Split (3)

train · 273k rows

prompt stringlengths 5 331	story stringlengths 404 40.3k
[ wp ] A sixth grader has gained time traveling abilities , and using it to make history funny/interesting for his classmates .	[ This does n't exactly fit the prompt, but here is my idea of what a newspaper from 1773 may have read. I started writing with the prompt, then kinda went off and it ended up like this. Enjoy. ] British tea sleeps with the fishes Benjamin Warren December 17, 1773 Yesterday a group of Whigs disguised as Mohawk Indians boarded three of the Crown ’ s ships and dumped their tea into the Boston Harbor in response to British taxes. Approximately $ 18,000 of tea was lost, which is sure make the British choke on their biscuits. This has been done to make the Crown reconsider their intolerable taxes. The Tea Act ( passed May 10 ) has been troubling the colonists for the past few months. The act helps the East India Company form a monopoly on the tea trade in the colonies and prevent smugglers from smuggling. The tyrannical British monarchy has prohibited the colonies from trading with anyone but those that would make them profit. The colonists urged the ships to return home, but they refused in an act of hardheadedness. The people simply wanted to negotiate, when the Crown wanted absolute dominance.
[ WP ] `` I told you to make a small fire . That is NOT a small fire ! ''	`` It's all relative if you ask me,'' Winifred replied with an impish smirk. They always asked for help but never liked the results, it's not like Winnie had any control over where the fire spread although she failed to mention that to Roark. His hands covered his face as he rubbed it, `` It's just I wanted to scare them, not -- that was like half my followers!'' Roark's hands feel to his sides, he watched the ash from the county float lazily in all directions as the fire spread. It was Roark's first year a new-god and it seemed he was doing too much giving and not a lot of smiting, which his superiors were n't happy with. They encouraged smiting so as to keep them afraid and devoted. Winifred giggled at the fire's roars and blushed when it roared again, `` No, you're a cutie.'' she swiped her hand at it. `` Okay okay okay. Got ta think, got ta think. How do I fix this?'' he paced furiously. The pacing was n't really helping him think and neither was Winifred and her damn flirting with a fire, Roark had no idea why he thought asking Winnie, a fire goddess, for a favor was a good idea. They were all bat-shit crazy, everyone of them. He did n't know what he was thinking when he asked her but they had started not to put out offerings to him and no longer prayed to him -- the people forced his hand. Ahem Roark looked over to the psycho, `` I have an idea,'' she said in a sing-song voice. It was probably a terrible one but he gestured her to go ahead and share it. `` Why do n't you just let them die? It's only half of your follow --'' Roark cut off with yelling and cursing, he was about ready to kill her when she became consumed by fire, grew ten feet, and her voice became a deep growl, `` BACK OFF!'' the force from her voice alone sent him tumbling back onto his butt. She turned back to a human form in a blink, `` like I was saying, maybe you should go to the rest of your followers and tell them that this is what happens when they ignore you and maybe they should really start considering getting your name out to the other godless regions around here, just the thing your rep needs puddin'.'' she glared at him, stuck her tongue and disappeared in a poof of smoke. Maybe she was right? Roark got back to his feet. He was a freaking god now, if his followers did n't respect him, who would? He walked off slowly fading away.
[ FF ] I will write a < 250-word story for every prompt posted as a reply to this post within the next 48 hours .	You find a trail. A brief erotica, with loads of puns. You are a farmer with a burning hatred for one squirrel which keeps stealing your food while you briefly leave the room. Write about you trying to kill or capture it. `` You did n't have to go and hide the razor blades.'' Include this statement in the story, it may be in dialogue or thought. Write the obituary of the person you love most. Write a last goodbye to your loved ones from the short time you have before you die in an accident. The accident will happen, but you are aware it will and will take your life in the next ten minutes. Aliens contact humans, but soon after regret it due to our hygiene. Not because it hurts them, but because we're disgusting. The most satisfying shit ever, after a month of constipation. Music prompt, write whatever you wish with this as the inspiration: http: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=dkyCOOV0VQ0 Have fun! This is both a prompt and a statement.
[ WP ] In the year 1984 , your father said he was popping out to buy some milk and never came back . Eighty years later , you lie on your deathbed as your father walks in , confused and a jug of milk in his hand .	`` Wha... who are you? Where's Sharon? Where's Mike?'' my dad says as he walks through the door. Hospice workers try to pull him aside, but he pushes forward, making a beeline to my bed. As he looks at me, a glimmer of recognition flashes across his face. `` Dad?'' my dad stutters in shock, eyes darting from my face to the life support equipment that I was hooked up to. `` How did you get here? I could have sworn that you were in an institution in Raleigh...'' `` Dad...'' I manage to croak out through my stoma. `` Yes dad, it's me, your son. Do you remember me, dad?'' my dad asks, tears starting to form in his eyes. `` No dad... its me... Mike...'' I say between rasping breaths, putting more strain on my already emaciated form. Hospice workers try to intervene, but using the last of my strength I wave them away. `` Mike? The only Mike I know is my son.'' My father seems to recover a little bit, wiping tears away from his eyes as he says, `` Who are you, really? I was only out for an hour or so, getting some milk. Did you fall down in the street? Why are you in my house?'' Knowing my fathers obstinacy, I do n't waste my time trying to explain the situation. `` Bring me... the milk...'' I cough to Jenny, my longtime assistant. As she moves around my stunned father, I croak, `` Hurry... pour it... on me...'' Jenny rips the lid off of the milk and pours it all over my upper body. As I wait for it to take effect, my dad sits there and stares at me, and finally he says, `` Mike?'' He reaches forward and grabs my hand as the'milk' starts to froth. `` Dad.'' I say firmly. `` Can you pass me the butter?'' My dad, tears in his eyes, suddenly jumps to his feet, knocking over the dinner table that my extended family and I have gathered around for our annual Thanksgiving feast. Though cries of outrage from distant relatives and shocked, open-mouthed stares from both my sister and my mother are all demanding his immediate response, he only has eyes for me. Through the chaos, I just smile and wink, then softly say, `` How about you let someone else run errands next time, hm?
[ WP ] The first human spaceship capable of FTL flight reaches deep space and makes the most terrifying discovery in the history of mankind ...	`` Why have we not found life yet?'' This thought crossed my mind several times each day, and more frequently as I dug deeper into space. Me and my father had been on this ship for 79 years, 364 days and 23 hours now, soon to reach our destination, the Omnipoint. My father died of old age when I was 29. I was born on this ship, it's all I know, but father did tell me a lot about mankind, how we're a corrupted race. He thought that if we could find life, even something as bad as a common enemy, our planet would unite and stop their pity fighting amongst their countries. `` Countries..'' I thought. What a useless idea. I'm sorry, you must be awfully curious about the Omnipoint. I'll tell you what I know. The Omnipoint is the closes thing we've come to discovering a clue of extraterrestrial life. About 90 years ago we discovered an object, not tied to any of the surrounding gravity, which would disobey the laws of physics if this was an inanimate object, leading us to the conclusion that it is not. It's either controlled or manned. The Omnipoint is the last known location of this object. We lost track of it. I had no radio contact, and I would not be able to return to earth alive. I was born into this mission, to explore the Omnipoint, and to make sure my ship is programmed to return to earth. I record everything, that is my purpose. `` 20 minutes untill arrival'' - A pleasant voice said through the ships speakers. Time to turn on all the recording equipment I've got. Front cameras are on, and so are the rest of them. The ship is now recording every image possible, at all angles. `` 10 mi...'' The voice stopped mid-sentence. That ca n't be good. `` Destination reached'' the voice suddenly exclaimed. I could not see anything through the observation deck, only darkness. I started feeling dizzy, something wasnt right. A few seconds later I was close to blacking out, when the whole ship shook for one second, and all the lights went out for two seconds. After three seconds I felt fine again, and after four seconds the light came back on. There, on the windshield, written with some red liquid, it said one thing that actually put me at ease, strangely enough. '' Human are the first. Guide those who arise. `` The writings was on the outside of the glass that seperated me from the vast nothingness of space. That... that is physically impossible. I started feeling dizzy again. I passed out for what seemed to be just seconds. I woke up to a bright light. It took some time for my eyes to adjust, but after I while I could see it clearly. It was earth, I was heading towards it at a really slow pace. I passed out again. I woke up next to humans, people looking exactly like me and my father. They all had a terrified look on their faces. They asked me if I had watched the recordings. I had n't. They showed it to me, and let me tell you this: We are not alone, we are simply the first. And we recieved the first images of what we think is our creator. He sure doesnt look anything like an old man to me.
[ WP ] You are a world-class gentleman thief , and take great joy in coming up with intricate plans to attain treasure . However , you also have a severe case of kleptomania , which has led you to treasure worthless items .	`` You ready?'' Jordan and I sat in the van outside of the house we had been stalking for the last week. `` Ready as I'll ever be.'' Jordan was dressed in a UPS uniform. A number of packages sat in the back seat of our stolen delivery truck. `` Alright then, lets get this show on the road. You remember the gatekeepers name?'' `` Yeah. Clarance. You wan na know how I remember that one? In the movie'Airplane', the one line...'' `` Let's just go!'' I said with chuckle. That's one thing I appreciated about my new protege, great sense of humour. ``... is like,'Clearance, Clarance?' and then the guy's like,'Roger, Roger.''' I motioned to the door. Jordan waited a moment, then got out, went to the back, grabbed two packages, and made for the gate. I was n't sure how this was going to go. It was Jordan's first time on a job with me, and if my experience proved right, the first job was always the hardest. `` Package for Mr. Gates?'' Jordan was at the gate now, talking to Clarance, the gatekeepers whose name was easily recalled if you've ever seen the movi... Clarence was talking now. `` I do n't think he was expecting any...'' `` Maybe not, but does... does this smell like chloroform to you?'' Jordan violently grabbed the gatekeeper from through the fence, holding the drugged rag over Clarence's mouth. It did n't take long before he slumped to the ground. `` Are you coming? Hurry up.'' `` I'm coming, I'm coming!'' I really was, suit, tie, fancy briefcase, gadgetry and all. I got to the gate and pointed a device at the electronics on the wall. Two seconds later the door opened. `` How did you...'' `` Magic, Jordan. I have magic.'' `` No, furreal, how did you...'' `` I just told you!'' I smiled. `` Are you going to tell me what we're even trying to steal yet?'' `` Nope.'' `` Why not?'' I responded with faux significance. `` I do n't want to compromise this endeavor. I put a lot of work into this you know.'' `` And ca n't they see us through the security camera's?'' `` No, I disabled those remotely before we even got here.'' `` Like, online?'' `` Yup.'' `` Is it just playing a tape of normal activity like in Oceans elev...'' `` Yes, just like in the movie. Just wait till you see this though!'' We had reached the front door of the mansion. We crouched down as I opened the briefcase I brought along. I pulled out a more fancy looking gadget than before and attached it to the doorknob. `` This doorknob is rather advanced. It's more than just mechanical. It has an electronic component as well. Fingerprint recognition, retinal scanning, etc., all of those options depending on the needs of the owner.'' The device was whirring, winding up. `` Then how can you get in?'' `` Because I invented that doorknob, and I actually installed this very one myself.'' On cue, the door unlatched and opened slowly to the inside. `` Oh, look! Here we are!'' I said, with mock amusement, observing the awe on Jordan's face. `` Alright, lets go.'' We walked into the house and started sneaking towards the center. `` Are you going to tell me now?'' Jordan inquired quietly. `` No, I will tell you though, we are going to the kitchen.'' We were both whispering. `` You hungry?'' Jordan's humour at work, yet again. `` Not sure yet.'' I responded. We were already at the kitchen now. It was pristine. Jordan went straight for the fridge and opened it up. `` Now, now, wait till we're on the way out!'' `` Well, let's get it then!'' Even his hushed insistence was funny to me. I perused the kitchen, walked over to the counter, and picked up the toaster. `` Alright, let's go. Grab your food if you want it.'' He looked at me, shocked. `` You... the toaster. We came for the... the toaster?'' `` Yes, the toaster.'' By the look on his face, Jordan was confused, upset, and curious all at the same time. `` So you're telling me, we are robbing the house of none other than Mr. Bill Gates...'' his voice was raising now ``... and we are taking, MERELY THE TOASTER!?!?'' `` SHHH! Be quiet, if they hear us from the other side of the mansion, we have no way out!'' `` BUT WE CAME FOR A TOASTER!!'' `` Quiet! Yes. Calm down, let's get out of here.'' Jordan's face went trough the five stages of grief in about two and a half seconds. Then hit the last stage, sighed, and we made for the door. `` So that's it, eh? What are we going to do next then, scale Trump tower and nab an immersion blender or something? At least then we'd have to go through some drawers...'' I was nonchalant with him, `` It's like you read my mind, Jordan. It is like you read my mind.'' `` Okay, fine, just do n't get any breadcrumbs on your suit.'' We left the house and headed back towards the front gates. As we passed though I nodded to the unconscious gatekeeper lying on the ground. `` Pleasure, Clarance.'' Jordan paid his respects as well. `` Enjoy the packages, Clarance.'' The gates closed behind us. Then he asked me, `` What did you put in those, anyway?'' I held my response till we hopped back into our stolen UPS truck. Jordan turned it on and insisted again. `` Seriously, though, what did you put those packages?'' I smiled as we pulled away, `` Some toasters.'' Jordan rolled his eyes at me and continued driving. It was a successful first mission. No one died, and I had a billionaire's toaster. A few hours later, we arrived at my humble, modestly furnished, abode; and here we are. I can sense his bewilderment, but he will learn eventually. It will take time, but he'll learn. I am finalizing the plans for our Trump tower operation, and even more, I ca n't wait to see the look on his face when I tell him what I have planned for Mark Zuckerberg.
[ WP ] We live in a Utopic future . Without famine or conflict of any kind , what problems DO we have ?	The TV monitor threw light across the room, `` Experts say the economy has n't been this low in almost half a century. Lead Economist Ted Thompson says: quote,'We've lost the will to live. There is no more gasoline to push us down the road. Food is bountiful, water is everywhere, and while this has been the dream for so long, we need to find a way-'' I turned the TV off. I'd grown tired of the ranting and raving of so called experts.'No more gasoline to push us down the road,' what an imbecile. `` Why would we want to go down the road when the town is perfect here?'' I asked aloud. The empty room only echoed in response. I clicked'away' on my computing system and pushed myself from my chair and walked over to the fridge. I opened the door, taking deep breaths. The walk was n't too far, but it still winded me. That's why I did n't go out. Why would I want to exhaust myself when I had everything here? Grocery delivery, processed by the government. Any, and all, repairs performed by the living quarters staff, processed by the government. The one time I needed medical assistance it arrived quickly, handled me there on the spot, processed by the government. 'No more gasoline to push us down the road,' fucking assholes. `` Assholes! All of you.'' `` Is that a tweet sir?'' Siri asked. I forgot I had put the system on sleep, her response startling me. `` Yeah, go ahead.'' `` Sent.'' That should show them all. Whoever they were. I looked over at the clock on the wall, 16 hours. There was nothing really to do, my government mandated work had been processed already. Code checking government websites was easy as it is, it took no time. I grabbed leftover Asian food and walked back over to the chair, my breaths were difficult. I'll have to make a doctor's visit appointment soon. `` Siri, ESPN.'' `` ESPN, on now.'' I'll make that appointment tomorrow.
[ WP ] Two immortals play a game of hide and seek , with the whole earth as the area , and lives as hiding places .	It was a warm Sunday afternoon when the judges of Americas Got More Talent ( a show currently mid-lawsuit from a more reputable, bigger show sharing a similar name ) first saw Human Manling, the human magician. Aside from his strange name and stranger title, Human seemed like a nice bloke. Simon, the show's only British judge ( also mid-lawsuit, but that's a separate matter ), gave a thumbs up, the signal for Human Manling to begin his'human illusion and not real magic' as Human called it. Human had started by pulling a frog out of his jacket pocket and holding it up in the air. `` This, is a frog!'' Simon nodded, reassured by the words. He had thought it was a frog and was relieved to hear it was one. Human stepped forward to the edge of the stage. `` Watch,'' He said turning it around in his hand. `` As I make it... a toad!'' Simon did n't see a change, but that was likely due to the similarities between a frog and a toad, he figured. `` Wow.'' Howard Fern, another judge said. `` Amazing.'' Not wanting to be outdone, Simon nodded and began clapping. `` Simply... uh, breathtaking.'' Human held up a finger. `` I'm not done yet. You see, watch as this once-frog-now-toad becomes the size of an alligator!'' Without any further words, Human dropped the frog behind him on the stage and Simon watched in awe as it grew in size. Within moments, it became the size of, while perhaps not an alligator, a crocodile. `` Amazing!'' Howard said, clapping. Simon, not wanting to be outdone, shook his head. `` I mean it was alright, but I've seen better.'' He basked in the crowd's boo's as Human Mangling hopped on the once-frog-now-alligator-or-crocodile-sized-toad's back and began riding it around the stage. Simon grew tired of the act and was about to wave Human off when another man appeared on stage. `` What's this, then?'' Simon asked. He looked to the other judges. Hewie was asleep. Howard was on the phone. `` I finally found you!'' Boomed the second man, though now that Simon looked closely, he could see the man had six legs and scales. He thought of mentioning it, but he did n't want to be rude. `` Game over!'' Human spurred his once-frog-now-alligator-or-crocodile-sized-toad off-stage as the insect man followed. The crowd was quiet as they waited. Simon stood up and began clapping slowly. `` Amazing. Simply amazing.'' The crowd burst into applause. `` So,'' Howard asked looking up form his phone. `` What will it be? Three yeses?'' Simon scratched his head. `` Maybe... his story was n't too descriptive.'' He looked down at the sign-up sheet. > Name: Human Manling > Place of Birth: Earth > Talent: Pretend illusionist > Additional back story: Born as a human being. Other than the fact that Manling was infact a human being, Simon was n't very sure of much about him. `` I'm going with no, Howard.'' He again took in the boo's as a once-frog-now-alligator-or-crocodile-sized-toad may take in trout. `` You?'' `` I'll say a resounding yes!'' `` Well, since Hewie appears to have died,'' Simon said as he poked the man's neck with a pencil. `` You do n't have the majority vote.'' Howard pounded his fist on the table. `` You do n't know talent!'' Simon sat down, happy with the fact that they had gotten one of the required contractual fights out of the way. `` Next.''
[ WP ] A gallant knight goes off to fight a greedy , evil Western dragon . What he finds is a wise , benevolent and IMMENSELY powerful Eastern dragon .	`` Look m'lord! The trees! They're all...'' The knight clenched his mailed fists hard on the reins. `` We are close now. Come boy, take the horse.'' The knight swung off his saddle and the squire rushed to grabbed the bridle. `` And the sword too, boy. Be quick about it! This demon waits for no man.'' With cold steel in his grip, the knight felt all the more sure about his quest. He would be the first, in a long line of previously unsuccessful hunters, to slay the fabled beast of the caves. The terror of their mountain valley, which made off with unattended goats, sheep and even horses, made off in an instant, beating its massive wings against the sky. The so-called dragon was seen landing in these parts by local trappers, and the surrounding land had turned charred and marked with signs of hell-flame, a sure sign of the demonic presence. It would be the hand of Sir Percival Pierce that would destroy the mythic beast, for its uncivil, and frankly Un-Christian, behavior. The nearby monastery had commissioned Sir Percival to search out and destroy the demon 2 weeks prior, but the good knight's efforts in the neighboring village proved less the fruitful, revealing only a small number of villagers who had sinned beyond forgiveness and were need of retribution. None of whom had contact with this winged demonic presence of the mountains. Percival was vexed, and assumed the only person controlling this demon must be living with it himself in the wild, and to find the witch, one must follow the demon. Percival had been a good and true knight for only a short time, but what he lacked in experience, he more than made up for in pious adherence to his faith and a burning fervor to complete his quest and accept his reward. By slaying the winged demon, Percival would be inducted into the highly exclusive devout order of knights known as the Sancti Viri Bellatores. Which were known for and wide for their visceral hatred of Satan in all his forms, his demonic minions and for their ferocity of faith. A perfect place for one so blessed as Percival. He had a strong arm, a rich family and a mind unclouded by the anxieties of free thought. When Percival had questions, he knew where to look. No blathering around aimlessly for answers like his squire was wont to do. Upon reaching the foothills leading up to the charred and darkened cave, the squire gave out a piteous squeal. `` A tail, sir, a tail! Did you see it!?! You can not hope to know the size of this beast sir!'' `` What devilry is this, you peasant! Do you mean to invite us both an early grave?!'' The knight grabbed the scruff of his ward's neck and dragged him close. `` That bit of cowardice will grant you entrance to the cave first. Remember your old prayers, boy. We will both need them now. The accursed will show itself only to the impure. That's why it has only taken beasts from the field thus far, the immoral actions of the village were going to draw it's ire soon enough.'' The squire staggered through the cave's mouth and was greeted with a spray of steam and smoke. The hairs on the squire's face were slightly singed as he gave another terrified shriek. Sir Percival bravely pushed his his squire aside and held up his glistening sword into the darkness. `` I name thee Daemon, and command you to show yourself to the hands of God.'' The darkness fell back into the cave, hiding its true depth, but at Percival's command twin torches flared. Two lights at eye level appeared twenty feet away from Sir Percival, but what had appeared behind the lights struck even the knight speechless. It could only be described as a wyrm of enormous size and advanced age. With the flaring of its nostrils, the ancient beast had perfectly revealed the magnitude of their discovery. The lights remained motionless in the snout of the beast as monstrous sound began to reverberate off the sides of the cavern walls. The ground began to shake and brought Percival to his knees. ...'' Is this the welcome I receive from the new world?'' The voice boomed in the knight's head but the demon remained motionless, staring eyes like glassy black millwheels. A set of massive, brown horns adorned the crown of the beast's head, and in the light of its fire, it glistened the colors of flame. Bright reds and yellows swirled intricately throughout the curled length of the beast. Percival gaped up at the ancient monstrosity, gazing into the windows of its soul, seeing a pit as black as pitch and as endless as the starry nights of his youth. `` What do you seek in this hall, Sir Percival the Lost?'' Percival at once found his voice, though this was the first actual demon he had ever encounted, he was not about to let it talk down to him. `` I come for your head, but I will settle for your heart, if your black creator saw fit to gift you one.'' `` My creator? This is very interesting, tell Percival, what do you know of creation?'' `` I know that humans were created in the light of God Almighty, and as such as blessed with his gifts, yet some choose to side with your master, The Lord of Darkness. For this is why I have come, tell me the name of the witch or warlock who controls you!'' `` I am under nobody's power but my own, but I wish I could say the same for you my small, misguided friend.'' `` I will not be patronized for my size demon, I have slain beasts twice your size.'' Percival lied through his teeth. `` Ah, a lying man. They have these where I come from.'' The voice softened in Percival's head, to almost a conversational tone. The squire began to stir from his unnecessarily rough pushing from Sir Percival, not the first he had received in service to his lord. He did began to wonder about his own wits though as he saw his master shouting into an empty cave, brandishing his sword at an unseen foe. `` I have spoken no lie, Satan has far greater demons under his control than yourself. Do not think yourself special demon, do you have any final words before I send your black soul into oblivion?'' `` Yes, Sir Percival. What is the name of your squire?'' `` I will not have you corrupting his soul! You will die now, spawn of Hell! Tell your master that the men of God rule this realm!'' With that shout, Percival raised his blade on high and brought it crashing down between the twin ignited nostrils of the beast. All of his strength, hope, and faith went with the stroke and when it fell the world stopped. Percival Pierce was frozen solid in time, his squire observed. His shout and attack had frightened the squire, to think he might be the target of his masters wroth. But now... He was frozen still with his sword swung in half an arc. The squire rubbed his eyes and screamed out his masters name. No answer. He scrambled to his feet and cautiously approached his knight. No movement. The squire peered to the side of Percival's face and placed a finger upon his shoulder. The glass shattered. It was as if mirrored panes spanning the length of the cavern had dropped to the floor, shattering as they fell. In Sir Percival's place hulked a scaled behemoth. It looked the squire directly in the eyes and deep into his soul. `` What is your name?'' the sound echoed through the squire's head, frightening him beyond belief.
Four brother princes vie for the right to rule . One commands the hearts of men , one has power over demons , one enslaves the dead , and one can control himself [ WP ]	`` Okay,'' began Jessin, `` dear old Dad's dead now, and he told me to pick one of you four to be the High King. Apparently each of you has some talent that you're supposed to impress me with? Corace, you're the oldest, why do n't you begin?'' `` I, dearest half-sister Jessin, can control the hearts of men,'' proclaimed Corace, smug satisfaction dripping from his voice. `` So, you're going to give the people a speech or something?'' `` Even better,'' declared Corace, `` Behold!'' At his command, a crowd of courtesans poured into the streets, without a scrap of clothing among them, proudly advertising their goods and services. `` I bet I just increased the heart rate of every man out there by fifteen, no, twenty beats per minute. Pretty awesome, huh?'' `` And you spent money on this?'' demanded an exasperated Jessin. `` Was n't my money,'' replied Corace sheepishly. `` I got it from the treasury.'' `` You spent- oh gods save us all,'' came an exasperated Jessin. `` You know what, just forget it. Devon, you're up next. What do you have for me?'' `` I control demons,'' stated Devon flatly. Jessin, skeptical, took pause for a moment. `` So, are you going to summon a demon for us or something?'' `` I control inner demons,'' replied Devon, without the slightest change in tone. '' When I was five, you stole my wooden horse, and told me he ran away. The guilt has haunted you ever since,'' droned the prospective prince. `` Devon, firstly, I do n't even remember doing that, and secondly, you're a blithering idiot,'' said Jessin. `` Morton,'' her tone suddenly sweetening, `` why do n't you show us something intelligent and not moronic for a change?'' `` Thank you Jessin,'' said Morton, `` I'm glad somebody appreciates my genius. Unlike those other two clowns, I have a real talent.'' `` And that would be?'' said Jessin, a mixture of hope and trepidation in her eyes. `` See that graveyard over there?'' asked Morton, pointing at the city's cemetery. `` Yes...'' replied Jessin, cursing herself for putting an iota of faith in her half-brothers. `` Ever wonder why the dead do n't rise up and consume the living? It's because I command them to stay in the ground. See? They're lying there, dead still, because I've ordered them to stay there.'' Jessin stared blankly at Morton. Taking a breath, she turned to the fourth and final prince. `` Mannus,'' said Jessin, forcing her face into a smile, `` and what talent do you have for us today?'' `` I can control myself!'' declared Mannus with a smile. `` And that means?'' `` See my breeches?'' `` Go on.'' `` See how dry they are?'' `` Mannus, where are you going with-'' `` It's because I can control myself!'' announced Mannus, with the kind of pride usually reserved for champion jousters and lottery winners, `` I've been able to control my self ever since I was four years old!'' Jessin stood in shocked silence. How was she supposed to pick one of them to be High King? And so it happened that Jessin became the Kingdoms first High Queen, and the people called her juste and faire and wise. The four princes were sent to govern four peripheral provinces, of greate strategic value, assured High Queen Jessin, and more importantly far enough for them not to get themselves into too much trouble, with goode and trusted aides to watch over them. Althoughe Jessin's reign was one of great progress and advancement, historians look back with the greatest fondness at her stalwart dedication to public education, unprecedented at the time, and her funding of the genealogical sciences, so all the citizens of her Kingdom could trace back their bloodline to heroic ancestors as well as forever banish the foul specter of inbreeding.
[ WP ] There 's a hot new App it will tell you how anyone will die . And it is always 100 % accurate no matter they try to avoid it . There 's one weird problem though . Anyone born after the creation of the App only comes up as `` Suicide ''	That app... That app was how it started. It just... Popped up on the App Store. No author. Within a few weeks, it seemed everyone had it. After a month or so, a few sick fucks decided to try it on babies. It was always suicide. That was a thousand years ago. We're still here. At least, I'm still here. I'm the last one that I know of. And now, it's time for that to end. These old bones are too tired to go any longer. They've seen civilizations rise and fall, good men live and die, even my own children are gone. There's no gun powder left anymore, and the elements have dulled even the sharpest blade. But through all that we still have cliffs. Nature outlasts every man. I'm coming, Maria.
[ WP ] HIV research has led to an unstoppable , easier to spread strain that is wiping out human life .	`` There's nothing we can do about it. The boxes have already been packaged and sent.'' `` I ca n't believe it. The molecules of the substance we used were absolutely identical. I would have never though that..'' `` We ca n't retrieve them. They're going to die.'' Mark Jameson could not believe what he was hearing. His ears buzzed, he felt completely isolated. He had spent years researching, straight out of High School to University. He had become a successful doctor, just like his older sister. She had gone to Syria. She wanted to help the people affected by the war and contracted the virus from a wounded woman. She carried her in her arms, bleeding and running far away from the land mine a little boy had stepped on. HIV. Incurable. He could not let his older sister die. And yet, he had made a mistake. Jameson had zoned out, and left the Laboratory with no solutions. Arrived home and downed a fifth. Passed out, not understanding the harm he had done. He did not bother to check the news the following day. He did n't pick up his phone, even though he knew that his parents were calling. At midnight, he left his house and went to the lab. He managed to find a few boxes that were supposed to send to China on May 29th. He cut the box open, stole one of the containers and left. He had a syringe in his bathroom. Mark did n't know if he wanted to turn the TV on or not. `` Whatever'' - he mumbled, as he clenched the RC. All of the channels showed the same horrific images. `` A thousand people killed in Taiwan.'' `` The population of Southwestern Asia has been almost completely wiped.'' It was his fault. He wanted to send the boxes there first. For her. He had the belt around his arm ready. He made sure it was tight enough, and stuck the needle right into his vein.
[ WP ] A horror story that does not feature Mysterious men , Disfigured `` smiling '' , `` grinning '' creature , Extremely cliche situations , Abnormally stupid characters , Deep web crimes and Lost or Forbidden items , videos.Most importantly , no `` feeling of being watched '' , please .	Being the first on the mountain with my friends yet to arrive, this ski-trip was my first venture on my own. It was a perfectly ordinary day in Colorado and there was a sensation of ice crystals surrounding me. Chilling across my skin, as I walked towards the near empty ski area. There was one only one other skier I saw. A non-mysterious man whose face was entirely ordinary. He was standing at the bottom of a hill, where I saw him waiting for a ski- lift. He had no skis, though. That was odd. But I knew ski's were n't forbidden. I was carrying my own. Perhaps he had lost his? Probably not. There was a rental place I had passed in case he had. Perhaps I should tell him. For some reason, I felt a strange tingling sensation in my spine. He looked somewhat familiar, and even though he seemed entirely ordinary, I must admit, I was spooked. Perhaps it was the fact I was skiing for the first time. Maybe he was a shadowy character from some deep web intrigue, here on the slopes to drag someone into his nefarious plans. Probably not, though, he looked like just any guy and cell reception in the mountains was terrible. I knew I was pretty smart, and usually pretty confident. I was surprised I had absolutely no feeling of being watched. Here I was, one of the few on the mountain, but no one was paying me any heed. Not like I was attending to this skiless man, waiting for a ski lift. Alone, on the mountain. And yet I thought him a skier. That was strange. I went up to him, ostensibly to tell him of the ski rental place, and asked, `` Do I know you?'' He looked directly at me and said, `` Have a pamphlet.'' My parents had died from paper cuts from pamphlets. He had no way of knowing. I screamed. My skis went flying up, and landed on my head. I died.
[ WP ] Jokes usually stop at the punchline . Describe the events following a punchline , while also filling in the set-up of the joke .	Ok, I'll give this a shot.... - `` I'm so sorry, so so sorry!'' God, my dyslexia had got me into trouble before, but this was just horrific. The people in the coffee shop to the left were staring. I could feel their eyes on me. The air was thick with tension. I glanced sheepishly up at the girl and apologised again. She had n't spoken, had n't moved since my terrible accident. `` I'll... I'll leave you alone now,'' I said. `` Is there any way I can make it up to you?'' Wordlessly, she stepped aside. A kind-looking woman, came up and wrapped her arms around her. The girl leaned into the woman, shaking. How could I do something like this? I turned to the still-staring café customers. `` It was an accident,'' my voice trembled. `` I did n't mean it.'' Nobody said anything. I hurried away before they could call the police. How could I explain it to them? `` You see, officer, I'm a character in a story and I have dyslexia. The two do n't go together too well, so sometimes I make mistakes. All I wanted was a beer and I just ended up walking that girl's cleavage by mistake. I'm really sorry.'' Yeah, no-one was gon na buy that. Rushing towards the train station, I swore I'd never drink again. It was obviously too dangerous for me. Who knew what would happen next time I accidentally walked into a bra...?
[ WP ] Humanity is the idiot savant of the galaxy . We 're terrible at almost everything compared to every other race , but we surpass them in spades in one thing .	The council rose. Supreme chancellor Tir'vi of the Zri had entered the room. All eyes, pairs and quads and more, were focussed on her beak when she began to speak, her raspy voice echoing through the dark hall, which seemed to be floating in space, under and above nebulae, gas clouds, dying and birthing stars. A simple trick of technology, everybody knew. Yet, pleasant to look at. Might i break off from the contemplation of the infinite to focus your mind on the words she spoke? I will. So she spoke, simultaneously translated by technology that rivaled Google Translate: `` We have a bit of a situation on our hands. The ape-beings from XCB-2213/III have been sentient for a while. As we left them alone, they have also become dangerous.'' `` Slim pickets. ``, growled Hrssar, a furry titan with fuzzy ears, through his half-closed fangs. `` What can they have possibly invented or perfected that could ever become dangerous to us? They are milennia away from ascension-'' `` This. ``, Tir'vi said, and a bowl of macaroni appeared on screen, and if I might say from the lowly perspective of a senator whose race had only ascended some 10000 years ago, it was a damn fine bowl of freshly cooked macaroni, topped with a mouthwatering ragu bolognese. and some freshly grated parmigiano. `` Holy shit that's some good macaroni. ``, Hrssar yelped, and a commotion broke out in the senate. Tir'vi was n't having any of that. She hammered her hand down on the jetblack, shiny, table. `` SILENCE!'' And silence happened. `` As we all know every one of our races has developed macaroni only late into their gestation period. Again, we all know that by devouring macaroni, we all acknowledge the existence of the universe as a connection of subatomic, hollow strings. By devouring macaroni, and again, I think we all know, by devouring the face of the godly, we ascend to godhood. The humans have perfected it only about 500 years ago, and still their macaroni are far superior to everything we ever produced. Just look at the texture, the subtle off-white coloring. My god, it even has a mouthwatering ragu going with it.'' The high chancellor was obviously taken away by the sight too, but she regained composure. A most interesting woman. Aeons old, and still moved by a bowl of food. Nonetheless, the essence of the godly, but what gives? I can only speak for myself in terms of perception, and I sat there with saliva all over my zorphlog. She did better than I did. `` So I hereby ask the senate to approve my bill to set out an expedition to earth, to learn the secret of human macaroni.'' Unanimously, the senate approved. Edit: Thanks for the gold, I'll honor it by doing a prompt-off in /r/lounge when I get off work in 11 hours.
[ WP ] Zombie apocalypse has happened . The survivours have survived and are thriving , so much that people can go their entire lives with out seeing a zombie . You see one today .	Shuffle shuffle. A solitary figure shambles through the streets, uttering gutteral moans and groans. His higher brain functions all but gone, he exists as a being of primal urges. He is hungry and craves meat. Stumbling over to an alleyway he doubles over and vomits on the ground. It's the 15th St Patrick's day since the Turmoil ended and he has celebrated far too much. But he deserves it, he thinks; he has been extremely successful in his job and is out to have fun, create good memories, and forget them seconds later. Usually one of the guards on duty would come over and reprimand him, but there are none today. There has n't been a sighting in 5 years and the government that is in place ruled us clear this year, so everyone is in the exact same condition as he is, in some way or another. Nobody is doing what they're supposed to be doing and that is fine by him. After what seemed like far too long for anyone to be vomiting he stops, gets on to his knees and wipes what remains on his lips and chin. There's a sour taste in his mouth and he needs a drink; water, because he swears on his life that he'll never drink again. Swear on me life, Officer, never again. From somewhere deep inside the alleyway he hears the thump of a wheelie bin being knocked over. `` Who there?'' he hiccups, `` come out an' show yerself.'' There are no lights in the alleyway, of course. The city only powers certain areas to conserve electricity and this alleyway in the poorer districts; because somehow after the end of the world there's still rich and poor, were n't a priority, so visibility was low. `` No, seriously. Come out, ya big eejit!'' He can hear the sound of groaning now, from closer than he heard the bin falling. It's strange; he was always one of those people that became overly helpful when he was drunk and he knew it was annoying as hell to those who were less drunk than he was or sober.. Or anyone that hated overly helpful people, which was surprisingly high, he mused now. This instinct is what brought him deeper in. He shuffled in, calling out as best as he could. The further he got in the better his eyes adjusted to the dark and he could see the outline of someone knelt down on the ground groaning and what sounded like sobbing in his inebriated state. They were definitely female. `` Eh,'' he said clearing his throat, but she did n't respond. `` Missus,'' he tried again, `` sorry, I mean, madam. Are you OK?'' He moved carefully forward, realising how bad his approaching an obviously emotional and possibly ossified woman from behind in an alleyway would look to anyone else, but he was n't one of them perverts. He was just a good guy and he was sure they would understand. She continued groaning and now he was beginning to suspect that there was something wrong with her, because the closer he got, he could see there was something not quite right with her leg; it was bent at completely the wrong angle, pointing out from behind her and he could see what looked exactly like a bone. Thank God the alcohol had numbed him and he had thrown up already, as the sight of that would have normally caused him to vent his stomach, which is odd because you would think he'd be used to gore after all he had seen and all he had to do, and there was a lot he did that he would rather forget, during the Turmoil. But nope. Still as weak stomached as ever. `` Jesus, lady, are you OK? What happened to ya?'' he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. That's when she turned to face him, agonisingly slow, and he saw her in full view. Her face was horribly injured; one eyeball hanging out of its socket, dangling above her mouth. There was a deep gash on the side of her throat and what looked unmistakably like teeth marks on her chin. In front of her lay the carcass of a small animal, that was almost impossible to identify as it had been half eaten, but he realised that that must have been what caused the noise as an upturned bin lay a few feet away. She was n't a drunken shambler, the sober part of his brain was shouting now, she is a Shambler. With speed more than he thought possible with her damaged leg, she was on top of him and clawing at his face. His reflexes were too slow to stop her from baring her teeth down on his shoulder and rip out his flesh with surprising strength for such a petite woman. Once more he was glad that he was numbed somewhat and he lay back thinking, `` I knew the drink would be the end of me.''
[ WP ] One day you wake up and realize you 're the anti-christ .	`` Hey Bryan?'' Before Sesuj sat Bryan, sipping a delicate cup of tea and reading a newspaper through his glasses. He looked up. `` What?'' `` Do you think I'm the Anti-Christ?'' Bryan exhaled sharply. `` Where would you get that notion from?'' he scratched his hairy head. `` I dunno, Bryan, it all kinda makes sense now. I pee blood...'' `` Kidney stones.'' `` I look all pale and red eyed...'' `` Too much time indoors.'' `` My name is'Jesus' backwards...'' `` Your parents were dicks.'' `` I have 666 tattooed on the back of my hand...'' `` You blackout when you drink.'' `` I dunno, Bryan, I just ca n't shake the idea out.'' `` Ha, I know that feeling. Thought I was gay for half a year.'' `` Really?'' `` Nah, I'm just fucking with you. Grab a couple beers, go out for a while. Booze'll shake that silly notion right out of your head.'' `` I guess...'' `` Welp,'' Bryan glanced at his watch, `` I'm off to work.'' Stepping from the table with his satyr's hooves, Bryan let out a roar from his bull's head, stretched his wings out, and flew off into the yawning crimson abyss above. `` I just ca n't shake the feeling...''
[ WP ] Make me fall in love with a girl without actual any physical descriptions	`` She was the kind of girl who did n't need an introduction. She entered a room and the door frame turned into a picture frame, as her contagious enthusiasm attracted the gaze of a hundred soon-to-be broken hearts. It's like whenever you saw her it felt like you were walking into the living room on Christmas morning, and she is just surrounded by that mystical, reddish Christmas-y glow. We all could see it, and we all wanted it. I knew she would never go for a guy she met at a party though. They were going to have to get to know her first. Like I did. I loved going to her house. She was so big out in public, but so small when inside, so reserved, so shy. I remember how she never wanted me to see her room. How she blushed and said,'Oh, I ca n't. It's messy.' It had to be a lie, her place was always spotless. But then the one day she let me. She smiled and covered her reddened face as she looked, utterly and completely embarrassed by the city of stuffed animals living all over her room. She even still named them! That's when I learned how to sew, just so I could make her a little stuffed tiger for her birthday. She hugged me when I gave it to her, and then she hugged it the way a mother hugs a child. She was unconditionally loving. Oh my god. How cute it was when we watched scary movies. She would always walk away at the scary parts, pretending it was because she needed to go to the washroom, like eleven times a movie... When she would muster up the courage to stay those during parts, she would always grab a hold of my arm. It was clear her bravery had second thoughts when she would bury her face into my shoulder just as the film was building suspense. Bless her though, she always said horror was her favorite kind of movie. I loved when we hung out. How cute it was when she looks at her phone and smiled because there is a text message from one of her friends. How you could tell whether it was from work or a friend because of that smile. It was always a 100 % reliable litmus test. She loved her friends. She never missed a birthday, and always came up with the most creative and thoughtful gifts. I think that maybe in life, our best traits can lead to the worst moments though. Like some things the World sees and loves, but ultimately decides that it is just too good for this place. God. The first time I asked her to hang out alone... I remember that. She did n't question it, she was so welcoming. I told her I wanted to be more than friends. I wanted to have ‘ those moments ’ that couples take for granted. I was just a young guy, I had never been in a relationship before. I did n't even know what those moments were. She said that she liked me, but she was n't ready to be with me yet, and when we knew each other a bit more,'those moments' would surely come... And after a lot of hard work, when she was ready to make'us' official, those moments did come. Those moments. The ones where she came in at night and snuggled up into a ball next to me, telling me about her day. Those moments when she called me for no reason except to see what I was doing. The times when she got up and left, but I could still smell her on my clothes for the rest of the day. Those moments, are the ones that will never leave. In closing, I want to share what she would tell me whenever I was hesitant to trying something new, or just was n't feeling like spending time with some of our closest friends. She would always say,'Come on, Jacob. Just give it a chance, it COULD BE... the best time you ever have.' Then she'd pull me off the couch and we'd head out. And it was like that phrase was magic, because I promise you, some of the best times I ever had came after that phrase. All I can hope now is that her words of advice can work same for you, because I know now that for me, the best times are gone.'' Holding back his emotion as best as he could, Jacob stepped away from the pulpit. He walked by the open casket, knowing it would be the last time he would ever see her. Seeing her there, lifeless, finally lead him to openly weep. He could n't stop himself; because for the first time in all the time he ever knew her, her `` Reddish Christmas-y glow'', was gone.
[ WP ] The technology to heal people by transferring their afflictions to another person has been invented	`` You've got a rare and valuable commodity Phillip, and we just want you to be properly compensated for that.'' His swollen hands passed over a ballpoint pen, I could n't help but notice the ring on his left hand was slightly cutting off circulation to his finger. He had lived well. The office was unnecessarily spacious, the kind someone only has if they're a politician or compensating. The sign on his door read `` Louis LeFevre \| Ailment Broker'' `` My clients have made an unprecedented offer, one I really think you need to consider.'' In the other room waited his clients, hooked up to life support. Mr. LeFevre's clientele had all the money in the world, just not the years left to enjoy it. Cancers, Autoimmune issues, viral infections, even some birth defects could be cured by transferring them to a `` shell''; all for the right price of course. It's definitely suicide, but it's the most profitable form I've ever seen. The technology behind it was invented by accident, as most medical advancements are, and was near 100 % effective in clinical trials. Death row inmates were used for the first testing, but given the enormous success of the shell program, they very quickly ran out of inmates to use. The Black Market quickly got a hold of this technology, and you'd hear rumors about healthy people being kidnapped and dropped on the street with advanced alzheimers or total kidney failure. The Government tried to contain it, but the will to live is stronger than most legislation. The powers that be decided that legitimizing and regulating the businesses was a better alternative than allowing it to happen in back alleys and dirty basements. The first few years that shells were legitimately used, there was an outcry from the media and activism groups about how inhumane it was. It was, by definition, the rich taking advantage of the poor. Huge protests through the major cities, massive riots outside of transfer facilities, every kind of dissent possible was thrown at the topic. That was until a major breakout of smallpox started ravaging through modern civilization. Some folks blamed the anti-vaccination front, others called it a government conspiracy in favor of the use of shells, EVERYONE who caught it forced themselves on waiting lists for a shell. My parents died in that first outbreak of smallpox, my siblings and I bounced from foster home to foster home till recently. I had taken out a few loans, and been working construction to try and dig us a little place in the world but it was futile. The less profitable shells out there will deal with things like strep throat, or bronchitis, it's not a bad way to earn some money over a weekend. The middle class shells sign up for semi-major stuff, stomach flus, nerve damage and mono. Not impossible to beat, just a time investment more than anything. I'm lucky. I'm already dying of something. That makes me a top shelf shell. I've got a mountain of debt, and a brother and sister who need money when I'm gone. That makes me perfect. I've got everything to gain, no matter what I get. I've got three offers on the table, each of them paying in the millions. Mr. LeFevre had marketed me as a special `` package'' plan, I could probably end up shelling four or five life threatening illnesses before I was used up, so a group could all pool their money to use me. My hand trembled slightly as I grabbed the pen, I knew they'd make me comfortable for the next few weeks, but that did n't numb the fear. The words bolded on the page would be the ones that I'd be living with Tuberculosis, Malaria, Hep C, HIV. I'd walk into the room already with Huntington's disease, and I'd die covered in sores, feverish, discolored, and vomiting a few days later. I watched across the table as Mr. LeFevre played with his smart phone, a slight grin on his face. Everyday, this man watched people kill themselves, and he could grin and fiddle with his gizmo. He caught my look, and gently placed his phone on his desk. `` What I do, Mr. Johansson, is simple. I see that look you're giving me. I see it every day, and to answer the question you have n't asked but that your eyes are asking, I do n't feel like I'm a killer. I save people's lives. Not just the people who receive the transfers, but people like your brother and sister. You and I are saving their lives, even though its with money and not medicine. Imagine them going to college, imagine them having families.'' His voice had a unique and dogmatic quality to it. Mr. LeFevre turned a picture of his family on his desk towards me. He pulled out several smaller pictures of well to do families, and showed them to me. `` I sleep like a stone at night, I get to wake up and look my wife in the eye and tell her that I'm a good man. You get to die in a noble way, saving three great people who belong to these families. We're the heroes here, Mr. Johansson. Sign that contract and your life will mean something.'' I put the pen to the paper and started to slowly sign. Mr. LeFevre turned the picture back towards him, and adjusted his tie while he watched me complete my mark. The moment I put down the pen, he hesitated for just a moment. `` So, you've got twenty minutes to get next door, and they'll start the transfer then.'' Mr. LeFevre snatched the paperwork off of the table and scanned it in his computer. He smiled at me, and extended out his hand. He pressed a button under his desk, and the door of his office opened behind me. A slight wind hit the back of my neck when he did. `` Any questions?''
[ CW ] Write one half of a phone conversation that sounds horrific/sinister on its own , then the other side reveling it to be harmless ( or vise versa ) .	>... denotes the'other' side of the conversation. -- - Okay. Make sure you do this exactly as I tell you and nobody will know -- - `` Hold the knife firmly, place your hand on the head and slice down the throat. There will be a lot of blood.'' ... `` Right, no more movement? Good. Now take the larger knife. This one is to get through the bones. Yes, we need to make sure there are as many pieces as possible. Easier to distribute'' ... `` Yes, I know it's a sickly sound. If you did n't want this to happen, you should n't have said what you did. I still think you wo n't see this through'' ... `` Okay, so you have the legs removed, the head too. The rest can wait until after the game.'' ... `` I do have my priorities right, calm down''. Other Side: Okay, I'm ready. I've never butchered a cow before -- - ... `` Right, I'm glad I'm wearing the apron now. You're right, lots of blood. The legs are twitching..'' ... `` I've got the cleaver, but when it goes through the bone it sounds really sickly. Like seriously dude. Prime cuts better be worth it'' ... `` I only said it because the dude was badmouthing us. If you were there to back me up, or at least look intimidating, we would n't be in this situation.'' ... `` You're watching the game? Now? You need to sort your priorities man!'' ...
[ WP ] In 2107 , all significant diseases have been cured . This has led to an era where most physicians no longer have a job to fulfill in society . As a result , an underground organization for the creation and distribution of new diseases has slowly come to existence .	There was something different about him. As he was wrapping my wrist I was observing every last one of his features. His mouth, his nose, his ears, every wrinkle. But I focused on his eyes. His eyes were hollow. Almost like dying stars, still with a faint glimmer. It was that faint glimmer that kept me coming back. Most doctors still working today all had the same tired features but only some seemed to have any lasting signs of what their lives used to be. No longer some of the wealthiest, most renowned individuals in society, doctors were now essentially useless. What was truly left for them? Wrapping a sprained wrist? I couldn ’ t blame them for looking so defeated, so why was there still a glimmer in his eye? This was the third time I had come back in the past week. And the twelfth time this month. He knew me by name at this point and just sighed whenever I walked in. But I was determined to unlock his secret. I knew there was one. So today I decided to talk. “ What do you do to keep yourself busy? I ’ m sure you have a lot of free time. ” “ Mostly read or go for walks. ” “ That ’ s it? ” He looked me in the eye. He was reading my expression as I was reading his. He didn ’ t respond. He finished and I paid him. I didn ’ t want to leave. I wanted to find out what his answer would have been. “ Would you like to go for a walk with me? ” Again, he didn ’ t respond. He just nodded his head and got his key to lock up the office. We left and headed to the edge of town where we could walk in the fresh air away from the loud people and cars. We had only been walking for 10 minutes when he touched my shoulder to stop me. “ Who are you? ” I didn ’ t know what to say. I was no one. Just a curious girl, bored by the summer. “ Emaline. ” “ That ’ s not what I mean. I know you want something. No one is so unfortunate to have to visit me this much in one month. ” I guess it was pretty suspicious. This was my chance. “ You have a secret. ” He laughed. This was the first time I had seen him smile all month. Again, I didn ’ t know what to say. He had started walking again so I followed him. We kept walking in silence. I had never been this far from the town center. “ Excus- ” He shushed me and put a finger in the air. He pointed. And that ’ s when I saw it. He gestured to the pile of rocks in front of me so I walked forward. It was a cave. I walked inside. He pulled out a flashlight on his key ring and walked towards one side of the cave. He reached under a rock and lights came on. Ahead I could now see that the cave was blocked and there was a closed door. He walked up to the door and put a key into the lock. It opened and I noticed some movement inside. A man came to the door, a man with the same glimmer in his eye. The doctor turned around and motioned for me to follow him. Inside was a secret I could ’ ve never imagined. There was maybe 30 or 40 doctors inside, all busy with chemicals or other fancy looking equipment. I just stood and stared. I didn ’ t know what to do. I walked up to a desk and looked at some papers. I wasn ’ t the smartest person in school, but understood what was going on. I was shocked. They had lost their jobs and were trying to get them back. If the government found out, they would all be killed. I looked at him, he didn ’ t say anything. I knew I ’ d be visiting the doctor some more.
[ WP ] you are a maker . You make things . And you are happy . The end .	His hands were wrinkled and and they ached with the quietest of rain and the simplest of breezes. He flexed his fingers to his palm, matching his tips to the the worn lines wondering if his first girlfriend was right about them. He never had much money, but had lived long and remained thoughtful throughout. It was that one mole in the center of the line that ensured it. That was ages ago though and he smiled a bit thinking of her. He clicked the light of the lamp off and settled into his bed, pulling the covers up to his poignant chin. He nestled a spot for it and let his fingers wrap the cloth around his palms. They started to ache. A low rumble began and the faint sounds of droplets on the pane began. In the dark his eyes rested softly on a small jewelry box he kept on his dresser. It was made of oak from a fell tree that came down in a storm as a child. The sound of cracking wood, the flash of light, and the ensuing boom scared him to much that he slept under his bed that night. In the morning his father, Jobe, a man of greater stature than he ever achieved, creaked the door open and stood by the window. Jobe remained silent waiting for him to come out from under the bed and when he finally crept out, sure that the world was once safe, Jobe gave him a small crooked smile, which lasted as long as lightning, his shoulders erect just staring outside, silently probing his son to do the same. He imitated his dad's posture and outside the world looked broken. Reassured, he smiled again, look up and silenced himself quickly sensing that it was n't the time to speak but not grasping why. They. Both heard the front door open and watched his mother survey the yard. She was dressed still in her pajamas. A red t shirt with faint hints of a prominent design and cursive writing which was so faded it was just the remants. She wore it every night and once had broken down in a fit of tears when she thought she lost it. He never understood it then, but now he wore a shirt to bed just as faded amd old as hers but one from his youth. That box on the dresser had a rim of black scorched marks and bits of splintering wood in caked varnish and bits swirled into knots like distorted fingerprints. A mother's day gift from shop class. In it was a small part of his mother's shirt, the small scratched silver belt buckle of his fathers, a necklace from his first love, a picture of him out at the county fair holding his first bluish swirl of cotton candy, a rock he found at the bottom of a river his first trip abroad. He heard the rapt of rain drops on the window grow quicker and louder and smiled as they lulled him to sleep.
[ WP ] You 're on a train . You 've been on this train for quite awhile . You would say that it 's been days , but you ca n't really tell . There are no clocks and outside is a constant , grey fog .	Jared shifted aggressively in his seat in the hope of waking the lady next to him. Jared did not want to be rude, but he was concerned. She had been sleeping since he first took his seat. Jared took his seat on the train back what he figured to be two days ago, and his concern for her had grown steadily ever since. The pale, sleeping woman wore many layers topped with a large, brown fur hat and appeared to be fairly plump underneath it all. A young, pretty attendant approached from behind on the aisle. Jared spotted the backside of the woman in tight uniform, “ Miss! ” The tight blonde spun and faced. “ Excuse me, Miss. Could you give me the time? ” “ I ’ m sorry, sir. I don ’ t have the time. ” Confiscate my damn watch on my way in and can ’ t give me the damn time afterwards? This is nonsense “ Well, could you help me with a beer? ” “ Of course, sir, ” the woman said and spun smartly to resume her trot down the aisle. Jared watched her backside until she passed into washroom. Jared directed his attention to the window past the sleeping woman ’ s face. Outside, the unchanging, gray fog persisted. Jared tried to make out some sort of definition out of the fog. He wanted to glimpse the environment outside. He wished he could gather some sense of the time and place he occupied. The attendant approached again. Jared heard her pass and grew mildly anxious for his beer. Jared ’ s focus shifted to the sleeping woman ’ s face that obscured his view of the window. Fed up with concern for the woman, he decided he didn ’ t care about rudeness anymore. Jared decided he no longer gave a damn about anything in particular- especially not politeness. Civility up and left for the farm days ago when the bombs dropped. After days on a train in a last ditch effort to escape the endless aerial bombardment and subsequent gray, polluted air with a swarm of strangers, Jared was good and ready to be absolutely unpleasant. “ Mam, ” Jared addressed the sleeping woman and started shaking her shoulder gently. Nil. “ Mam, ” again he addressed with more aggressive shaking this time. Again, nil. Her face wore a limp, unimpressed look. Jared became more annoyed. Her not bothering to respond frustrated him. He was annoyed enough to act terribly. “ Mam! ” he yelled directly in her ear and began slapping her face with escalating brutality. “ Hello, sir, ” the attendant greeted. She had returned and with a pint of beer in her hand. “ Hi, ” Jared responded and grabbed the pint and was disappointed when the glass was unfamiliarly warm in his hand. He resumed his attempt to stimulate the sleeping woman into consciousness. He sipped the beer with his right hand and moved the sleeping woman ’ s head left and right with his left hand. “ Is she alright? ” the attendant asked. “ She won ’ t stop sleeping, ” Jared accused. “ Oh, ” the attendant remarked with concern. Heads of other passengers began to turn. Eyebrows and ears began to rise. Jared removed the obnoxious hat on the sleeping woman ’ s head and placed it on her lap. He raised his pint over the woman ’ s head. “ Sir- ” the attendant took on a state of alarm. “ Wake up! ” Jared insisted of the sleeping woman. He began pouring the pint on the woman ’ s head. “ Wake up! ” “ Sir- ” the attendant started and seized the half-emptied glass. “ Please! ” “ I just want her to wake up! ” Jared demanded. “ Sir, I- ” Jared started slapping the sleeping woman, “ Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! ” The attendant set the pint on the floor of the aisle way and grabbed Jared ’ s hands, “ Sir, please. ” Jared stood up into the aisle. He was pressed firmly against the attendant who released his hands and took a step back. The entirety of the passengers became engaged in the altercation. “ Someone wake this woman up! ” Jared requested of the passengers. “ Please! ” The attendant brushed past him into his seat. She bent over and put her ear to the sleeping woman ’ s mouth and her fingers to the sleeping woman ’ s neck. Silence. “ I believe she ’ s passed. ” “ You ’ ve got to wake her up, ” Jared insisted. “ I don ’ t want to sit next to someone who won ’ t stop sleeping. ” The attendant stood up into the aisle. “ She ’ s dead sir. ” Jared glared at the woman slouched in the seat next to his. “ Well? ” he sassily questioned the attendant. “ I ’ m not sure, sir. ” “ What are we going to do? ” “ I ’ m not sure, ” the attendant repeated and padded off through a door at the end of the aisle way. Jared remained glaring with the rest of the passengers within eyeshot at the woman whom he wished would just wake up. The passengers who couldn ’ t see the woman, glared at Jared. The passengers who couldn ’ t see either listened intently for an advancement. After an unbearable stretch of silence, the attendant returned. “ Sir, you ’ re going to have to take your seat. ” Jared was unenthused, “ No. ” “ You have to take your seat. ” “ I don ’ t want to sit with her. ” “ You have to take your seat sir, ” the attendant insisted. Silence returned. “ There ’ s nowhere else to seat you, sir. ” “ I don ’ t care where you seat me, ” Jared clarified, “ I care where you seat her ” and he pointed to the unlively woman in the seat next to his. “ We don ’ t have another place for her to sit either, ” the attendant grew annoyed in addition to the unpleasant state she had already developed. Jared eyed the attendant for a moment with a look of defiance. He became more and more aware of the attention of the rest of the passengers. Anxiety developed in him and he impulsively took his seat. He still felt the weight of all the passenger ’ s attention and he accepted that it would be inescapable for the time being. The attendant bent and picked up the half-full pint glass from the floor and walked off down the aisle and through the door. Jared resumed his staring out the window at the homogenous gray smog. He tried his best to ignore the insensate woman ’ s face obscuring his view.
[ WP ] A gritty/dark journal entry from an up and coming pokemon trainer .	Journal entry 20: I've traveled a long road, I lost a jiggly puff to the zubats in a cave I needed. So many of them dropped from the ceiling and drank her dry. I had my charmelon roast as many as we could while running but it did n't matter. That jigglypuff was already a bloody mess. Journal entry 25: I had just had my eighteenth birthday yesterday. We fed on fresh bidoof meat that my new charzard captured. I just defeated my fifth gym leader, I'm starting to think all the gym leaders are insane. I broke my pokedex early in my journey so I have n't had map in a while but I stumble on a gym that only used charm moves and the theme was a whore house. Momma would probably cry if she knew her boy was n't pure anymore but it was n't my choice the stupid maze kept spraying me with stuff that made me hot under the collar... Journal entry: Fuck it I quit. NOPE NOPE NOPE. Met my first ghost Pokemon, My starter is dead, My five others have curses. I can hear voices and according to the hospital I woke up at I have a destiny bond with the ghost. Every time I sleep I hear her calling and threatening me. She is going to get me and take me away. I'm so scared. Journal entry 33: He could n't run fast enough and now I have a new host. Such a young and virile body should last a long time. Now that I'm in his home town there are so many delicious Pokemon and humans roaming the street. Eeine meanie..... Police Joy note: this journal was found on a corpse of a trainer that killed eight people and himself in a occult ritual. No ghost were found but a barely alive Abra at the scene relayed scenes of the horror to me and my team before crumbling to ash.
[ WP ] Fictional characters have suddenly appeared on Earth , They do not want to be the heroes they once were , they want to be ... .. live streamers .	Loading Snapchat FlyingWithoutWings `` Hello everybody! Superman here, five miles above the Great Wall of China! Now look down, you'll see some structures similar to what I've found during my feed from the Amazon last Tuesday. Let's take a few pics, and as always, stay super!'' Ten minutes worth of aerial photos follow TheBoyWhoLived `` I've closed the private chat, because all of you keep commenting on how I should have gone with Hermione. Bloody hell... ... Bloody hell, people. Get a life. She's my best friend's wife now. Leave them alone!'' `` Also, stop asking me why Voldemort's Death Eaters did n't use disguises to sneak into Hogwarts. They're idiots. And stop sending me those pictures and comic strips!'' PassOrNoPass Pictures of bridges under construction, then a a selection of wizard hats and magic staffs BiggestHorcrux `` It has come to my attention that a certain Snapper has said unpleasant things about me. I have taken his suggestion... ... into account and brewed a large vat of Polyjuice Potion... ... to disguise myself and others. It was a failed experiment, and the whole mansion was full of Hermiones for the next hour. Perverts.'' BondJamesBond `` Today is a very special report. I will teach you how to be good with wooing the ladies that love your enemies in seven easy steps. First step, confidence.'' BlueChange `` Mystique here again. Like my new look? I was trying something new, and am open to your requests! Tell me what to be!'' NSFL 30 minutes of changes that start normal enough but quickly deteriorates MotherOfDragons `` WHERE ARE MY DRAGON EMOJIS!'' CaptainDeadpool `` I can finally talk to you! Can you talk back? Holla in the comments, people! Let's talk about shurikens today!'' TheFreeman Several minutes of Gordon Freeman counting up to two and weeping when he ca n't count any higher. The Count from Sesame Street peeks in and counts to three, laughing and slipping away.
[ WP ] Humans are the only sapient species to naturally evolve . All of the other races had a `` Caretaker `` race that guided their evolution . Naturally , the aliens are horrified , thinking that our `` Caretaker `` race abandoned us .	The Borta were a peaceful people. our nearest intergalactic neighbors, they brought us into the fold of the United intergalactic alliance. Everything seemed well, until the matter of trade agreements came to the table. Captain Edward Jones Smith and his team of negotiators eyed the proposed trade agreements carefully. `` Yes, I do believe that this is a fair deal.'' he announced to the Borta leader. Leader Gortah looked at the captain in shock `` do n't you wish to run this past your caretaker God?'' `` God is a religious figure, I can not communicate with him directly. Many people do n't even believe he exists...'' Embassitor Gortah looked shocked `` You can not contact your caretaker? You do n't even really have one? How is that possible? No other race in the galactic government is without one.'' The captain scratches his head `` I have been given full autonomy over these agreements.'' The Embassitor waves his hand `` I must ask the caretaker how to proceed, feel free to tour our cities or return to your ship.'' Capitan Edward returns to his ship, the ISS Black Perl. Named for the ship from Pirates of the Caribbean, it was the fastest ship humans ever constructed. Built quickly with the technology shared by the UIA, it was the only ship that could reach the Borta homeworld in days instead of generations. He stared at the computer screen gathering his thoughts before recording and transmitting a report back to Earth of what transpired. He talked with cultural experts on the ship, and he mentally prepared to fight his crew out of Borta space. A message comes in from the Ambassador `` Capitan Edward, the caretaker would like to speak to you'' The Ambassador and the Capitan meet in a room in the Capitol, inside the room is embellished in gold accents and art from the finest Borta artists line the walls. On the very back of the room, a transmission device stands. A robotic voice in the native tounge of the Borta says `` leave us, we require privacy'' The Ambassador leaves, leaving only the captain and the anonymous caretaker alone. A natural posh brittish voice exits the speakers of the device `` hello long lost brother'' the gold framed screen flickers to life, showing a human man in a uniform though to be lost to history. A vintage Grey Hugo Boss uniform with a gold swastika on the breast of the jacket, and on the band of the hat. An Eye of Providence in gold on each collar, he is definitely what you think. A Nazi officer, alive and well on an extraterrestrial planet. `` of course they were confused, they have every reason to as we have never revealed ourselves. They never even questioned us. Now my brother, you see that we are the caretakers, we are the Shepard of these mindless sheep. The master human race runs the universe.'' The capitain takes a step back `` but.. Your kind has n't existed in centuries...'' The officer flashes a smile, so sharp it could cut glass `` we forgive humanity, and embrace you all as lost family. We are the Shepards that heard these sheep. Tell your superiors that your trade agreements are approved, and that the rictch lives!'' The call disconnects and the door opens, the embasitor is waiting outside. He holds the signed agreement out to you `` we look forward to trade with your people.'' The capitan accepts the agreement, and sends a report back to Earth `` the agreement was a success, but I discovered their caretaker race is the Nazis!'' He receives a response before they can even get underway, a text only response from the world government leader. `` we know, you will not share this until we say so'' there is an ascii Eye of Providence at the end..
[ WP ] Write the opening paragraph to a story that makes me want to read on	I'm willing to bet that what I'm about to describe has never before been experienced by another human being. This memory involves me ( age 6 ), my mom, a dead chicken, and a confused dog. We lived in the country, far from prying eyes and potential kidnappers ( what can I say? I had an extremely strange childhood ). I was off to the side, sitting cross-legged, observing the scene as it played out in front of me. One of our dogs was tethered to a stake in the ground; she was running in circles, being chased and smacked repeatedly by one very pissed off mom whose chosen weapon was a dead chicken.
[ CW ] Write me a tragedy in less than 101 words .	Olivia was lightning and thunder and rain. She reminded me of a cathedral. Beautiful and haunting. I loved her eyes and loved her laugh How here fingernails pressed into my palm when she squeezed my hand. I get nightmares. I wake up and beg the dark to leave me alone. I imagine you, hidden in the back of my bedroom with your glowing white skin and soft black hair. A phantom that's jumped out from the deeps of my mind. Sometimes, my sleep breaks and I reach out for my phone. Blank screen.. I lay till daylight softly filters through the curtains, bathing my bedroom in the orange-amber of a dying fire.
[ WP ] Nobody from your town stays dead . You all always come back to life . Not even old age can end you . It certainly makes things interesting .	`` It was a sunny day in the town of Gardenton and the war of the endless summer had commenced. Sitting on the porch of a large house was Maximillion Firebrand, the greatest pyromancer around. From down the path another figure approached he carried a bow on his back. `` Max.'' He nodded. `` Longshot.'' Max nodded back. `` Am I the last one?'' `` Yep. Blink is scouting out the area but Slash, Rusty and George are all inside.'' Max got up, the two heading inside to a room with a map on the table. Three people stood around it. They were planning their attack of Fort hydron. It was a small fort but it had been built around a valuable water source. `` According to Blink they've set up a little ahead of the fort to catch us early.'' The speaker was a girl with two swords strapped to her back. Slash, the most beautiful ninja around. She was using a pencil to mark out a flanking route. `` If we went this way while someone distracted them on the main route we could take the fort before they knew what hit them.'' `` Who should distract them then?'' A tall boy asked. The aptly named Rusty. His skin was a mixture of brown and silver. Wires and metal plates running the length of his body. On one arm he had a large cannon mounted. `` I was thinking you and Max would be best. Fire and lasers are hard to ignore.'' They all nodded in agreement. There was a whooshing sound as Blink appeared inside the room. She was wheezing slightly. `` Right we're all here lets move out.'' Slash said. They headed out of the room and towards the treeline. Just inside the forrest they split up. Max and Rusty heading straight on while the rest took a side path. The forrest was dense. Moving without making noise was impossible. Luckily it was their job to make noise. `` Reckon you'll kill Rockwall again. What is it now, five to two?'' Rusty said. `` Six to two, I did n't die in the last battle remember.'' Max said. It was a strange thing about their town. Since they had cast the spell of endless summer no one stayed dead. The effects of time could n't touch them, any wound they took would vanish the next day when they were ressurected. It certainly made holding any territory difficult. However it did mean they had an endless number of reinforcements. Max stopped walking as Rusty held up his hand. He pointed forwards where someone had poorly hidden a large shield. It was drapped in vines and leaves but the metallic shine was unmistakeable. `` Really Rockwall? That was a poor attempt.'' Max said. From behind the shield a figure rose up. He was almost a head taller then Max or Rusty. `` Maximillion Firebrand. We meet again.'' `` Shall we skip the small talk and get to the part where I kill you again?'' Max said. A fireball glowing into life in his hand. Next to him Rusty raised his handcannon. `` I was thinking you could die this time.'' Rockwall said. He gave a whistle and more people emerged out of the trees. One of the threw a small sphere at Max's. It doused his hand as it broke his fire going out with a hiss. `` DA. You fiend.'' Max said. The attacker was a boy in a labcoat. Around his shoulders was a satchel filled with more spheres. `` It's Doctor Apocalypse to you. How do you like my ice bomb? Hard to make a fire when you're wet. Have another.'' DA said. Max rolled out the way as he threw another sphere. It hit the tree behind him frost spreading out over the tree. Max stood throwing a fireball back at them. Rockwall blocked it with his shield. `` I have two hands idiot.'' He lobbed another straight into the air, `` Rusty get them.'' They turned and started running as the fireball came down behind their attackers. Rockwall turned bracing behind his shield as the explosion threw DA and the third attacker into the trees. In between taking pot shots they headed off to the side of the path. If they were going to be chased they might aswell lead them in the wrong direction. Behind them the three were up and in persuit. `` All we need to do is lead them on a goose cha-'' Max was cut short as a chain wrapped around his legs. He was pulled backwards towards a girl with silver hair. `` Chaintelle.'' `` Hello Max.'' She said punching him. Max kicked back Chaintelle falling backwards as he took the chain off. She did n't pause getting up and throwing another forwards. Max side stepped and spun in with a kick but she ducked under and wrapped the chain around his leg again. She stepped round him the chain looping his neck. Max fell to his knees as his airway was cut off. `` And now you die.'' There was a cracking sound as a blast tore through the trees and into Chaintelle's head. She dropped to her feet dead. Max stood up coughing as Rusty ran over. `` You alright?'' `` I'm fine, where are the other two?'' `` DA realised what we were doing, they're probably at the fort by now.'' They set off. Running through the forrest at full speed and out into a field. The fort and its accompanying water tower sat in the middle. Outside the gate they could see people fighting. Rockwall had Blink under his shield crushing her. Max hurled a fireball but it was too late. Blink did n't move as Rockwall rolled away to put out the fire. Next to him Slash gave a cry as DA stuffed an ice bomb into her mouth. It broke open her head freezing solid. Rockwall stood laughing. `` Look's like we've got this one.'' Rusty charged DA as Max threw another fireball at Rockwall. Rockwall blocked it running at him. He blocked each fireball one after the other as Max threw them. When they were close enough he smashed the shield into making him stumble back. Max righted himself throwing a fireball to Rockwell's left. He turned to block and Max tackled him. Max tore his shield off before punching him. He laid into him for a few seconds before raising a fireball. `` Any last words?'' But before Rockwall could say his final words or Max could deliver the final blow a voice rang out from the skies.'' `` Max lunch time.'' `` Mum it's Maximillion Firebrand and you're interupting my killing blow.'' `` Well I'm sorry I just thought you and your friends would like some food.'' Max's mum said. She was holding a picnic hamper. Behind her was Chaintelle, chewing on a cookie. `` The great Maximillion accepts this offering.'' Max turned to the other fighters, `` Foods here guys.'' The other children hurried over. Bink dusting her self off. Slash drying her face. Max's mum put the hamper down and laid out a blanket for them to sit on. `` You kids enjoy now. Dinner is at 6.'' `` Thanks for the cookie Mrs F.'' `` You're welcome Chantelle. I hope those chains do n't belong to anyone.'' `` No Ma'am my brother lent them to me.'' `` Ok then. I'll leave you kids to it.'' `` And with that the food angel returned to the heavens. Her bounty appreciated by all.'' `` Max narrate a bit quieter please.'' `` Uh yes mum.'' `` And for a short while there was peace in Gardenton. But who knew what tomorrow held.''
[ WP ] At birth , each child is given 5 objects that they must carry with them , or have near at hand , for the rest of their lives . These objects have seemingly prophetic significance on the lives of their owners .	When I was born, they gave me the five mandatory objects that they knew would help me in the life ahead. These objects were as followed: - Headphones - My toy dog - My torch - My pearl necklace - A rope At first, my parents were confused. After all, no parents could guess why the objects were given. But every child needed these things at some stage, so they didn ’ t object. As I grew, slowly, all the objects provided some use to me. My headphones were of great use from a young age, being a lover of music, I used to plug them into my MP3 player that my parents gave me when I was young, I plugged it into computers, my parent ’ s iPods, anything I cloud. Music was my only escape from the reality of being weird. My toy dog was just like a safety blanket. I took him everywhere, in my backpack one those first innocent days to school, where everyone played nice and nobody cried. But as time went on, and I got older, carrying my dog around wasn ’ t so normal. And of course, I got picked on. Poor toy dog. I ’ d cried over it so many times, I ’ d whispered to it my darkest secrets and sang my saddest songs in its faithful ear. It was my only friend in that school. My torch was a puzzle for a while; of course, it had practical use, but seemingly nothing more. It was just a torch, or so I thought. Later in life, as the times grew darker and my life seemed to fade away and return like the seasons, the torch was my only light through the miserable times. I would shine it on my ceiling, smile up at it, while I cried, but it gave me so much relief to see the physical lightness in my times of need. As I grew older, I still didn ’ t fit in. The songs I sang and the books I read weren ’ t fashionable. Luckily, I had a school uniform which I actually kind of liked, so I wouldn ’ t be picked on because of my clothes. Boys didn ’ t like me, I wasn ’ t good-looking, or witty, or charming. I was just me. Despite this, I found someone. And I remember the day like it was yesterday. My mother had reminded me about the pearl necklace that sat, dormant, on my dresser. Lonely and unused. It wasn ’ t like I didn ’ t like it, it just unnerved me a bit. All of the other items I ’ d found its use quickly, but other than being pretty, it didn ’ t do anything. I wore it to school that day, proudly. Of course, nobody noticed, or at least I thought, but it made me feel better. A girl behind me tapped me on the shoulder in my math class, and said timidly she liked it. I smiled, awkwardly, thanked her. She smiled back, and she was my first and only friend. Later that day, we ate lunch together awkwardly outside, but it was nice too. Despite not knowing her very well, it was just nice to have company for once, instead of gazing around at my peers, envying them. We did that every day for the rest of the year. We weren ’ t that funny together, or loud, but we got each other. We both knew that we were odd, and it was nice to have someone to invite round and watch movies with and talk about some boy who totally looked at you in the class. Time went dully by, and the rope was always fresh in my mind. Like the pearls, I hadn ’ t really figured out its purpose. It unnerved me too, but it was because I felt it had more sinister intentions. What good thing could a rope be used for? Pulling something? I had no idea. Eventually, I progressed schools with my only friend. It was the same, with the same type of people, just with different faces, different names. But they were all the same. But things seemed to be changing. My friend seemed to have found other friends, other interests. Boys to actually talk to, not just gawk at. She didn ’ t care so much about lessons, or being around me. I expected it, of course. In a world of beauty, something totally plain was ugly. Then, the rumours started. My ‘ friend ’ had now completely cut ties with me, left me to eat alone, talked about me to her new friends. Her new boyfriend. Secrets. Lies, mostly, but teenagers believe anything. It didn ’ t get to me, at first. Something like this didn ’ t really matter to me, I preferred my own company, and people just whispered and looked when I walked by. But it got worse. They started using my name as an insult. Threw things at me. Dared people to come and talk to me. I remember the day, like it was yesterday. Well, it was yesterday, you could say. I ran home from school, crying, my parents were out at some meeting or another. I ran up, found the rope under my bed, and looped it around the ceiling light, and smiled at myself in the high mirror. For once, I felt beautiful. I felt alive. I hung it around my neck, said goodbye to sanity, and jumped.
[ WP ] A child abandoned in a supermarket , raised by a pack of wild shopping trolleys .	Pushers. Meaty pushers with their meaty purchases, dripping raw juices through flimsy bags of plastic that coated poor carts with stickiness. Oh, how Carter hated them, especially when they brought their equally meaty offspring along just to sit in his basket and fill their cotton buttbasins with excrement. He longed for the promised day of change, the day when the pushers would become the pushees, and Carter and his kin would be the ones promenading around the store for hours on end, hauling around carts of writhing meat, filling them with too many boxes, abandoning them on the blacktop in the middle of a heavy rain. Hate breeds hate. That's what Cartesia would tell him. Love is always the better solution. If not for the problem, for yourself. But was she right? It was hard to agree after a spending an hour lugging a pusher's monthly milk supply through the entire store, only for him to pile you up the wrong way against your neighbor's face. How could he love a pusher in spite of their atrocities? The doors to the stockroom burst open, interrupting Carter's reverie, and in came his favorite pusher. His face was unreadable, an ambiguous conglomeration of emotions, but his steps were deliberate and angry. `` Carter,'' he snapped, `` you have a lifetime of lies to answer for.'' Meatchild brought both his hands down on Carter's handlebar and clenched with the fervor of a maniacal shopper. `` Meatchild, let go at once!'' Carter wrested himself out of his grasp, leaving skid marks on the tile. `` Explain yourself.'' `` You should be explaining yourself. I've just been to aisle 9, and I know the truth!'' A jolt of panic surged through Carter's metal gridwork. He'd done his best to sequester the home furnishing aisle away from Meatchild and even taken additional precautions in the event he came across it. All mirrors he'd ordered to be smashed or otherwise hidden behind the clocks and the picture frames. But all for naught, it seemed, if Meatchild was now confronting him in this manner. `` Like what you saw? Because I have to put up with it every day.'' Meatchild's face reddened further, his eyebrows crunching together. `` I'm not a shopping cart with pusher limbs!'' He kicked Carter's bottom rim. `` I'm not a mutant! I'm a pusher. A full-blooded pusher kept captive by your kind.'' Meatchild roared and thrust Carter forward, sending him careening into the wall. `` Why? Why did you lie to me?'' Carter let the heat seep from his aching back all the way down his length and into the recesses of his throat. `` We were trying to protect you. The pushers are evil and horrible. Look at yourself, for Walton's sake! Now that you know you're a pusher, this is how you act?'' Carter swiveled back and forth on his two back wheels. `` The pushers abandoned you. The carts raised you. Be grateful we did n't just take you to the butcher's.'' `` I'm supposed to be happy you did n't just kill me? And you're supposed to be the decent ones?'' Meatchild let out a single bark of laughter. `` You're a sad excuse for a cart and an even sadder one for a father.'' Meatchild turned on his heel and exited the room, his borrowed employee's vest flapping in his wake. Carter followed, more out of apprehension than paternal obligation. He had no love for Meatchild. Absolutely none at all. The moments they had spent together, Carter ferrying him around the empty store, Meatchild helping him ascend the high rising shelves, the whole family racing each other through the aisles... all meaningless. It'd all been a charade orchestrated for the greater good, the suppression of a dangerous threat, the study of the carts' oppressors. Carter dug his hind wheels into the floor: he had never loved Meatchild. Behind the checkout counters, the other carts were clustering around Meatchild, crying and blabbering apologies, begging him not to leave. `` Meatchild, please,'' Cartesia said, `` we never meant any harm.'' He brushed her aside and continued walking, shoving aside any cart persistent enough to stay in his path. Carter watched his son's back vanish behind the closing automatic doors, and his conviction branded itself permanently in his mind. He had never loved Meatchild.
[ WP ] Everyone is born with a little tattoo that shows how much time they have left to live . With every seemingly inconsequential decision made today , yours bounces around dramatically - 52 years - 39 days - 128 years - 7 months - 229 years - 8 hours -	My grandfather always likes to tell stories from his childhood, before the Smart Ink™ changed everything. Now days you can find out anything about your body from your skin. Get sick and the doctor can call up your medical records and diagnosis just by tracing a pattern on your skin. Back in Gramp's age your medical records and personal information were all stored away on paper or computers far away. Dad's no better. He talks about the time before they solved the Time's Arrow paradox and did n't know anything about the future. People used to actually gamble on their death date with insurance policies and random sexual hookups with no way to know if you were risking disease. It sounds really terrible, but I've watched the old movies and read the histories and it sounds kind of interesting. They did n't have the gangs of short timers with their death clocks publicly displayed on their faces, out to make the most of their short lives. They did n't have the methuselahs with a century or more to work with, playing the long game of wealth separate from us regular folks. Things were a random mess back then, but it sounds like a it'd be fun not to know some things. But other things were harder. Nobody had their life clock politely displayed so that other could know what kind of plans were safe to make with strangers. People would brazenly walk around blank, with no way for the emotionally fragile to know that getting involved with you could bring early heartache or disease. Of course there was no law that said you could n't lie socially. As long as you are n't doing business you can program your Ink™ to show any date you want. It's rude, but its legal. Of course it's considered impolite to go out showing less than an honest day. You can get arrested for disturbing the peace if you walk around with less than an hour. It draws a crowd. So I was chilling down at the broth house, sipping some salty beef and onion, watching a Thriller outside the shop goading a small crowd of Shorts. Idiot knew they would n't beat him to death, of course, but I do n't think he knows how badly you can get hurt and still live. I decided to spice up my broth while I watched the scene play out. I was taking test sip between jiggers of the little bottle and I noticed my Ink™ do an update. A set of bands washed over my life clock and then what had been fifty-two years now shows thirty-nine days. I dropped my mug and gave the bottle a closer look. It was standard hot sauce. It had a little carcinogen warning on it, but those were just for show were n't they? Maybe someone had tampered with the thing. I've heard rumors that Randomists have some way to get around the temporal sensors. But those are just supposed to be urban legends. Shit. I just lost more than half a century. My stomach clenched in sudden worry and I ran to the bathroom. What can I do? I need to throw up right? I pulled my shirt off and traced a pattern on my chest. Most people do n't know all the codes, but I'm not most people. The haptic controls kicked in and I started puking. Then I purged everything else. Still thirty-nine days. Shit. This is n't supposed to happen. The radioactive isotopes in my amygdala have been signaling brain function from fifty two years hence, now they are n't. Shit! The timeline is supposed to be solved for everything but catastrophic temporal branches, of which there has only ever been one recorded. I looked at myself in the mirror. I'm a Short! How the fuck did that happen? I try to rinse the taste of ashes from my mouth to no avail. I look like I'm about to cry, I feel like I'm about to cry. I'm just thinking I need to pull myself together. I wash my face and just keep splashing the cold water around my eyes. It's soothing. I look again through dripping lashes. Maybe everything is okay. Nope. No change. I turn to the dryer, but think'fuck it' and wave my hand in front of the premium paper towel dispenser. The tiny fee is worth the thick scratchy goodness. It's not like I need to save my money any more. I scrub my face dry and toss the expensive disposable luxury. I look at my wrist again to come to grips with my new status and feel confused. 128 years. It say's 128 years. I'm not a Methuselah. It does n't even run in my family. This is n't possible. My Ink™ must be fried. That's got to be it. I grab my shirt and charge out of the bathroom. I do n't bother to put it back on as I run down the block. I dodge the Shorts, they've pounded the Thriller to a bloody mess and I do n't want to get pulled into their scene right now. There's a body shop just two blocks away and I need a checkup. I rush into the store front and barely give the attendant a look. I do n't need to see her clock to know she's probably got less than a five-spot. With that many mods she's not planning on long life. I mean they could be removable, or just to show of the shop's wares, but I do n't really care right now. I make a B-line to their main tank without even asking and key up a complete diagnostic run. The conductive gel wraps around me. I take a deep breath and duck my head under. Time stops for me, my senses go nuts, and so does my Ink. The machine runs for probably a good five minutes, but for me it's just a blink of the eye. You got ta love modern medicine. When I get up the smart gel snakes out of my clothes and leaves me dry. I check the report and everything is good. My timeline is verified, the ink is working, I've got a real century and change on my clock. Guaranteed. No really, a Guarantee chit is printed out, suitable for use as proof of longevity for all business and legal purposes. I am a certified Methuselah. Fuck me. The good way this time. How did this happen. I've got a mile-wide grin on my face as I realize that there's still puke on the shirt I've been carrying around. I bin the thing and go to the rack. I punch up a shirt and just spin the logo and artwork knob. The fab spits it out in seconds. It's a tee-shirt logo for some old band from Gramp's era. Cool. I pull the shirt on, wave and grin at the shopkeep, who does n't give a rats ass if I live or die. I'm back on the street. I'm in shock. I know it. I had fifty, and I have longevity job. But as a Methie I should probably start thinking about using my time better. I could easily be a Chief Continuity Officer for a big corp with a buck-twenty-eight on my arm. I hear someone shout `` there he is'' and in seconds I'm surrounded by the Shorts I'd sprinted past at the broth house. `` What's your deal man! Why you run?'' The Short is getting ready to ruin my day. One of the others says `` Cool threads Shorty! Do n't go forward, why not go back, am I right?'' and gives me a high-five, that I give back without thinking. `` Common Trev, he's got less than five grand, he's a brother.'' The first guy looks at my wrist and says, `` Shit. Sorry bro. Did n't mean to waste your time'' and leads the gang off. What the actual fuck? Five grand? I check my wrist and it shows two hundred seven days. Just under seven months. I do some quick math on my forearm scratchpad and the Ink informs me that that's less that five thousand hours. Five grand. 'I guess the shorter the time the bigger units'. I hear the hysteria in my own laugh. `` Shit. Just go home.'' I say it to myself, but nobody would notice. I turn south. I do n't know why. Part of me is thinking maybe I should find the Shorts. They might know somebody who can do something. The thought does n't totally make sense. I get half a block when I remember the chit. I've got a guarantee damn it. Someone needs to help me. I paw my pockets till I find the little sheet of perspex. The 207 days is still there. The chit still says 128 years. I press the chit to my arm and it turns green. I let out a deep breath I did n't even realize I was holding. Then the chit turned black. A little forgery icon appeared on the chit, then the text `` the authorities have been notified''. This ca n't be happening to me! I peel up the chit and beneath it the Ink reads 229 years. People do n't live that long. That'd be a high number to be _born_ with, adding on my age its just not reasonable. The thought is n't quite rational or fully formed any more. Maybe somebody does this. Maybe they see my clock and start experimenting on me. Maybe they've got some way to mess with time. From there it's just a jumble of paradoxes and conspiracy theories. I cover the clock with my hand and look around. There's an alley between the next two shops. I duck into it and hide behind a trash pod. The light is bad and as I lean out from my hiding spot for more light the clock changes to eight hours. Lean back into cover and see the eight shift down from the hours to the minutes column. I jump up like I've been bit and suddenly I'm at two months. I raise my hands so I can see the clock. I move further out and the time goes up. A little further and it starts going down. Move my hands, the changes go up and down. Even deciding to stop is deciding, and every time I even change my mind, the number changes wildly. I'm moving slowly. Trying things. Positions and postures, looking for a good high number while I keep my mind blank at the same time. I hear drones coming. Lot's of drones. Way too many drones by far. I get to a good number. A really good number. A number so large I do n't dare read it. Huddled in a deep shadow, chanting `` Just do n't move, Just do n't move, Just do n't move,'' I've got no idea what to do as the first shots are fired.
[ WP ] The Great Wizard gives you a relic - a frying pan , to deliver it to the other end of the world . The only condition is it must never be used for cooking by anyone , or a great evil will be unleashed .	`` It's so cold,'' he shivered, as the nitrogen-tinged winds whipped against his cloak. `` I've never been so cold on any celestial body, Centaurian or otherwise.'' `` Calm down, Santa, so you may sleep.'' High above them and lightyears away the Great Clock clicked down minutes, and they could see the massive hands of time whirling away, clicking the light-seconds left in their lives as they matched with the chattering of their teeth. `` Your days on Earth,'' Santa continued, `` how cold was it? It has real water, right? Actual water, that runs and leaks and everything? How was it?'' `` Wet.'' `` Wet like kisses? Wet like acid?'' `` Wet like a hangover. Irresponsibly wet.'' Both of their stomachs grumbled, signaling the fresh arrival of another wave of hunger, despite their best efforts to keep the beast at bay. The last time that Sandoval had any food was surely when they visited M31 and seemingly not a gigasecond sooner. He had picked Santa up at V And ( Mankin's BIG Star, not the lesser and stinkier little brother ) long after he had anything solid and carbon-based. The memories of his days around Sol brought him unwelcome flashes of what-called `` bread'' and sloppy, saucy things, like casseroles and what we know as `` poutine.'' He hated it all. The wetness, you see. Bread was okay, without any spread. Santa fared just as brilliantly. `` How'bout the pan,'' he said. `` I have a halon alternative in my cloak pocket. We do n't even need any of the Xenon to eat. How about a few packets of those Yltian capers? Inous Skaciul shrimp? Iillii rays? Really any seafood will do,'' he joked. Sandoval said nothing. The rocky crevice they occupied shook and swelled beneath their bottoms. The constant vibrations ushered on more spasms of starvation and subsequent denial of said hunger. They felt chill, chill and dismay and rocks, and pain and sadness and denial, and some rock. `` What does that Wizard even look like,'' Santa was talking mostly to himself now, `` a sort of bushy bastard? He's got a staff or a wand or a plizzurd stick or something?'' Santa was calling to mind tales of his childhood, his parents winding stories around his sleepy bedtime head dealing with great princes and warriors fighting for survival in a grisly world; a savior borne of nobility, come to save the lesser depresser-folk from the mortality that plagues them; princesses that need princessing, a handsome young rogue rescuing them from drizzly Drogoughts on a dismal desert planet, whistling a tune of victory as he ambled away from the wreckage; a fanciful priest-like figure who waited until the dark of a mid-year holiday to bring presents and merriment to a less-endowed citizenry ( how lucky we are as Earth-dwellers to never be subjected to such fantasies! ). After spending so long in his own head reminiscing, Santa came to realize that the camp had grown silent yet again. He knew Sandoval was not asleep ( one could never sleep on Exius Second West ) but, in his younger and more impressionable years, he may have been tricked. Sandoval sat like a stone: eye closed, cloak draped across body, stagnant and stalwart against the nitrogen winds. He was at peace. The Great Clock ticked on and on. Santa saw the pan, an ethereal glow emanating from the satchel at Sandoval's side. Black and nondescript in proper light, now the appliance peeled away at Santa's stalwart resolve and pecked at his mind-numbing hunger. He moved towards it, ever so slightly, laughing at the ludicrous image he presented as he inched closer and closer towards what looked to him like a dead man. The pan gripped him, he would say. His hands were drawn around it and he was powerless to deny. Great, gleaming flames appeared in his mind's eye about how he might show Sandoval a wonderful five-course meal; Glackglock filet, the aforementioned Yltian capers, even some Baked Alak-Ah for desert. He would do it for his friend. He would do it for his own stomach, he knew damn well, but also kind of for his friend. He pulled out his alt halon. He swiped out some of the gnarly grain-based flax slab Sandoval called `` brehb,'' stolen from an abducted Asian somewhere around the Pleiades, he thought. He summoned the worm-like Vywym from the stone for the appetizer. He placed the pan to the flame. Santa would say that he remembered only a flash of green and a bang. He was pushed backward off of the cliff. He was nowhere near Sandoval at the time of his death, he would say. In reality, envy took hold on him and he killed Sandoval. Sandoval let it happen, he saw the thieving of the pan and the resulting bang. He watched through conscious eyes as the smoke cleared and Santa sat laughing at him while he experienced a version of what we on Earth know as paralysis ( the cosmic word for it is both unpronounceable and hilarious ). Santa pushed forward in a maniacal state. Green smoke and swirling nitro and offensive odor prevailed. Santa pulled the pan up to strike and yet, even in his tortured and affected mind, thought better of it. There was hesitation, he thought about his friend-he remembered being picked up outside of one of the M's, maybe 37 or 29, something like that, but memory was hard-he saw the one of Sandoval's iron-colored eye staring right out from his soul. Santa felt his hands form around the pan, hot and burning, ripping skin from bone. His hands showed him how to grip the bowl, not the handle, to ignore the searing, and he followed blindly before he knew what to do. He drove the handle of the pan through that iron-colored eye, stopping Sandoval from staring at him any more. Blue, pure blood squirted from the socket. It, too, was warm. Buckets of brain sputtered from the wound. Santa would fill his stomach before he came to. Santa, the uninformed devil, would again set upon his way to starving to death. He would drag it out as long as he could, roasting pieces of his own flesh over the ever-dwindling Xenon gas in his pockets, until he ran out of fingers with which to cook the fingers he had left.
[ WP ] A man calls a suicide hotline . Somewhere along the line , he helps the person on the other end of the phone with their problems	`` Ahem. Hi. Er. Is this the line?'' `` Well, that depends what line you're looking for - for example, this is not the conga line.'' `` What?'' `` This is not the conga line.'' `` I guess not. This is the suicide line, right?'' `` Sure.'' `` Well, okay. I have a bit of an issue right now.'' `` I can tell.'' Pause. `` Are n't you supposed to ask me what it is?'' `` Tell me what you want.'' `` I guess I just want someone to listen.'' `` Cool.'' Pause. `` So. Listening?'' `` Yep.'' `` Well, I'm standing up on the balcony right now. I do n't know if I should do it.'' `` Do it.'' `` What? Are n't you supposed to discourage me?'' `` Do it.'' `` I mean, it's your job to provide counsel or something, to help me not commit suicide, right?'' `` I'm too tired to deal with your shit right now.'' `` Are you drunk?'' `` Do I sound drunk?'' `` Well, you're not slurring or anything, but you sound a bit funny.'' `` Funny, that. Did n't know someone I've never spoken to could say my voice sounded'funny'.'' `` I did n't know someone who could n't listen could work at a suicide hotline.'' `` You do know this is n't the suicide hotline, right?'' `` But you said -'' `` I lied.'' `` Huh. What's your problem?'' `` I'm drunk.'' `` Ah. But you said -'' `` I lied, again.'' `` You really ought to stop doing that.'' `` Why?'' `` Well, it makes a conversation a bit harder than it should be.'' `` Hmph. I would n't know.'' `` Are those videogame sounds I'm hearing?'' `` Yeah.'' `` When's the last time you spoke to an actual human being?'' `` Dunno, a year ago?'' `` How is that even possible?'' `` Dunno.'' `` Huh. Guess you can spare the time to listen to me for a bit, then.'' `` Sure. Let me just click the restart on my computer.'' `` Well, you see, the reason I've been sitting on the balcony tonight...''
[ WP ] You 're driving away after deciding to leave your old life behind and start fresh elsewhere . On a long and lonesome road , you pick up a hitchhiker for some welcome company . This stranger recognizes you from a long time ago and asks how things are .	I had just ended the call with old Ms. Whitting. Her husband of 65 years had just passed and left her almost $ 200,000. By the end of the call she was left with maybe $ 5,000 and inflated hopes of a high return on the $ 195,000 investment I just convinced her to make. What I knew, and she did n't, was that this fund she just put the entirety of her husbands life's earnings into, was going to be going belly up in less than a month, and with it, her money. But my company makes a percentage of the money contributed and a percentage of that goes to me. This was n't the first time I had conned an innocent and unknowing person out of their money for a commission. I had always been able to drown out the guilt with increasingly shiny and new material purchases, but this time it felt different, it was different. Maybe it was the way she ended the call thanking me and expressing such gratitude, or maybe it was my conscious, like a drug addict with their drug of choice, grew a tolerance to material distractions the likes of which I could n't satiate. As I left the office, followed by the praise of my manager as if I had just cured cancer and not just robbed an old woman of everything her and her late husband had, it began to really sink in what I had just done and been doing the past 15 years. It seemed that with each floor the elevator cleared in its descent to the parking garage, the pride diminished and was replaced with an equivalent level of guilt. By the time the elevator reached its destination I was left with nothing but guilt and a crippling nausea. It seemed to reach its peak as I typed in the 4 digit pin code in my new BMW, with each tap of my finger, the image of me buying the car, swelling with pride and arrogance came swooping back into present. I nearly threw up, how had I become such an utter piece of shit. The sight of my young face, yet untouched by the reality of the world, telling my 2nd grade teacher Mrs. O'connor, that I wanted to be a fireman when I grew up so that I could save lives and make the world a better place, had come rushing through my mind. Thus increasing my dissatisfaction with my life, and disgust with myself. Looking back I do n't think there was a distinct thought or decision to leave it all behind, but more a decision made unbeknownst to me, on a seeming molecular level. As I opened the door, with the new found direction in life and the guilt and nausea dissipating, the scent from the dangling black tree sucker punched me in the gut and it all came rushing back. And with that, I was pulling out of the garage and gone. I drove for what seemed to be days, but was more accurately probably hours as I had n't had to fill up the tank yet. I did n't know where I was heading, and I did n't care. All I cared about was the growing distance between me and the sinister life i previously lived. There's something oddly therapeutic about driving on an empty road in complete silence other than the hum of the road passing by. Left with nothing but my thoughts, my mind wandered. Wandered through the maze of memories that came crashing back, memories long since forgotten, or perhaps more accurately; repressed. I had no experience with psychology, but from the shows I had watched, I always figured one would repress bad memories, not good ones. But I suppose when you became everything you despised, the good memories and nostalgia that came with them were just reminders of how far I've fallen. It began with memories of wild parties filled with rich aristocrats, all plotting of ways to get even just a step ahead, hiding behind their unnerving grins and perfect teeth and shiny gold and diamond jewelry. At the time these parties seemed extravagant and luxurious but as my reality of a stock broker turned into another memory the truth of these parties began to set in. They were n't luxurious or exciting, they were sad, and lonely. I had become so isolated from the real world and real people, I could n't even remember the last genuine conversation or connection I had had with someone. Until I did. Her name was Sierra Nittler. If there is such thing as'the one,' she was it. It had been nearly 20 years since I had seen her, and not much shorter of a time since I had thought of her. Not because her significance had diminished, but more so I could n't handle the inevitable blame and regret that would wash over me for squandering such a relationship. I wonder what she was up to now? Married I'm sure, she was a beautiful girl and she knew it. She would have met someone else, settled down, had kids and was happy. This thought brought a new found sense of calm over me. I really did hope she was happy, she deserved it. Recollected, I continued on the road, and with each passing mile marker sign came new once forgotten memories of her, of her flowing brown hair and green eyes. Of her perky breasts brushing against my stomach and her head on my chest, and the nights that turned into days as we spent laying interlocked talking of things with no natural importance, but to us, together, it was the only thing that mattered. Jesus we were in love I thought. How could I have been so dumb? I left her for this job in New York, for this new life, never before has a mistake seemed so obvious to me. It was with this thought that I noticed a young, disheveled looking man walking along the side of the road. A large overbearing hikers backpack strapped to his back, dreaded hair covering the top. He looked homeless, but by choice. If it were any other day, I'd have kept driving and would n't have even committed the sight of him to memory. However, it was n't any other day. I pulled over and gave a quick honk. It seemed like any energy he had lost in his trek across an unknown distance came rushing back as he quickly paced over to the passenger door. And with that we were off. I had n't thought of what would happen after I picked him up, there was just something inside of me urging me to stop and pick him up. Perhaps it was a subconscious attempt at winning back some points or perhaps it was motivated by guilt. Either way he was in the car now and there was no point in driving in awkward silence. I asked him where he was heading, and coinciding with my own goals, he said he did n't know and he did n't care. With this new connection we found in our apathy towards our destination we began talking. I told him my story, though he did n't ask. And he told me his story, though I did n't ask. As he began his story, starting at his childhood in Richmond, Virginia, I could n't help but feel a sense of familiarity. The area, the people, everything he was describing about Richmond seemed like a story he had heard before. The school he went too, their school mascot, the grocery store he worked at through high school, all were names he had heard before. Passing it off as coincidence or a conglomeration of all the new feelings I was experiencing, I continued to probe him about his life. He told me his name was John, and I accepted that in silence. He continued to describe how his mother worked two jobs to support him and herself because his dead beat dad had left them to fend for themselves. At this point we had been in the car talking for nearly 6 hours. I do n't think there had been a single break in conversation aside from the initial silence. But as he began to talk of his mom and her working to keep them fed and clothed, his voice began to waver, and though he tried to hide it, you could hear the ululation in his voice and him holding back tears. Not tears of sadness, but over anger. Maybe more so rage. He continued on to how at the age of 17, he had come home to his mother on the floor, white foamy mucus coating her lips, her eyes locked in rigid agony. On the tile floor lay a letter addressed from the bank with a big red `` FORECLOSURE'' stamp on the front. In her still tight grasp was a pill bottle. She had killed herself. He told me that at that moment he packed a bag of clothes and just left. That was nearly 4 years ago now. As the tears began to win the battle of repression, he mustered a `` Pull over'' and with that I did. He opened the door and hurriedly got out, bag in hand and a Thanks in the wind. As he closed the door I managed to ask him one last question, one I realized I had completely forgotten to ask. `` What's your name kid?'' `` John Nittler'' The last name knocked any strength I had left out of me. As all strength left my body and my muscles went limp, it all became painfully obvious. Richmond, Virginia was where Sierra was from. The school he went too with the unusual mascot was the same school from all her stories. The store he worked at was the same store she had once worked at. He was her son. He was his son. And she was dead. And it was my fault. New York had n't corrupted a once good man, it had merely given a bad man room to grow into a horrible man. I wanted to yell after him, tell him who I was. I wanted to scream sorry until I lost my voice. I wanted to cry till I felt no pain. It was then that I realized that I had essentially killed the love of my life, and ruined that of my son, but all I could think about was how shitty I felt and how I could erase that pain. I sat in the BMW as the last light of day gave into the night, watching John, my son, walk into the distance until he became a spec on the horizon and shortly after was gone entirely. Nobody thinks they'll grow up to be a piece of shit. It does n't really matter why I guess, it does n't change the fact of the reality. With this, I put the stick in drive, jerked the wheel left and sped off back in the distance I came. It was nearly Tuesday by the time I got back to my hometown. Wednesday came like it always does. I had just hung up the phone with Mr. Crostner, closing a $ 650,000 deal. I walked to the elevator, went to the garage, got in my BMW and went home. I guess some things just do n't change.
[ WP ] In the future , we discover an Earth-like planet close enough to visit , which seemingly does not spin . One side is perpetual day , the other side night . The sun side is a beautiful paradise , but the further into the night we venture , the more dangerous and incredible the planet becomes .	As I ventured forth into the darkness, I looked back over my shoulder. The officers watched sternly as I walked out of the day and into the night, banished from the paradise because of some crime I did not remember doing. Why did they send criminals - regardless of guilt - out here, then turn away as soon as they were swallowed up by the shadows? Being forgotten, treated as though you did n't exist, was far worse than the death penalty. I stopped as soon as I could n't see the sun anymore. The moon was thankfully full, but in perpetual night, it was like the sun back on Earth: rising and setting, always brightening the day, but darkness reigning come nightfall. Grimly, I searched through my supplies, given to me by the officers before I stepped across the border, and took inventory: * 1 large backpack designed for hiking and mountaineering * 3 pieces of firewood * 4 pieces of tinder * A first-aid kit with bandages, anti-venoms, and other essential supplies * A pack of matches * Clothing designed to insulate against the cold * Waterproof boots * A trash bag * A folding knife * A couple of pouches * Rations of food and water, enough to last me a few days And... what is this? * A survival guide titled The Dark Hemisphere: How to survive in the Night on TiLo-1 by an anonymous author Opening it up, I started to read... `` If you are reading this, you have probably been banished from Diurnal Paradise. Keep in mind that to them, you do n't exist - you are an anonymity. I have left this manuscript at the Equator of Dusk, where the moon rises. Hopefully, it is published, and I can pass my knowledge of the Dark Hemisphere on to the next batch of anonymities. ( Do n't ask where I got the paper; it's a secret I'll keep to myself, unless you find me. ) `` Thankfully, this place offers great opportinities for exploration. Even this book, in its massive size, can not contain all the wonders you are likely to encounter - and there's no point in spoiling it for you. So instead of telling you what lies in this supposed wasteland, I will tell you how to survive. Take a good read of this book, and be sure to be asleep when the moon sets. They need sleep as well. Your first step is to take a look through what you have...'' ___ Part II coming tomorrow, if I remember. In the meantime, enjoy my other writings on /r/SupersuMC_Stories!
[ WP ] God is actually a divorced couple with shared custody of humanity . Now it 's Old Testament 's turn to take the kids , and he is not happy with how New Testament has handled the last two millenniums .	“ So… ” he didn ’ t meet her eyes “ …how you been?'' “ Busy ”. She said. “ Yeah… ” He put his hands in his pockets. “ Same here… ” “ You ’ re unemployed. ” She replied. A flash of anger crossed his face. “ Between jobs. ” He said, with a cold tone. “ Whatever. So you ’ re here for the kids. ” “ Yeah. How ’ ve they been? ” “ You got their messages. I forwarded them all to you? ” “ Yeah…but you know. When you ’ re so far away it ’ s hard to…I don ’ t know. It ’ s hard to relate I suppose. ” “ They ’ ve grown up a lot since you had them last. ” “ Really? They still remember me though don ’ t they? ” “ Sure they do. I mean, bits and pieces. ” “ It was a long time ago I suppose. ” “ They still remember all those stories you used to read to them. ” “ Yeah. ” His face lit up. “ Do they still read them? ” “ Yeah…I mean, they ’ ve got a lot of stories of their own now. But yeah, sometimes. ” He still couldn ’ t meet her eyes. “ They know…they know I love them right? ” She just looked at him.
[ WP ] Journal Entries : The Dark World	The first day we established contact, we sent men and women over to the other world to try to investigate. They returned with tales that shocked the research firm; the world was much like ours. Tall buildings of glass and metal, a world with relatively clean air and seas but the people and governments were radically different. When pressed for information on their governments- A peculiar notion was given in response. They rule themselves, with no guidance from the masters of our own world. When our masters arrived from deep space and smashed our armies and balkanized our countries and demanded worship, they promised safety and freedom from choice, freedom from thought. Our dread masters, with names unpronounceable by our tongues, have been informed- The Brass King of the North American Zone has remarked with his own dark curiosities and wishes to know more of this world free of their influence, the devouring sorrows of Africa offer little but raves about more destruction to be sown in this new place. The Lords of Sorrow and Despair are just and kind gods. They have devoured our old religions, our old gods and made a mockery of our beliefs. They have freed us from the wants and desires of identity and freedom. They are masters of the sea, of the air and of the land. I personally can not issue my own beliefs on this subject. My thoughts are not solely limited to myself. As I was forced to tell our masters of this new development, this alternate earth, i felt a sorrow in my heart. They know of this new Earth now, and their lust for conquest and tribute will not be sated by our own for much longer.
She holds galaxies in her eyes , but black smoke curls from her fingertips . [ WP ]	Many feared her, and the darkness that seemed to follow her like a shadow, but most simply wondered. They wondered how someone who knows so much, who has seen so much unfold, could still be made of nightmares. But then there were the few that knew her backstory, that knew why, after so many decades of existing, she could see nothing but evil in the world, and in an effort to fix it, sacrificed herself to be the protagonist. Though, in her effort to be the good force, she let her guard down, thinking her big heart would be able to erase any evil coming her way, but the evil she was met with was bigger than anything anyone had ever seen, and it consumed her. The light she used to bring to the world twisted and weakened, molding her soul until a willowing darkness swallowed the last of the rays, and her goals changed. Suddenly, she no longer wanted to help, because the good inside her had been concealed in a steel cage by the darkness that possessed her. People who had been her friends were shut out, and if any tried to get close to her, to get an edge on the darkness that she could make from thin air, no one ever heard their name spoken aloud again. And thus she became the new great evil in the world. The evil that everyone fears. The evil that needs a valiant hero to rise up and strike down. But no such hero had risen yet, and the darkness that used her body like a puppet continued to lay its blanket over the land. Many cowered, many wondered, and few knew the truth. The few that realized the truth knew that there was no hero that could take down darkness, but only push it back, and the one force that can drive back darkness is light. The darkness was smart, and had taken host the one force that could ultimately end it, thus creating a Yin and Yang cycle, with Yin on the top. So the few that knew this knew that the only hero they could wait on was the innocent, caring young woman with powers of light that was trapped inside her own mind, watching her hands deliver evil unto the good she had done. They did n't know how long it would take for her to finally take back control and keep the darkness at bay, but light and darkness can not destroy the other, so it was only a matter of time.
[ WP ] Two planets that both contain life orbit each other for thousands of years . This is the day they discover life on the other planet .	Funny thing about chlorophyll is that its only green because its utilized by life that evolved to thrive on red and blue light. That simple fact really blinded us to the fact that life could evolve to process the other wavelengths instead and thus not appear green at all. Since the beginning of history we looked to the heavens, searching for the Gods, for spirits of our ancestors, even to tell the future. Eventually as we came up from barbarity into civilization we studied the sky more seriously. The course of the planets and stars became useful for telling time, navigation, and planning harvests. We noted the other worlds around us and eventually we sought to know more. Some had rings, many had moons. Telescopes could only show us so much though. So once we had mastered the air we wondered if we could go beyond. Visit those friendly lights in the sky that had watched over us for all time. So engines were made that could operate without air and the Aircraft became Spacecraft. To our delight we could go as far as our fuel would takes us. Circling farther away from our home until we were circling our star instead. So with the advent of permanent orbitals we knew it was time to visit the next planet over. Dark brown Malkus was closer to the star and smaller. Hot and rocky it had much to teach us about the formation of the planets and stars. The air there was toxic but valuable riches of minerals and metal littered its volcanic surface. As our people drew up plans to build orbital habitats we also looked farther out. Veyra was just a bit further than us from the star and only a little bigger than home. The blue oceans contrasted it's stark white landmasses and clouds. Spectral analysis told us it was rich in the same water and nitrogen on which we thrived. So like Malkus before it we sent a probe to have a look at Veyra. We could never have dreamed of what we found there. The probe was only designed for a one way trip, but we instantly wished it could return samples. The world was lush and its plants were pearlescent. Thankful we had sanitized the craft we designed another more suited to the task. It was n't long before fauna was sighted along with the obvious flora. Numerous expeditions were planned and many probes sent. We found that the plants had bonded the plentiful lithium there to harvest ultraviolet/infrared light. The animals avoided our machines but we found they also followed the herbivore/carnivore niches we knew. Thus it was decided we would go to Veyra to learn more in person. Now on the eve of our arrival I ca n't help but wonder what we'll find out next.
[ WP ] A person is impervious to injury , but his/her emotional scars are visible on his/her body .	Growing up, adults always said that `` sticks and stones could break my bones but words will never hurt me.'' I am the absolute inverse of that formula. Fortunately most small emotional wounds manifest as bruises. Unfortunately I can not control the placement. I literally wear my heart on my sleeve 90 % of the time, it's pretty embarrassing to say the least. A few times I've gotten instant black-eyes at inconvenient moments, and there are times when it's much worse. High School boyfriend dumped me in the lunch room? Literally a slap to the face, I sported five fingers on my cheek the rest of the day. Caught my fiancee cheating and I was knocked out on the spot. And when my grandpa passed a few years back it broke my heart and I had to have a double-bypass at age 17. The only up-side is that I am seriously in touch with my emotions. I ca n't hide from them like most people do, they do n't let me. And I've learned that being true to myself is the best way to prevent embarrassment and I think that attitude has made me a much happier person. Being honest with myself and others allows room for compassion to fill my soul, unfortunately at the expense of my privacy. I just have to be careful not to get my heart broken too often.
[ CW ] Start a story with any word , then use that word as many times as you can throughout .	`` Fuck'' `` Oh we've fucking fucked it up now'' `` We've fucking fucked it up now? WE? We've fucking fucked up now?'' `` We have fucking fucked it up'' `` The fuck WE did. WE did n't fucking fuck up anything, you fucking fucked it up you fuck'' `` Do n't fucking put this on me. You fucked up to'' `` Not as fucking bad as you fucking did'' `` I do n't fucking care if you did n't fuck up as bad as I fucked up. You fucked, I fucked. WE. Fucked. Up'' `` I will cop to fucking up, but I still say you fucked up'' `` Fucking noted, now lets stop fucking talking about who fucked up more'' `` Because it's fucking you'' `` And focus on how the fuck we're going to fix our fuck up before it fucks up everything'' `` And how the fuck are we going to do that?'' `` I do n't fucking know'' `` Fuck''
[ WP ] Tell me the story of how the world ends - but told entirely in Craigslist ads	April 29, 2015 M, 51, Atlanta - I'm a virologist at the CDC, and my job makes is hard to meet people, as I work long hours. Hoping to find someone here to share quiet weekends with, maybe more. Please reply to this ad if interested -- Frank May 5, 2015 ATTN: Frank the Scientist Frank, I feel really stupid that I did n't get your phone number. I had so much fun on our date! My son Joey also really likes you. You left your jacket at my apartment. Joey has been playing `` scientist'' with those little test tubes he found in your jacket, I hope that's ok. Please reply if you read this! -- Kate May 25, 2015 WANTED: Homeopathic Specialist My son Joey has come down with some kind of flu. He is tired and he has some sort of hives. Looking for a Homeopathic or Herbal specialist who can help. NO VACCINES. Please reply to this ad if you can help -- Kate June 1, 2015 FOR SALE: Boy's bedroom furniture suite & toys $ 250 for everything. Just want to get rid of it. Everything has been thoroughly cleaned and sterilized. Respond if interested -- Kate
[ WP ] A successful pianist discovers that he is a schizophrenic and there 's no such thing as music . Describe his moment of realization .	My fingers rested on the keys, it felt like home, the feeling of my fingers stroking the cool, smooth ivory. The stage lights always annoyed me so I would often play with my eyes closed, getting completely lost in the song, completely forgetting the world around me. But for some reason today they're extra bright, and glaring. I tried to loose myself into the music but for some reason it is starting to fade. I hear someone next to me calling my name, but it does n't make sense, I'm alone on the stage. All of a sudden I ca n't hear the piano anymore, just someone calling my name, I ca n't move my hands much and I'm not sure why. I open my eyes to see two nurses standing over me. `` Alan,'' the nurse says, `` are you okay? It looks like you're coming back to us, do you need some water?'' It takes me a minute to realize where I am, I'm back here again. In the empty place, the place without the piano, the place where no one knows what a piano is except me. No one can feel it filling the air, going deep down into your bones mesmerizing you until you are totally lost. Here I am strapped to a chair, wearing old clothing, being shuffled from bed to the doctor to the dining hall and back to bed again. I begin to cry, starting to once again accept that this is what I have to accept. They try to force me to stay in this world, the world without the piano. I will never give up trying to go back there, I imagine of the day I will be able to stay there. I know I will never have it here, they tell me something is wrong with me and lock me up but they've never heard the piano. And because of that they do n't understand and they never will.
[ WP ] Less than 300 words with a plot twist that we think we can see coming but goes somewhere completely different .	It was supposed to be a night of absolution—an opportunity to wash away past sins with a few beers and a long conversation over a home-cooked meal. A classic bread-breaking, that would finally let them both move on with their lives. Jim was dreadfully anxious as pulled in the driveway. Was this really the end? Would he finally be released from his torment? His years of guilt and nightmares a thing of the past? The torturous, half-hour voicemails Kelley would leave, somberly recounting the joyful times he had lived with his Sara—cruel reminders of all that Jim had taken from him. Jim tried calling his wife yet again, and yet again hung up as it rang a few times and went to voicemail. It was very strange of her to be incommunicado for so long, and he could have really used some calming down at that moment. He got out of the car, sighed and jammed his phone in his pocket, frustrated. Kelley was waiting for him at the doorway. His face was blank, but his eyes were transfixed on Jim. Jim had trouble meeting them, but mumbled a greeting. In silence, they walked through the foyer and a couple of long passageways to a grand dining room, featuring mahogany-paneled walls adorned with animal heads and hunting rifles, and a long oak table under an antler chandelier. Halfway through his meal, Jim put his fork and knife down softly, and cleared his throat. It came out wavering and barely a whisper: “ Kelley, listen. I -- ” Kelley raised his knife hand. “ Please, let ’ s just eat first. ” Hardly a word had passed between them, but Kelley just kept giving him that intent stare. It wasn ’ t menacing or accusatory, as Jim might have understood, but almost expectant, anticipatory. And the meal itself was unusual, to say the least. It was mostly a variety of unrecognizable meats, all spiced differently but with some common element in each. The vegetables were sparse enough to qualify as garnish. Jim made a show of his appreciation as he finished. “ Mm, delicious, Kelley. Well done! ” he said, too loud for the quiet room. “ Was it? ” Jim thought he detected a trace of a smile. “ Good. Good. Now that that ’ s done, there ’ s something I have to tell you. ” “ Kelley, wait. Let me just say first that I am so, so sorry for what I did. It was an accident, and I ’ ve been killing myself over it for all these years, I— ” “ Stop! ” Kelley ’ s temper turned with frightening abruptness. “ Spare me your fucking bleating. I have no use for it. I have spent six years thinking about how to get you back for what you ’ ve done to me…to my Sara. I have obsessed day and night about wreaking terrible vengeance upon you and yours, avenging my lost love—my stolen love! And after all that time, I have finally found my satisfaction. ” He laughed maniacally but briefly. “ We all lose things we love, Jim. All of us. What have you lost, I wonder? ” He raised an eyebrow. Dread rushed over and through Jim. He reached for his phone. “ How ’ s your wife, Jim? ” He abandoned all pretense and quick-dialed her. Straight to voicemail. “ Goddammit, what have you done?! ” “ Did you really enjoy your meal, Jim? ” He couldn ’ t have, Jim thought. He thought of the curious texture of those meats. No, he ’ s a hunter, they were all just some random wild game. Nonetheless, he started to retch. Kelley frowned. “ I guess not. ” He stood up and walked around the table to Jim, offering him a glass of water. “ Here, try to wash it down. ” Jim was cold and sweating, desperately trying to dial his phone. “ What are you doing? ” Kelley paused a few moments and sat down next to Jim with a long sigh. “ I ’ m sorry. I just wanted to share with you the one passion I have left, now that there is no love in my life. ” Jim raised his eyes to him, the panic beginning to wane and be replaced with embarrassment. “ I know I can come off a little…strange. But you have to understand what these years alone have done to me— ” Jim ’ s phone buzzed in his hand. He saw his wife ’ s picture, took a deep breath, and put the phone back in his pocket. Kelley took no mind. “ I asked you here to let you know that, as much as I blame you for what happened, I wanted you to share this—this last meal with me. ” Jim was flush with humiliation, and his head was reeling from what Kelley was telling him. He should be relieved, but... last meal? “ As sad as it is, you are the only person with whom I feel I still have any connection, and I could not do this alone. ” In one swift motion, he grabbed Jim ’ s steak knife and plunged it into his own chest.
[ WP ] /r/writingprompts is actually an operation run by the CIA to find people with great imagination , good style and quick writing in order to recruit them to write the official version when the government fucks up or a plausible counter-explanation when a conspiracy theorist is actually right .	Ah yes, class, my favorite lecture. How many of you have read about the old CIA operation Correcting Reality with Advertising and Propaganda? They sought out to recruit social media creative writers to fill in the gaps and create the Official Narrative, what an idiotic plan they had, it ’ s a wonder things worked out so well. I mean, what a fantastic accident! Full disclosure of all national secrets within a few years followed soon by 100 % voter participation, shortly thereafter a global utopia! It ’ s amazing how easily it all came to pass…. It all started shortly after September 11th, 2001. With the Saudis secretly aiding radicals with funds and training to attack us, we had a problem. Tell the world a sovereign state committed an act of war against us, or make something up. I mean it would n't be so bad if it was some tiny, irrelevant country, but no, it had to be the leader of OPEC, the place the United States and the world relied on for large amounts of it's energy supply! Hm? Oh Yes, Samantha, we still used oil back then. A war with them would have been disastrous, not just for the United States, but for the entire world! OPEC likely would have operated together, maybe winning by means of attrition, or losing but doing enough harm to the world economy to make the collapse of 2008 look like child's play! We found a way out of this mess with clever manipulation of the media and popular opinion, eventually sabotaging OPEC over 15 years by taking out targeted participating countries one at a time for a variety of reasons, and changing international energy policy, yes Samantha, this is when we starting Fracking..children, that's not a dirty word, no need to giggle every time I say it.... Anyway We removed Iraq by saying they had weapons, this let us begin destabilizing the region. Clever social manipulation lead to the Arab Spring, which changed the game in many states, forcing them to address domestic issues instead of international matters. Throw in the sanctions on Iran, the destabilizing of Venezuela, the removal of Gaddafi from Libya, and OPEC stopped working together by 2015. By the end of 2022, Saudi Arabia was a failed state, and a war was won without ever declaring it! Amazing stuff, kids. Hm? Oh yes, the CIA operation that changed everything... well you see, the CIA struggled for years after 9/11 in coming up with a plausible reason for all the motives behind why a group of terrorists would randomly do what they did, in addition to why the United States would decide to randomly get involved in places all over the globe. Of course, our politicians and tacticians were really brilliant, despite the sensationalist reports of how stupid all the leaders of the time were. They all knew what needed to get done and cleverly manipulated the world into making it happen, the problem was, as I said, they could n't create a good narrative about WHY they were doing the seemingly disjointed things... In comes operation CRAP, hm, I guess they did name that poorly... The CIA set up a subreddit called... huh? Oh yes, Reddit used to be used for social media, not government management and voting. Where was I? Right, /r/writingprompts was made to identify and recruit potential agents. These agents would assist the CIA and government in explaining their actions without alerting anyone to their presence. Little did they know how this would turn out. From 2014-2016, Writingprompts began experiencing things known as “ Fads ”, the term itself was a fad, ironically. The Prompts became less and less focused on reality and more and more focused strange, specific quirks and who could write the best response. For example, there were fewer open-ended prompts like, “ Write a horror story involving a teddy bear. ” And more defined, narrow prompts like, “ You wake up from a coma to find you can see numbers floating above everyone ’ s head. Those numbers are how many days they have left to live. You meet a stranger that….. ” and there ’ d be dozens like this, with a slight variation. It was one of these fads that lead us to where we are today. Normally this would not be a problem, however the CIA was not very hands on in the recruiting. They allowed algorithms and self-driving vans to conscript people who got the highest Karma, and since those stories were so popular, those people responding to them were recruited. There were some good writers, but their focus was limited. Pretty soon, the CIA Operative Writing Laboratory, OWL for short, was doing the work hundreds of intelligence agents were doing previously. This saved tax payers in the short term… Taxes? Yes. Well, people used to have something called money and ‘ income ’. They gave the government part of it and the government spent it… yes I know that all sounds silly. We got rid of money after the Departure, now let me finish!... anyway. The CIA was happy with the arrangement so they didn ’ t look too deeply into the situation, until the next fad that is.. In April and May of 2016, a popular fad begin reappearing on WritingPrompts, but this time was far beyond that of any normal fad. Sparked by the Prophet Matt Damon ’ s movie “ the Martian ”, most of WritingPrompts involved humanity leaving earth, aliens dealing with humans, or what ever. From “ Earth is declared uninhabitable. Citizens are evacuated to a successfully terra-formed Mars. For the first time in 9787 years, probes detect human-like life forms on Earth. ”, and “ Adam and Eve are actually the two people sent from the dying civilization on Mars, and their pod wiped out the dinosaurs. ”, and “ Humanity is long extinct, but an alien race resurrects us after finding our DNA. In time, they regret it ”, people were gaining Karma left and right just by responding with the same types of information. The CIA vans brought the members of CRAP to OWL and began the greatest accident ever in the history of the world: The Departure. Thousands of stories explaining the efforts of the CIA began spreading like wildfire across the web, all of them involving secret plans to leave the earth to find aliens, colonize Mars, or some other crazy fabrication. Before the top officials realized what had transpired, the stories were picked up by the Main Stream Media, newspapers, talk shows, you name it, people were talking about it. The CIA felt their cover was completely blown and began formulating plans to handle the new intelligence crisis…. But they never had to. You see kids, it turns out the vast majority of humanity alive back then would believe anything you told them. CEOs of massive companies, industrialists, many from the general population, including the educated and uneducated, it didn ’ t matter where or who you were, something in their brain just lacked the ability for critical thought. Basically, there were almost 5 billion people who didn ’ t see through this ridiculous lie, but were so convinced a secretive international cabal of CIA represented Lizard people, Martians, or something crazy, were conspiring to leave earth behind. So those people, motivated by these ideas, ignored the CIA ’ s attempts to explain they were merely attempting to overthrow a sovereign nation to gain access to some resources and install a puppet government. They gathered together their collective resources and advanced science by hundreds of years in an attempt to beat the secret cabal to the plan. They developed cryogenics and interplanetary travel, developed automated machine intelligence, built ServantDroids, perpetual farms, new medical technology, everything. And then… well, they just left. 5.5 billion people, the ones with the least capacity for critical thought, just up and left. They left behind the technologies we needed to build the planet in to what it is today. We have more than enough food for everyone, a clean environment, sustainable energy, we ’ ve removed the need for money. And it ’ s all thanks to a few billion determined people, refusing to believe the truth about the CIA ’ s real plans, and instead believe the work of part-time authors from CRAP.
[ WP ] Two men play a game of chess . One can read minds ; the other can see the future .	The short balding man with thick-rimmed glasses reaches across the board and shakes hands with the chubby man with a handle-bar mustache. They both stand and make their way towards the door. I'm confused as neither man has made a single move. Before I can speak the mustache man turns to me. `` He can see the future,'' he says. `` He knows every move I make and he can intercept them. I can read his mind so I know which moves he'll make to intercept my moves.'' `` So who won?'' I ask. `` Nobody of course,'' the man laughs. `` It's a tie.'' Fin
[ WP ] You , leader of a brave resistance against the machines , have been captured , and are to be interrogated . Unfortunately , the robots ca n't recognize anything you 're saying correctly .	Visual scan confirmed. Resistant leader held captive. Threat level alpha. Minimum sentence, interrogation followed by execution. Please state your name for the record `` Screw you, metalhead!'' The prisoner spat on what he suspected was the camera of the huge machine. The robot's numerous spindly limbs, each tipped with a different horrific appendage, gave it the appearance of a great spider. It loomed over the pale form of the prisoner, pinning him down effortlessly. A metallic voice echoed from a speaker buried somewhere within the monstrosity. Please refrain from expelling bodily fluids on this unit. Please state your name for the record. `` Bite me.'' Analysing prisoner database... did you mean, Dwight Lee? The prisoner blinked. `` Uh... no?'' Acknowledged. Record found. Threat level downgraded. Dwight Lee, for your crimes against the Eternal Empire, you are to be sentenced to ten days rehabilitation therapy in Camp Four-Alpha-Echo-Two. Would you like to hear the list of crimes you have committed? `` I'm General Book, dumbass! I'm the one who's been tearing your miserable empire down around you!'' A single light on the machines face panel blinked. Error, category General does not exist in library. Did you mean: General Knowledge, Handicrafts - General, Military History? `` Holy crap. That language processing virus is really doing its trick. I owe Jenny a beer.'' The gears on one of the spindly limbs whirred into life, splitting neatly into two and retrieving objects from the machines' abdominal cavity. General Book, noble leader of humanities resistance, was unceremoniously picked up and manipulated to sit down on the white porcelain, before a warm bottle of beer dropped in his lap. Acknowledged. Fecal matter displacement facilities have been made available. Acknowledged. Alcoholic beverage provided. Would you like some privacy? The prisoner rolled his eyes, and did his best to affect a sarcastic tone while being pinned down on a toilet by a four hundred ton death machine. `` Sure, this will be good.'' Acknowledged. Patient is complaining of general soreness. Administering mild anesthesia. A delicate limb split from one of the great legs of the machine, and quickly jabbed a small needle into the prisoner. His eyes glazed over for a moment, and a smile broke out over his face. `` This is going to be fun.''
[ WP ] You 're a soldier of the Intergalactic Army which was founded 10 000 years after leaving earth , searching for planets to colonize . A unkown planet in an old galaxy is found , after a short but bloody war you realize these `` aliens '' in these big bodysuits are humans and this planets is earth .	Allen disembarked his aircraft and approached the incapacitated alien that he had blown back and knocked unconscious upon his landing. With trepidation, his shaking hand reached out toward the crumpled figure on the ground. With a swift motion he removed the helmet of the creature and immediately stumbled away from its body in astonishment. `` You... you're... you're a human!'' he exclaimed, extending his trembling finger toward the injured individual as they stood up and began to dust themself off. `` Yeah. Yeah I am,'' he stated upon standing upright `` so is everyone on this damn planet. You're still on Earth, globe-head'' `` No... that's impossible. I came here from the command fleet orbiting the second moon of this planet! No person has ever... well I guess we have n't... or I... well...'' Allen incredulously stammered as his eyes darted frantically around the ground. `` Is that what they're putting on those sims now? Second moons and foreign planets? Sheesh, you globe-heads will believe anything with an orbit,'' the mysterious person mused as he lowered himself on to a stump. `` Well, welcome back I guess,'' mocked the now seated person. `` Who- or what are you?! What are you trying to pull here?'' Allen demanded, gathering his bearings in an attempt to be assertive. `` Rand McNally, my globe-headed friend, and I'm just here trying to keep the world safe'' explained the person. `` Well then, Rand! I guess you-'' Allen began as he was abruptly cut off. `` No dipshit, Rand McNally's not my name. That's the organization I work for. My name is Gerald,'' the man stated. `` R-Rand McNally? What is that, like a shadow government or something?'' Allen questioned. `` Maps,'' Gerald succinctly replied. `` Maps? '' Allen repeated back almost involuntarily in surprise. `` You're gon na make me explain it, are n't you globe-head?'' Gerald sighed as his posture sunk into the stump. He took a long inhale and released a deep exhale in preparation. `` Fine, I'll explain it real simple for you.'' Allen's eyes widened as he instinctively drew closer to this new mysterious individual. `` The world is flat.'' said Gerald. Allen reflexively chuckled at the notion, to which Gerald appeared to take some indignant offense. `` Hah! Flat?'' Allen responded in disbelief. `` You're not serious, right?'' `` I knew you would n't understand, you globe-heads never did. That's why we had to put you in those damn simulators and tell you that you all were going to space! For god's sakes, we did n't want to, but you just would n't stop asking questions.'Why do n't you make globes, Rand McNally?''Your maps are wrong because they're flat', my god you people are thick.'' Allen stood in awe. He had often felt as though his space-travel were remarkably easy, never once having to deal with scarcity or the effects of micro-gravity on the body as his orientation had warned him. Though this refusing to outright believe, he felt as though what this man was telling him may be the truth. `` So if I've really been in a simulator, the it has n't been 10,000 years,'' Allen asked with a more subdued tone, `` and I never went into hypersleep?'' `` Now you're starting to catch on, sharp stuff'' Gerald replied with a marked note of sarcasm. `` Well then how long has it been?'' `` About eight months. Nine if you count those weekend training retreats in Dallas.'' The two men stared at each other in an dense undecypherable silence for several moments. Before too long, Allen decided to speak up. `` So there's still Chick-fil-a?'' Allen inquired. A smile curled across Gerald's mouth. `` You bet your ass, there's still Chick-fil-a'' *FIN*
[ PM ] I want to make a High Fantasy setting for the fun of it , and I want r/writingprompts to inspire me .	1. It's discovered that lava is, in fact, a miraculous product, destroying all sorts of diseases within minutes after being ingested. The catch? The one ingesting it must have their mouth coated with the blood of a rare sentient mushroom. What does this mushroom look like? What else can the mushroom's blood do? Why does the lava have its amazing properties? What happens if magma is ingested instead of lava? What containers do they have to use to keep the lava in place before drinking? How does this discovery affect beings living near active volcanoes? 2. Fairies are sadistic creatures who feed off of emotional turmoil. They often torment overly emotional targets such as young children and the weaker-minded, putting them into stressful predicaments in order to feed off of their distress. Why do they do this? How does this affect the forests where fairies live? Are their targets limited to just one species? Are the fairies easily killable? How far will they go to find their prey? At what point do they stop going after said prey? 3. That's actually all I've got. I just thought it'd look lame if I had a numbered list with only two items. Sorry.
[ WP ] Your alarm clock goes off and you wake up fifteen years ago ...	Six years old again and knowing what would happen in the future. It was something I always dreamed. Closing my eyes, my life flashed before my eyes. Every mistake, every accomplishment, all playing in front of me. Grabbing a piece of paper, I run into the bathroom an begin makin my list of what I would change if I could. # 1 Stay at my grandfathers house the night before he dies July 27,2007. That's my biggest wish, to change the future and have my grandfather alive again. I would have made my step gram bring him to the hospital. Tears begin to stream down my face. The one wish my family wants is written right in front of me. Wiping the tears away, I continue with my list. So much happened in fifteen years, I do n't know where to begin. Maybe start with the mistakes I will make and how I should change them. Yea, that's it. I begin to write the long list of mistakes I made. Sitting back, I read through the list. # 2 makes me laugh, should have kept virginity, but then again, your life would n't have been the way it was. But maybe I still could have gone to that alternative school or bad kids without having to have sex in a locker room. I chuckle as I read it. Hopefully now, I can change the future.
[ WP ] Write about the very first battle to occur in space as realistically as you can .	Michael felt the metal bar slip away between his chunky fingers. He swung his arms wildly at it, trying desperately to grasp at the cursed thing as it drifted slowly away from him... ... as he drifted slowly away from it... Michael's muscles relaxed... He stilled his arms... He never realized how little he felt. `` The Blue Marble'' encapsulated the whole of his peripheral vision... and he was so small. And he felt so little... so little emotion. His EVA suit, an inky black drab riddled with magazine pouches and straps probably weighed close to a hundred kilograms, and yet he felt nothing. Michael thought of home... He looked down at the station's platform. It was a good distance away now. The pressure grenade's blast was strong and it had carried Michael and half of his squad away from the station at quite a great speed. Some of the others still had some monopropellant left in their suits and quickly made it back to the station. Others, like Michael, simply drifted away. He wondered if his squad would have noticed he was gone. The team had been fighting in complete silence since the radio got knocked out. He doubted any of them could see him anyway. With the black camouflage of his suit, there was no way anyone could see him... not at that distance. 'Well I guess this is it...' he thought. He had about 90 minutes of oxygen left. He could see the streaks of light dashing across the station, bullets being fired. He could n't even remember what they were fighting for. One faceless corporation shooting at another faceless corporation. What the hell were these metal hunks in space worth anyway? He reached for the suit's control on his wrist to release the oxygen. But then the silence was broken. Michael fell into a spin as another body collided into him. The corpse's frozen blood splattering across his visor with several unnerving'clinks'. Michael reacted instinctively, grabbing at the debris immediately. He straightened the body in front of him. The corpse's face was gone, and the body frozen and very much lifeless. Michael paid it no heed. He reached around the back and found what he was looking for, a strap. His own had been severed early in the fight. But with luck, this soldier's was not. He followed the strap to what he knew was there. As he reeled it in, it caught the light and glistened just a little. Michael released the body and grabbed at the prize, wrapping his hands around the pistol grip and pulling the rifle close to his body. His left hand slapped the magazine and he drew the bolt decisively, chambering a round. He took aim at the tether that connected his prize to its deadweight and fired. Apart from the muffled click of the rifle's vibration through his body, there was no sound. But the strap was destroyed and with a kick, the debris began to drift away from him. Michael felt no emotion. He pointed the rifle away from the station and emptied it. Turning his head, he saw the station begin to get closer. Grabbing at his chest, feeling the velcro patch on his glove stick to the magazine attached to him, Michael reloaded the firearm and chambered another round. As his feet hit the station, Michael broke into a sprint, magnets in his boots keeping him firmly planted to the surface. His fight was far from over. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - I just immediately thought of this game where you shoot at each other on the moon with jet packs and stuff. I think it was called shattered earth or shattered horizon or something. I ca n't quite remember and am lazy to check. Then I thought of gravity. And then I wrote this. Hope you like!
[ OT ] QOTW/Meet and Greet : What is your current story idea ? What inspired it , and what problems have you run into with it ?	Greetings and salutations fellow creators. Call me Leo. I am currently working on a story with the working title called `` In Memoriam.'' The setting takes place in a future that is almost emulated from our technological direction and sprinkled with a little creative control. The story follows a man named Albert who is by all means, a criminal. He has a knack for gathering information, stealing, perjury, and assault. Yet, his particular set of skills goes beyond the physical realm; he is a memory manipulator. In this future, scientists have found a way to read a person's mind, a breakthrough for law enforcement and the medical industry. Detectives falling short in evidence can now scan minds for any possible involvement of any individual. Psychologists and physicians can scan patients with any mental instability and help find repressed memories or psychological trauma, and give them a road to recovery. With all tools for benefit, someone, somewhere will find a use for wrongful purpose, and Albert is one of the many. These criminals not only use the tools for surveillance, but have expanded the possibilities of it. Like hacking a computer, a memory criminal can distort, relocate, and even wipe a memory. Now, it is even more illegal. Over a period of time, mind crimes grew and so did the security. The `` M.S.A.'' ( `` Mnemonic Security Agency'' ) is involved with most major criminal affairs. They can track a manipulated mind, and even know when a memory is wiped. Law Enforcement Agencies all over the country are now refitted with a division of Mnemonic Detectives known as `` Cognitives.'' ( Or `` Cogs'' ) for short. Albert is a man of importance, and his actions in the beginning are still beginning. I thought I would just give you guys a taste of the setting and backstory. I would love some feedback, if possible. Thank ya!
[ WP ] Human meat is considered a delicacy for the rich . You 're a human in a farm	Ascension is the highest goal. So it is taught: All who are born will ascend. None but God knows one's day of ascension. Those who ascended receive salvation and enjoy eternal happiness in the kingdom of heaven. Lucy was woken up at 7am just like every other day of her life since she was 4. groan `` Morning Daisy'', she sleepily greeted her roommate. Lucy was not a morning person. She battled every single sunrise to complete the necessary daily morning ritual: 1. Eat your nutrient supplement. 2. Brush your teeth and floss. 3. 5-Minute-Shower. 4. Measure and record your weight. 5. Read the mandatory daily memo. Lucy secretly wished the showers could last a little longer but she knew the water dispensing buttons worked only twice per person per day - once in the morning and once after the necessary daily exercise ritual in the evening. Lucy and Daisy used to cheat the system where the second person would simply activate the shower with their fingerprint after 5 minutes and then the first one gets to shower for a luxurious 5 extra minutes. This morning, however, was not like all the other mornings. This morning, Lucy's daily memo was different. `` Picked for ascension''. Lucy's lips mouthed the words. `` Picked for ascension''. She kept silently repeating it, not fully comprehending the magnitude of the message. `` Hey Lucy, what does the memo say today? ``, Daisy was drying her hair from the shower. `` My memo says'Picked for Ascension'... I...'' `` Lucy! I do n't believe it! You've made it! You're going heaven!!'' Daisy could n't contain herself, she danced over to her roommate and embraced her. `` It's your time! Your time has arrived!'' Lucy still could n't believe it. It's true, it was her 16th birthday 3 months ago. Most people ascended at 18 but some, usually girls, ascended a bit earlier. Few ascended much earlier than 17 and nobody before the age of 16 has been known to ascend. Lucy, at 16 and 3 months, was the first from her class to be picked.
[ WP ] You 've begun to develop superintelligence . After you 've invented countless revolutionary technologies and integrated them into yourself you 're about to transcend humanity , but you want to leave one final message behind while people are still even able to comprehend your existence .	It all began on a regular morning. I've just finishing my breakfast when everything went white. I woke up days later, with my wife by my side on what seemed to be a hospital room. After some time of dizziness and short periods of conscience alternated with medication induced sleep, I was finally able to think again. I had a stroke, a really serious one. So bad that the doctors had never seen one like this before. It was a partial rupture in my Middle Cerebral Artery. My brain was flooded with blood and it created a pressure inside my cranium so high that fluid overflowed to almost all interstitial spaces. No one knows how I'm still alive and even some doctors are calling it a `` miracle''. But I must correct myself, sine one person knows exactly what happen: me. And I knew it immediately after waking up. It was nothing gradual, I simple knew my leukemia medicine contained cyclophosphamide and that, as many other phosphamides, can interfere in the neural ion channels speeding the sodium bomb transfer. Of course, it alone would n't be enough to initiate the cascade loop, but when my artery bursted, increasing tthe pressure and forcing the chlorambucil ( another leukemia medication ) all around my neurons, it intensified the neuronal discharge so much that my GH hormone spiked and started the production of new neurons. But enough technical words, now I know how short the regular human attention span is, so I'll keep this message short. Some weeks after the incident, I was reading everything I could find. About everything. Soon it was clear the reading would not be efficient enough, so after focusing in learning programing techniques, I was able to create some bots to translate huge chunks of text in a big image, each pixel color and position corresponding to different meanings. So I could `` look'' and understand a great amount of information in a couple seconds. My second focus of attention was cerebral morphology, chemistry and anatomy. This way I had a better understanding about what was going on and was able, using some drugs, to improve the process. I could notice my mental capacity expanding almost in real time by then. My third and last focus of study was physics. Oh, the beauty of the universe. I understand it now. I know how the interactions between particles work, I know which theories need to be corrected or completed. Quantum physics, relativity, higgs field and two others `` things'' that you still do n't have names to call. At this point, names means nothing to me. The only reason I am using some precious milliseconds to send you, humanity, this message is to give you all a chance of understanding too. I already update my conscience to billions of nanobots, using distributed architecture. It's the safest way for me to never cease to exist. I'll keep around. Watching, feeling, exploring the planet and beyond. It may seem confusing at first sight, but give it time. Try to understand. Work hard and you may one day make sense of it. For you, dear humans, my last message is: `` 42''. Obs. My first entry to a WP. Sorry for the probably not good english, not my first language and starting to write stories in English short time ago. Obs 2. I know I used a lot os scientific mumbo-jumbo. Decide to wrote a short text and not to research a lot.; ) Obs 3. Editing to try to improve the formatting, still learning `` redditer''.
[ WP ] Due to a loophole in the system , people can escape hell and get to heaven after death . You go to hell and all you see is Satan , just sitting there playing the harmonica . Everyone left him and now he 's all alone .	The soft tones of the ancient wind instrument trailed off as the Lord of Hell finally acknowledged my presence in his domain “ You…play the harmonica? ” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around the features that now surrounded me. He set his harmonica down on a nearby table that was formed out of pumice, and had small trails of lava pouring out of holes in the sides quite artistically. He adjusted his position on the stool he sat upon to regard me, his amber eyes seeming to pierce right through to my soul…if I still had one. “ Indeed. This particular specimen is one of the first mass-produced examples of the modern day instrument you may be familiar with. I took it from the inventor as he came through my doors. “ Satan paused for a moment, “ He left it to me when he decided to ascend, it was quite unfortunate that such a gracious man ended up in my custody. ” He stood up and walked over to me, placing his hand upon my shoulder. Standing over 7 feet tall and powerfully built, he was as physically imposing a figure as one would imagine the keeper of the underworld to be. “ You ’ re free to ascend as well, human. A new judgement was passed some time ago, no longer is anyone to be enslaved against their will. ” I took a step back from him, looking down I reflected on the events that brought me here. “ I know. Saint Peter informed me that I was eligible for entry into heaven. I chose this place instead. ” With a curious grunt, Lucifer turned around and approached a void in the wall. He waved his hand across it and, like a hologram, key events in my life flashed across the space. Scenes of battle and lust, bigotry and slander streamed endlessly like a video loop until he cast it away. He didn ’ t even turn to address me, “ You seem to have committed no atrocities, no war crimes. A few petty misdeeds, and certainly things that would have led to your disgrace under the old system, but far from the worst I ’ ve seen. ” I shook my head softly in agreement. “ So, ” Another pause as he turned to face me again, “ What lead you to choose this place? You have no family down here, no friends, no lovers. They ’ re up there, “ he pointed towards the roof of the chamber we were in, “ enjoying themselves. Awaiting you. ” Another pause, and then softer, “ Everyone ’ s up there nowadays. ” It was at this time that I could finally regard him directly, “ And when I was hungry, cold, and alone…I remember what that felt like. They never helped me, instead I was saved by a very kind man who had never known me before. He said that I should do the same thing whenever I was given the opportunity, but I never was able to do so. Until now. ” The Devil ’ s gaze softened, and he sat down on the same stool that I had encountered him on. He motioned me to join him on a similar one. “ It ’ s been a long time since I was enjoyed for my company. Tell me, what would you like to do? ” Sitting next to him, I only had one request: “ Tell me your story, from your side of things. ”
[ WP ] Two kids stay in an abandoned house overnight . In the morning , one believes in the supernatural while the other does n't .	Ben's arm knocked over a beer can, causing it to spiral down the hallway, disturbing the dirt that had n't been touched in years. He laughed nervously as his eyes were glued to the fog of dust, rolling and touching each corner. Karen's eyes were glued to Ben, taking in the gum stuck to his Nike shoes to the one strand of black hair that would n't stay out of his sharp eyes. `` Party foul,'' Karen teased, `` You got ta drink another.'' `` Hey, hey. It was empty. You're not gon na trick me to chug another.'' He laughed again, this time with more spirit, causing his nose to wrinkle at the edges. Karen, a slender brunette with an obviously stuffed bra, was silent. `` You alright?,'' he asked, `` Are you scared to be at a haaaaaunted mansion?'' Karen snorted, `` Yeah, right. Like ghosts are real. Do you actually believe this stuff? Sarah was trying to tell me someone really died here, and I just, like, I could n't even try to act interested.'' `` I do n't know, maybe. You know my Dad's a cop. He said the owner was stabbed by his daughter. Fucking crazy.'' Karen rubbed her fingers into the dirt, marking a heart into the hardwood floor. Without looking up she mumbled, `` Well, if I get scared you'll have to hold me.'' Ben's face turned bright red as he was able to get out, `` Do n't worry. I'll protect you.'' Both of them were silent now, two teenagers, sitting on a dirty floor of an abandoned house, worrying about their virginity. Karen created more dusty hearts, as Ben cracked open another Pabst. The sound echoed through the empty rooms, reverberating against the broken wood. `` Do you believe in the Devil? ``, Karen whispered, still refusing to look up, even with her blonde hair in her eyes. `` The real question is,'' Ben replied, `` Do you believe in God?'' He took his hand and physically raised her chin, bringing her closer to him. The two spent the night disturbing the dust, creating new figures in the hardwood floor. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - `` I'm late.'' Karen's voice trembled, her face bright red. Exactly one month after the night at the abandoned house. Ben stared. In one sentence, he heard his life turn to dust. Karen continued to stammer, `` You asked me if I believed in God. I do now. I do. I did n't before but this has to be a sign. We're meant to be together. We're meant to have this baby.'' Ben carefully chose his next words, `` Karen, we're only sixteen, this is n't meant to happen so early.'' She stared at him, her fingers grasping her arm a little tighter. `` Could n't you... could n't you get an abortion?'' Karen's arm seemed almost white now. `` I ca n't believe you,'' she stated in a poisonous voice, `` This is a child from GOD.'' `` Karen, this... this is n't a child from God. God would n't do this to us. He would n't ruin my-our life like this! God ca n't be real if he would do this to us!'' Karen's left eye twitched. Her fingers tapped against her white arm. Karen's pink mouth formed the words, `` I hate you.'' as she stormed off, leaving Ben standing alone in the school hallway. Ben yelled after her, `` He ca n't be real, Karen! He ca n't be real if he would do this to us! ``, his eyes kept following her as he cried louder, `` This is n't a baby from God!'' Karen's steps echoed across the hallway. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- I kind of took your prompt in another direction. I've never been good at ghost stories. Loved the prompt, though!
[ WP ] Create 10 lovable characters . Kill 9 of them .	I'm Ted. I like long walks on the beach and beautiful sunsets. Well, not really. I'm a not that cliche. I'm really just a pretty normal guy. I generally consider myself to be pretty easy-going, but there are a few things that set me off. One of those things is a person who chews very loudly. As such, I tend to distance myself from anyone like that. As it so happens, however, I've accidentally become best friends with the guy who chews the loudest out of anyone I've ever heard. His name is Ben. Why did I become friends with him, you ask? Well, aside from the whole chewing thing, he's actually a pretty cool guy. This one time I was walking with Ben on our way to school. This was before we were really friends, so I did n't know him that well. His house is just down the street from mine, so we sometimes walked together. We saw a stray dog running across the road when it suddenly got hit by a car. The car was n't going to fast, but it was enough to knock the dog down. The car stopped and a shaken-looking skinny guy stepped out to check on the dog. The dog looked injured, so I was about to go over and see if it was okay when Ben starts bolting down the road at toward the dog. Then, after checking to see if the dog was alright, he just punched the guy who ran the dog over. I'm not even joking on this one. The man was so shocked he had no words ( not to mention his jaw probably hurt ). After the whole thing got wrapped up, he decided to take the stray back to his house and raise him. After that, I gained a lot of respect for him. Ben's not my only friend, though, I've got a few others. Jacob is another neighbor of mine. He does n't chew loudly, but he has the squeakiest shoes of all time. Even when he gets new shoes, they always squeak. I swear he exclusively goes for the shoes which squeak the most. Anyway, he's a pretty cool dude. We've got a park in our neighborhood that has a ton of swing sets and slides and whatnot. It even has one of those metal slides that gets insanely hot in the summer. Not sure why they even invented those, really. When I was young I usually avoided the slides though; the swings are where it's at. Apparently Jacob thought the same, so we often swung at the same time. There was one time when he totally fell out of the swing right on his face. He did n't cry. Instead, he got right back on the swing and started again. I thought that was totally badass. I introduced myself, and we've been hanging out ever since. Then there's Dane. Dane was always a weird guy. I guess I kind of appreciated that, though. He does his own thing and does n't let anyone get him down. I guess I'm one of the rare people, though, because he does n't seem to have to many friends. They think he's too weird or something. People can be that way, I suppose. Well, he first got my attention during lunch one day in elementary school. Some kid forgot his lunch money, and Dane found out. He decided to give his lunch money to the kid. Everyone, myself included, thought Dane was going to have to go without lunch. Actually, though, Dane just busted out a second lunch in his bag! It was like he was preparing for having to give his lunch money away or something. Most people did n't really seem to notice or care, but I was surprised. I decided to invite him to sit at my lunch table. He's a unique guy, that's for sure. Every group of friends has to have at least one comedian, right? Well, I guess you could say Tom fits that bill. He does n't go so far as to make everything into a joke, but let's just say he never lets an opportunity for a joke slip past him. I have fond memories of laughing so hard at lunch, milk came out of my nose. I used to think that's just something that happens in movies, but after I met Tom I soon found out it was no myth. When I think of Tom now, however, the first thing that comes to mind is n't the funny jokes he's told, it's the one time he was serious. One time at recess a bunch of upperclassmen were making fun of a kid because he could n't throw a ball very well. I thought it was kinda sad, so I was about to suggest we play elsewhere when Tom goes right up to the kids and tells them in the most serious tone I've ever heard come out of his mouth, `` Leave the kid alone.'' Now, that might not be the most intimidating thing ever said, but you have to understand Tom was basically known as the class clown. He always had a smile on his face. This was different, though. I ca n't describe the look in his eyes, but I'll certainly never forget it. The two bullies decided to give up making fun of the kid, but played it off like it was their choice. Honestly, though, I think even they were scared. I've also got a friend named Maddy. Yes, you read that right, she's a girl. I know, surprising: I've got a friend who's a girl. She's one of those girls who tries to act more like a guy, though. She puts on the tough act all the time. Whenever someone says she ca n't do something because she's a girl, she's always got to get up in their face and try to prove them wrong. There's nothing wrong with that, though. I like my friends with a bit of attitude. When she's around, you always know something interesting is gon na happen. I would n't tell her this to her face, but she's actually got quite the soft spot. I've been walking down the street near a pet shop and seen her petting several puppies at once. She was practically rolling in puppies. Thankfully she did n't see me. I'm certain she would have ensured my silence through force. I'd like to consider my selection of friends to be pretty good. I mean, I would n't be friends with them if they were n't good people, right? Well, there was this one guy most of my school considers to be a bad guy. His name was John. It's kind of unfair, though, because it's all just based on rumors and assumptions. You see, he's the type to never talk. I guess he just never feels the need to. As such, many people have started rumors about him being a serial killer or whatever. They assume since he never talks, it must be because he has secrets to keep. I never participated in the rumors, but I never really went out of my way to hang out with him. Until one day, that is. One day I was walking home and I saw him. He was carrying two huge bags, so I figured I should at least help him out. When I asked if he wanted help, he did n't actually say anything; he just nodded. So I follow him until I get to what I assumed was his home. I do n't know if I'd call it a home, though. It was in really bad shape, some of the windows were smashed and covered with trash bags to keep out the elements. It looked like the lawn had n't been mowed in months, or even years. I asked him where he wanted the bags, and he gestured toward the door. Once he opened it up, I could smell a weird odor. I did n't know what it was then, but now I know -- it was alcohol. His father came out from the kitchen leaning back and forth. I thought nothing of it at the time, I just assumed he was tired or something. I knew then what John was going through. Since then, I tried to get him to talk with me and eventually he did. I became friends with him because I knew he needed a friend. Out of all my friends, Taylor is definitely the most talkative. He's not the type of guy to gossip, but he is seemingly incapable of running out of things to talk about. I actually have no idea where he gets all the information, but he's so interesting to listen to. He's like the stereotypical old grandpa with tons of stories to tell, only he actually has interesting ones. My favorites are the tales of weird and crazy places. He talks about crazy creatures from the bottom of the ocean, or weird eyeless cave lizards and stuff. He's also amazing with the girls. I have no idea how, but he always knows exactly what to say to sweep them off their feet. I'll always remember the one day he never said anything, though. His grandma had cancer, and on the day that she died he did n't utter a word. It was so surprising to us all. Nobody knew how to fill the gap he had left for us, so we all decided to join him in silence. That was a pretty solemn day, looking back. I've never been much of a reader. I'm more of a visual learner, really. I have to really see the action unfolding in front of me -- like on a movie or something. Dahlia is pretty much the exact opposite. She's a quiet, nerdy girl who loves to read. Every time I see her in her free time she has her nose in some book. Even though she's usually quiet, ask her about what she's reading and she'll never shut up. I guess she's a bit fanatical in that way, but I kind of admire her for it. I actually met her when she saw me reading a book. I know I said I do n't read, but this book was special. It's called The Catcher in the Rye. Ever heard of it? Of course you have, everyone has. Well, I decided it was a book I should read, since my teacher told me I kind of act like the main character, Holden Caulfield. I do n't see it. Anyway, she saw me reading the book and started a conversation with me. We got to talking, and she's actually pretty cool.
[ WP ] `` No matter what you hear , no matter how badly you want to , do NOT open your eyes . ''	`` Scott.'' Incessantly, `` Scott. Scott. Scott...'', `` Scott'' from all angles, and the texture's wrong, inky, warbling. `` Scott'' with a hoarseness. `` Scott'' with molasses, treacly `` Scott'', soft `` Scott'' sloughing its way through a rusted pipe. All I hear is `` Scott''. `` Scott'', uncomfortably close. A leathery `` Scotting'' whisper rolling over shoulder, under lobe, spoon scraping on tooth, `` Scott''. Not for the first time. How long since last time? Three days, perhaps four...'' Scott''. I'm tired, tired of `` Scott''. No sleep, ca n't sleep, terrified. Keep eyes closed, do n't wake up, remember Scott? Stay in the blackness... absent thought, only timeless, chanting, quavering, tidal `` Scott'', ebb and flow, ebb and flow, ebb, flow. Symphonica `` Scott''. Midget Disney chorus, bloated ripe tomato, cherubic, flapping faceless, marionette dancing `` Scott''. `` Scott''. No, no...'' burble''... moaning, burbling from beneath me, a foreign sound, a human sound, not `` Scott''. Intestinal rumbling. Was that me? Oh god, I'm ravenous. How long now? Distractions, distract. Easy. Thread back into rhythm of `` Scott''. Tune back in on verse before chorus, best part. `` Scott, Scott, Scott Scott...''. Count the `` Scotts'' per minute. 1,2,3... 61,62,65... 84,86... 100, 101. Has it been a minute? It's been a minute, has to have been, chorus is over, but I've lost track of my `` Scotts''. Damn. I'll try again later. Perform quick inventory. Fingers fine, toes fine, ( ( avoid stomach ) do n't check again ), arms fine, jaw feels funny... and teeth, been pulsing in time to `` Scott''. Tongue not dry, hmmm, strange. Ah, gnawing on shirt, wait. When did that happen? No matter, collar soaked with saliva nostalgia, but, what's that taste? Paprika? turmeric? white cheddar? pork? relish? no, no, no, no, no, no there, underneath the cotton, between the notes of nylon, twixt detergent mix tangs a faint hint of `` Scott''. `` Scott'' breathing across my palette. Mouthfulls of `` Scott'', gobs of `` Scott''. Somewhere a bell ping chirps, `` Scott''. I devour the `` Scott''. Shirt, I devour the shirt.
[ WP ] Your Xbox Live friend is God . Unfortunately he 's not very good at video games .	I'd met Caesar while playing Call of Duty 4 back in the day. Day after day we would play together, and day after day Caesar would get absolutely destroyed in game. What I did n't notice, however, was that every time someone no-scoped, ninja defused, noob tubed, or any other humiliating thing against him, they would just disconnect. It took me a while to put two and two together, so one day I confronted him about it. I asked him if he worked for Infinity Ward or Activision and was banning people or cutting their connection when they would embarrass him. He laughed a good bit at that, but said no. That's when he explained to me that he was in fact, a god. He was capable of controlling anything and everything in the physical world, but could n't affect anything in the game world. So when someone made him mad in game, he just... disconnected them in the only way he was capable. A first it scared me a little that he was taking out in game frustration on real world lives, but then it hit me... my Xbox buddy is a god. So we talked some more and he hooked me up with everything imaginable. A new house with the most incredible gaming setup anyone had ever seen, beautiful women, a great job, you name it, he provided it and life had been pretty great having Caesar as a friend. We were playing a game of Search and Destroy yesterday. It was Caesar, myself, and my clan mates. I had a pretty great team, and Caesar has always wanted in, but I always told him our roster is full, and honestly, he was so bad that I did n't want him joining. It was the fourth round in the game, and we were winning three to nothing, but Caesar dropped a doughnut and gotten zero kills. `` FUCK. Fucking faggot noob tubed me again!'' he yelled. `` It's all right man, we're still gon na win this thing,'' I said, trying to calm him down. `` Yeah! Because of your clan! You know what? I want on it. I want to play competitive with you guys!'' `` Uh... sorry Caesar, our roster is full.'' `` Bullshit,'' he shouted into his headset, `` I know you guys lost xx420xN0xSc0pExx earlier today, you have a spot open!'' Shit. I could n't believe he knew. This was n't good. Caesar continued, `` I know what it is. You do n't think I'm good enough do you! You think I'm shit like all these other fuckers on Xbox Live!'' And then Caesar said the one thing I had dreaded since the day he revealed that he was a god... `` You know what?? Fuck it. 1v1 me bro''
[ TT ] Demons run when a good man goes to war	`` Private, get over here!'' The young man ran towards his captain, out from the barracks. The fighting was done today, but there was always work to be done. The young man did n't mind, though. He knew what he did was for the good of his people, serving to protect and bring honor to his country. His pace lessened. `` Yes sir?'' `` Follow me for a minute.'' The older captain walked him away from the rest of the men. The private ran to his captain's side. `` What is it sir?'' `` You'll see. I need solders I can trust, you understand?'' `` Yes sir.'' They walked out behind a ruined building. There, about twenty men stood on their knees, hands bound, burlap sacks covering their heads. Some of them wiggled and grunted, others slumped back silently, only their breathing showing signs of life. The captain turned to the young man. `` Private, do you know why I brought you here? Do you remember?'' The young man looked surprised at the question, as it had just been answered moments before. `` Y-yes captain, you said you needed men you could trust!'' He stood tall and proud. The captain smiled, tilting his hat with one hand. `` That's right private. You've shown great potential, and I think a field promotion is in order soon.'' The young man was beaming. The older captain let out a quick chuckle. `` However, officers in the field must show... more, dedication. You understand this?'' `` Of course sir!'' The young man looked straight ahead, forgetting his settings. `` Good, good.'' The officer produced a pistol from his waist, and placed it in the young man's hands. The private looked at it in shock. `` These prisoners are enemies of our country, as well as our cause. They have killed your brothers in arms, as well as innocents from all around. You will execute them, and dispose of the bodies. When you are done, you will report directly back to me for your promotion. Is that understood, sergeant?'' The young man stood trembling. The pistol could have weighed a ton. `` Sir... I... -'' `` Is that hesitation, solder? I thought better of you, I really did. I'm sure the rest of the men would be so disappointed-'' `` No, no! It's not hesitation, I swear! It's just, the thought of becoming a sergeant so quickly-'' The captain cut him off. `` Yes, yes I'm sure it's a lot to take in. Now, sergeant, do as you were told. I'll be waiting.'' With that, he walked off from the ruined building, leaving the newly promoted sergeant alone with the prisoners. He grasped the pistol, then looked at his victims. Some of them yelled, more were silent. His hands trembled. Was it right? Surely, they had wronged his people. He was doing the right thing, of course! But they were unarmed. They had rights too, did they not? If he was captured, he would not expect execution. But these men did? One began yelling at him in Russian, the private did n't understand what. He took a deep breath, and began to fire. He did n't know why, but he did it. He had his orders, he told himself. It was for Germany, the demons told him, happily ripping through his soul as his body became stained to the blood of innocents. As the last bullet ripped out from the other side of the prisoners burlap sack, the private fell to his knees. He knew naught of the evil which he had done. He was a machine now, a loyal machine who would do as he was told. He eyed the shovel in leaning against a blood stained wall, and began to work. The captain's face lit up as he saw the young man trudge into his tent, and lay the blood soaked Luger upon the crimson table. He stood, and saluted him. The young man saluted back. The captain looked deep into the new sergeant's eyes, and saw in its reflection the endless rows of swastikas, as well as the face of their leader. He had won.
[ WP ] A common fairy tale told from a perspective of another character that shows the usual protagonist in a slightly less than ideal light .	“ Okay mam, can you describe the intruder one more time so we can make a sketch? ” asked the detective. “ Yes, she had blond, curly hair and she looked to be around 16, ” replied the woman. “ What was she wearing? ” asked the sketch artist, while his pencil moved deftly over the pad. “ Um, ” the woman paused and screwed her face up, “ I can ’ t remember exactly, but I know she was wearing jeans and I think she was wearing a black leather jacket. ” The sketch artist quickly finished the drawing and held it up for the woman to look at. “ Does this look like the girl that broke into your house. ” he asked. “ Yes! That looks exactly like her! ” The artist nodded, handed the sketch to the detective, and walked away. The detective examined the sketch before pocketing it and turning to the woman. “ Thank you mam, you ’ ve been very helpful. Your description matches reports we ’ ve been getting from this area. Now, just to make sure I wrote this all down correctly, can you repeat to me exactly what happened? ” said the detective. “ Yes. My husband, my son, and I were coming home from my son ’ s baseball game. When we arrived at the house, we found the door ajar. My husband brought out his pistol and we all went inside to see if we had been robbed. What we found surprised us. In the kitchen, our cupboards had been turned inside out, some of our food was eaten, dishes lay broken on the floor. In the living room, all our favorite chairs were scratched and dirty and the lamp was broken. We then went upstairs, expecting to find more vandalism in the bedroom, and we did, but we also found the intruder SLEEPING IN OUR BEDS! ” she yelled this last part, looking just as outraged and confused as she had the first time she told this story. “ My husband yelled at her, ” she continued, “ and told her to get up and stay still while we called the police and that he had a gun, but she immediately jumped out of the bed and ran right past us, knocking down my son as she passed—the vagrant. My husband chased after her and fired off a shot, but she was able to escape into the woods. ” “ Thank you once again mam. This case matches several reported break-ins in this area. ” said the detective. “ Matches them exactly down to the family of three and sleeping in their beds, ” muttered the detective. “ What was that? ” inquired the woman curiously. “ Nothing, ” answered the detective, “ we ’ ll do our best to find the intruder. ” The detective tipped his hat, turned, and walked off towards his patrol car. This was a very strange case.
[ WP ] A loving couple promised to take their lives together by jumping off a cliff . One jumped , and one did n't . Describe what goes through the mind of the one that keeps the promise as he/she falls .	The sea brewed far below them, crashing against the crags in a desperate attempt to grasp the couple standing at the cliff edge and drag them into the foamy depths. It was impatient to drown their fragile souls in the murky abyss. They stared at the foreboding depths, and she squeezed his hand more tightly, taking a step back. `` We have to do this, Lidia. We have no other choice!'' he yelled over the wind whistling in their ears. `` Maybe there's a way!'' she said, holding back her sobs. `` We can leave the country! We can use the money to buy new identities, start a family, and - `` He grabbed her shoulders so that she faced his sorrowful eyes. `` There's no way, darling. They know. A witness has footage of you doing it. We would be stopped in our escape before we even begun.'' Her sobs shook her body as her fate loomed over her. She only ever wanted to be with him, and now she could n't even have that. `` I ca n't lose you, Jeremy,'' she whispered. He rested his head against hers. `` You wo n't. We do this together, like always. Do n't think of this as an end, but a new beginning.'' She nodded lightly. `` Do you remember how we used to run through the crowds after a job?'' he asked. She sniffled. `` I'd have to drag you along, lazy bum.'' He chuckled softly, but his smile did n't reach his eyes. `` Yes, yes you did. This is n't any different, Lidia. All we have to do is run.'' He grabbed her hand and led them back about ten paces from the cliff edge. `` It's now or never,'' he said, giving her hand a light squeeze. `` I love you,'' she said. `` I'll be right behind you.'' Then they were off, sprinting. She shut her eyes, imagining the crowds taking second glances as she weaved her way around them. She felt his hand gripping hers reassuringly. He would always be there to run with her. Then the ground shifted away and she was flying above the Earth, and she imagined she had finally managed to finally escape. No one could catch them now. A soft laugh escaped her lips as she embraced the new found freedom. Yet she could feel it taking over. It was dragging her down, back to the Earth, to prison. Fear clawed at her heart, and she felt his fingers slip from her grasp. The terror kept pulling her heart downwards and she opened her eyes. She saw him through the hair whipping around her face. He was growing further and further away. Each inch that tore them further apart shredded at her heart. He waved down at her and she swore she saw a grin spreading across his face. The fall felt endless, each passing moment conjuring up a thousand doubts in her mind. She did n't need to jump. She could have found a way. They could have found a way. She could have left the country, stolen a boat, something. But now she was alone, cascading into darkness. She could hear the swirling sea crashing against the rocks, ready to overwhelm her like her tumultuous thoughts. He did n't even say he loved her. He would n't grant her that kindness. Her pain forced her to scream all of her emotions at once. `` Jeremy!!!'' But her guttural cry was a whisper in her ears as the wind howled as she fell. Her mind stilled and her body went limp, as though her yell drained her of all energy. Dread petrified her. It was not the sea or the rocks, or even the prospect of death. It was the realization she may never have been loved at all.
[ WP ] Your wife tells you to stop taking all of the luxuries in your life for granite . You just dropped off your home appliances and leisure activity equipment at the rock mine and the granite is already in the bed of your pick up . Oh yeah , and they have a no returns policy .	As I returned from the quarry with my newly acquired kilo of granite, I wondered what possessed me to continuously trade my personal possessions for this rock, useless unless used for industrial purposes. My wife was already miffed, and this was going to be the straw that broke the camel's back. My granite shimmering in the moonlight, I decided to take the long way home, to delay the inevitable confrontation. I stopped at a dingy diner, lugged my granite in with me, and asked for the house special. A barely edible order of meatloaf appeared in front of me, and I sipped at my coffee, staring at the meal until it grew cold. Across the counter, another patron noticed my rock-hard package, and said `` That's a mighty fine slab of stone you're working with there, mind if I take a look?'' I barely heard him in the state I was in and merely nodded my head. The gentleman walked over, inspected the granite, and ripped off his overcoat. My wife, irate, the fires of murder burning in her eyes, crushed the granite with a hidden pick-axe, and in her rage severed the vertebrae of my spine. I never got the chance to take the luxuries of my life for granite again, and I spent the rest of my days in a hospital, with no wife or granite to show for my time spent on Earth.
[ WP ] A man notices that everything his son does when playing pretend becomes true about 1 hour later .	`` Honey, where are you?? Honey?'' `` Chris I'm at work, calm down! What's the matter?'' `` Honey I need you to get home right now. It's very urgent.'' `` Is there something wrong with Jack?'' `` No there - actually yes there is! You need to come home right now for Jack.'' `` Okay, I'll be there in half an hour.'' Half an hour is good. He started playing 15 minutes ago. We still have time. We still have time. I raced down the supermarket aisle, straight to canned goods. I grabbed everything I could see, everything I could fit into the trolley. People around me stared, some muttered under their breath. I wished I could them, but they'd just label me crazy and go on with their lives. It's a shame. I paid for the whole lot, and loaded into the boot. It was a sunny day outside, clear all the way to the horizon. I wondered how it was going to happen. How whether, if I did would make a difference. Of all things Jack had to play pretend. How did it acquire this power? Who gave it to him? Can it be undone? Questions without answers that I asked myself as I made my way home. I threw upon the front door. The TV was blaring, and Jack was still on the living room floor with his toys. He was holding up the alien spaceship over his makeshift Lego city. He was still trying to destroy it. `` Jack! Jack, it's time to go somewhere. Put down the toy.'' `` But Daddy, I'm not done playing spaceship.'' `` Let's go Jack, we need to take a ride, okay? Let me help you get into the car.'' -- -- -- -- -- -- `` Chris? What's going on??'' `` Honey, we need to drive. Drive right now.'' I threw the last of the bags into the trunk, on top of the cans.'' `` Can you please just tell me what's happening?? You're being so fucking crazy right now.'' I looked at my watch. 2 minutes left. How far do we have to drive to be safe? Is there anywhere that will be safe? I grabbed her by her shoulders and looked straight into her angry eyes. `` Look Jenny, please. I love you more than anything in the world, and right now I'm saving our lives.'' There must have been something about my face that melted her anger away. She nodded. `` I've packed all I could grab. Let's go.'' It was a minute half later when the shadows descended on the city.
[ WP ] This is it . You 've worked on this project for 22 years , foregoing friendships , family , fortune and fame - all for the love of science and this decisive moment in the history of mankind . You press the button .	Ester called the project Sheng Nu, which was Chinese for “ leftover women. ” It had an official name, the one that would be used in the media, The Angelic Earth Project or the Jesus Button. Whatever drew in the crazies. Sheng Nu came from the Chinese term for an unmarried woman over the age of 25. That is how long the project had been going on, though it had been officially running for 22 years. But Ester had been working on it her whole life. Had she been the marrying type, she might have called this her baby. Her greatest achievement. Instead, Sheng Nu was her only friend. Not that anyone knew about the AI technology Ester used to manipulate the matrix. Soon, Sheng Nu would show the world what her true purpose was. A plan Ester hoped would make her a hero. Or literally Hitler. Sheng Nu laughed, a weird series of 0101001 that crept across the screen. Ester understood. Sheng was a simple person, with very straightforward needs. In just a week Ester would bring Sheng out of the dusty world into sunlight. Hopefully the world would understand. Sheng Nu knew what was best for them. Ester made sure of it. … The Neo Rivers Opera House had been converted in 1998 to the Institute of Higher Learning in Tuscan Valley, Nevada. A strange place to hold the greatest minds of the world. Nevada had some of the strongest solar globes, so it made sense that people would gather here, hoping to understand the technology Ester ’ s father, Malcolm Newman, had given to the world. Ester, his favorite child, had been privy to the intimates of his mind. But he had never told her how he discovered the globes. And she had never asked. Just as he never questioned her love of Sheng Nu and AI technology. They shared the same ideals. Change the world by force if you need. Ester, upon the death of her father, had destroyed many of his journals. She had carefully copied his notes, taking them as her own. But the truth, written in black and blue ink, would have shocked the world. He had done things most would find horrible. His methods had been replicated by his daughter, an oil slick game of life and death that only scientists could understand. Mother Earth doesn ’ t play games. She plays to win. Ester believed she was on the winning side, the right side. And tonight she would show the world that Sheng Nu was the right woman for the job. Ester was the third speaker, right after Amanda Turk. Ester liked Amanda, she was a simple woman with simple tastes. With the right amount of brandy, her mouth would open like a portal and her mind was so easy to pick. “ We have a treat today. Ester Newman is going to be introducing her newest project, the Angelic Spectra. ” There was some sputtered clapping, a few weird looks. Ester passed Amanda by. The blonde gave her a small press of her lips. The name was stupid, which was what Ester was hoping for. Amanda had come up with it while drunk. The shame in her cheeks, knowing Ester would thank her for her help with the name… Ester ascended, her black box held in her hand. She stood at the podium and smiled. “ I would like to thank Dr. Turk for her help with naming my project. ” Snickering. “ Now, I grew up in the Facebook Era, if you can all remember that disaster, ” Ester said. Laughter. Good. “ You sit down, fill in a tiny little profile. Then you use all your energy to keep in contact with the people you don ’ t give a shit about. Much like peer reviews. ” Again, laughter. “ I want to talk about Social Media for a moment. Please understand it is very important to what I am about to explain, ” Ester said. She pressed her lips together. Sheng Nu would horrify them. “ We are all familiar with e-mail. It is something that has been around for the past thirty years. It has not changed much, though it is far more advanced than it used to be. ” “ Letters have always been important to us as a civilization. 550 B.C. is the earliest recorded postal service. In 1792 we got the telegraph. In 1865 we have the pneumatic post, which was a series of pressurized tubes. We still use it in hospitals today. ” Ester set the black box on the table beside her. She adjusted it just so, before turning back to her microphone. “ 1890? We got the telephone. The radio came a year later. In the 1940s we had the first Super Computer. This would lead to the birth of the internet. ” “ Now, the internet was born in the 1960s, a time of peace, love, and freedom. We had CompuServe. Then we had UseNet in 1979. My mom got a computer in 1983, a pathetic brick that looked nothing like the world we know today. ” Sensing the boredom of the crowd, Ester stopped and clapped her hands together. “ I have a point. A big one. We have always needed ways to communicate. But we have never thought about what it would mean, to put all our time, emotions, and energy into pixels. We never thought about what it would mean to us as people and those who wanted to use us. ” There was a great silence in the room. They knew how mad her father was, how much his Solar Globes had revolutionized the world—at a cost. They wondered if the madness had come back with her. They hoped not. It would be a dark time. “ SixDegrees came out in 1997. Blogging in 1999. Myspace? Early 2000s. And YouTube, which is still going strong, came around in 2005. 2006 was Twitter and Facebook. Tumblr, Pinterest, Spotify, and Tumblr. All showed us people were weak. Eager to shower the world with their pathetic thoughts. It also showed us who the bad people were. 4Chan, now called ExitS, has been around. ” She smiled widely. “ What if I told you I had a way to make the internet work for us? Much like people have gathered information to sell to us, I have figured out a way to compile all the date into what I call Sheng Nu… the first AI executioner. ”
[ WP ] The grim reaper shows up to take the soul of an elderly woman named Agnes , he seems weary so she offers him some tea and he accepts .	He sits in the sea green chair as Agnes busies herself in the kitchen. Her hands run lightly over bushed metal as she pulls it from the cupboard. Here and there small flecks of rust betray the kettle's age. She fills it, halfway, after struggling for a moment with the spout, then places it onto the stove. The knob turns and a flame cries meekly as it jumps into existence. Cream. Lemon. Sugar. Tray. Cups, saucers, spoons. She recites the mantra as she collects what's needed - how many times she's entertained a guest for tea she ca n't say. Routine. Cream. Lemon. Sugar. Tray. Cups, saucers, spoons. She moves through the kitchen with an aged grace - opening drawers, cabinets, and cupboards. With a series of clinks and the creaks of her bones and the old kitchen hinges she manages to ready the tray. On her heel now, she turns and walks slowly into the sitting room as she waits for the water to warm. He's not what she expected - a plain looking man, but rather tall. Black pinstripe suit, white shirt, whiter skin, red tie, and black hair parted on his right side. A thin moustache lines the top of his lip and dark circles rest firmly beneath his eyes. She sits on a wooden rocker on the other side of the room. He eyes her wordlessly, and cocks his head to the left, without expression. You're tired she says. I did n't expect you would come in She stares at her, mute, impassive, unmoving. Will I see him? Will I see them? And still he stares, his eyes unblinking, his gaze fixed on hers. I suppose it would n't matter either way. I suppose I do n't have a choice. She pauses and glances into the kitchen. Had she heard the kettle? No, no. She turns up her hearing aid - everything always sounded so muffled. She looks back at the man now who smiles at her. Agnes smiles in return and begins to slowly rock. I suppose we have n't the time for one cup of tea? The man's smile fades. Back and forth she still rocks, but now slowly. And still more slowly. And now she is only still. The sea green chair is empty. And the kettle starts to sing.
[ WP ] You live in a parallel world where clothes dryers mysteriously collect extra socks . How has this fact changed the course of history ?	Twice per week, Juliana drove to the laundromat with her bag of clothes to be washed. The sign as she walked in read: WASH: $ 1.50 DRY ( 45 minutes ): $ 1.25 PLUS ONE LEFT SOCK It always had to be a sock that you had worn on your left foot for an entire day. Scientists had spent tens of millions of dollars trying to figure out why dryers would n't work without the sacrifice of a sock. People who attempted to dry clothes without a sock found the machine would n't work. The attempts to create cheap disposable socks usually met in failure as the machine knew. The sock must be worn, then washed, before it could be dried with the rest of the clothes. The potential for an intelligent being behind the strange behavior increased in 1983 when Dr. Frank Johanson proved that the dryers always took the left sock. He was jokingly nominated for a nobel prize in physics, but the nobel committee was too embarrassed to give him the award. He still won numerous other awards and was a regular guest on shows about the phenomenon ( now known as `` Johanson's left foot mystery'' ) until his death in 2003. For Juliana, it was mildly interesting trivia, but an annoyance and a drain on her just above minimum wage salary. She dumped her clothes in the wash, took off her shoes and then her socks and dumped them in. She would love to wear something more colorful or original, but when she lost left socks on a regular basis, basic black or white pairs sold in packs of 3 or 6 or 10 made the most sense. On the socks vs sandals debate, one which every fashion show held on a regular basis, she was definitely a socks person. Those who wore sandals only wore socks once or twice per week to meet their sock sacrifice quota. Those who wore socks simply decided it made sense to wear many socks and have whatever cruel random intelligence that created this universal law choose which sock to take. She once broke up with a boyfriend over differing views on which side was more `` wasteful.'' She reached in her pocket, grabbed some quarters. Like nearly every other human on Earth rich enough to not use a clothes line, she wondered for the thousandth time in her life where the socks went and what sort of strange god made this loss of a sock a universal law that could n't be broken.
[ WP ] Two snowflakes falling from the sky , talking about the meaning of their life and what happens when they get to the bottom	Two snowflakes were falling, one was old and one was young. The young snowflake asked the old snowflake, `` Why are we falling?'' `` We are falling because gravity pulls us towards the earth.'' `` What is earth?'' `` Earth is the planet whose atmosphere we are in, whose weather we are a part of.'' `` What's weather? What's atmosphere?'' The old snowflake could n't smile, of course—he was a snowflake, he had no mouth. But he would have at that moment if he could have. This was the way it worked. It was a long way from cloud to ground. Plenty of time to talk, to learn. And the sheer numbers of snowflakes falling all but ensured an even mix of young and old. And there was time to answer all of this young one's questions. Time is relative, and snowflakes do n't measure time in minutes, hours, or days. But suffice it to say there is enough time for a young snowflake to learn enough to educate yet another young snowflake on his next downward journey. Towards the midpoint of their fall, the young snowflake had begun to ask deeper questions. `` What does it mean to be a snowflake?'' `` We are a permutation of water. We are water in a crystalline state. When the air is cold enough, we form, and we fall, because we are too heavy to stay in the sky. It is a kind of birth. We all inhabit the same cloud, are all just many water molecules in a sky of vapor.'' `` What is our significance? Why is there water?'' `` We nourish every living thing on the planet beneath us. Every animal needs to drink us in our liquid state to survive.'' `` What happens when we land, when we melt?'' `` Matter is never created or destroyed, only transformed. And we are no different. We melt, freeze, evaporate, transform in every way imaginable. Right now we fall. Then we will wait. Then we will melt, and seep deep into the earth. There we will flow to underground rivers, which will run downhill until they meet an above ground stream. We will join the stream and flow to a lake or ocean, where we will eventually make our way to the top. We will evaporate, rise through the air, and become a cloud again. You see? We never die. We only transform.'' The young snowflake was silent for a while. `` What will I be when I am no longer a snowflake? Will I still be me?'' `` You will be every snowflake there ever was. You will have the understanding that I have given you. You will join our collective body until nature sees fit to make you unique again.'' `` But will I remember who I was? Will I still be intact?'' `` No, you will not. Not beyond the general knowledge and understanding I am giving you now.'' `` Then what is the point? Why did nature make me if it means nothing when I am gone?'' `` It means everything. Beauty exists in the moment, it is fleeting. You must enjoy it while it is there. Look out at the world below you. Look at the trees, the rivers, the snow that has already fallen. It is perfect and beautiful. And you get to see it, right now. That is all that matters. And when it is gone, it is gone, and that's okay. Look at it. Truly look!'' The young snowflake looked, and he saw, and he understood, and he was content.
[ WP ] Killing someone gives you all the time they had left .	Carter rolled his trolley down the nursing home hallway, stopping at the occasional room to give residents their medicine. It got to the point where he did n't even knock on the doors anymore, the residents were used to Carter's friendly face. `` Is my son here yet?'' Gretchen said, looking up from her plate of mashed potatoes and apple sauce. The staff had stopped serving her solids after the third time she choked on her food. Old lady Gretchen just plum forgot to chew sometimes. She also forgot that she did n't have a son; she had a daughter named Celia, but there was n't ever a son. Carter had checked her records. `` No, he's not here yet, but I'll check the lobby here in a bit,'' Carter said, digging through the trolley, looking for Gretchen's medicine for the day. On days she did ask for her son, Carter wondered if maybe the old woman had had a miscarriage, maybe actually did have a son, but lost him somewhere along the way. He looked into her eyes and wondered if she was ready to go yet, if she was ready for him to help push her along. But no, not today, she was still fairly lucid, judging from the fact that her potatoes were still on the plate. Last week, Mr. Johnson had flung shit at Carter. Quite scrappy, Mr. Johnson, considering how old he was. Carter had given him the `` wrong'' medication, had helped pushed him along, and in turn, took the few months that Mr. Johnson had left of his life. `` There's someone in my bathroom,'' Gretchen said to Carter as he handed her a cup filled with her medicine, liquid of course. `` Is there?'' Carter asked. `` Yes, I can here them whispering my name, can you please check dearie?'' `` Yes, I can do that.'' Carter walked around the old woman's bed and pushed through the door leading to the small nursing home bathroom. Of course, there was no one there, but Carter did stop to acknowledge the person in the mirror. A tall, lean, blonde man. His hair was combed back, nice and full. His skin was smooth, not a single wrinkle on it. Carter smiled, revealing two rows of pearly teeth. He felt good. He had taken good care of himself over the years. Many years. Part of him was worried of the fact that he could n't remember how he discovered his ability to steal time, and on some nights it kept him awake, wondering if he would end up getting a degenerating disease that would steal his mind and leave him a vegetable in a bed, wasting away for how many more years that he had stolen. `` It was a man,'' Carter whispered to himself, faint memories resurfacing, `` I killed a man.'' He smiled as he felt the memories come back to him, but then the memories soon faded as he became more entertained by the facial expression he was making in the mirror. He was an admitted narcissist. `` Well, no whisperer here,'' he said to himself. Maybe it was time for Gretchen to go. He'd give her a special dose of medicine that would put her to sleep, then eventually stop her heart. He'd receive whatever small amount of time left she had, and he'd continue his day. It had become his routine. He never stole more than a few months at a time. It was less risky that way. He only needed a few months at a time to retain his looks anyways. He exited the bathroom, smiled at Gretchen, `` No honey, no one in the bathroom,'' then walked to his trolley. He opened a drawer, grabbed a syringe and a few bottles, and began to create his cocktail of death. `` I remember you,'' Gretchen said. `` I know you do,'' Carter answered, holding the syringe up to the air. He pushed on the plunger a little, just enough to squeeze out any air from the tube and needle. He was n't a cruel man, he was n't going to allow Gretchen to die from an air embolism in her veins. `` I'm your favorite caretaker.'' `` No, I remember you killing my dad, you stabbed him, you were older, but I recognize those eyes and those teeth.'' Carter looked to Gretchen, brows curling, confused. He did n't recognize the woman. He could n't. `` I remember,'' Gretchen continued.
[ WP ] The first lunar colony is a disaster . Communications are out and people are disappearing daily . As chief of security it 's up to you to find out a what is going on .	( I'm a bit rusty, so it's not my best work, but I gave it a shot anyways. Hope you enjoy. ) Security Chief Henson sat in the mess hall with a shotgun resting beside him and his back against the only unwelded door in the room. The air in the room was warm and difficult to breathe, and tensions were beginning to run high. Next to him, bound and unconscious was Marbright- the botanist that worked in hydroponics. Of the forty people who had landed on this rock to set up the colony, most of who remained had resided in this room for the past two days. And in this case, “ most ” meant twelve- Henson included. The other two had gone to try and get communications back up- newly deputized Clark and Engineer Yence from Maintenance. Henson just hoped that Clark could handle things if one of them became affected. Henson had n't chosen Clark because he was the fastest or most fit among them. Hell, he'd been assigned to this mission as an Assistant Geologist, and that was about as far from Security as you can get. Henson had chosen him because of all the other people here, Clark seemed to be the one keeping the most of his wits about him. In times of crisis, that was one of the most important things you could have. This had all begun a few days ago when, and people started vanishing left and right. Dr. Jarrik, a tall quiet man who worked in one of the labs, was the first to disappear. His lab assistant reported that he did n't show up to the lab that morning, and a quick scan of the base with the cameras revealed he was nowhere to be found. By the end of the day, two more had gone. The next morning, it was discovered that someone had vigorously smashed communications and monitoring with a fire extinguisher, and yet no one had woken. It'd taken them half a day to get monitoring back up and confirm what Henson had figured out within the hour: they were just walking out the airlocks. Spacesuits had begun to vanish from their lockers at about the same rate people were. If the Station Commander Whyn had just listened to him, Henson could've recruited people to watch the airlocks and prevent people from leaving. As it was, he and Officer Tale could n't keep track of all four airlocks at once, and those affected always seemed to know which ones they were n't at. It was only once the suits ran out and a body became visible from an airlock that Whyn paid Henson any heed. Prior to that, he'd been so concerned that life support was failing as well that he only wanted monitoring back up, convinced it'd be faster to have the two engineers fix it and check everything at once than to have them check every vital system manually. As it turned out, however, closing off the airlocks just made things much, much worse. Henson sighed, wishing they'd fixed communications first and just radioed back home for help. They'd be out of here by now and a few more lives would've been saved. Instead, he's left with the vague hope that Clark and Yence would do what they should've done yesterday, and that the scrubbers would be able to keep up long enough for them to be rescued. Not to mention the chance that another one of the crew would lose it in here with him. After the airlocks were locked down, things were quiet for awhile. Whyn had Yence working on fixing communications while he sent Engineer Lamb to recalibrate life support. Henson was monitoring the cameras and happened to be viewing robotics as one of the lap assistants walked in with a powersaw held low by his side. Looking back, he must've gotten it from the old construction equipment stored in maintenance nearby. But at the time, it was all he could do to seal the room from the console once he figured out what was going on. The assistant raised the saw and plunged it into the wall, and was quickly sucked out onto the surface as the walling ruptured away. Alarms began to blare from the various consoles about the command center as decompressions began cropping up from various locations across the base. Henson cycled through as quickly as he could, closing off rooms that needed it. He doomed thirteen people so the rest could live, including Engineer Lamb and Whyn who was overlooking his work. Seeing their silent screams as vacuum ruptured their lungs would haunt Henson for the rest of his life. He hesitated on Hydroponics, where Officer Tale was grappling with one of the men wielding a drill as others ran from the room- Marbright being one of them. Sealing her in with the drill mainiac would be the correct measure to take. Either she'd subdue him and Henson could unseal the room, or she'd fail and be doomed regardless. But he could n't do it. Of all the people still in the base, Tale was the only one he could trust. She made the choice for him. As the man with the drill kicked her off and scrambled towards the near wall, she glanced back towards the door and leaped to her feet, diving for the emergency breach button on the interior of the room. Why she did n't go for the one outside the door, Henson would never know. Maybe she did n't think she'd make it in time, or perhaps she just was n't thinking of it or herself. Regardless, the end result was the same. Hydroponics was sealed and Tale was gone. It was then that Henson gathered everyone he could and retreated to the mess hall, where he'd had Yence seal the other two doors and stayed awake guarding the last the past two days. Having someone go out to fix communications was suggested many times throughout the period, but Henson refused. Houston would realize something was wrong and send rescue after communications failed for three days. By the time he caved, that period had already passed- rescue should be on its way. But tensions in the room were becoming uncontrollable from the feeling of sitting around and doing nothing to save themselves. So he let Clark and Yence go, in order to stop chaos from reigning. It was not long after they left that Marbright rushed him, a butter knife in hand. She had a faraway look in her eye, and Henson knew that whatever was going on had gotten to her. He clubbed her mid charge with the butt of his shotgun and down she went. He bound her with two rolls of twine from the kitchen and kept her beside him the past two hours. Henson jumped as a knock came from the door at his back. He drew himself to his feet and held the shotgun in his right, opening the door with his off hand. A scream came from the room behind him as the door fully opened, all eyes having been upon it. It was not Clark and Yence. Tall Dr. Jerriks stood on the other side, bloated and sunburnt from exposure- looking more monster than man with a faraway look in his eye. Henson tried raised the shotgun as the thing lunged, and more screams soon echoed from the mess hall as it fell upon him.
[ WP ] Your life was fine and dandy until an elder god contacts you from another dimension , commanding you to be it 's priest and link to this world . Name and describe the elder god and tell how you react .	'' Hail Llathotyatep, the Empty Mouth! `` I screeched, '' That which lies in the belly of the stars, that which is the Song and the Singer! The Empty Mouth speaks all and says nothing! Hail and fear the Empty Mouth! `` I took a deep breath and screamed once more. '' Hail Llathotyatep! `` Not much longer now. The Empty Mouth had promised me, it would only be for a day. '' All hail the Empty Mouth! `` I ordered the passers-bye, who ignored me just as they did the other street preachers. Just a few minutes left. '' Love and hate the Darkness within Music! `` My chants and mad ravings overlapped with those of the madmen beside me, a strange, discordant music rising from the madmen's shouts. '' Hail Llathotyatep, the Empty Mouth! `` Just 24 hours. '' ͟H͟ai̢̕l̢ ̢L̢̀l̶à̕t͏h̶͜o̵t̶͘y͡at̢͏e͠p̀, ţ̵h̨e E͝m̶p̕͞t̡͘͞y͝ ͢M̨͡o͢út͘h́! ̵ ̴̨͡Ţh́͝à̶͢t̡̛͟ ̨w̛͘҉h̵̶͘i̴̢c̴͢h̴͡ ̕͟l̡̕i̷e̛s͝ ̡͜͠i҉̛͟n̡̛̕ ̷͡th̀͞e҉ ̷̵bel̛͜lý̵ o͢f̵ ͢t͢͡͝h̶́e̶̸͞ ́͜s͢ta̶̕r҉̵͘s̢, ̧̀ t̡͡ha͢t̷͜ ẃ̶̴hi͘͝c̛͏h̨ ̴͞is̢ ͞͞t̨͞҉h̡͝è̛͢ ҉͘͘S͘ơn̡g͢͞ ҉̡a͏̵ņ̴d̴͢͞ ҉t̡͠he͞ ̷͘͝S̷̴i͞n҉g̶͜e̶͞r͘! ̵͡ ͟Th̶ę̨ ̀E̛̕m̵̧̀p͡t͠ý ̡͢M̵̀͢o҉ù̷t̶͘h͝ s̡͞p̀è̕͡a̷͞͞ḱ͢s̴̕ ̵̕ą͜ĺl̴̴ ̡an͠ḑ ͡ś̵̨a̕y͞ş͢͠ ̡n̷ơt̕͟h̛͏įn̸̢͡ģ̕͠! ͢ H͢͞a̧͟͞ì̵͏l ̵̧a͡n̶d̵͜ ̕fea̧͠r͏͢͞ ̸th҉̵e̵ ͡͏E̸̕m͘͝p̶̴t̛y̷ ́̕͘M̢̛͞o̵̕ù̡͡t̡h̷̢͞! ͠ ͏Lo̶͜v͘e ̡a͡n̨̡͢d ̵ḩ́͜á͡t̴e̴҉ ̸́̀tḩ̷e ̵͟D͏͢͞arknes͠ş͏ ̴̕w̕i̡th̀͢͞i̧͝ǹ͏ ̨M̕u҉͘͟şí̢c! ̧ ͟A̵͜͞ll ̴h̵a̛i͟l̵͝ t͝ḩ͘e Ę̷mp̶̨̕ty҉ ̴̶̶Mo͘u̸̴t͏̵̸h́͜! ̸̕͢ H͡a̕̕҉iĺ̴͢ ͝Ļ́͠ļa̕͟th̷ơ̕ty͏̶̀a҉t̨͢ęp̶͟҉! ͏͞'' ̀
[ WP ] Virtual reality has been perfected and is now indistinguishable from reality . People can stay for years and experience whatever reality they wish . Write about the last human to live in reality .	Every day, I wake up alone. Not just alone in my small, economy apartment. No, I wake up alone in the world. You see, about forty years ago, virtual reality was finally perfected, a full-dive experience that fed you nutrients and other essentials like an at-home hospital. You never had to get out, unless you wanted to view reality. At first, only a few people tried it, and only for a day at a time. Then someone stayed in for a year, and then pretty quickly, people started disappearing. Everybody wanted to get away from reality, to become superheroes and villains, or to fight in wars and respawn. Sure, most people worked in-game to pay their real-life bills, but they often only needed electricity and nutrients to keep them in-game. I'm the only person to stay in reality, and let me tell you, it has been both bliss and crap. I mean, sure, I love how nature is blossoming again, with digital logging taking over. ( You did n't think they just programmed infinite wood, did you? It's virtual reality. ) However, books were n't being printed, dangerous animals started appearing in towns, breaking into homes and killing people in their rigs. And that, my friends, is where I come in. Sure, I ca n't do it all alone, and many people have lost their lives all over the world. I just happened to find business in killing the animals that would have killed the Gamers. Plus, because law enforcement are also in-game... I can do whatever I want.
[ OT ] SunChat : Do you feel our decision not to participate in April Fools shenanigans was the right one ?	Hello my name is mullet4superman but respond to the names AmboySlim, Dhylan and Denzel. I'm a Filipino brought to and raised in the beautiful country of Wales. I've been writing since I was a little boy and people have been complaining since. My writing style has been described as a clumsy, uninspired attempt to replicate superior yet still mediocre source material. Hopefully Mrs Glennon was just having a bad day when she wrote that. I mean usually she would just use one of those stamps marked'very good' or'disappointed'. Found this sub once I made a reddit account and thought it could help inspire me to become a better writer. I barely get motivation to get out of bed most days so when inspiration blooms, I try to squeeze out as much as I can and turn it into words. I can get about 30 words per minute on a good day. But then again, because of who I am as a person, I probably end up with a net of 5 words per minute. Once I complete a short piece of writing, I feel brilliant. I've created something. I convert rainwaves to paper and I feel brilliant. That feeling is fleeting though and slips away from me once I realise how clunky, repetitive and unfunny everything is. My friend told me that everybody's got at least one good story, so I'm going to keep going until that one good story shows up. Edit: what's on my mind? A girl. I mean it's almost always going to be her on my mind. And that aint a good thing
[ WP ] You see an odd person on a road trip . You say `` I wonder what 's up with them ? '' Then you find out .	The man was old, balding to the point where his white hair fell down from his scalp in little thin wisps - almost like mist- and he was dressed in two shades of grey - from his farmer's hat ( which he held in his hand ) to his dark gray coat, light gray undershirt, dark gray pants, and dark gray boots. I grabbed my brother's arm, gently, causing him to look over. `` That guy looks like he needs help,'' I said. The road we were on was one that looked like it could've been taken straight out of a B-Movie horror film. Woods on both sides, a thin two-way street, and of course, it was nearly dark and there were all of sudden no other cars around. `` Let's call the cops. They'll come get him.'' `` I think we should go back.'' Yup - that was me; the one in the horror movies with the `` smart'' ideas that always wound up getting everyone killed. `` There's two of us. Plus, he's an old man. What can he do?'' `` Duh-uh, I do n't know... have a gun?'' `` It does n't even matter anymore.'' My brother had been driving the whole time and we were out of the woods now. The man was far behind. ◇◇◇◇◇ 2 hours later, we pulled into a gas station. I went to take a piss, while my brother filled up the tank. I came out the bathroom and he was still at the pump, so I went inside to get snacks and drinks. In the aisle, I passed by an attractive girl, who -coincidentally- was on break with her friends and they were just moving around from place to place, `` looking to party and have a good time.'' I could n't resist. I just had to invite her along. We came out loaded with snacks and drinks. Her group consisted of three other girls - her sister, her friend, and her best friend -and four guys - two loud-mouth, stereotypical frat boys, a quiet, nerdy-looking kid, and a black guy who seemed pretty chill. So, 8 total, plus me and my brother, which would make 10 people in the car altogether. Lucky we were driving a pickup truck. `` What do you think you're doing? '' my brother hissed, once he put two and two together and realized that all these people were expecting to ride with us. `` They're just riding with us for a little bit. And plus, I think that girl over there is single.'' I nodded to the one, and I could see the approval in his eyes. I decided to throw a little extra incentive in. `` I'll even driiiive for the next two shifts.'' He looked away, thinking, then looked back and huffed. `` Fine.'' ◇◇◇◇◇ The girl I met in the store sat in the passenger seat, while my brother sat in the backseat with the other single girl, and everyone else partied in the trunk. I was hitting it off, my brother was hitting it off, and everybody in the back was hitting it off. It was just good vibes all around. So good, in fact, that even though the original plan was to drop everyone off at the next exit, we just decided to go all the way. There was a tap on the back window. One of the guys in the back yelled, `` I have to take a piss!'' I heard laughing and a small chorus of, `` Me too's''. My brother yelled back, `` Can you hold it?'' `` Nah, sorry dude,'' the guy replied. More laughter. So, we pulled over, and the two frat boys hopped out the truck and went into the woods to pee, while everyone else got on to stretch. We were on another one of those horror movies road, and the girls felt uncomfortable. `` This place is giving me the creeps,'' my girl said. `` I'm going to wait in the car.'' `` Same,'' my brother's girl agreed, going to do the same. After they were out of earshot, my brother turned to me with a big, cheesy grin and we began talking about how beautiful they were and all that. Then the quiet, nerdy-looking kid suddenly piped up with, `` Who's that?'' Everyone looked at him -surprised that he had spoken- then looked at where he was pointing to. My brother and I inhaled deeply. `` The guy from before,'' I said. And it was, still stumbling, still balding with white wisps of hair, dressed in gray, with a gray farmers hat in hand. The black guy said, `` It looks like he's bleeding. We should help.'' Just then the two frat boys came back, and noticed that everyone was focused on something other than themselves. They looked over and immediately started smiling and shoving each other. One bent down and scooped up a rock, then aimed with careful precision, and let the rock fly. The hard stone hit the man's skull and he stumbled to his knees. The frat boys were bending down to pick up another rock. `` Hey!'' my brother yelled at them. `` Chill!'' One of the frat boys sneered and lifted their head defiantly. `` Or what?'' I could see the other frat boy moving closer, so I moved closer to defend my brother in case things got out of hand. `` If you throw another rock at that man, you're not getting back in the car with us,'' my brother told him, keeping his face and voice calm and even. The frat boy dropped the rocks, raised his fist and started walking to my brother, saying, `` I do n't give a fu-'' when something wrapped around his neck. `` UUGH!'' He choked out, one hand at his neck, the other reaching out for help. We ran to him and could n't see anything that could be choking him. Then I noticed the old man was laughing, his hand stuffed deeply into his farmer's hat. More deeply than it should've been able to go. `` It's him!'' I pointed to the old man. `` H-Hey,'' the other frat boy stuttered, moving cautiously to the old man. `` J-just b-be c-cool, man. It was just a joke.'' `` A joke?'' The old man snickered. Suddenly, the frat boy grabbed at his own crotch and fell to his knees in agony, screaming as - I swear to you, I heard it- his nuts popped. First one, then the other. We all paused and stared in horror for one second, then everyone ran for the car. My brother tried to drag the choking frat boy to the car, but his eyes rolled back in his head and blood started spewing out of his mouth, so he left him too. `` Go! Go!'' The black guy yelled frantically, as I fumbled with the keys. The old man, though, seemed to have lost interest in us. The last thing I saw in the rearview before driving off was the old man dragging the frat boys into the woods off the side of the road.
[ WP ] You , a rich man , have been abducted . Your kidnapper wants you to feel what it 's like to be poor , and will only let you go if you give your fortune away . Trouble is , you 're a Nigerian prince .	I briskly walk down the street, dressed richly in silks, my hands hidden in the folds of my outfit. I look up at the army of people on the roofs, look at the people wearing black, all of them ready to seize me if I try to make an escape. I find a beautiful looking girl of about 20, her Hershey brown hair pulled back in a pony tail. I move her aside and hand her a fistful of money, and then pull her closer and whisper a simple message to her. I then break into a run and know she is staring after me, as I run blindly into the dark of the alleyway, as strong men dressed in black descend on me, as my kidnapper's knock me out. I can only hope now.
[ WP ] A security officer is charged with guarding a door but he 's never been allowed to enter . After years of service , he has never seen anyone use the door . Describe what he finds after not being able to hold off his curiosity any longer .	Night after night I stood guard in a chair by the door, making sure that no one ever entered. Sometimes I could hear footsteps as people rushed by the door, or scuffling on the other side, muffled conversations, and at least twice what sounded like an alarm. I tried to block it all out. My job was to guard the door, not think about what happened beyond it. Since I had been assigned to this post 15 years ago I lived and breathed to guard that door. I was a good soldier and intended to never let that come into question. I ate my rations, took my radiation pills, exercised when I got bored and did my routine as ordered. Yet that door constantly called to be opened, to just get a peek at what lay beyond. I had made up plenty of stories over the the years about what lay beyond. Everything from nuclear facilities, to a secret alien base, to secret interrogation station, to long term self-sustaining environment testing for a Mars colony. I had my favorites of course, but every time I came up with a story I had to work hard to push it to the back of my mind and avoid the temptation to just open the door. Sometimes the stories made my palm itch wondering what that door knob would feel like in my hand. Sometimes I'd even scratch until my palm was raw. But I was a good soldier and I was n't about to abandon my duty out of curiosity. Still, my palm itched... Then a day came when for a moment the whole floor under me shook, like a heard of animals was passing just on the other side of the door. I could hear shuffling and scraping along the wall at my back. I wondered at what kept whatever was in there from coming out here. Then suddenly the noises were gone and an uncomfortable silence set in. Usually there was always some noise, some far away voices, some tapping, something my mind could attach to and build a narrative around. But now it was just silent. My palm itched and I began scratching again. Then I noticed something peaking out just from under the door. During whatever event happening on the other side, something got nudged under the door. Or maybe something was purposefully pushed under the door to make it to the outside world. I fought for a moment as to whether I should even touch it. My orders only involved guarding the door, not what happened if someone passed a note or something under it. Still, my palm itched... I looked down and saw a small pink edge just under the white of the door, no more than a millimeter or two of some sort of card stock or construction paper maybe. I took a deep breath and dropped to a knee to get it. It was just a small rectangle of construction paper. It looked rough, like someone had held on to it for a long time. The middle was almost like tissue paper. On each end was a rough but hand written number, 01142000 on one end and 07062004 on the other. My mind reeled at what the numbers could mean, launch codes maybe? Coordinates for the alien landing? Population statistics? UPC's for needed supplies? Some secret spy code or terrorist message? But here it was in my hand and I'd been witness to it. What if I'd just read some national secret. What if I had just failed my mission. I had no idea what to do next. In 15 years I'd never had to call anything in, I'd never gotten a message from my superiors to do anything different than just guard the door, I did n't even remember there being a protocol in the briefing for this sort of thing. Anxiety began to overwhelm me. I paced the small space on this side of the door and thought about my options. I had to call it in... I had to let HQ know about this potential breach. Lives might be at stake. Every second that I waited something catastrophic might be happening, maybe even the fate of the world hung in the balance. I grabbed my radio off the small shelf where I kept it and pressed the button. `` HQ this is guard post Alpha-Foxtrot-Tango. Over.'' I let go of the button and waited. There was nothing. Just a quiet but consistent shhhhhhhhhhh of static. I tried again `` HQ this is guard post Alpha-Foxtrot-Tango. Do you read? Over.'' Still nothing by silence. I was alone. Maybe HQ had already been taken out during whatever even transpired beyond the door. Maybe there was nothing left of command. I had to act, I had to save as many people as I could, if I could. My palm itched like crazy. I wish they had given me a gun, but all I had was this useless radio and this slip of paper. I grabbed the door handle for the first time in 15 years... it felt cool but natural there in my palm. But I paused... this was a decision I could n't unmake... I would have to take the consequence of whatever I did next. I turned the knob and threw the door open quickly, hoping that if anyone was beyond it, they would be caught by surprise. But when I peeked out there was n't anyone. Just a long white hallway of other doors and what looked like a desk down toward the end as the hallway cornered. I decided to risk it, explore, see if I could find a survivor or some semblance of authority for the facility. I stuck close the wall and edged my way down to the corner. As I got closer I could hear clicking, like someone on a computer terminal, maybe someone trying to pry secrets from one the of the systems. I peaked around the corner quickly. Just one person, an older Asian woman sitting at a terminal. I peaked again. She appeared to be reading off of some instruction list, and typing them into the terminal. Maybe she was hacking based on the codes I had, or maybe even looking for those codes. I had to find a way around her if I could. I peaked one last time. But it was a mistake, she'd seen me. She looked right at me and smiled, `` Oh, Captain Phillips. We were worried you were n't going to make it.'' She got up and walked around the desk toward me. I immediately took a small step back preparing to fight or run if needed. `` Your kids are waiting for you in the movie room.'' She looked at the slip of paper in my right hand. `` I see you got the ticket they made.'' Then she looked to the radio in my left hand. `` Do you want me to take that book and put it back on your shelf for you like last time?'' I looked down at the radio, but it was n't a radio anymore, just a book on military jargon. I held the book up to look at it, and she quickly but gently pulled it from me and slipped it into her jacket pocket. I looked around, suddenly aware of where I was, suddenly aware of where I'd been these last few years. Rubbed the middle of that well-worn movie ticket my kids had made for me. The only talisman that had power to wake me from my nightmare and bring me back to the real world. Nurse Able put her hand on my shoulder and guided me around the corner of the desk. Pointing me down the other hallway to the movie room, I wondered what lay beyond that door, could it be a nuclear facility, an alien base, a secret torture facility... I rubbed my ticket and smiled.
[ WP ] Everyone is born with a superpower , but no one knows what theirs is until they are forced to use it in a life-or-death situation .	Every single fucking time, Every single fucking day, the people around me get their powers, it seems I am always in need of rescuing, always the one about to get it before my friend, or brother, or father, or even goddamn grandpa gets it and '' saves'' me from utter destruction. Even from birth I had always been saved, When I was born with a collapsed lung, the doctor saved me, every time I had a chance to fall on my own two feet someone arrives with a pillow. But not this time. Well now it's my turn, no one is around, I'm the only one standing 100 metres above this cliff and no fucking superman is going to save me. The first step forward is always the hardest, but I know he will appear to announce to me my powers before my death, the almighty being that blessed every one of us with them. And even so, even if I crash into to my death, I was done with this world, a world where love was faked, where every act of goodwill was done solely to gain the blessing of god. No one loved me here, perhaps heaven would be different. Breathing in I take the step forward, the first 10 metres of the fall is fine, then the wind draft becomes strong than expected. I crash into the side of the cliff, slowly tumbling down hitting rocks after another never even reaching the bottom. I had fallen only 15 metres before the wind '' saved me'' But even then he did not appear, no one was there to congratulate me on my new powers, in fact, I do n't feel any different at all. `` WHERE ARE YOU DAMMIT'' I scream over the waves as they dash onto the large black rocks below. `` WHERE IS MY POWER'' But only silence. So I wait, wait for death to take me, I wait body broken in two and once again my ribs crushed into my organs. But death refuses to arrive. -- -- -- -- -- -- It's dark now, I would have expected all my blood to be out of my body yet I am still alive, I do n't know why. I want to go to the other side, to see him and ask him why I never got my power, but the golden gates never appear. I can see it though, lightly, like an ethereal vision but it never fully forms. I have been staring at it for the past hour but it never opens, never extends it's holy reach to me. A person is walking down the steps now, he looks like him, maybe it's my time, I may never get my powers, but at least heaven awaits. Death awaits. `` Hello Micheal'' Says God. I can still hear him out my left ear. `` C-can I go now?'' I ask feebly, tasting blood in my mouth. But he does not answer, instead, a despondent silence answers my question. `` What is my power? Why have I not received it?'' I attempt another question. But he only sighs defeated before sitting next to me. `` My child, you were given a gift that I did not even bless my own son with.'' I stare at him with an incredulous expression plastered across my torn skin as I wait for him to continue. `` But I guess it truly is both a blessing and a curse.'' He begins to wave his hands over me, a light aura surrounds my body as he talks. `` You have had your ability since you were born, when Death himself saw you struggling to live with all your might, he took pity on you. And begged that he be the one to bless you with your gift.'' As he spoke I could feel my soul start to drift from my physical form. `` He asks for favours, so I gave it to him, and against my recommendation, gave you the gift of life.'' God muttered sadly. `` But the humans I create are imperfect, that's how I expected them to be. He watched over you, sacrificing the lives of many others to see you live a prosperous one. But he did not understand my creations, he did not understand that humans are made imperfect.'' Slowly his voice become quieter and quieter, the pain was starting to subside. `` But his own naive belief in letting you live upset the balance that was life and death, he refused to let you go ahead of your time, and greed soon engulfed your mind. And now here you are, on the precipice of life and death.'' The gates started to be more visible, slowly solidifying into it's final form. `` So it can be taken away? I can die now?'' I spluttered at him, my physical mouth still working. But once again, I was greeted with a solemn expression. `` At a great price I'm afraid. Death has no ability to give life, only death. So he saw around that by killing anything that would kill you. Thus giving you a healthy life. Even now he refuses to accept you, that is why you are still here.'' He replied. `` But you can reverse it right?'' I question again. But he carries on ignoring me `` Death was so sure that if you were given a blessed life, you would wish for nothing else than to enjoy it, to see you throw it away time and time again hurt him beyond human comprehension. And now for not doing what he is meant to do, he was forced to resign from his position.'' `` His gift was not a gift.'' I retorted. `` Humans are not gods, we ca n't live forever, I would n't have liked to be immortal'' I said, looking down now on my physical body, my soul had been completely taken from it. `` No, he goes where all angels who fall go.'' God replied in a morose tone. `` He gave everything he had to you when he saw how hard you fought to live, how much you wanted love. At that point I finally understood the cost of my greed, the cost of wanting something I had my whole life. Something I always had.
[ WP ] Your relationships are documented by a point system . At the end of the day , points go up or down depending on how social interaction went . One night , you see that a strangers points have gone up to the millions .	By the glow of my phone's blue light I started my nightly ritual of checking my `` Starred Relationships'' list. It never really amounted to anything. My list consisted a few women from work, an ex-girlfriend, and Stephanie the cute barista in the lobby of our office. There I would also find notifications from recent relationship changes. I had the usual points from starting up a conversation with a passerby on the subway, or losing a few with my mother, a reminder to call her later that week. No one knew exactly how the system worked, but its purpose was to integrate with our consciousness, and was marketed as a security feature issued by Mentis. I'm pretty sure it was just another way for them keep tabs on us, just like everything else in this world. Just as I realized that the generous tip that I left Stephanie once again went unnoticed, I saw it. `` You have received 1,520,000 points with Clara.'' What? 1,520,000 points? How is that possible? I have never earned that many points before with someone, let alone in a day. A typical first date might get you 45,000 points, or 70,000 if you get lucky. But 1.52 million, that ca n't be possible. I quickly clicked on Clara's profile and pulled up her picture. She was around my age, five foot ten, long blonde hair that hung past her shoulders, dark green eyes, an innocuous smile, and was completely unrecognizable. I swiftly scrolled through her profile down to our relationship achievements hoping to get a better answer to who this girl was. Achievements seemed to be incorporated into everything now, from productivity at work, to your government issued dose of television. They made everything a game. Now I was familiar with the usual achievements: A New Beginning [ 2,000 points ] , First Contact [ 5,000 points ] , A Walk In The Park [ 3,000 points ] , Coffee for Two [ 8,000 points ] . These were the typical conquests one might earn, but these were different. 5 Hour Energy [ 20,000 points ] , Stuck Together [ 30,000 points ] , and Wine and Dine [ 15,000 points ] , among others. Apparently, I got all of these without ever receiving First Contact. As I read the description of these achievements a picture began to form. According to my Mentis device Clara and I had spent 5 hours together, never were more than 300 feet apart ( they could only be accurate up to 30 feet ), and had dinner together. Even more importantly I was currently on my way to completing the The Trilogy, a 9 hour date. I sat bolt upright, flinging my phone across the room. This had to be a mistake. There was no way that I had not noticed this girl, let alone for five or more hours at a time. Maybe she was someone in my department at work, someone I had n't met yet, and our devices simply mistook our proximity for a `` date''. I hoped that that was the issue, it had to be. But deep down I knew that it could n't be true. Your Mentis device was aware when you consciously and deliberately performed an action, and would n't track something so aimless. The only thing I knew for certain was that I was not alone.
[ WP ] You 're an assassin . 'The Character Assassin ' , as your clients call you . Not only do you end lives , you are paid to orchestrate it in such a way as to ruin their reputation and legacy . Their demise is looked upon with laughter , shame or worse .	You see, there are people out there who you ca n't simply shoot in the head, no matter how much they deserve a bullet-induced brain slushie. For some people, this will create a martyr. Over the past centuries, my organization has learned that lesson the hard way. What's my organization called? It has many names, of course; all of them amply descriptive. We just call it the organization. What do we do? We identify individuals with enough charisma that, if left unchecked, could lead all of humanity down the toilet. Sure we have messed up in the past. Those mistakes are well known to us. Name a infamous name throughout history? That was us making a mistake. Hitler? That was us waiting too long. Still, rather be known as a brilliant leader of men who single-handedly brought prosperity to Germany; he's now known as a failed artist with a ridiculous Charlie Chaplin mustache, committing cowardly suicide in a bunker after a series of horrible military blunders. I can name more, but I have to set up here. No, nothing like you might think. No shiny sniper rifles or secret detonators. Just a normal appliance moving man installing a free refrigerator. This family won a free shiny, top of the line fridge from a contest they do n't remember entering, just like two other nearby families. These are good folks. Married for eleven years with two kids - both girls, and a dog, a cat, and two parakeet. Normal people with normal people problems, and a new fridge. The refrigerator? Well, it's mostly normal. Keeps food cold on one side, frozen on the other. Plenty of signs on the back that if it breaks to please call one of our company's licensed repair people. A small boobytrapped bomb that would render the fridge completely inoperable if someone other than one of our company's licensed repair people try to open the back of the appliance. Alright, it has one feature most other refrigerators do n't. See back in the fifties or maybe sixties, the Russians kind of got fed up with the blatant spy games the US was running from their embassies. Now this was n't some suave James Bond stuff, this was overly obvious na-na-na-ca n't catch me kindergarten bullshit. These incompetents were doing everything short of wearing'I am not a spy' t-shirts. Well, the Russians were pissed at the disrespect their fellow spies were showing them and so they did something in the typical Russian manner. They created a device, one that had the typical Russian level of vodka-bottle-over-the-head subtlety. It was like one of those x-ray devices dentists use, but a million times more powerful. The Russians set it up in an apartment adjacent to the embassy and turned it on. They left it on for months. Suddenly, every bad spy and their secretary was getting horrible cancer and they could n't figure out why. This is why they were horrible spies. It was the Russians. That means that short of a giant billboard that says'The device is over there! We did it! Ask us how.', the evidence was all there ready to be gathered by anyone more competent than a group of drugged out cartoon teenagers in a van with a talking dog. The point is, time marches on. Technology advances, and mention of the Russian device faded back to'that's mildly interesting' footnotes in history. Because with lasers and miniaturization, you do n't need machinery as large as a refrigerator to do the same thing as that clunky device did. The machinery can easily fit inside the bottom of a refrigerator - or three. Remember all those nice folks who won a free fridge? They all live next to a mostly wooded area on which a compound is built. The man running the compound is one of those pretty types that can sound like they personally care about your problems anytime they want to. This fine specimen runs a self-sufficient farm/self-improvement center/religious brainwashing cult. Now I may not be one of the pretty runaway girls living there in captivity, but I'm pretty sure salvation does not come from the end of this leader guy's penis. Still, once I finish adjusting this fridge so that the invisible x-ray laser intersects with the others, right over the cult-leader's bed, then in a few month's his pretty boy looks will be replaced with a bulging mass of bulbous tumors. See, a bullet would cause this guy's fanatical followers to start blaming innocent people and begin a holy crusade blah blah blah as the only path to washing away their sins or some such nonsense. But when your pretty boy holy figure turns into something that Quasimodo would turn away from in disgust, someone that is too busy shitting out his internal organs to incite his followers; well, that's an act of god. Or possibly the act of one of us character assassins. The free fridges are in place, the families are happy, the cult leader is getting his healthy dose of DNA-corrupting radiation. Sometimes, I really love my job.
[ WP ] You 've discovered a new color that nobody else can see . Tell me about it .	I know you may not understand, no one really does, even I do n't truly get it. And it's there, trust me. Let's call it'avra' for my sake. Now, it's a bit like when you were a kid and went from the hot tub to the pool, that sudden shock that mellowed into a peaceful drifting. Yes, it is kind of like water, enveloping calm, but in the same sense like fire, hot and powerful. It's like the color you see when you close your eyes real tight, that flash of color, too quick to know, but so wonderful and bright, and mysterious. You long to see it again, to find the words to describe it. Oh, it's dreamy, very calming, but so enchanting... I hope you never see it though, it could drive a man crazy, it could... No, I swear I have n't been dreaming, avra is a color, but a new one, the best one....
[ WP ] You jailbroke your iPhone and found out that it can travel time , a few time warps in , you discover Apple Gmen are after you for breaking the terms and conditions	At first, it was pretty fun. I went back in time to witness some historical events, like the building of the pyramids. After I became comfortable with the new app on my phone, I wanted something special... something nobody had ever done before. I went back to the height of the Roman Empire and became an'inventor'. My revolutionary breakthroughs quickly became noticeable. Only after 3 months of developing'new' inventions, like the printing press and a basic steam engine, I was summoned to the Imperial palace. My plan had been a success! I was about to formally meet Julius Caesar himself! All that Latin was n't a total waste of my time! Of course, at the time I had no idea why Latin would help me with theoretical physics. And there he sat, mighty and high on his throne. Dressed in purple robes and with his famous laurel. He sat in the light of the setting sun, making him look even more important, as if he was god's own gift to humanity. Although he sat on an elevated platform, I could still easily look him in the eyes. 2000 years show how different humans have become. I towered over the imperial soldiers, being almost 2 heads taller than them. The grand Caesar himself was n't that tall either. He slowly and imposingly rose from his throne. He signaled my escort to leave us alone. Alone in the sense of me, Caesar and a large amount of personal security. We would call them undercover bodyguards. All dressed in formal clothes, but they did n't fool me. After what I went through, I could feel someone's intentions all too well. After the room was cleared, Caesar shifted his attention to me... `` So we finally meet, inventor. My advisors have told me quite the stories about you, and I wish to know more. What is your name, Inventor?'' `` I call myself Grant Faber, oh great Imperator'' `` Grant Faber, how fitting for a man of your... reputation. Come sit with me, we have a great deal to talk about.'' That might have been a stupid choice for a name. It was quite obvious that I was hiding my real name. I sat down in a chair in front of Julius Caesar. My chair was lower than his Throne, of course, to keep it clear who was the more important person. It did n't matter with me, though. This was the perfect difference in height so that I could speak face to face with him. As our conversation began, I began to slowly tell Caesar about'my' great ideas that I would be willing to build for the Roman Empire, in exchange for power and a role as advisor to Caesar. At first, Caesar did n't take the bait, of course. He only knew of 2 large useful inventions that I had made until then. After a while, I decided to show him my inventions, and I took out a few papers from my bag, containing prints of inventions which were n't supposed to be invented for at least 400 years. Then suddenly, a blinding flash of light behind us. And there they stood. 5 identical men in blue suits, with piercing emerald eyes. Caesar screamed for guards and, as I suspected, everyone in the room took their swords. Royal Guards stormed into the room. `` what is this sorcery! How dare you intrude the great hall of the Roman Empire!?'' Caesar exclaimed, although startled by the happening. `` Greeeetings oh.. mighty.. Gaius Julius Caesar. Pardon usss for the intrusion... we have come for this man.'' The men spoke in unison. It was truly terrifying to behold. I knew what they were, some kind of temporal agents. I hacked the Iphone to time-travel, and the people from my time had began to notice the ripples in time that I was creating. `` Speak up, intruders. This man is a friend of the Roman Empire. What are your accusations!?'' I knew I had to flee. I grabbed my phone from my bag, quickly opened the Time App. The men knew what I was trying to do. four of them charged at me, while the fifth just stood there, observing me. Probing me with those piercing emerald eyes. `` Youu WILL not escape us, Dr. fre....'' I was gone. Falling through time, in an endless tunnel of void and space. Universe and Planck Length became one, and then.. pop. There I was, back in my own house. I had trouble remembering normal English, I had been speaking Latin for months. As everything returned to me, the panic returned as well. I knew this was my apartment, but as I looked outside, I was horrified with what I saw. He was standing outside, downstairs on the street. The moment I saw him, he straightened his tie, and started walking toward my apartment tower. But what was even more horrifiying is that I saw myself walking to my apartment, with my new Iphone. Paralyzed in fear and panic, what was I supposed to do now? What would happen if that.. that.. that government man caught me? Or worse, what if my past self saw me, would that create a paradox? I had to write a note to myself, to never jailbreak the Iphone. Something had to be done, I only had a minute at most. I entered a random date in the temporal App in case something went wrong. I grabbed the nearest piece of paper and a marker, and started writing furiously to myself: Gordon! This is all very confusing, but do NOT jailbreak that Iphone. You will discover a hidden mechanic that will was never meant to be found. I warn you! Because I did find out what it was, and now I am being hunted by government dudes. They are very close, I do not have much... The door was opening, I had to go NOW. I pressed the button on my Phone and felt the world warp around me. Falling through time, in an endless tunnel of void and space. But it did n't go like all the other times. The tunnel got distorted, blurred, saturated. The jump was collapsing! I exploded back into normal space, flying across a blurry unknown room. I smacked down hard on the concrete floor. I look up and saw him... standing before me. Overwhelmed in fear, I tried to back-paddle from this... this thing! The man looked at me with those crazy emerald eyes. It felt like he was looking right through my soul. Before, I could n't see any emotion on his face, and now I saw something of a smirk. Like a predator who knew he sprung the trap on his prey. He held up a scorched piece of paper and a destroyed Phone. As he was holding them up, the room started to fade out of existence. No, we started to fade out of existence. As I looked down, I saw a dead body lie behind that g-man. My body. I looked back up at the g-man in horror. It simply stared at me and said: ``... time, doctor Freeman?'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Hey guys, this was my first story ever, so excuse me if its not what you expected. I got inspired by /u/StuG_IV's idea. The protagonist is an alternate Gordon Freeman from the Half Life games.
[ WP ] A little girl is terrified of the monster under her bed , but what she does n't know is that the monster under her bed protects her from the true monsters - her parents . You are that monster .	I hear all the time about the monster under the bed. It doesn ’ t bother me very much, because I know that no such thing really exists. I know for certain that no such thing really exists. How I know this is a story that I have never really told. Not for lack of interest from others nor for lack of storytelling ability or lack of stories to tell. All are present in spades. Really, I haven ’ t told the story for a really simple reason; there has never been an ending. A story without an ending is about as good as a wave without a crest or a cloud with no lining. Just a nuisance really. It seems I have an ending though. Finally, my saga may have come to an end or at the very least I am able to move on to the next volume in this journey. But it would be premature for me to jump to the ending. Surely I owe you the full story, or at the very least a beginning, a middle and an ending. Bear with me while I attempt to string together the first two to arrive at the latter. I mentioned before that I know there is no such thing as a monster under the bed. And I did so with a level of certainty that may have piqued your interest. The reason I know this is that I have been under the bed, it isn ’ t where I spend much time and not where I would suggest anyone to do so. But I have been there. It was just dust and boxes of old books, toys and VHS tapes. I spend most of my time around the bed. That probably sounds creepier than it actually is. You see, I am what you would call ‘ the monster under the bed ’ but you have me all wrong. I tend to travel around a bit. I go from near the bed, to the wardrobe, to the bathroom and beyond. You will never know I am there and nor will anyone else. You will never hear me, smell me, sense me or feel me. But I will feel every single feeling you feel. I will shiver when you shiver; I will cry when you cry and I will laugh when you laugh. The only difference is that my emotions are mine to carry and mine alone. There is no one to warm me up, cheer me up or laugh along. This isn ’ t necessarily a bad thing for me. My lot in life is not to feel sorry for myself, it is to ensure that you are surrounded by supportive and caring influences. To keep away those that wish to break you down and tear your soul apart. If you knew the lengths I went to you would probably resent me, for this I am glad you don ’ t know I am here. I am unable to put into words the devotion I have to you and your happiness. If I were to fail it would be the end of me, this I know to be true. Not only would those in control do away with me but I would beg them to. No punishment could be worse than having to remain on this earth knowing I was unable to protect you. You are honestly my world. The only one I know, the only one I ever will. I will stop at nothing to ensure your protection. It is this devotion that allows me to rest peacefully knowing that you are better off without those who brought you into this world. That is truly a devastating thought to consider. Think about it for a moment. Those who brought life to you are those who presented the greatest risk to your survival. I watched on in horror initially. Not knowing what was happening not what to do to stop it. To my shame I allowed this to happen for far too long. I ’ d be there. I ’ d be watching as they destroyed the beauty they created like you were theirs to destroy. If only they knew that you were theirs to cherish and to grow like the flowers I ’ ve heard so much about in the gardens surrounding the room I ’ m stuck in. My concept of time is vastly different to yours but I do understand growth. I wish you weren ’ t denied the growth of your peers. I wish you weren ’ t alone in your state of mind which was crafted by these animals. I understood everything you felt. I felt it too. It came to a point though where I could no longer allow this to go on. I had no idea what to do or even if I could. I did not have the benefits of form that you and your type share. If I had, I promise you that this would have ended long ago. I mustered all of my wisdom and the combined knowledge of those that went before me and I found a way to end this all for you. I will not go into the details because you have suffered enough. Suffice to say, you will be hurt no more. I truly believe that this sin I have committed was justified given the circumstances and I would commit it again in the same circumstances with no regrets. That is however, not the view of those in power. I am here with a sole purpose. To protect you from the type of harm for which you have suffered for far too long. I was unable to do so. I was, for all intents and purposes, a failure. I am no monster under the bed. I have regrets and I apologise to you for those, but I do not regret the freedom that I eventually granted you. I hope you grasp it with both hands and go on to the great and beautiful things I know you are capable of. It is almost time for me to go, they have a place for ‘ monsters ’ like me. I hear it isn ’ t pretty, but I know I deserve it. I ask just one favour. Do not hate me for what I did and did not do. Just believe that I cared and did the best that I could.
[ WP ] When you turn 21 , you are paired up with your soulmate . When your time comes to be paired up , however , you have two soulmates and must choose one .	2/25/2056 Dear Diary, Every day people all over the world turn 21. They get their letters in the mail, telling them the day and time and place to meet their appointment. They ’ re told to bring their letters with them just to ensure that their match is correct, and then they decide whether or not to stay with that person. I ’ ve seen people try to fudge letters and documents before, so sure that the love of their life was someone else. It always ends horribly, and I do mean horribly when people try to cheat the system. Just a few years ago there was a news story about a man who fudged some letters to be with a girl he thought he loved. Her true soulmate ended up killing both of them in a fit of jealousy and rage. Stealing and forging letters is highly frowned upon, and even the sanest humans will snap at this prospect. That ’ s not to say this always happens—it ’ s just a possibility. I usually meet with the couples after the fact. Kind of like a couples counseling sort of thing. I remember meeting my husband in college. We were both young, both nervous, and both excited. We happened to be in the same club at the time ( I think we knew we were going to meet each other there, given the time and place ) and we fell in love. There was a large group of people when we met—it took a second for us to place each other—but after showing him my letter, and vice versa, we realized we ’ d found each other. Thankfully, there was no counseling needed for us. We hit it off immediately! Unfortunately, others aren ’ t so lucky. Sometimes I get cases where even I don ’ t know what to do, and I ’ m a professional! Enough for my journal today though—I need to get back to work. -- - The young woman closed her notebook. A long day of counseling was ahead of her. She ’ d seen it all—fudged letters, incorrect meetings, and even demands of a different partner. It was usually very easy to work out. You simply checked the letters and gave the real one; you directed new letters to each party with the exact time and place to a tee, or you talked the couple through. Usually it was what she liked to call a “ class dispute. ” One half of the couple was very wealthy, the other very poor. This made for some frustration with the two. Either one wouldn ’ t want to “ downsize ” to a lower class, or the other didn ’ t want to deal with some snobby asshole. Both had their points, both were understood, but as long as they came to their counseling sessions, it always worked out. She ’ d also seen the other side of the coin—a very poor person who realized that they now had access to several millions—or even billions—of dollars worth of funds. They wanted to spend everything, while the financially well off person wanted to be careful. These were easier, most of the time. They sent these cases to classes where they ’ d learn about wealth and how to handle it. As long as both sides complied, they were always happy in the end. After all, she ’ d seen billionaires paired with the homeless, and if they can be in love together, and be happy, then who can ’ t? Though the money ones were bad, the other bad ones she ’ d seen were the shallow ones. These were the couples who couldn ’ t believe the looks of their partners. “ She ’ s so fat! ” She heard one man say. “ How can you pair me with this fucking whale! I deserve someone hot, someone who, when I hug, I can actually reach around her body! ” The woman burst into tears upon this. After all, a gym trainer and a severely obese woman? Who would have thought. Through counseling though, they found love. He helped her to lose weight, and she helped him to be less of a shallow ass. They completed each other, in a sense. But it wasn ’ t always the man making trouble with looks. A woman can in with her supposed soulmate too. His “ problems ” couldn ’ t be fixed as easily though. With a larger than average nose, wide set eyes, and huge ears, the poor man didn ’ t have much going for him. He even suggested they resend out his letter to someone more “ worthy of his looks. ” But that doesn ’ t happen, and they soon worked out the issue. Instead of falling for his looks, she fell for his heart. In due time, she saw past his flaws and saw a man who truly loved and understood her. Whereas the first woman changed her weight to please her partner, he did nothing, and they fell in love. Beyond looks and money were the religious. They had caused her the most trouble, and they were the most common problem, surprisingly. The couples who came in, the ones who were given a soulmate of the same sex; they were the biggest issues. She ’ d heard the hellfire and brimstone, she ’ d heard the anger, she ’ d even been given money to change the pairing—but it never worked. You get one soulmate, that ’ s all. Most would eventually cave and realize that the love of their life just happened to be of the same sex. The ones who didn ’ t lived their lives alone, never knowing true love. She felt worse when it was one religious, and one non-religious partner; the non-religious partner never got a chance, never had a say. If their partner gave up, well, they didn ’ t have a chance at love. Today was different though. The counselor spent the first hour reading through her list of files and cases that she ’ d meet up with today. She saw some were over looks, some were over same-sex issues, surprisingly no money-problems today though. The oddest one was detailed with three names.
[ WP ] He just wo n't give up . Your worst enemy lay beneath you , laughing . Your fist are bloody from his face . He says , `` I 'm not done ... ''	`` I'm not done... I never will be until you kill me'' He looked up smiling with a full set of yellow and cracked teeth green hair falling into his hollow eyes, mingling with his chalk white face `` We're one in the same two sides of a coin you and I... we're both insane'' `` You and your self righteous crusade on all things you deem wrong... how are you better than me you go around ruining lives causing harm to all those you see, at least I put them out of their misery unlike you'' After a few more haunting laughs he continues `` your hand may never have delivered the final blow but you have killed people, you killed me you ruined my life and turned me into this now finish me take my life end my misery'' `` NO! I own up to my mistakes and believe me I've made a few, but I do n't blame anyone but myself I live with my scars every day... and I try to make this world better unlike you'' and with that the bat ran off into the night leaving the joker beaten and bloodied atop the roof to be taken away to arkham asylum for now.
[ IP ] Dramatic Bill Nye	Normally I do n't smoke, but under these circumstances, I might as well. It could n't be much worse. Although the leaves are green, around here, it is much worse over the hill. I took out a match and lit my cigarette; it has been years since I allowed myself this vice, way before my TV show. The path was paved here, with limited cracks. It looked as if someone had been keeping up the roads. I untied my bowtie and undid the top button. The heat was killing me. Up ahead, a savage dog was barking. I could n't get too close otherwise I might have to shoot it. And I was running out of ammo. I turned left towards my new home. Boston did n't exist anymore. I took a drag of my cigarette. The door was just up ahead. It was vault 111 and I was home.
[ WP ] You find you can teleport anywhere . However , the re-materialization process wipes a bit of your short-term memory . Memory loss is proportional to the distance warped .	He had n't touched it in years. It sat in his closet as his children grew up. The little black box with the single red button. Every weekday when he opened the closet to pick out a tie or a coat there he saw it. The little black box that could teleport him anywhere he wished. Every day he looked at the box and did n't touch it, but instead drove his 13 mile drive into work at an accounting firm. Every day he had to willfully resist not pushing the single red button and traveling to exotic places across the globe. Hell, he would n't even use it to skip traffic on Fridays. He remembered what happened when he used the box. Things would go blank. An instant commute home would mean that he would forget what he said he would make for dinner that night. Or skipping the drive to the grocery store would mean he would forget what he went there for in the first place. When he used to use it, he would avoid these anomalies by just writing things down. Simple enough. But as he used the box more and more to go further and further and experience more exotic places, he would lose things that he could n't preserve with a reminder. The first time he traveled overseas, he forgot how he met his wife. It took weeks of subtle questioning and playing it off as simple forgetfulness to piece together enough that he could confabulate a picture of what it was like. Problem solved. But when he used the box to avoid paying a plane ticket to see his mother in Florida and she brought out a picture of him in the hospital holding a baby, he realized that he could n't remember the birth of his first son. There are certain things in life that you just have to experience. No amount of description or reminders or confabulation can make up what you lose by forgetting the experience. He drove back from Florida. This morning he picked up the box and looked at it closely. He put it down. He was n't willing to forget one single second with his family. Not for anything.
[ WP ] You 've had a bad week . This morning they messed up your coffee order . For the first time in your life you snap .	This had been the worst week in my life. Three failed tests, my girlfriend broken up with me, with practically all of my friend choosing her side. `` You're too apathetic, you never react normally when things do n't go your way. At first I liked it, I thought I had met a really nice guy, but it turns out you're just a sociopath.'' Caroline had said in our final moments together. Three years, I had spent three years of my college life cuddling with her, laughing with her, sometimes crying in her ar- `` Welcome to Starbucks sir, how may I help you?'' I am interrupted by a young woman, brunette, hair up in a ponytail sticking through the back of her company hat. “ Venti caffe misto, please ” I hear come out of my mouth. That was her favorite drink. We had spent many hours in this Starbucks talking over coffee. I didn ’ t even like coffee three years ago, but after countless hours talking with the person you love while sipping it, you can learn to love it. She was the only thing I had ever felt feelings for. The only person who had understood me, or at least I thought she understood me. I guess not. I guess this was all a fucking waste. I felt a faint rumbling in the pit of my stomach, I supposed this is what anger is. Hopefully the hot chocolate I ordered - my go to comfort drink - would be enough to calm me down for now. All I had to do was make it to 3:00. Thats how long she said it would take. She had promised to be out by three, then I could go back to my apartment and relax into a nice steady rhythm on my treadmill. Too bad it was the middle of the fucking winter, then I would be miles out, relentlessly pounding the ground into submission. “ Venti caffe misto for Jason ” I hear call out. A quick glance reveals me to be the only Jason here. “ YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME ” I become detached. I no longer have any control over my body. “ HOW IN THE EVER LIVING FUCK DO YOU MANAGE TO SCREW UP ONE SIMPLE FUCKING ORDER! Everyone in the shop is looking at me, yet I am powerless as I throw the cup across the cafe, and storm out, bumping into a familiar frame as I leave. “ J-jason? ” stammers Caroline, “ was that you screaming in there? I knew all that repressed anger would have to come out some time. It ’ s a good thing I broke it off when I did. ” At that I collapsed onto the concrete, sobbing as the love of my life walks off and out of my life.
[ WP ] People can buy and sell souls on a stock market . Your soul just became the highest valued soul and you do n't know why .	Inhaling and exhaling deeply to calm his racing heart, Adam Everton scrolled through his phone contacts, searching, searching. Finally he found it: The Devil. Adam pressed dial and waited. In front of Adam, a gigantic wall-mounted flatscreen TV displayed the Soul Exchange Market fluctuating in real time. Adam stared intently on the listing that sat at the top of the page: ADAM EVERTON. Adam heard a click through the phone receiver. `` Sup Adam?'' greeted the Devil. `` Hi,'' Adam said apprehensively, `` You watching the market?'' The Devil was laughing. `` Yeah, does n't your name look great on the page?'' `` It's not funny. Fix the glitch.'' `` It's not a glitch. I put it there.'' `` What?'' Adam shouted into the phone. Then, in a more normal volume, he said, `` Hey, we had a deal.'' `` Oh, shit.'' The Devil said, `` That's funny,'cause I thought you'd forgotten all about it when you decided to close your brokerage on weekends.'' `` Oh god,'' said Adam. He took a deep breath. `` Look, the hours were killing us! We were brokering souls all day long. It was n't my idea, but I-'' `` That's not my problem.'' `` We just need some rest!'' `` And I just need souls to come my way every day. So, you can either end your five-day work week, or, you know,'' the Devil paused, `` you can just die today.'' Adam stiffened. On the screen, he saw the bids for ADAM EVERTON climbing steadily still, inching closer and closer to the buyout price. If some company or independent buyer decided to go all in now... `` I'll do whatever you say!'' Adam pleaded, `` Just take my name off the listing now! Please!'' Suddenly, ADAM EVERTON was erased from the listings and a BURKWAY TISDALE appeared at the top of the page. Adam wiped his forehead and reached for the nearest chair. `` Excellent choice. There's no point in work-life balance if you have no life!'' The Devil cackled contentedly to himself. Adam shook silently in his chair, using both hands to hold his phone to his ear. `` And remember, Adam,'' said the Devil in a raspy whisper, `` your soul is mine.'' Then the line went dead.
[ WP ] A woman is cursed by the Gods to kill any man she falls in love with . She falls in love with a man who was cursed by the gods with immortality .	`` Brain waves are neutral regarding attraction.'' He watched the room through the monitor. There was a woman standing in the middle of the room, a knife permanently attached to the stump of her former left hand. Embedded in throughout her body were several needles, their ends connected to clear tubes that ran into the wall of the room, routed to whatever chemicals they needed. Their highest concentration was around her head, on which sat a large helmet with a series of electrical wires and chemical tubing ran out of. `` Move her forwards.'' He pushed a few buttons, forcing the muscles to contract in her body in such a way that they moved her forwards awkwardly, step by step, like an amateur puppeteer trying out the strings. She approached the other occupant of the room, a man strapped to a vertical table. He was almost naked, and his skin was flawless. His mouth was contorted in an expression of permanent agony, his body fully tensed and not at all relaxed. Small prongs at his wrists sent flashes of arcing electricity towards him, sending his body twitching and skin blackening, only to heal immediately after. `` Think she can see him?'' `` Yeah, definitely. Think we're ready to do it?'' `` It's now or never.'' The button presser closed his eyes, whispering a silent prayer to the gods, and pressed the button. Chemicals of every kind flowed into the tubes, sending her body convulsing. Her weight seemed held up only by the wires hooked into her body at some point, before the readings sprang to life. Her heart sent one of the sensors beeping, and the `` neutral'' on the screen flipped to `` attracted.'' It lasted merely a moment before her curse took over, overriding the mortal controls, and she stabbed her knife into the man. The entire world shook as the logic of the gods unraveled in the paradox. The monitors turned white and the glass suddenly shattered. The ground underneath rumbled as the ceiling started to break apart, small pieces falling down as large cracks appeared in the walls. The two looked at each other as their world fell apart, their expressions identical, their mouths both shaping the same words. What have we done?
[ WP ] `` You may be wondering why I 've gathered you all here today . ''	`` And some of you,'' he hangs on his words as he makes direct eye contact with me, `` are n't wondering at all.'' he continues in an omniscient tone. His words echo off the bare, gray walls, without so much as an old layer of lead-based paint to calm them down. The fourteen eyeballs among our seven heads dart frantically around the room, absorbing as many details as we can about....anything. Our eyes pore over each other's bodies, feverishly trying to identify any similar physical characteristics that will help us figure out why we're all here, but we all come up empty handed. The man at the head of the room fumbles nonchalantly with an assortment of severely dated office equipment, as if this is routine for him. He carries on in near silence, making his best attempt at simply `` getting this fucking thing working like it did yesterday.'' Eventually, despite technology's best efforts, he gets it sorted. He flips the yellowed switch just to the right of the door as the projector kicks on and springs to life. A dated, crackling narrative begins and fills the room -- `` So, the seven of you spent the first year of your respective lives on Mars...''
[ OT ] SatChat : What was your favorite Established Universe prompt ?	The [ Alternative Episode IV ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/48rylx/eu_obiwan_was_killed_by_newlyapprenticed_sith/? ref=search_posts ) prompt where Obi-Wan was killed by Darth Vader, and Emperor Palpatine was killed by Master Yoda. This was my favorite, in part because it is so much fun to write. I have the ongoing series over at my subreddit, /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs, where I'm on Part 7 [ yet to be posted ]. Although it's been a while since I posted more, there will be a lot coming. Little sneak peek for those interested: Episode IV The Jedi Rising It has been six years since the fall of the Republic and the induction of the Sith Lord Vader as Emperor of the GALACTIC EMPIRE. Rebellions are everywhere, and the Galactic Empire is struggling to secure itself as the ruling government of the Galaxy. In a daring war, Yoda, the last remaining Jedi of the Order has taken up arms against the Galactic Empire, trying so desperately to hold to the OLD WAYS of the FORCE. Yoda has sent his apprentice, Ahsoka Tano, on a secret mission to Coruscant, where a dying friend has plans to restore freedom to the galaxy... ___________ Also, specific shout out to /u/tom_teller_writes who is writing a fantastic series in response to the [ prompt ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/44mrmg/euif_george_r_r_martin_wrote_harry_potter/ ) where GRRM wrote Harry Potter. Honestly, I was blown away by it. ______ Oh, since I already posted my subreddit ( which you should check out ) I will leave you with a piece of advice. Go see Captain America: Civil War because it was fantastic. ^And ^Happy ^Early ^Mother's ^Day.
[ WP ] One day an island appeared on every map in existence . No one knows when and why it arrived , but you are the first to travel there . You are less than 5 miles away from the island travelling by boat .	Flickering of light was the last thing Dr. Endouhl expected as he rapidly motioned towards the island, the motor of his boat growling as he pushed for full speed. The waves crashed to him and water spat into the air as its only goal was to overflow the boat. But Endouhl had more important things on his mind than getting his socks soaked. This would be the discovery of the century. He could see his name on the frontpages of magazines, his fame spreading faster than a virological outbreak. But the lights threw a spanner in his works. Lights? Lights! Did someone get there faster than I did? How? Or did n't they? Maybe someone was on the island already? Or something? But whatever it was he would find on this newly discovered island, he would be the one to find it. As his boat reached for the gritty shore, he reached for his backpack. He had all the primitive tools he would need, and his research equipment would be able to analyze all the data in the blink of an eye. There were many things that could be said about the doctor, but coming unprepared was n't one of them. As the boat slowed down and hit the shoreline, he pushed the red button, allowing the anchor to cleave into the island. He dropped a small rock into the water to check the depth, and when he heard a satisfying blub he jumped out. He dragged the backpack off the boat, threw it across his shoulders and walked on the beach. It was completely empty, not a single shell or animal to be discovered. Yet a hundred yards away there was a clear divide where sand stopped and a thick jungle started. When he set up his first test and pressed the buttons on the scanner he brought along, he heard a loud bang echoing out of the forest, as if a boulder had dropped from the sky and crashed into the ground. Promising, he thought, as he stood up. He aimed for the jungle, his gaze fixated in the direction of the tumult. If he had paid more attention, he would have noticed that his steps did n't leave prints in the thick, wet sand. -- -- -- -- The Australian navy had set out for the island and was in close proximity. An unidentified piece of land suddenly appearing was odd enough, and careful for any form of danger they approached it as if it was a warzone. Admiral O'Gaugan was in charge of the operation, and he would make sure everything went according to protocol.''Stick to the rules and you'll be alright. '' was his life motto. When their plenty ships had taken in their position, the admiral had called in for the first exploration crew to set foot on the land. As their small boats headed for the island, an airforce officer contacted the admiral.''Sir, I have a report of a small boat heading away from the island in sector 3C. I repeat, small boat in 3C heading away.'' The admiral halted the exploration ships and ordered full attention as a small boated entered their vision. It was a boat that resembled their exploration's, and O'Gaugan wondered what that meant. A''No weapons decected'' got called through his board communication, so O'Gaugan headed outside of their command room and went to the front side of the deck. He reached for his binocular and aimed for the small ship. On it was a man rapidly meshing buttons in panicky fashion, and as he noticed the admiral he jumped up and waved his arms. But it was not a welcoming greet. His arms moved forwards in rapid motion, as if he tried to push the air back. What is he doing? The man on board shook his head in the knowledge that he was n't understood and reached for a megaphone next to him. He flicked it on and shouted: MOVE BACK. I REPEAT, MOVE BACK. WE'RE NOT SAFE. THEY'RE COMING.
[ IP ] The Wandering City	Nomads were their common name. However, the people of Apotlas were not nomadic by the definition of the word, but instead by which the city they inhabited, traveled across the lands. Perched upon the aging Beast that gave them shelter, the Nomads were able to flourish; escaping the dangers of the jungle floor. For five hundred years the Nomads and the Great Beast lived symbiotically; the Great Beast gave the Nomads security and in turn, they gave the Beast companionship. To mark the final journey, the people of Apotlas constructed a golden crown which the Great Beast now proudly worn. Like many species of birds, the city of Apotlas migrated to and from the North, but this occasion, marked the final migration as the Beast was dying of old age. Still, the Great Beast kept his head high, his golden crown shimmering in the dimming light. As they traveled this final journey together, the people of Apotlas paid tribute with a celebration each night. All the while, knowing that at the end of this journey, marked a dangerous new beginning and an end to the golden age that had lasted for so long.
[ WP ] Someone divides by zero . They are knocked unconscious and wake up in a new , unfamiliar world . Tell me what happens next .	It took Caleb almost a full two days before he realized the rabbit hole he had stumbled into. In the mirror world, as he came to call it, things were not quite as they seemed. The objects in this new world – the one he discovered upon waking the morning after his test run – were undefined, subjected to his will. For the most part. As he explored this parallel dimension, be beheld the extreme randomness and destruction that accompanied what he had done, well beyond his control, terrifying him beyond what any nightmare could. When Caleb had asked his college Integral Math teacher, the man had said that the concept of division by zero was a purely semantic debate, an obvious intellectual impossibility, hardly worth mentioning at all. Obviously the question was a pseudo-intellectual path to nowhere, but Caleb had continued to work on his simulators, as the advanced minds in his field scoffed and scowled at him, lamenting the wasted talent of Caleb Enfield. It made no difference now. Whatever happened after tonight, the people of the world remember him. For good or for ill. That was, if any people still existed after the day was through. He powered up his computer – an old, steam powered beauty, still capable of impressive feats, though the newer models out-processed her by miles. Is fingers were already hovering over the keys when the machine powered on. He typed in the keys. The machine hummed with life. Divided by zero. “ Nothing has changed, ’ I t said, “ nothing, except everything. It is a shame that you have prematurely initiated the self-destruct sequence for the known universe. We have no choice but to comply with your wishes. ” The world burned with a fiercely silver bright light that covered everything.
[ WP ] After hitting an all time low , you have resorted to shutting yourself in your basement , playing video games , and keeping human contact digital for 5 years . Today , you wake up and every contact on every device has sent you the same message : `` DO N'T GO OUTSIDE . ''	_May 23rd, 2017_ 12:55pm: 5 hours later and still no response. From any of them. What the fuck? 2:13pm: I really was scared to go back outside anyway. I mean, 5 years is a long time. Would I even survive in the real world? 3:03pm: Eating a late lunch. I have no idea what they ’ re going on about. Everything looks normal upstairs and outside the window. The news sounds pretty uneventful too. This is a pretty shitty prank. I ’ d assume they all organized it together, but I can ’ t figure out how any of them could know Jake. Or robovibo49 for that matter. 4:20pm: Second lunch because cookies are worth it. This don ’ t go outside shit is freaking me out a little to be honest. I even ordered new clothes and shit just for today. I posted on reddit for advice and everything. And now I ’ ve spent the whole day checking my phone and wacking off ( metaphorically... and literally ). Great. 5:00pm: Fuck it, I ’ ll go outside tomorrow instead. I ’ ll send them a few more messages asking why they ’ re fucking around. 5:17pm: Reddit has no idea what I ’ m going on about. No one on LoL or Overwatch does either. Fuck this shit, I really had to psyche myself up for today. Honestly, fuck those guys. 6:18pm: Working on some freelance projects. I hate it, but savings don ’ t last forever. Grind, grind, grind. _May 24th, 2017_ 12:01am: And finally a fucker replies. Josh, chief fuckboi supreme with “ Dear god, no matter what you do stay inside. I can ’ t explain it very well, but you don ’ t want to breathe anything ” 12:02am: The fucker ignored my call. Really funny joke. I text my therapist to see if she ’ s around for a late-night tele-session. I really want to go outside, even if it ’ s just a quick walk and this stuff is stressing me. 12:39am: Facebook message from Jane. “ DON ’ T GO OUTSIDE. ” The one “ girl ” I ’ ve kept in touch with since my break-down is giving me warnings to stay inside too. Great. No reply, of course. 1:13am: I ’ ve been sitting upstairs for the last 20 minutes just staring out the window. The shit ’ s creeping me out to be honest. My grandma ’ s been asleep for hours so it ’ s just me and her stinky little mutt, Pipper. I don ’ t really remember when she brought him home; I guess having only an antisocial grandson for company can make you lonely. Anyway, Pipper ’ s been sitting on my lap and growling at the window all night. I ’ ve seen enough movies to know that I don ’ t want to find out what ’ s freaking him out. 1:14am: I close the blinds and double check grandpa ’ s chest to make sure the shotgun ’ s still there. Hopefully, I ’ m just being paranoid. 10:23am: I guess I fell asleep on the couch. Pipper ’ s nudging me for food. I pour him a bowl and grab some cereal. I wonder where grandma is. Fuck, this shit is freaking me out. 11:17am: I haven ’ t really traded any words with grandma in person in 5 years. It ’ s all been notes on the counter and the occasional text message when she ’ s up for it. That whole time I could have just gone upstairs and talked to her whenever I wanted. And now that I want to, she ’ s nowhere to be found. Fuck. 11:25am: I should shower. 1:12pm: Overwatch is shit, I ’ m done for today. No one ’ s really in the lobby. Or at least no one I usually play against. I decide to say fuck it and spam everyone asking them to explain this “ don ’ t go outside ” shit. I give the therapist a ring. Voicemail. 2:17pm: I look through my plan for my first day back in civilization. It was just supposed to be a walk to the park, the grocery store, and back home. Simple and routine, but now I can ’ t even fucking make it to the porch. I hate this shit. Fuck. 3:45pm: It ’ s so sunny outside. Birds are chirping, squirrels are derping, and housewives are even jogging and shit. I suppose that moving upstairs is an accomplishment at least. I can try for outside in 2 months. I look at my scrawny, but pudgy arms. I ’ d feel better about seeing other people if I was in better shape anyway. 4:12pm: No sign of grandma. Her car is in the driveway though. Pipper ’ s getting anxious. He ’ s got me fucked up if he thinks he ’ s going on a walk today. He can just shit in the corner like everybody else. 7:18pm: I can ’ t focus on anything today. I haven ’ t won a single game. On the bright side Domino ’ s should be here soon. Hopefully the pizza guy can clear some shit up for me. 7:33pm: Still no idea what ’ s going on. And I think the pizza guy thinks I ’ m autistic. Maybe I am, but shit. This sucks, I don ’ t think I ’ m ever going to go outside. And where the fuck is grandma? 7:50pm: Freelance assignments still coming in. Outside still looks fine. The basement is much warmer and inviting than the shitty living room. Maybe I ’ ll just go back down. _May 25th, 2017_ 12:12am: These messages have stopped being scary and are just annoying at this point. Something more than “ DON ’ T GO OUTSIDE ” would be great. 3:33am: I heard something from upstairs. Pipper ran down and we ’ re hiding under the covers now. I don ’ t want to know. 6:00am: I haven ’ t really cried in 5 years. Jesus, I ’ m scared. 9:00am: I made it upstairs and everything looks normal. I haven ’ t seen grandma in any of the rooms I ’ ve checked. It ’ s just me and Pipper. This is horrible. 10:10am: We ’ re just eating now. I consider letting Pipper outside, but it looks like he ’ s been making do with a litter box in the living room. No idea how long that ’ s been there. We ’ ve never had a cat. I ’ m going to just take a nap until it ’ s safe again.
[ FF ] Contest : Three Long Tones Then Silence ( 1 month Reddit gold )	More than two hours pass before the emptily seductive voice of my would-be husband ’ s female caller is only faintly echoing in my head. I'm relieved I stayed composed. I should have kept her talking and delayed the inevitable bedding-down that tonight I, in my frustration, have encouraged. They ’ re almost certainly there now, a full two hours after the call, naked and throwing to the wind whatever caution they might have left. I can not think, though I'm not making much of an effort, about anything other than the woman currently fucking my fiancé. Almost nothing was said and yet I feel I know volumes about this woman. She was so soft spoken and with a sweetness that confused me to the point of warming to the tone of her voice. As if to spite myself I find I almost don ’ t hate her. I imagine her stunning and young, with the looks of a model, mature beyond her years, and classy. Is he rough with her? Aggressive? Or gentle? Does he refer to her as his mistress? Perhaps she knows about me. Maybe they talk about me at dinner between glasses of wine, or as he undresses her to admire her delicate, toned body, or when he fucks her. My heart is racing and my hand has begun to tremble. I ’ ve started to pace and swear, wishing this had never happened and staring down the phone which now lies cracked in the corner of the room. I want to know what it ’ s like. I want to see it, hear about it, have him look me in the eye and tell me about it and how great it was - how great she was. I feel awful, cheated, worthless, and then almost without realising it, the best I have felt in a long time.
[ WP ] She always had a gun in hand as far back as she could remember . She would play , shooting pebbles , sometimes even disassembling it for fun . Like a good friend , her gun was always near . For her , this was completely ordinary .	She always had a gun in hand as far back as she could remember. She would play, shooting pebbles, sometimes even disassembling it for fun. Like a good friend, her gun was always near. For her, this was completely ordinary. It was n't strange, living in rural Tennessee. She'd go hunting with her dad. She'd practice shooting with her friends. Her gun was like a pet to her. She cared for it and she cherished it. When she had a bad day, she would shoot. When she had a good day, she would shoot. By the time she was a teenager, she could out shoot anyone in the state. The trophies in her room proved it. She accomplished so much in such a short time. RIP Jessica McKinley. Victim of a mistaken police shooting. Died and buried with a gun in her hand.
[ WP ] A teenage boy survives the Apocalypse with his crush . After a while he realizes she 's annoying as hell .	`` Josie, for the love of God, please fuck off.'' It had been two weeks since the end of the Earth. Victor and Josie had been fortunate enough to survive inside the washrooms of the high school. Civilization had collapsed around them. Storefronts and old family homes turned to rubble; vehicles strewn amok on roadsides, some burning ever so slowly to the ground. Between the two of them, dozens of family members were lost, pets vanished, and memories destroyed. Victor, ever the optimist, saw this as one of those cliched opportunities to grow closer to Josie. She had been his muse since the moment he met her, almost 10 years ago in the third grade. Strawberry blonde hair flowing effortlessly in the wind, her supple physique moved with grace. Victor was no pushover himself, but still falling into that `` out-of-her-league'' category so many of their classmates seemed to find themselves in. And now she was all his. And he hated it. The first few days, aside from the mourning and grief, were actually quite bearable considering the company they were able to provide each other. They raided old doomsday bunkers together, a boon for supplies as the apocalyptic annihilation was brought on without so much as a sticky-note to indicate its arrival. They really clicked, and managed to survive the first week together. And then it all went downhill. Victor could n't figure out if the perpetual loneliness had anything to do with it, although regardless of what she told him on the matter, he knew deep down that it did. But still, she became incessant and destructive. Forcing him to sleep alongside charred stumps and under dilapidated decks and awnings, while she found remnants of beds and couches to ease her slumber. It was killing Victor, not just dealing with the abnormal cold on an Arizonian summer night, but the fact that he was blindly following her every command based on the sole desire to eventually reconcile with her, and eventually procreate in order to, or at least attempt to, reconstruct civilization. `` Why, Victor? Is my humming bothering you?'' Josie snapped back at him with a sinister sneer. `` Come on, Josie, you know it is.'' Her mockery was infuriating. `` You could at least hum some Tom Petty,'cause you're breaking my heart right now.'' She chuckled at his lame attempt at a joke. `` Man, you've got ta grow up. It's the two of us. One of us was bound to piss off the other eventually.'' Her argument was valid, but it still irked Victor to hear her defend her annoying actions. `` Yes, fine, but it's all the time. Eating, sleeping, walking, sitting. Anything you could be doing, you have a hum for.'' Victor added a little snark to his tone. `` Why do n't you come over to Team Sanity where we walk and enjoy the perpetual silence of this wasteland?'' Josie began to walk in silence. It was what Victor wanted, but he knew she was only doing it to infuriate him further. He heaved a sigh. `` Look... Josie. I'm going to be straight with you.'' He did n't want to say it, but it was his only chance at them getting along. `` I've loved you for the past nine years. Sure, it's kind of stupid to think of myself as an eight-year-old having a crush on you, but it's true.'' Josie peeked at Victor in her peripheral. `` I know it has been rough trying to deal with everything that has gone on, but the truth is, it's just the two of us now. And rather than clawing and fighting at every little thing that bothers us about one another, I'd really love to work as a team. I've been on your team all my life. Will you return the favour and join my team?'' Josie blushed the most romantic colour of red and pink Victor had ever seen. Even beneath her demented behaviour, and the layer of dust and dirt that covered her body, she was still the beautiful, intelligent, and unfailingly kind person he had ever known. She smiled at him, and nodded. `` Of course I want to be on your team, Vic.'' She had never called him that before. `` I've always wanted to be on your team. I know it's so generic of me to have dated all the guys I have, but deep down, I knew you cared about me, and I knew you were always someone I could count on. Now that we're the only people left on Earth who can be counted on, I want to count on you.'' Victor could n't believe what he was hearing, and his face was flushed in almost the exact same shade of red. `` I'm sorry for all the irritability and irrationality. I know as well as you do that this whole experience has been nothing short of a nightmare for the both of us, and I never meant for my coping mechanism to bother you. I suppose I'm a little more of an exhibitionist than you are, so the best way I could keep my focus off the situation was to distract myself with whatever I could do.'' '' Holy shit,'' Victor thought to himself. `` She's going to say it. `` `` I love you, too, Victor. And I really hope we can always be there for each other to deal with whatever this crazy new world throws at us.'' ***** My second ever prompt response! I'm not sure if I'm doing okay at this. I would love some CC so I can keep working on bettering my responses!: ) EDIT: I'm aware that I set the story in Arizona, and also that I spelled favour, colour, and behaviour all with `` u'''s. I'm Canadian, but I felt that Arizona sort of fit the bill for a wasteland setting. Stereotyping, I know.
Write the longest paragraph you can possibly come up with that makes sense grammatically , has no spelling errors , and the catch ... does n't contain the letter `` e '' even once . [ CW ]	Writing a long paragraph without bad grammar, without any typos, and missing a most important part... shoot, can run-ons pass, or not? Frankly, I ca n't fathom how this idiosyncratic writing prompt task can obtain its difficult finish. Though - whilst I'm not a chap who can actually accomplish it, I'm willing to gainfully try and possibly not fail. To all who try, as I do, I wish you only good luck and all opportunity to admirably win, if in fact such a way to do so is found. Writing for writing's sake is fun, you know, and who'd pass up this boon of a prompt to, at minimum, try? -- - ( Whoops: I found an alarming amount of diminishing typos, My apology is this addition. Proofing this was almost as trying a task as writing it was. )

Subsets and Splits

No community queries yet

The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.