slithered up the tree and knocked one down to the ground. It was firm and ripe, A perfect specimen. It tasted of apple, that was nothing new. It also tasted of shame, regret and sadness. I looked up, desperate for God to end my suffering, to remove the illness that was filling my soul.
I understood at that moment. I understood the trick that had been played upon me, the truth of the trees standing in the forbidden orchard and an anger, unbidden but aimed towards god.
I was full of original sin, but I was not warned. I was not helped to avoid it. Surely it was not fair to hold me accountable for my ignorance on the matter. But I knew. My connection to God was gone. Lost to me. For a bite of an apple.
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[ WP ] You meet the most beautiful person you have ever seen . Describe them and how they make you feel .
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This stupid hoody. Mom always tells me it makes me look like a homeless person. Years of stains; that hamburger at my brothers last football game, holes from the time Jackson and I jumped into the creek and I got caught on a nail sticking out of the dock. How could I have known? I was just going to grab a quick bite to eat, nobody to impress.
`` Sir? I said what would you like to order?'' Christ was she gorgeous. How is her hair so golden? It's like in some greek myth or some other poetic bullshit.
`` Oh, right... uh, sorry. Umm....'' What was I going to order? Oh god I ca n't get the triple stack burger, she'll think I'm a fatass! Maybe something smaller? I should've thought of this, shit. I got ta look like I take care of myself. Yeah, that'll get her thinking. `` Do you, uh, have anything thats healthy?.... or whatever?'' Yeah, real smooth man. A regular ladies man.
She gives me a look thats half curious, and half'why the hell are you eating at a fastfood burger joint if you want to be healthy?' `` Ummm... maybe a junior size burger?'' She giggles and flashes her eyes at me. Or did she? No way, she would n't flirt with me, I'm in some shitty hoody from 2005, and I'm about as smooth as a crocodile made of sandpaper right now. God, those eyes though. Shes like.... an incredible sexy android sent from the future to be the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, built to my exact desired specifications. Holy shit, I'm a nerd. She's way out of my league.
`` Yeah... that sounds good. I'll just get the kids size.'' Holy. Shit. I. Suck. `` Alright, and would you like the toy with that?'' She giggles again, this time she smiles, her lips sticking to each other just barely, glossy from an attractive, but subtle lipstick. Just shrug it off, be cool. `` Haha, only if it's a batman toy or something!...'' Good job, dumbass. You let the cat out of the bag. You're an uber-nerd, and now you're up shit creek. Just get your stupid happy meal or whatever and go home.
`` I'm more of a Superman girl myself!''
What just happened? Did I hear that correctly? Her smile seems genuine. Am I staring at her? How long has it been since she said that? Am I just standing here like some fucking idiot? Get your shit together man. `` Oh yeah! Supermans another one of my favorites! Why are you into that kind of stuff anyway?'' Not bad, at least you did n't completely drop the ball.
With another smile, `` hehe, I had a couple older brothers. They kinda got me into this stuff! Also, that will be four dollars and eighty nine cents!'' She giggles again as she gets back on track.
I reach in my pocket and pull out the crumpled bills I had shoved in there when I went to the gas station yesterday. I mumble `` Here you go, sorry about the mess...'' as I hand her my money colored ball of shame.
`` It's ok, I do it too. Who has time to flatten their money out after everything they buy anyway?'' She takes the cash and begins sorting it into the drawer while retrieving my change.
`` Yeah, I guess you're right.. heh'' Welp, looks like its the end of the line for me.
`` hey, uhhh... I get off in 20 minutes. Do you feel like walking home with me after this? I live just around the block.'' She smiles sheepishly.
Am I about to go into cardiac arrest? My heart is pounding in my ears, what the hell? Play it cool man, act natural. `` uhh... yeah, of course! I'll just eat in here, I guess.'' Now give her a smile you un-photogenic bastard. She smiles back, I guess it was good enough.
`` Well, great! I'll come over there once I'm done! My names Melissa, by the way!'' She holds her hand out, and I shake it.
30 minutes later, I'm almost certain I'm falling in love.
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[ WP ] You have a futuristic disability ( which is a side effect of constant teleportation due to your job as a traveling salesman ) that causes you to randomly teleport to a different location on earth . One day , it teleports you to-
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I knew as soon as the pungent smell hit me that I was done for. My Patron told me that if it happened again I was out. Out of my job, out of my living quarters, out of my social pod, and out of sector Fiveβ¦which means that I may never see Felecia again.
People don β t take kindly to a random person materializing in their off-the-grid spaces. Privacy laws have been createdβlots of themβthat protect places where every action is not recorded. And here I am with all of my internal devices set to β on β standing in the store room of anβ¦.I inhale deeply to identify the scents; cardamom, black pepper and turmericβ¦. Indian style food preparation establishment.
A cold sweat breaks out over my entire body. My heart is pounding at 150 beats per minute. A red warning signal flashes in the upper left quadrant of my vision. I know that more of those signals will be popping up if I move even one muscle. Security bots will detect my inadvertent trespass.
I guess it doesn β t even matter that I will be removed from Felicia β s living circles. I β m as good as dead any way. I have traveled to humanoid living bases all over the Milky Wayβ¦selling good clean air. I pulled a thin, green object out of my pocket. A simulated leaf that reproduces 100 % oxygen in unheard of quantitiesβit is ultra-efficient, reliable and recyclable. Like I used to beβuntil my teleportation disease began to develop. My reliability quotient has dropped to zero. My recyclability might be close to 90 % if they can eliminate my genetic flaw.
I brought the LΔf up to my nose and took a deep breath of the invigorating gas. My heart rate slowed by a few beats. Everyone knows when their time is up. Mine is now.
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[ WP ] The military had no success with making robot soldiers , until they made the computers controlling the robots think they are teenagers playing video games .
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General Olsen kicked his feet up onto the table of the situation room and puffed his cigar. Six months ago, he had been a week away from forced retirement. But now, he was a god damned hero, and the Secretary of Defense and President were coming to give their thanks and congratulations. General Olsen poured himself a whiskey, when President Johnson and Secretary Roberts walked in.
β Unbelievable General β, President Johnson said, extending his hand. β The Chinese-Russian Coalition has been entirely broken, their supply chains in shambles, war machine crippled. β
β Thank you Mr. President. I merely served my country as best I could. β
β Well General, we did have our doubts about Project Dominator β, Secretary Roberts chimed in. β I was certain that it would end up being another boondoggle in the whole β robot soldier β area. And we certainly didn β t think they β d be able to match up against the genetically enhanced super communists. β
*Asshole*. β We always had confidence. Our bots were always superior, we just needed to implement the right AI training directives β, Olsen said. He blew smoke toward Secretary Roberts. Secretary Roberts lead the push to oust Olsen and shutdown Project Dominator.
β Yes... well about those training directives, what exactly were those? β
β Those are classified Secretary, TS-SAP. Need to know only. β
β Uh huh. So the President and I did an inspection of the new units sent as our security detail. Would you care to guess how the robot CO greeted their Commander-in-Chief? β
β Now Secretary, you have to understand that- β
β What β s up old-ass faggot noob β, President Johnson said, taking the cigar out of Olsen β s hand. β After reminding it that I was its commander, it replied β Commander Johnson? More like I gave your mom my Johson last night. BOOYAH β. There β s also this. β A video screen flickered to life, playing video footage from a recent battle with the Russians. Five dominator robots advanced toward a group of three russians behind a waist-high cinderblock wall. β Fucking campers β, one robot said. β Gawd, let me have the kills, I need two more on my killstreak, then BOOM, I get to call in an airstrike β, another said. One of the russians threw a flashbang over the embankment. β Ha, fucking noob ass bear thinks flashbangs work on us. β
β More like flashbanging his mom last night, whaddup son β
The bots made quick work of the Russians, each one delivering a headshot. One robot proceeded to hover over the head of a now dead Russian and quickly duck up and down repeatedly. The video stream ended.
β Well General? β, the Secretary asked.
β Look, did I train the dominators to win? Yes. Did they completely and totally defeat the Communist Coalition? Yes. Did I maybe train them using surveillance data from Call of Duty Multiplayer? Yes. But did I instruct them to try to teabag the Secretary? No, I most certainly did not. β
β Teabag the- β, the Secretary started.
β Gentlemen, I think we β re not focusing on the big picture here. We won. That means we are entitled to write the history, per the New Geneva Convention. β
β True enough General, β President Johnson said. β We β ll just make sure to leave certain details out. β The President poured two more whiskeys, handing one to Secretary Roberts. β A toast, gentlemen, to winning the war. And winning it the American way. β
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[ WP ] Write a short description of your experience with sleep paralysis . As dark and terrifying as possible .
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A brief aside: I have had sleep issues for years, including sleep paralysis, and have a background in human physiology, so please excuse any overly science-y wordings and/or explanations.
Sleep paralysis is an interesting, yet still somewhat unexplained phenomena, that happens mainly because of the actions of two bodies in the brain; the sublateral dorsal pons, and supraolivary medulla, both of which inhibitory in nature. The things they inhibit are the input from the external sensors in our body, and the output of our brain talking to our muscles, leaving the brain in a limbo-like, almost imprisoned state. These inhibitory centers are activated during times of REM sleep, also known as dreaming, which makes sense in a way: no need spending extra energy moving towards or away from things that are fabricated within our mind. Now while everyone loves a good science lesson, I put this part in for a reason. Namely to highlight that when you are dreaming, your brain actively shuts off external sensation; anything from a loud sound, to a soft brush your brain will tend ignore intentionally to allow for dreaming.
When an episode starts, you are violently thrust from a dream to a state of full consciousness, but your brain still believes that you are dreaming. Your arms, once made of flesh and bone, are now made of stone and steel, rigid and immobile. Your breathing is shallow and weak, and no matter how hard you try, you can not seem to catch your breath. You try to breath, scream, kick off the sheets, reach for the light, but all you can do is open your eyes and wait. It β s a truly sickening sensation, feeling that you are telling your body to move and your body refusing to listen. This is about the time when the panic sets in, because you realize that you did not wake yourself, you were *woken*. This is the truly terrifying part to me. In a state where your body actively shuts off the outside world, *something* finds you when you are at your most vulnerable and rips you from your dream so you can feel it watching you with eyes that never close. I am a man of science, I believe in rationale and logic, evidence and systematic approaches, but in a state of utter numbness you still *feel* it patiently looming over you, and it is hungry, so very hungry.
Frantically scanning the room, you search through shadows and reflections to prove to yourself that this is just your imagination, that this is all just some terrible nightmare, but the more and more you look, the clearer and clearer the details around you become, as fear turns to pure, unadulterated, terror. This is about the time when you notice it, hungrily staring back at you, with soulless pits where eyes should be. It is slender and jagged, blacker than the darkest abyss, yet still clearly defined. It crawls on all fours, with legs that project out like those of grasshoppers, and it is terrifyingly slow, moving with morbid purpose. Running lengthwise along each of the legs is a mouth, opening wide to reveal rows of small, needle-like fangs, and at the end of each of the legs is a series of four talon-like fingers. Its head is disproportionately large, with eyes that take up most of the face, outlined in a ghostly red. It has a tail that moves like a trail of smoke, following behind it, reaching out as if it is searching for something. It crawls along the ceiling starting towards your feet and stopping when it is lined up directly above you, unnaturally contorting its neck so that it maintains eye contact with you. Then, silently it drops on top of you, each of its hands/talons griping your ankles or wrists. You don β t feel it grabbing you, or landing on you, but you do feel everything become frigid, as if all the warmth of your body was suddenly extinguished. And you feel the tail. You always feel the tail. It starts low and gentle, patting around and slowly moving up, pausing at your neck just long enough to let you believe you are about to wake up. Then the tail splits into wisps of smoke, creeping up along your face, forcing its way into your mouth and nose, slowly filling your airway like sand. There is a moment when you can not breathe at all, and then the distinct feeling of a cold wind being sucked out of you, as if someone attached a vacuum to your mouth. Finally you regain use of your body, and jolt upwards, frantically brushing yourself off and feeling nothing beneath your fingers. It is as if nothing was there at all, but you are left with the distinct feeling that the hands you are using to check yourself are lying to you, almost as if they are not your ownβ¦
You spend the next few minutes rationalizing what you felt as a very vivid hallucination, probably manifesting from the dream you were having. I still haven β t been able to explain why the eyes are so empty.
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[ WP ] A Hero is being executed tomorrow . He is given Pen , Paper , and Postage and told any letter he writes tonight will be delivered without interference .
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James sat on the cell floor. Not HIS cell floor, THE cell floor he reminded himself. Heroes did n't have cells they had parades and feasts. They certainly did n't have cells or manacles, wounds or tears.
The guard had left him alone to write out his letter. There was a fetid stink in the air from the adjacent cells where hopeless captives rotted in their cells. The bleak stone walls were covered with tattered rags attempting to keep out the chill and there was a single candle burning on the wall past his bars from which to gain light. James the peacemaker, hero of the continent, hope of the people shivered pitifully on the floor as close to the light as he could get. His robes had been stripped from him and he was cold.
As he held the quill James thought about the people who had given him strength. Anna his sweetheart. The villagers who had sheltered and fed him when he was nothing more than a mongrel. He remembered the little girl who put flowers in his hair as he walked down the street with his captains to the cheers of all. All but the most dangerous.
Tears slid down his face as he realized he'd never get to see them again. Never hold them or be around to protect them from those who would seek to harm the friends of a so called hero. James wept bitterly as he thought of all the things he'd wanted to say and all the people he'd never get to say them to.
He wiped his tears carefully and grasped his quill firmly in one hand holding down his only sheet of paper. He dipped his quill in the ink well and began to write. `` Dear God...''
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[ WP ] You 're an old man , as old as the universe , and God hired you to create the laws of physics . The thing is : you are getting way too bored doing it .
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`` I told you, God, the whole'intelligent beings' thing was n't a good idea.''
`` Franklin, relax. It's not like you need to write up new laws of physics everyday. I used to like seeing you, man. Used to like... you know... having you around.''
God tugged on his white robe and looked down at the floor enough for his beard to meet his chest. Franklin rubbed his hand across his face, and with a sigh reached his hand out to God.
`` Look, God, I'm sorry. I know it's a little tough up here, and I know you get lonely. I'm just saying, these humans are learning more and more and they are asking questions that I do n't know the answers too yet. It's getting harder and harder to make things seem like they make sense, God.''
With a sigh God looked at Franklin, and gave that reassuring look that Franklin knew only God to give. God spoke in a sweet, soft voice, `` Thank you for your concern, Franklin. I chose you for a reason, though, and soon that reason will come to light. You do hold the answers. And soon you will have this realization too.''
Franklin smiled up at God and gave a nod. A few steps and moments later, and Franklin was walking back across Heaven Proper and towards the suburbs that housed his apartment, he cursed himself for falling for God's charisma and proverbial speech once again. `` Gosh dammit, Franklin. Stupid God with his white beard and hypnotizing voice and almighty powers and shit. Now this is all up to you. You are alone in doing the most boring job in heaven.''
And with that sentence, Franklin smiled. And if he had a halo and was an angel like the other immortals, it would begin to glow with an idea.
He rushed into his one bedroom apartment and walked straight to his raggedy, ebony desk. the etchings of equations and rules embraced an even darker shade than the desk, until Franklin flicked on his desk lamp and picked up the razor sharp quill gifted to him by God himself. Franklin glared at the quill for a moment, the hue of the white feathers resembling that of God's robes, and pressed it to a corner of the table. One of the few spots void of etchings and numbers. He pressed the sharp tip against the wood, pushing harder and harder until a sliver of the ebony desk rose from the level wood and was blown off of the surface by Franklin's heavy breaths. As Franklin worked, he began to smile. It was rare for Franklin to smile, but his grew wider and wider until it hurt. He took a step back and gazed at his desk in awe, admiring his new creation.
`` e=m''
In the same moment that Franklin's quill left the table, every object that had mass in the observable universe evaporated into unseen energy. And all of the energy, being converted from one type to another, was instantly condensed into a single connected mass. The energy hurled the mass around, causing it to bounce off of itself and fold over it's corners over and over until it became nothing.
There was a knock on Franklin's door, and Franklin's stomach sunk. He approached and slowly reached for the doorknob, but before his hand even met the silver knob the door swung open. At the same time the door slammed against the inside wall of Franklin's apartment, God's foot punched the floor of Franklin's apartment.
`` God... I can explain.'' Franklin stammered in the presence of the almighty.
`` No, Franklin. Go to hell.'' And in that moment, a void opened beneath Franklin's desk. At that, Franklin and his desk of physics came to an end. God stepped outside, smelt the air, and sighed.
`` It's going to be a long seven days.''
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[ WP ] Every night of your childhood , your parents set a trap outside your home . Nothing was ever caught , until the morning of your 18th birthday .
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The first thing that came to my mind when I opened my eyes are pancakes.
I turned 18 at midnight, so today I'm allowed to have pancakes. Eighteen of them.
I am also entitled to have a candle on the pancake, *sweet*.
It was way too early for anyone to be up yet, the only living being in the vicinity are the bloody birds that chirp outside my window, like my room was housing a Disney princess.
Fucking birds.
I did n't even bother to change out of my pjs, no one's around to give a shit anyway.
The fridge was well-equipped with ingredients essential for making pancakes, mom even added in some strawberries and blueberries to the collection, making me aware that I am loved and cared.
So I gratefully whipped and flipped those pancakes like a boss, stacking all eighteen of them majestically on my special occasion Thomas the Train plate, and lit a candle for the occasion.
I'm so proud of myself to be a responsible adult since birth.
Eventually, I devoured the pancakes and started to do the cleaning up.
Obviously because my mom hated non-stick frying pans, I had to scrub the hell out of the pan to make it clean, so I took the liberty of allowing myself some distraction by spying on the neighbours. Which is basically the Dawkins, they were friends with my family since we moved in years ago. They're the only neighbour visible from the kitchen, really.
Sam should be awake by now, we're suppose to go out today for our birthday rituals.
On the birthday of either mine or Sam's birthday, we would go out together and enjoy the privileges of being the birthday boy, having free meals in restaurants, free cinema tickets, free entrance to amusement parks and all that, splitting the cost between us.
Both our parents find our plan hilarious, especially when we got banned from a diner two years ago.
It was just another reason to get some fun in this small boring town.
I peeked out of the curtains again, hoping to find Sam waving his arms from his bedroom, but instead, I found a seagull trapped under a net under the tree.
*Finally. * I thought to myself.
My parents hated seagulls. They are fine with other types of birds or flying animals, but seagulls, it's just a no.
And we moved to a city full of seagulls.
There were days seagulls would tower over the neighbourhood, screeching, announcing their existence, treading on people's roofs like they've paid the rent.
As far as I can remember, my parents had this seagull trap going on around the house.
It's nothing too high-tech or fancy, but just to keep those bloody evil things off our property.
Strangely enough, nothing was ever caught, it's like the house send some kind of signal to ask them to kindly back the fuck off from us. Which was nice.
But now, there's finally an unwanted sacrifice in the backyard.
*Mom's gon na have so much fun when she wakes up to this. *
I finished my cleaning and washed my hands. The captive seagull continued to struggling inside our well-built trap.
This will teach them to shut the fuck up and stop terrorising the mini humans in town.
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[ WP ] You are a Rule 34 Enforcement Officer . Your agency 's sworn duty : If it exists , there 's porn of it . No exceptions .
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β Youβ¦ no, there has to be some sort of protection against this kind of stuff. Reckless endangerment. β
β It β s pornography. We β re not actually going to have the actors do it. Just pretend. It β ll be the ultimate; like a combination of autoerotic asphyxiation, abuse fetish, and a kink for choking. β
β How would that even work? Logistically, I mean. β
β We have amazing tech, and some of the guys who render our CGI are true geniuses. The combination of their intelligence, and the money we make in one of the world β s few true immortal markets, is unstoppable. Geeks can now make the porn they want to see in the world. β
β Beautiful speech, Gary, truly. Butβ β
β Sorry to interrupt sir, but you need to understand. They can also make the porn they want to see that β s out of this worldβ β
β Gary. β
β Sorry. I β ll, uh, let you continue. β
β How do you know this will sell? You said you want it to be realistic, but looking at this pitch, it seems so sensationalized. What β ll make it different than any of the other shitty fantasy scenes that require so much suspension of disbelief that it ruins the immersive experience? β
β We β ll have exposition. We β ll have world building. Wide shots, scene setting. We β ll make it visual, we β ll get actors that can really play their part, make it seem almost natural and ordinary. Like it β s the current hot-spot to get it on. β
β But it seems like a dangerous environment. I mean, from the titleβ β
β Rawdogging on the Moon: The Ultimate in Unprotected Fucking. β
β Yes. The title seems to imply that they β ll be without space suits. β
β Well, almost. But uh, there is headgear. Y β know. For oxygen. β
β They β ll be nakedβ¦ except for headgear that in this imaginary moon colony allows them to breathe? β
β Yes. β
β So you won β t be able to see their faces? β
β I guess not? Not really, sirβ¦ Sir? β
β Gary. β
β Yessir? β
β Porn with faceless people? β
β Sorry sir, back to the drawing board Iβ β
β That is exactly the sort of innovation I have been looking for! β
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[ WP ] You wake up , not knowing where you are or who you are . As you wander the street people are locking doors and shutting blinds at the sight of you . You have no idea what 's going on and it seems impossible to communicate to anyone .
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I heard white noise when I woke up.
I did n't mind it. It was comforting in a way because the rest of the world was just so completely silent.
I could see leaves rustle in the trees at the side of the street. I could see people running away from me. I could see doors banging shut and curtains being pulled to.
I could n't hear anything but white noise.
I did n't know what to do, so-
-I walked.
I do n't know what I was walking away from. I knew it was'away', that is. I knew I was leaving something behind. If only I could remember what it was.
Maybe it was that human shell, lying on the side of the road. It was not a real human body, although it looked like one externally. It had split in half to reveal that the interior was more like a cocoon than flesh and bone.
A cocoon, yes.
I spread my wings as I reached the end of the street. There was a large open space here. Cars were packed here, flashing and shifting. Neon signs were plastered on the buildings, shouting words at my eyes. I could see so many things, above me, behind me, beneath me.
I spread my wings, all thirty seven of them. I looked up to the smog-filled skies, tail coiled like a spring and arms reaching up to the heavens.
Let the sun shine on me, I thought.
With a powerful brush of tail and wing my form departed for the skies. I saw movement far below. I felt eyes watching me- a dozen, a hundred human eyes.
I ca n't hear anything the humans say, but it does n't matter, does it?
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[ WP ] A flamboyantly gay hitman .
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**Part II**
Rafa slumped over his coffee and cigarette, trying to shut out the increasingly bright world. He needed to get home to sleep this one off, but he had no idea where he had left his car and, in any case, was not sure if moving was a good idea yet. If he threw-up he might feel better, but he always hated throwing up. He decided to sit there for a while longer and see what happened.
It was Sunday morning, not many players would be out at this hour on any day, but he kept one eye peeled for any likely rides. He knew he was walking a knife edge. His oppositional nature had always ruined everything he was apart of, and even after years of learning the game, he knew who he was deep down would always catch up with him. Was what happened last night as bad as he remembered it? He prayed word did n't get around too fast. But, so what if it did? who was she? some lipstick bitch with a few tough-boi friends? They did n't scare him. Besides, how could they find him? He'd get outta town soon enough.
The rays of the morning sun on his neck caused him to shift and reach to turn up his collar, and that's when he first heard it. This being Miami, it was n't unusual to hear dance music blaring from car stereos, but at this hour, it caused Rafael to turn and look. A very small SUV ( or perhaps a large car? but in either case would be discerned by the informed observer as a Geo Tracker ) in some sort of teal color with a ridiculously anachronistic pink stripe across its flank finishing with a splash over the rear wheel wells, had rounded a corner a block away and was pulling to a very immediate halt only a few yards from where Rafa sat. The music ( *I Do n't Feel Like Dancing* by the Scissor Sisters ) cut and Rafa sat back and coolly eyed the blonde driver as he went about gathering his accouterments. Before the door opened, Rafa noticed the blonde man sat perfectly upright and still. Through his highly reflective gold bug-eye sunglasses, Rafa suspected the man was checking him out.
The door kicked open and out stepped Sebastian Longlea in the cutest little boat shorts you've ever seen and matching white high-top sneakers with gold trim. He wore no socks, his ankles were bare -- either that, or he wore those insufferably low-cut socks which Rafa thought were n't worth the trouble.
`` Well hello world!'' Sebastian exclaimed, to no one in particular. Which was odd, since besides him and Rafa, there was nobody around.
`` It looks like its going to be another fabulous day'' he concluded cheerfully. He looked around smiling as he pulled the lower portion of his two-times-too-small white tee shirt up and tied the loose section in a knot, exposing his bare, meticulously waxed and tanned abdomen. Rafa could n't help notice the shirt, which asked `` Got Dick?'' in soft pink letters stroked in purple.
Sebastian reached into his tight shorts pockets and fished out a slim bottle of lip gloss, he turned away from Rafa and leaned over to look at his reflection in his tinted windows as he applied the gloss with its stamen-like applicator. He turned back towards Rafa and his lips sparkled bubble-gum pink in the white-hot sunlight.
Luckily Rafa was wearing some dark shades of his own, because besides the get-up and this flamer's over-the-top enunciation, Rafa's eyes were practically rolling out of their sockets. That's why he was so startled to find that the stranger had sidled up rather close to him very quickly.
`` Hey handsome, got a light?''
Rafa did n't move. Normally he would man up and tell this queer to beat it, but at this moment he did n't have it in him. Sebastian leaned over and yoinked the lit butt from Rafael's fingers and used its smoldering end to light his own cigarette while looking directly at him.
`` What's the matter, sailor? Late night?'' He flashed his bleached white teeth and cocked his hip to one side and struck a pose as he exhaled smoke down into Rafa's face.
Rafael sat there dumbfounded, stunned by this surreal turn of events. He guessed that some of the crazies do come out during the day here, too.
`` Listen, hey, you awake? I said, what do they got good to eat here papi?''
Rafa continued the silent treatment.
Sebastian, undeterred by his soon-to-be victim's stoic game, took a seat across from Rafa and waved the waiter over.
`` Shrimp *cock*-tail, please''
After the waiter had left them Rafa finally broke. He leaned forward and raised his hands in a curious manner and said `` What is this? What da fuck are you wearing?? You look ridiculous and I do n't even know you! get out of here and leave me alone.''
`` Oh please,'' Sebastian said, now it was his turn to roll his eyes. `` do n't be so dramatic, that's *my* department.'' At this he crossed one leg over the other under the table and goosed Rafa with an out-stretched toe.
`` Jesus! What the..! What are you hitting on me? I'm trying to nurse a hang-over in peace, why do n't you leammy alone?''
Just as Rafa was about to get up and leave, Sebastian leaned forward and grabbed both his wrists. `` Oh you think you need a nurse? Huh? Mister? Well, you know who *really* needs a nurse right now? How about *Bunni*? Does that name ring any bells?'' Rafa's heart began to race as he was overcome by the sudden realization. Sebastian held his wrists surprisingly tight as he struggled to get free.
`` Let me go you fairy bastard!'' Rafa planted his feet between them and Sebastian let his wrists go, precisely as he pushed Rafa's chair back with his out-stretched foot. He went sprawling backwards across the patio and somersaulted back, ending up laying face-down on the deck. His head was pounding and his shades had flown off god-knows-where and the bright sun was beating him square in the face.
Then a figure eclipsed it and as Rafa's eyes slowly adjusted he saw Sebastian Longlea in all his bronzed glory standing over him. Seb reached deep into his shorts and pulled out his piece. It was the biggest gun Rafael had ever seen someone hide in their groin. It was semi-automatic, all pink metal with white-pearl boat-sparkle painted grips that gleamed in the sun and caused Rafa to squint.
`` This is for Bunni.'' Sebastian said as he lowered the muzzle of his piece to Rafael's sweat sparkling forehead and pulled the trigger.
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[ WP ] Kitchen Nightmares : Krusty Krab edition
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Intro Guy: Tonight, on Kitchen Nightmares...
[ Cut to Spongebob running around the kitchen before slipping on ground beef ]
[ Cut to Gordon Ramsay screaming and throwing around fish heads ]
Gordon: IT'S FUCKING ROTTEN!
[ Cut to Sandy Cheeks covering her face and crying ]
[ Calm music, and cut to a wide shot of the Krusty Krab ]
Gordon: [ Narrating ] Tonight, i have travelled to Bikini Bottom to try a local sensation, The Krusty Krab.
[ Gordon walks into the Krusty Krab, cut to several shots of the sailor-like decor ]
Gordon: Jesus... [ Walks up to the counter ]
Squidward: [ Flatly ] Welcome to the Krusty Krab, may i take your order?
Gordon: [ Looks over the menu ] Hmm... yes, i'll have the Krabby Patty with sea cheese, a medium coral bits, kelp rings with no sauce, and a kelp shake.
Squidward: [ Does not even move, does not write the order down or do anything ] Okay.
Gordon: A-are you gon na write it down? Or tell someone?
Squidward: I will. Just not now.
Gordon: But i... [ Quietly ] Sod it.
[ Gordon walks off and sits down. Squidward shouts the order into the back. Gordon sits patiently for a few minutes, until a crash echoes from the back. ]
Gordon: The fuck was that?
[ Gordon stands up, and walks into the kitchen, where Spongebob lies in a pile of ground beef ]
Gordon: Excuse me, Sir...
Spongebob: Ugh... where am i...
Gordon: On the floor... In a pile of ground beef.
[ Spongebob slowly stands up ]
Spongebob: Welcome to the Krusty Kr-
Gordon: Who's your boss?
Spongebob: Excuse me?
Gordon: Who runs this place? Who fucking pays you?
[ Spongebob points to a door on the side of the room ]
Spongebob: Mr. Krabs, sir.
Gordon: Right...
[ Gordon walks into the back room, where Mr. Krabs sits, counting money. ]
Gordon: The fuck is wrong with you?
Krabs: Huh?
Gordon: This place is a fucking mess! Garbage service, and a single chef who does n't know what he's doing!
Krabs: Now do n't insult me like that! I work hard to keep this place in tip-top shape!
Gordon: Do n't fucking give me that. This place is falling apart.
[ Mr Krabs stands up and gets in Gordon's face. ]
Krabs: You should think before you speak, boy!
Gordon: Calm down.
Krabs: I'll show you how i calm down!
[ Mr Krabs lunges at Gordon ]
[ Cut to commercial ]
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[ WP ] Donald Trump wins the election and invades Mexico . Write about how people from other countries react and feel
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Nobody was prepared for the idiocy. Nobody could have guessed that the Americans would actually elect someone so dumb to be the president. But, they were. Donald Trump was elected to be the President of the United States of America. The rest of the world was sick of it, and the day the results came in, many cut off trade with America. After all, the nation barely made anything anymore, so they could pretty much survive without American goods. The only world powers to keep trade open were Israel, Russia and China.
Less than a month after inauguration, President Trump invaded Mexico. Nobody was really surprised, since it was a promise of his, but the videos and photos were horrifying to the world. Trump did n't bother with a land invasion. After all, he was n't looking to take the infrastructure or anything, just do what he had promised and destroy it. Illegal chemical weapons were used, because even if the US were still in the UN, and they'd left a week prior, nobody would stop them. The only nations that could were their allies. The rest of the world denounced the invasion, and months later, Mexico's states were made the latest states in the USA.
Then it was Canada. This was the beginning of World War 3. Invading Canada meant starting a war with the UK, Australia and New Zealand, too. The EU promptly joined, and the United States, Russia and China began invading them. The `` New Axis of Evil'', as the EU nations and their allies called the Russia/America/China partnership ( which also included smaller nations, as had the original Axis ) had the advantage of numbers, as well as industry. Relying on China had been the major mistake. Without Chinese goods, the EU and its allies were crippled. India was invaded and taken by the Axis, cutting off most of the EU's supply of goods, as President Trump became President-For-Life, backed by a private army of what was once known as the USA Tea Party.
With victory for the Axis all but assured, the EU made a choice. They knew they would lose, but they also could n't bare to let the Axis win. So, they did it. Mutually Assured Destruction, once believed to be no longer a threat since the end of the Cold War, did away with all the governments. But, humanity is a tough species. Most believed nuclear war would close the book on our story, but this was a foolish hope. Our species is like cockroaches. We always survive. And so, we build upon the ashes of empires, as our forefathers once, and we try to learn from their mistakes. The population drop worked out well, as the amount of the planet we could live on was also drastically reduced. Most of us live underground, in shelters, subways and bunkers. Some scavenge above, trying to get what we can to use and reinvent lost technologies. Nuclear war was not the end of the human story, just another bloody chapter.
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[ WP ] They said he was incorruptible .
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You see, it's all just a game. One big puzzle. You look and look and look and look and feel and pry and pick and finally, something gives. Everyone has that point where there is no going back, a breaking point if you will. Some reach it quickly, others take a little more effort. But I'm a patient man.
I was broken early. They tried to put me back together many times but I ca n't be fixed. I like the view from the shattered window. It makes things so much more... fun. I liked it so much I decided to share. That's when he came after me.
He was the best among them. The pillar of justice, of honor, of *good*. Bah. We toiled back and forth for a while. A long while. From the outside it would look as though I just kept losing, but I was playing the long game. Every interaction brought us closer, and every time my pick would stick a little further in. If you new what to look for you could see how it affected him every time.
Then the day finally came. Oh how I remember it. It makes me as giddy as a schoolgirl with a tub of acid! You see, everyone snaps differently. I've seen all the looks, but his... his was the most magnificent.
They said he was their best, that he was incorruptible. I proved them wrong!
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[ WP ] Everyone has their demons . You find out that it 's not a metaphor after all ...
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`` My name is Zozo'', The creature said, looking down at the utterly terrified man, who had probably wet his bed. `` Zozo? what the fuck are you, get out of my room!'' He screamed, grabbing a crucifix laying paralized in fear. A million rationalizations rushed through his mind: sleep paraplysis, he was still dreaming?! No. He knew he was seeing this, this 7 foot tall creature, a creature that was clearly demonic and up to nothing but evil.
With his red snake eyes and sharp mouth, zozo almost seemed to smile. `` Do not fear tom, i've been by your side all your life. Remember all those times you wondered how you could have done something you always considered wrong? Those times your morals failed you? Well i was right there. I was the reason. And now, this day of this year, in this lunar cycle, you can see me, and ask me questions... i will be gone in ten hours. You may not be happy about this, but even if you do n't realize it now, you have an amazing chance, human.
Still shaking with fear, those red eyes boring into his soul, he could barely form a sentence..
`` Bu..but i believe in god. The demon smirked.. `` So do i, he cast me down to earth... and now here i am, a fallen angel speaking with a human. So let me tell you why we've been so close all these years. You rember slapping your ex.. what was her name.. Jessica?''
He furrowed his eyebrows.. `` Yes, i do, but what does that have to do with this? Hmm? It was a mistake made in the heat of anger.''
`` Or was it?'' The demon stretched his wings out and hovered above the ground before lighting feet away from the human. `` Actually, i saw your anger towards her, i whispered to you, to hit her, that she deserved it. And you did. You listened to my advice like a son listens to a father, no resistance, you just did as i said... pathetic. You are so easy to control, weak human.
`` What!!'' He yelled, full of passion and anger. `` I loved her, for years! I Never hit her before, ive never done anything like that again. And your saying you caused it? You hurt my love, and ruined all we had?
`` No.'' The demon said, sternly. `` You did, you listened to the dark influences instead of staying true to yourself. I did n't hit her, you just thought my idea was so good you had to follow through. And remember the phone conversation.. the last one you had with your father?
The man burst into deep tears. `` What about it!! How, how dare you. I did n't mean what i said! I said it in anger! I had no idea it was the last thing he'd ever hear.. hear from me..''. More sobs.
`` But, i did!'' A smile filled with sharp teeth came across the demons mouth. `` I knew he was close to the end of his road. And i knew you were mad.. and you took my advice.. You let him know you hated his worthless guts, and you never loved him. Because you listened to me, he died knowing he was unloved by even his son..''
The demon looked back at the man, and realized sadly his taunting was over. He had put a round through his head. The demon was filled with a deep satisfaction, and left, left to find another mind to tempt.
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[ IP ] Harvest
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It is 23 days now since the destruction began. Some called it the End of the World. Others said Armageddon. It seemed to me to be almost a Harvest. I watched as, what a government news bulletin had announced, a 10 mile wide ship crossed the distant horizon. I gaze upon the vista with only mild interest as what was once Columbus, Ohio was slowly being Pulled into the sky. The Pull only happened with technology; everything that man had created. Had built up for himself from time imemorable. From the Great Pyramids to ancient Sumerian remains. From the Roman Coliseum to Stonehenge. From the London Eye to World Trade Center One. Bangkok to L.A. Nothing was safe. Cars were Pulled. Smart phones were Pulled. Hell, even my watch was Pulled one night while I slept. We were being systematically Pulled back to the Stone Age.
From the news bulletins that were released, before the stations themselves were Pulled apart, the Pull did not work on humans. No one understood why. It seemed that the Ancients that created us, the very Intelligent Design that I had once believed in, had come to destroy the very thing they had created. We knew they had created us. They spoke to every one of us. In our heads. Our heads, for Pete's sake! All 7+ billion of us had heard the same message. `` We have created you, but you have created too much. Too much war. Too much avarice. Too much simple uncaring. Now we will destroy what you have made.'' That was when it had begun.
I looked up from my writing just now. Columbus is gone as the sun is sinking. The distant roar of the ship moving off into the distance towards the next city. Tomorrow it will be 24 days. I know because I keep track in this notebook that some how was n't Pulled. Almost as if I am meant to record all this for those that come after. Tomorrow is a special day. I suppose it will be a special day. It will be my birthday. I think. Even the calendars were Pulled.
It has been 24 days since it began. Oddly enough, I do not notice the silence for the first half of today. The sky is clear. No sign of the Harvesting ships. We all heard another message today. `` We are done. You have been saved so that you may begin again. This time, do better. This has been done 57 times before in your planet's timeline. If you are unable to comply, the next Pulling will be the last.''
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[ WP ] Write a dark story and change the tone and mood of the story to humorous in the last line .
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The journey was long. Part of me did n't want to try. Untold dangers awaited me. Hidden creatures would be waiting at every turn.
I had attempted the journey several times before but failed, lucky to escape with my life. My safe haven was no longer an option. I had to make it this time. Luckily I would be better prepared since I had acquired a legendary new sword.
In preparation for my hidden foes, I drew my sword. I entered the doorway to my destination and took my first step. Nothing happened. The creatures remained in their hiding spots.
It occurred to me the sword had kept them at bay. Leaving it drawn, I continued, step by step, while circling around to ensure nothing would sneak up behind me. I finally reached the end of my slow journey. I was successful. I reached my bed safely.
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[ WP ] Two shy goth kids are passing notes back and forth in class , the teacher catches them in the act , grabs the note and begins to read it out loud ... it is a spell to open a rift into Valhalla .
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Mrs. McCarty was tired. She taught middle school students, without one ounce of interest in learning.
Every day she had to bust several kids. Yes Robert, I CAN see you are watching porn on your phone. She was at her wits end. ``
Okay class, today we will be learning about percent errors.'' The class let out a collective groan. She sighed and continued.
Before she could get very far, she saw one of the kids in the corner writing on a piece of scrap paper. Before he could hand it on she walked over and snatched it.
The kid was an emo. Dressed in all black, with enough piercings to give a TSA officer a heart attack.
`` David! What do you think your doing!'' He mumbled something, and she continued. `` You're passing notes again are n't you! Well you know what we do with that!''
She walked up to the front of the room and began to read.
`` Arbor Rana gyrantes vallem venerunt ad scalam, mater tua est, non a se''
Latin? Well, this stupid kid was n't going to stop her.
`` quidquid illud est quod sonus in sacra semper risus!''
That was weird. She was about to sit down, when she suddenly there was loud rumbling. She turned around. All of a sudden Mrs. McCarty did n't feel so good.
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[ WP ] you lose your son after months of survival , the only other person with you , to zombies
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He was gone. I lost him two weeks ago. And yet, I continue. Why? What is the purpose to my life now? I merely exist. I merely survive. I wander from house to house in this lonely town, cracking open cans and sleeping on dilapidated mattresses. This area is clear of the dead. Two weeks ago. Two weeks until we would have been here. Safe.
I munch on my can of corn. Cooked over a small fire, and eaten with my multi tool. I eat. I go inside. I fall on the mattress and fall asleep. I merely survive.
I wake up to a blaring horn. It sounds like a semi truck's horn. I grab my shotgun and bolt outside. There are people there. One man wears a cowboy hat and talks to me. Saying, `` howdy partner. Please move your gun, we do n't want any accidents.''
I lower my shotgun. I have n't seen any othe people for this entire motherfucking apocalypse. If they are here to kill me, maybe I should let them. The man with the cowboy hat speaks again, `` we saw your smoke. We decided to check out this camp. We lay on the horn in case somebody wants to talk to us. We are trying to find a safe place, restart a community, you know?''
Holy shit. This guy was serious. And this place was safe. I kept my expression blank. I have n't smiled in two weeks. Nothing to smile about yet. Nothing to say. And then I see them. These people have kids. A small girl, no older than a toddler, peeks out of the back of the semi. I stare at her beautiful face. The man with the hat yells at her, telling her to get back in the semi. I crack a grin and look at him.
`` This place is safe. I have n't seen a roamed in a week. We would need a watchtower, but we could set up here if you wanted.''
He nodded in agreement and started talking to his companions. I walked to the back of the semi and looked in. They had three kids. The oldest was maybe ten. Probably younger. I grinned.
While they could n't replace Patrick, I have found my reason to live. I visit my boy's grave every day. He is n't buried there. But that was what I did first when I found the energy to. I set up a simple wooden cross. Rick was carved in it. I visit it every day and talk to him. Tell him about the new kids. How they could have been friends.
Matt knows to leave me be in the mornings. He is the leader of the group, and was the one wearing the cowboy hat. I try to help out the best I can so they keep me around. I know it is what Patrick would have wanted.
The three kids are named Becky, Hannah, and Kyle. Becky is the youngest. She was the one who have me my life back. I know I would do anything to protect these kids, so Matt does n't have to go through what I have. The pain of losing a child. I would do anything.
You see, they are my reason to live. In a zombie apocalypse, we do n't live. We simply shurvive until we find a reason to live. And this is it. This is my reason.
I miss my son every night though.
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[ CS ] Against Medical Advice
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I have a job at a burger joint downtown. Every day we have at least one customer return something because it isn β t good enough. The meat wasn β t cooked right. They didn β t want mayo. Whatever. Bunch of assholes if you ask me. But that β s not important. When that time comes we simply make the customer something new. We have so much going in and out of our kitchen, it isn β t worth the time to really sit down and figure out the issue. We just half-ass a new one. The issue is, this philosophy shouldn β t apply to most jobs. But it does.
I was at the doctor β s last week. He told me I had Creuztfeltd-Jakob disease. Some impossible-to-stop disease that β ll kill me pretty quick. This bastard in a coat had the nerve to suggest I spend my slim time left in this therapy program to maybe give me a few more months. I ever-so-kindly explained to him that there wasn β t a single chance in hell I β d spend what just became my last few months being poked and prodded by a bunch more of these same bastards in lab coats. He told me to enjoy the rest of my time and just walked off. Just like that. I spend 55 years making my ends meet for this guy I β ve never met to take it all away from me and walk away like nothing happened. This guy calls himself a fucking doctor, but he β s no better than the idiot working my grill in the kitchen. Someone pays that doctor hundreds of thousands of dollars a year to let him treat human beings like undercooked patties. I β m not an undercooked burger.
I didn β t leave my house for a week after that. I was in a pit. It couldn β t be true. Then I decided I had to do something different. If I just sat there then something would end up killing me no matter what was medically wrong. So I decided to try something crazy. The doctors, they told me it was over. That I should just give up. Probably could n't care less about the lives they casually dismiss. They may not help me, but that does n't mean there is n't hope. I β m going to take my life into my own damn hands and get better on my own accord.
My neighbors have this gigantic fuck-up of a son. Every day there β s some kind of smoke pouring out the kid β s window while mom is at work. He β s got ta be high every waking moment of his life. So what β s that have to do with anything? Well, I've heard stories of those who are willing to pay... a less conventional price. Those whose healing is n't limited to the remedies of the medical profession. I think he may know one or two of them who could get me better.
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[ WP ] Three strangers , bound by destiny . A mad king . A broken soldier . A cunning thief .
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''Listen ok I did n't do nothin''
''You dare listen lie to THE KING!''
These 3 men stood in circle Staring at each other. All unsure what would happen next.
A mad king that has destroyed his country
A Knight coming back to see his loved ones dead
And Darwin, he knew something the others did n't but why would he tell them.
''You are knight and you abandoned our city!'' The king shouts at The Knight before him.
''Listen sir, I know you might think I stole the jem but I did n't sir.'' Quivered The prosecuted'' It could be the other guy he's a thief after all.''
Darwin looks around him to see himself alone not a trace of a man there''I must be going mad'' he mutters as he holds the jem that has been the reason for many wars.
'' Atleast I survived.''
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[ WP ] When you kill someone you travel back to their date of birth , today , you kill a man , and end up 1500 years in the future .
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`` So, you are telling me that when I hit and killed that man who was choking that little girl 15 years ago, that somehow ended up bringing me here. Which you claim is still Linz, Austria, but Austria has not been a nation for thirteen hundred and eighty three years?'' asked the confused man. `` That this is the date and time of the birth of the man I supposedly killed''
`` That is correct'', replied the thing.
For `` thing'' was all Arthur could call it. It looked rather like a man, but had extra parts. Some looked biological, but not human, others were distinctly artificial.
`` But, how did I get here?'' asked Arthur, seeming to be less dazed and more alert. `` I just do n't understand how killing a man 15 years ago would bring me 1400 years into the future.''
`` More like 1500, sir. It has to do with the nature of time travel, sir,'' said the officer. `` There have been several theories proven, but only one is economically feasible. It relies on mapping the basal quantum state of an entity over the state of the traveler. They are transported to approximate place and time, within a few kilometers and a few microseconds, of the birth of the mapped entity, when their state was disentangled from their mothers.''
`` But what exactly does that mean? And what has that got to do with that murders death?'' asked Arthur.
`` Well, you do n't extrapolate an approximate quantum basal state from a living being.'' replied the officer with a disapproving glare. `` The process dis-integrates the bound atomic states of the entity and overlays them on the traveler. It is considered quite gauche to extract state from a living entity as it is quite painful. Usually the base entity is euthanized before state is extracted. The traveler had already activated the state transfer, and when you mauled him to death, the time machine transferred his basal state to you.''
`` It is a complicated process to do the state transition. It is an O ( n! ) function, so the less time between basal state and current state, the quicker the basal state can be calculated. Too young and the step back is n't really worth it. Very old, and you can take prohibitive amounts of time to calculate the state. No one wants to spend 2000 years waiting to go back 80 years. The sweet spot for most travelers is about 10 to 12 years subjective. That takes about 15 minutes to calculate and overlay.''
`` That man was murdering children every 10 to 12 years?'' asked Arthur incredulously.
`` Oh, no,'' replied the officer. `` Firstly, it is n't murder. Murder applies to people. 1962 was well before true consciousness was achieved, so those were just animals. Secondly, subjective time for the traveler was probably just a few hours between euthanasias. Since it was Linz, the traveler was most likely going back to kill Hitler. We still have a sore spot about being considered his hometown, even after all these years. Now, I do n't have any more time to explain this to you. So, please get in the animal control van willingly, or I will be forced to put you down.''
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[ FF ] [ 200 Words ] First Sentence : `` well that was n't my brightest moment ''
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β Well that wasn β t my brightest moment, β I had to admit, trying to sound upbeat to ease the awkwardness.
Natalie grunted in reply, and then offered her hands to me while avoiding eye contact.
I helped her to her feet and leaned in for a kiss, my second bad idea in less than twenty seconds.
She turned her head, as clear a sign as could be that our date was at an end. I kissed her cheek anyways, hoping it wasn β t the last time my lips would touch her skin.
β Can you hand me a towel? β
β Yeah, β I stammered, taking in one last glimpse of her naked body, still glistening wet. β Look, I swear I did that before and it worked better, I don β t know what happened. β
β You slipped, β she explains. β Shower sex can be dangerous if you β re not careful, that β s all. β
β Well I didn β t mean to drop you, it was just an awkward angle and- β
β Towel, β she snapped.
β Right, sorry. Shit, you β re bleeding a lot. β
β Any chance you can drive me to the hospital in case I have a concussion? β
β Will you let me take you on a second date? β
β Now isn β t the time, Craig. β
β That β s a no, isn β t it? β
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[ WP ] At the height of the cold-war , one side launched its entire arsenal . The leader of the opposing side , adamant not to let this mean the end , made the decision to not retaliate . This is the losing-side 's last message to the world .
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We will stand down. We will let the world see what has been done, what power has been unleashed upon us, and we will beg you, in all our silenced voices, in the millions of lives wiped away, Never again.
We will not share this shame. We will not make ourselves complicit. I will not make us complicit in what we have wrought.
I will look upon my reckoning, and beg the world to see what has led us here. To see the foolishness and the madness that brought us to this brink until we could not turn from the path we wrought. Our stupidity, our petty need for dominance in the wake of a war that should have shown us the bitter truth of our ways. All those voices that warned us from the past, ignored. Millions through the years that we -- that I -- should have listened to. Lives turned to ash in vain, while the world lurched on and turned it eyes away from the horrors.
What have we learned? Only this: human hubris and pride and stubbornness are the greatest influences in this new world. God, what have we done? What have we become to let these shape us? Have we learned nothing from the wars before? What lessons did we forget in the wake of so much death, in the destruction of our cities? How could we close our ears and our eyes and turn our sights to the lie of a future wracked with repeat mistakes?
Do not repeat them. I beg of the world, of the survivors, of our destroyers... learn. Learn from what will happen in these next terrible hours
We are both our governments responsible. Our government, not our people. You should know their names. In this last transmission, I will broadcast as many as our records allow. So you'll know them. So you'll see what has been wiped away, and know in some small way how to measure the loss. Their faces. Their names. Their families. Hopes and dreams and what words from them we can find so they will not go quiet into that dark night. So they will not fade into statistics.
What happens after, I can not say. The world will change. It will be poisoned and ruined and blasted into nothing in so many places. We will be wiped away. I ask of you, of the world, however selfish it may be, to not forget. In the struggles and the terrors to come, do not forget us. Let us live in your memory. Let us stand monument as warning and plea to never, never let this happen again.
To my people, and those I thought to make my own -- and if apology could mean anything at this hour, then take mine, and know its sincerity -- I ask you only this. Hold your families and your friends close. Stand with me now and know that your courage alongside me is more than I can bear. I am sorry. I am sorry I led us to this precipice. We stand on this edge because of my actions. Not taken alone, but given life and breath by the ambition of foolish men who did not see. We refused to see.
Many have asked me to strike back. I will not. I will not condemn millions more to our fate. I will not stain us with that crime. Not now in our last hour. No. We will together watch our end come, and we will not strike back, and I beg of you that fall with me, forgive me. I could not do it. I would not.
Let them know, those who listen, those who launched, I would not.
I would not do it if I could reverse the course of history. Still, I would watch those warnings come, and hear the clamor, and know we could strike. I would listen to my country cry to retaliate -- and so, so many cry out, No, no -- and I would not do it. I would stand down those who tried. I would take the same actions and turn upon my own and I would not do it.
I will not.
Let us stand now, my comrades, my people, my friends and my family, and embrace our oblivion.
Good-bye.
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[ WP ] Desperate Combat
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When I was a kid, I had bad TV habits.
For reasons other than my bad TV habits, I had no friends when I was a kid, but there were enemies. For reasons correlated to my bad TV habits, I decided that I had to stand up to one of my many hecklers.
His name was Tom. I do n't remember the last name. He was pretty big for an 8th grader, and one of the worst people I had ever met. I think his parents were drug dealers because he always smelled like pot and he lived in the trailer park, but it could have just been him.
One day, I told Tom that I was sick of his shit, and told him to meet me behind the school at 4:00. I saw it in a movie once.
I spent the rest of the day zoned out, excited to finally prove myself in a fight, as I had watched so many times before.
At 4:00, Me and Tom met behind the school, alone. We said nothing until I raised my hands into the Wing Chun fighting stance I had once googled. Tom called me gay for that, and stood still.
Feeling the cue, I screamed a battle cry in a deep a voice as I could and ran at him, taking a wild swing at his face. Years of starry eyed childhood of watching anime and basic karate classes had prepared me to do as I aimed to do now.
I was n't ready for a swift kick in the balls.
I doubled over as Tom brought his knee into my face. Pain shot into my nose almost as fast as blood shot out, and I stumbled backwards into the dirt. Tom lunged over and began kicking my ribs. As each crack rang into my ears, and each shot of pain deep into my psyche I started to cry.
Today, I remember that first tear as the moment I died. My death was in part due to the physical pain I was feeling, but more from the wrongness I felt. There was no pause, no recollection, in our combat. It was swift, wordlessly, and brutal. I was used to 2 episode monologues in between blows, and the feeling of morbid wrongness remains with me to this day. This was reality. This was the metallic taste of sand and blood in my mouth while various bits of my body were cracking and thudding, each sending up another heavy searing of pain that was alien to me.
The fight ended when a teacher came out and saw me, lying face upturned in a puddle of my own blood with Tom on top. Apparently I had been screaming and sobbing the entire time.
Tom was pulled off of me, processed, and sent to a detention center that he would revisit many times during his lifetime. In return, I lost the use of my legs, along with most of my teeth and brainpower
Fortunately, I never had to return to reality, and in that sense, I kicked Tom's ass.
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[ WP ] Your car is actively trying to eat you .
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I leant back as I observed her from a distance, a cigarette hanging from my lips. She seemed slightly panicked, glancing both ways down the road, tossing her arms in a frenzy to anything vaguely taxi-like. Probably late for a meeting or something. I took a long drag from my cigarette, thinking it over. Do I need a refuel? I took a cursory glance at the dashboard. The pin was dangerously close to E. Probably, then. Feels like forever since I last did. Might last for one more trip.
She was surprised when I came to a stop in front of her. A top-of-the-line Lamborghini was always a big draw for the ladies. I leant out, cocking my head as I mentioned seeing her all distressed and asked her what's wrong. Like I guessed, it was for an interview of some sort in a neighbouring town. I expressed practiced surprised when I mentioned I'm going the same way, what a coincidence. Maybe she could hop on in and I'll drop her there? No biggie if she refuses. Though I might need to stop for a refill. By then I could see the dilemma in her eyes. It did n't take long for her to convince herself I'm trustworthy enough ( or she was desperate enough ) to hitchhike with. I gave a strained smile as she mentioned how much of a good guy I am for helping. I revved my engine and we took off.
The initial burst of conversation petered out into silence as I cruised towards a nearby petrol station. Halfway through the car gave a lurch and slowed down. By then I was close enough to a station and guided the car to an open spot.
`` We're here.''
Something in my voice must have spooked her. The lady ( Clara, I discovered her name was ) started looking visibly nervous as I unbuckled, reaching into her bag for God knows what. I told her to stay inside if she wanted. I expected her to get out. Hell, half of me wanted her to run as far away as possible from me and the car. But even as I was closing the door she was still sitting, her face a mask of concern. Too late for her now. I turned away, walking towards the station doors.
I closed my eyes as I heard the car interior shift. A muffled scream. What sounds like twigs being stepped on. A faint smell of iron. Then silence. I kept walking, feeling like someone punched me in the gut.
It took me a minute to stop hyperventilating in the toilets. I grabbed a bottle of alcohol from the shelves, paid for it, and made my way out. I looked at the windscreen. All seemed well, minus one Clara. Even the interior looks cleaner than usual. I got back in, dragging my eyes over the dashboard. Yep. Refueled. The engine purred to life as I turned the ignition, sounding almost satisfied with itself. Motherfucker.
At least I'll be safe for another year.
( I sort of rushed through this story. First time writing a prompt too. Hope it's not too bad )
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[ WP ] Two kids were born with a single consciousness continents apart . Only one can be awake at a time .
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He was me, and I was him. His face, his eyes, his demeanor. My words, my language, my voice. We are the one and same.
We communicated through emotions, not words. I woke up with tears staining the pillows just after the car screeched to a halt. He woke up with anger bubbling in his chest as my belongings were ripped from my hands and I was forced to kneel before the other girls.
We knew each other, inside and out. I knew he was n't fond of sweets. He knew I chipped a tooth trying to steal money. I knew he broke his hand caving another kid's head in, and I knew he longed for freedom. He knows I fell in love.
He met me when we were 23. He had held my hand as I rested in the corners of my mind. He did n't speak, but I felt him, as he stared down at my small husk of a body.
He kisses me once. It's a twisted, narcissistic, one-sided love. But I knew him, and he knew me. I knew his flaws, as he knew my imperfections. I knew he longed for freedom.
But he did n't know just how much I loved him. He was my rock, my support. He challenges me to chess when I'm terrified to go back to my life. His position in my, in our life, changed when his mother died. I realized he was human.
He snapped. His classmate needed stitches for his split lips. He stood there, crimson seeping out of his hand and onto the pavement as his father screams. I carefully prodded him back out of his shell, fearing that he would break if I pushed too hard.
He slowly grew back together, broken puzzle pieces left to decay as he slowly built new ones to take their place. I, horrifyingly, took pleasure from it.
I was needed. I craved for that feeling of being want, and I finally got it. Somewhere along the way, I became a slave to that feeling. I loved him because I needed him, and he needed me.
But he longed for freedom. The pistol burned as it was pressed against my temple. He fires.
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[ WP ] During a full-scale planetary retreat , your squadron 's transport is shot down . When you awaken your fleet had entered FTL Travel and you 're stranded on the volcanic home planet of the enemy .
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I can still see the wake left behind by the Fleet. It's not particularly obvious, but you can see it if you know what to look for - it's an odd shimmer in the air, a region of space that looks a little like it's been torn apart and then hastily stitched back together. It tells me an important piece of information: Everyone else has left, and I'm completely alone.
I stumble to my feet, hissing in pain as a cut on my leg almost immediately opens up. I'm lucky - luckier than the rest of the guys, anyway. I was at the back of the ship when we crashed, so I actually survived. The rest of them...
There's a lot of blood. I try to hold back my vomit, and take a few steps away before collapsing.
So much for being lucky enough to survive. If my'luck' holds, I'll slowly starve to death on an alien planet with no help to speak of. Hopefully a stray rock crushes me before that. Just as long as the alien's do n't -
`` Stop.'' The voice is jagged, like rock grinding against rock. I curse under my breath - more for my own benefits than anyone else's - and turn around slowly, raising my hands above my head.
The aliens are just as incomprehensible as ever. They look like living stone and lava; I can sense the heat emanating off of them in waves, and I briefly entertain the ridiculous thought of getting a suntan if I delay them enough. Might as well enjoy one last luxury before I die, right?
`` What, did I forget my parking ticket?'' Ah, humor, my old friend. What a time you choose to come back. You could n't have done this while the ship was falling? At least then my squad's last memories would be me spouting a badass one-liner instead of looking like I'd pissed my pants.
I try to ignore the tears building in my eyes and the way my throat is catching. I've been trained for this.
`` Silence,'' the creature thunders. I pretend to think about this for a moment.
`` I do n't know if you noticed, but I was left for dead and I'm currently on a planet that will sustain me for three days at most. I'm going to die, either slowly and painfully or quick and painless, so I *really* do n't have anything to gain from listening to you right now.''
`` You, on the other hand, have a lot to gain from listening to *me*.'' I narrow my eyes, stumbling forward and steadying myself on my good leg. I'm angry. I'm so angry that I can barely think, and I have to blink away the tears in my eyes. I'm clenching my fist so hard my nails are biting into my skin and bleeding. `` And you listen close. Tell your leaders that humanity does not *run away*. You think you won? Think again, because we're going to be coming back, and we're going to be stronger than ever. If I were you, I would be very, very afraid. I would evacuate this whole damn planet, and I would never look back, because we are going to find you, and you better hope we have more mercy than you do.''
The alien silently lifts its gun, aiming it at my head.
I close my eyes and wait.
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[ WP ] Every human is given their lifetime supply of `` luck '' to be used at their will . Some choose to expend it all at once on a massive success , and live the rest of their lives with no luck , some spread it out evenly and use luck on random small events .
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Every scientist, biologist and philosopher researched β luck β, trying to know why we had a limited supply of it, if it could be transmitted, etc. However, the majority, including me, only wanted to find the best way to use our small, tiny amount of luck. I β ve seen so many people choosing different roads. Some people, the β you live only once β kind of guys, chose to spend their luck in one go. My significant other and husband, Jack, did that. In the span of an hour, he had become a billionaire by winning the lottery three times, he had found car keys on the floor - which turned out to be able to open the doors of a gorgeous Rolls Royce -, and won a contest he had entered a month ago to obtain two tickets for a trip around the world. On the same day, he got a job offer for his dream job and was hired to become the main actor of a future American blockbuster.
At first, it was amazing, he was happier than he ever was, and I was delighted for him. He invited all the gang to travel to Paris, Amsterdam, Berlin, and Las Vegasβ¦ We all went to Disneyland, where we took amazing pictures with Mickey Mouse and Pluto. We all rode the scariest roller coaster. Jack was a bit scared at first, but afterwards, he wouldn β t stop dragging us to other roller coasters. Las Vegas was the last and most amazing stop of our trip. Jack, most of our friends and I had never been to such a dynamic city. Casinos, restaurants, shops and alcohol were everywhere. Money was flowing freely, from the house to Jack β s pockets. Everyone had a lot of fun, seemed to be happy, to had left their worries at home. Life seemed to plagiarize a modern fairy tale.
To be honest, I was a little envious of Jack. Not that I resented him for getting whetever he β d wish for immediately and effortless, but I can not deny I too wanted to be that lucky. I too wanted my life to get significantly better in the blink of an eye. Actually, a majority, including me, thought that using your whole supply of luck was dangerous. Luck wasn β t only meant to make one win the lottery. It also protected you. Personally, I had always been one to save luck for later, thinking it would be life-saving if a consequent problem were to occur. But seeing that Jack was still as lucky and happy eight months later, I couldn β t help itβ¦ Luck was before me, practically begging me to use it. I decided to use half my remaining luck, hoping from the bottom of my heart I could have what Jack has, that I could be benefit from luck too. I thought I would win the lottery, I thought I would have a well-paid job effortless, I really did. What I did not expect, is that Jack could, without a warning, die, ran over by a drunk hit-and-run driver, bequeathing me all his money and possessions. I had obtain what I wished for, but lost what I had and envied.
I β ve repeated this moment over and over in my head, wanted to know whether this event was caused by the luck granted to me, or by his misfortune. Never did I imagine that luck could be dangerous. Never have I dared to use it again.
A/N: I'm sorry for any English mistake. Although I do want to write here, I am not sure whether I can do it or not since English is n't my native language. I hope it is okay to make many mistakes.
Thanks to /u/dmilin for correcting my mistake: )
Also, thank you for everyone who's commented or upvoted my story, I truly appreciate it. Omg, a lot of people helped me correct my story, I love you all, thank you for all being so friendly.
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[ WP ] The preface for the bible has been lost practically since day one . In it the authors clarify that they made it all up as a part of a social experiment . Write the lost preface .
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Many will view this work as a useless, perhaps even an absurd experiment that purports to expound on the human specie pschy from the planet earth. However, the authors of this work took much into consideration when designing this religion, and there are some unique features that differ slightly from other religions from this era. Such as:
-a monotheistic deity.
-no idols, or objects to which superstitious beliefs are held, will be allowed.
-no human sacrifice.
While these are distinct, notable differences, we decided to leave some primitive, even grotesque ideas of human morality inside this religion, so as not to shock these primitive peoples. Examples include:
-there will still be a priest vocation.
-slavery is sanctioned.
-patriarchal, top down society.
The following questions are sought to be answered through this study:
-do humans need idols, tokens, etc., for a certain superstition to gain traction?
-is monotheism an optimal superstition, that is to say, a sustainable religion in the long term in an environment full of polytheistic religions?
*the words `` religion `` and `` superstition'' are used interchangeably.
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[ WP ] An older more experienced cat , instructs the new family kitten on the nuances of living with humans .
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Tiger licks her front paw, whilst staring down the new kitten from her place on the couch.
`` Tell me,'' She says, `` What's your name again?''
`` Mittens!'' He practically roars, his mighty whimper of a voice echoing off nothing because it was so small. `` I think it's cos my feet are white but the rest of me is grey!''
`` What a feeble name!'' Tiger replies, pouncing off her place and onto the floor. `` My name is Tiger. Why? I am strong like one. Fearsome like one. The world trembles at the mere mention of my name.'' Mittens is shaking in his proverbial... mittens.
`` I can tell!'' He says, ecstatic. `` You're so scary!''
`` Naturally. Now come, little one, I shall show you this land that is ours.'' Tiger walks off with a saunter, and Mittens follows, his little legs having trouble keeping up.
`` This is where we dispose of our waste.'' Tiger says and gestures towards a litter box. `` It is only here we do so.''
`` Why?'' Mittens meows, curiosity not killing him today.
`` They clean it daily. It must be important to them. So, naturally, in an act of defiance we must defile it.''
`` Got it! Defile the box!'' He says, staring it down with foul intent. `` Why are we doing that to them? Do n't we like them?''
`` Eh.'' Tiger says before continuing the tour. They walk down a corridor towards a lavish room, full of high counters and cupboards. Tiger leaps up onto a counter with ease, whilst Mittens takes a few attempts. `` Here is where our food is located.'' Tiger focuses on a closed cupboard.
`` The wood thing?'' Mittens asks.
`` Behind the wood thing. They lock it away from us. They feed us once a day, as if we ca n't manage our own food.'' Mittens looks down at the food bowls nearby and notices that Tiger's is mostly full and only the middle has been eaten.
`` I can see what you mean. Yours is empty.'' He says, shaking his head. `` Do they not care for us at all?''
`` Obviously not.'' Tiger flicks her head towards a cup sitting precariously on the edge of the counter. `` We knock those over onto the floor whenever we can.'' Mittens frowns at the cup and prepares to pounce. `` Not now, little one. Only when one of them is in sight. Most importantly, you must make eye-contact with them, wait for them to tell you not too, and then you do it.''
`` Only after they say do n't, gotcha.'' Tiger and Mittens both jump off the counter and proceed into the living room.
`` This marvelous creation is a place of wonder. Where our dreams become realities, were hope is born and bred and savored for all, in this place, absolute joy is achievable!''
`` Woah, what's it called?'' He inquires.
`` A box.''
`` Awesome. And what's that?'' Tiger looks over to the Deluxe Cat Menagerie - complete with scratching posts, holes to climb in, and dozen's of ways to climb it.
`` Who cares.'' Tiger yawns out, before nestling herself onto the ground. `` Now, I must rest. I've been awake for ten minutes, and my body is weary. Join me.''
`` Yeah!'' Mittens says, nestling up next to Tiger. `` Thanks for this! You're wonderful!'' he manages to murmur out, before drifting into sleep.
`` I know.''
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Check out /r/Rhysyjay for more spicy stuff.
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[ WP ] A cop is tied to a chair , helplessly watching the serial killer he 's chased for so long prepare his tools to kill him .
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Drip. Drip. Drip.
Like clockwork, a steady stream of droplets fell to the ground from the leaking ceiling, splashing cool water on the cement floor. Without a clock these were the only ways in which Terry knew he was still alive, the splatterings a rough guideline to how long he β d been there, how far he β d come, and ultimately where he was headed. Who else had time to sit and listen to beads of water collide with hardened, smoothed paste, but a man doomed to die?
A decade into his service, Terry was promoted to homicide detective. Years of hard labor, long nights, and a burning desire for meaningful civil service had all led up to that moment. Tied to a chair, rope bound too tight across his wrists and feet digging into resistant flesh, he finally had time to comprehend that a small change in career trajectory brought him face to face with his own death. He had welcomed the promotion, unknowing that his acceptance stamped a permanent expiration date on his existence.
There has always been a maxim of sorts- only two types of men exist: those who want to know when they die, and those that do not. Posited a different way, Terry had the realization that this was untrue. There is only one type of person, when the end is reality so corporeal you can taste the flavor in your mouth. No one would want the knowledge of *how* they died, if they knew it would be so graphic.
The lull of activity had been intentional, of that Terry was now sure. Gary wanted him to envision every ghastly moment that was about to come. He guessed that to a sadistic person, this was almost like foreplay, anticipation building up every uncomfortable shift in his chair. At first, Terry had fought. He β d be damned if this monster was the maker of his demise. Every passing hour had softened his vigor, though, until now he was so supple that his heavy eyes betrayed his will to stay awake. The adrenaline that had coursed through his body at the start of the ordeal was now a distant biochemical process, and the ramifications of his energy spent felt all too entirely. Spasms of brain activity jolted him awake just as he felt his eyelids close, a last ditch effort to salvage any fleeting moments left to him in life.
The past two years ensured that Terry knew every detail of what was to come. The blood splatterings painted great arcs across the ceilings, the floors, the walls at every crime scene he saw. There was almost no surface unsullied from biological fluids of every assortment. Tight rings on the neck, characteristic of asphyxiation, were wrapped around the victims under homemade collars of steel. Those collars were linked to a chain that ran upwards and across the length of the ceiling. He knew at some point he β d be suspended from this dog collar of sorts, lowered back down just as the light was about to fade from his eyes, and then repeated a few times. The only thing Terry didn β t know was how long this was supposed to last. Some victims were reported missing for months, with fresh bruising visible upon discovery.
Underneath the doorway, faint signs of life were appearing. Boots shuffled back and forth across its length, and discordant sounds of steel on steel met his ears now. A sharpening of knives, Terry thought? Finally, the door creaked open, almost polite in a way, almost as if to be mindful of a sleeping baby just put down for a nap. The visage that emerged, however, negated any semblance of propriety. A smile spread across this man β s face, growing in size as he took all of Terry in. What a wondrous sight for him, Terry was sure.
β Well, let β s get started Terry. I β ve waited for this too long. When I β m done I think I β ll get your wife. Or maybe I β ll get her before you β re dead, so you can watch my work on her too. I β m not sure yet, though. There β s always room for spontaneity where killing is concerned, and my victims always get what they deserve. Try to be a good boy. β
... Not exactly a showdown that you wanted, but I just started writing. Guess I'm more interested in the thoughts of the victim.
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[ WP ] The year is 2536 . Though the internet has long been abandoned it has been preserved for historical and research purposes . As an internet archeologist you have just made a discovery that will fundamentally change the planet . What is it ?
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While surfing the internet of the Information Era, looking for something interesting to understand better how life 500 years ago worked, I find a weird link. It reads `` [ WP ] The year is 2536. Though the internet has long been abandoned it has been preserved for historical and research purposes. As an internet archeologist you have just make a discovery that will fundamentally change the planet. What is it?''.
I stop scrolling. 2536. It is now. The site is called Reddit. It looks like it was some kind of thing were people used to write about the future. Maybe humans used to have the power to predict the future. Or maybe not. Anyway, it's talking about an internet archeologist making a great discovery, and I am an internet archeologist. What am I about to discover? Life on another planet?
I read the first sentence of this prediction:'' While surfing the internet of the Information Era, looking for something interesting to understand better how life 500 years ago worked, I find a weird link. It reads `` [ WP ] The year is 2536. Though the internet has long been abandoned...''
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[ WP ] You opened up a fortune cookie to see that the fortune contains the meaning of life .
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Crystal glanced slowly around the room, trying to keep her head down and not look too paranoid. It was a gut-based flutter rising through her, something that both lifted and deeply concerned her. It was a moment, and feeling, of pure confusion coupled with overwhelming optimism; an optimism she hadn β t been gifted in years ( as evidenced by her non-aesthetically-inspired ripped jeans and worn tank top ).
Her eyes trained back on the crumble in front of her; the two halves of the cookie lay split open. But in her mind she almost wanted to press them back together and reopen her fortune, if only to prove to herself that this was real. Every possible permutation of reasoning was running through her quickly swelling temples. Could it be a prank? No, certainly not, because it was no external proof driving her toward her conclusion.
She wouldn β t have believed the words in front of her meant anything if it had been any other common day or moment. She knew that any sane person, hippies and spiritual enthusiasts aside, would never assign true wisdom or value to a fortune cookie, especially one garnered from a seedy, local, strip-mall Chinese restaurant. But as she picked up the pearl-white paper strip, and looked again at the words, she knew, instinctually and in absolute terms, that they were true.
As she walked out of the restaurant, the night felt less dark and encompassing. Despite her confusion over inexplicably learning the true meaning of life from a fortune cookie, Crystal felt joy creeping in the edges of her person. It was a truly relieving sensation. One can be sick only once in a blue moon, but every time it feels like a first and somehow the dreary sensation had been forgotten. It was nonetheless original and complete for Crystal to again see the world through a rosy lens.
Three days later, after a panicked 9-1-1 call from a neighbor smelling death from next door, Crystal β s simply furnished one-bedroom studio was filled with photographers, and lawmen, and other voyeuristic types puttering around the room just to do their jobs. It seemed a clear-cut case, suicide note and all. She left it on a take out menu, scribbled across a blank back page: β Thank you, but now what β s the point? β
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